the twist {grey's - lexie/meredith}
Title: The Twist
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Lexie/Meredith
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 672
Author's Note: For Porn Battle X. Original version is here. This version is for archive purposes.
Summary: Post S6. This is the part where she's supposed to pull back
She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she put her hand on Meredith’s thigh, when she let her fingers curl on the denim there, tips of them just grazing the inside of her thigh, the seams.
Meredith stares at her hand a good long while, or maybe it just feels that way, blunt nails and veins that show just faintly blue in the right light.
The twist is that they’re both stone cold sober.
Emotions are their fuel.
Lexie’s jumpy, eager to please if only to have something to do, a regression of sorts. Meredith’s the kind of calm that’s bound to boil over and turn to hysterics.
Adding alcohol to that mix would only aggravate the situation.
But when Lexie lays her hand on Meredith, in what is supposed to be a supportive gesture, Meredith shifts her hips and then suddenly Lexie’s hand placement doesn’t look so innocent.
“Um,” Lexie exhales, to fill the space, and she can’t even pretend that she doesn’t notice because her eyes are absolutely glued to her own hand and so are Meredith’s, like it’s an independent entity whose motivations, whose next move, they are unsure of.
“Yeah.”
“Right.”
This is the part where she’s supposed to pull back.
This is not the part where her hand is supposed to move lower, her fingers pushing against warm denim.
Except that’s what happens anyways.
Meredith probably isn’t supposed to let her either but that happens too. She’s supposed to move her hand over Lexie’s, pull them both away, blame this on grief or the sleep deprivation that has become the norm for all of them since the shooting. She’s supposed to be the knowledgeable big sister, except Meredith’s still got too much to learn to even fake that.
She bucks a little, instead, against the gentle pressure of Lexie’s hand.
That’s when Alex yells something from the bedroom and they’re forced to break away, up the stairs two by two and Lexie’s fairly sure she invents some new curses, at least new arrangements of old ones, on the way up.
-
It becomes a thing with them, afterwards.
On the couch, she will stretch her legs out, feet in Meredith’s lap and, under the cover of the blanket that Meredith pulled from one of the linen closets, she’ll wiggle her toes, pressing and teasing.
Lexie likes watching Meredith try to keep a straight face with other people in the room, steady voice that doesn’t hit too high even once. Her cheeks flush and her breathing wavers slightly but it’s easily blamed on all the tequila that Meredith hasn’t had.
It’s a game and it’s something for Lexie to focus all the nervous energy in her body on. It keeps her from thinking about the two gunshot victims upstairs and the looks Mark gives her in the hallways.
It draws her closer to Meredith too and she’s been after that for longer than she can remember.
-
In the shower, sometimes, she gets off to the sound of just Meredith’s voice.
She slides slick fingers inside of herself, listening to the tone of her sister’s voice, low and barely audible over the spray of the shower; the words don’t so much matter. She closes her eyes and pumps her fingers and one hand coils around the shower rack, to steady herself.
Her head falls back when she comes, mouth open, the gasp and the scream that never comes as her mouth fills with water and swallows the sound.
-
The game becomes a two way street the day Meredith brushes a strand of hair out of her face, whispers in her ear close enough that her breath tickles Lexie’s neck, says, “Can’t let you have all the fun.”
Cristina watches them from across the table in the lunchroom. “Okay. What?”
“Nothing,” Lexie exhales, half a second before she reaches over the table to grab a napkin, making sure her arm brushes against Meredith’s breasts, feels her nipples harden on the pullback.
Meredith swallows especially hard. Lexie smiles.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Lexie/Meredith
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 672
Author's Note: For Porn Battle X. Original version is here. This version is for archive purposes.
Summary: Post S6. This is the part where she's supposed to pull back
She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she put her hand on Meredith’s thigh, when she let her fingers curl on the denim there, tips of them just grazing the inside of her thigh, the seams.
Meredith stares at her hand a good long while, or maybe it just feels that way, blunt nails and veins that show just faintly blue in the right light.
The twist is that they’re both stone cold sober.
Emotions are their fuel.
Lexie’s jumpy, eager to please if only to have something to do, a regression of sorts. Meredith’s the kind of calm that’s bound to boil over and turn to hysterics.
Adding alcohol to that mix would only aggravate the situation.
But when Lexie lays her hand on Meredith, in what is supposed to be a supportive gesture, Meredith shifts her hips and then suddenly Lexie’s hand placement doesn’t look so innocent.
“Um,” Lexie exhales, to fill the space, and she can’t even pretend that she doesn’t notice because her eyes are absolutely glued to her own hand and so are Meredith’s, like it’s an independent entity whose motivations, whose next move, they are unsure of.
“Yeah.”
“Right.”
This is the part where she’s supposed to pull back.
This is not the part where her hand is supposed to move lower, her fingers pushing against warm denim.
Except that’s what happens anyways.
Meredith probably isn’t supposed to let her either but that happens too. She’s supposed to move her hand over Lexie’s, pull them both away, blame this on grief or the sleep deprivation that has become the norm for all of them since the shooting. She’s supposed to be the knowledgeable big sister, except Meredith’s still got too much to learn to even fake that.
She bucks a little, instead, against the gentle pressure of Lexie’s hand.
That’s when Alex yells something from the bedroom and they’re forced to break away, up the stairs two by two and Lexie’s fairly sure she invents some new curses, at least new arrangements of old ones, on the way up.
-
It becomes a thing with them, afterwards.
On the couch, she will stretch her legs out, feet in Meredith’s lap and, under the cover of the blanket that Meredith pulled from one of the linen closets, she’ll wiggle her toes, pressing and teasing.
Lexie likes watching Meredith try to keep a straight face with other people in the room, steady voice that doesn’t hit too high even once. Her cheeks flush and her breathing wavers slightly but it’s easily blamed on all the tequila that Meredith hasn’t had.
It’s a game and it’s something for Lexie to focus all the nervous energy in her body on. It keeps her from thinking about the two gunshot victims upstairs and the looks Mark gives her in the hallways.
It draws her closer to Meredith too and she’s been after that for longer than she can remember.
-
In the shower, sometimes, she gets off to the sound of just Meredith’s voice.
She slides slick fingers inside of herself, listening to the tone of her sister’s voice, low and barely audible over the spray of the shower; the words don’t so much matter. She closes her eyes and pumps her fingers and one hand coils around the shower rack, to steady herself.
Her head falls back when she comes, mouth open, the gasp and the scream that never comes as her mouth fills with water and swallows the sound.
-
The game becomes a two way street the day Meredith brushes a strand of hair out of her face, whispers in her ear close enough that her breath tickles Lexie’s neck, says, “Can’t let you have all the fun.”
Cristina watches them from across the table in the lunchroom. “Okay. What?”
“Nothing,” Lexie exhales, half a second before she reaches over the table to grab a napkin, making sure her arm brushes against Meredith’s breasts, feels her nipples harden on the pullback.
Meredith swallows especially hard. Lexie smiles.