addie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11

alittlebitmad


A Little Bit Mad

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grey's anatomy fanfiction, mark/addison, seven sins - i. lust
gen: book and glasses.
recycledstars wrote in alittlebitmad
it's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you
notes: in honour of otp possibly being canon. There are seven parts for the seven deadly sins but I do not promise anything re: continuing. Enjoy it for what it is? (What it is is shameless smut. Like, dirty smut.)


The leather of the backseat is sticking to her naked thighs. It’s high summer and you’re in the back of your parents’ car parked near the lake where she went to summer camp as a kid.

(Connecticut isn’t too far to drive, not for her, not like this.)

Your tongue is flat against her and your nose is catching against the neatly trimmed fuzz of her pubic hair and sweat is running between your bodies everywhere they are touching.

You look up.

Her eyes are closed and she’s gripping behind her at the door for something to hold onto, to stop it digging into her back.

She’s easy to read. Some girls aren’t, but she is. When she’s close, her whole body moves and she shifts her hips every which way trying to find a better place for your mouth, but just before she comes she stills. It’s only a split second. And then she’s pushing hard against your tongue, and you hold her still by the hand that’s not rubbing two-fingered against the slick between her thighs. It’s not loud; it’s all breath and nonsense words and an then an audible slump.

You pause your tongue, look up.

Her fingers stroke down your hair and she nods, so you slide those two wet fingers inside her and feel her body clamp down around them and rest your head against her thigh, blowing air against her.

She laughs, then says, “Jesus Mark.”

Your tongue lazes up over her hip. “And you said it wasn’t worth the trip.” You smirk against her stomach. It’s damp with sweat and you run your tongue through it in a line.

Her hand on your shoulder pushes you back, and she sits with you, gives you a look that’s all lust. You fumble for the condom you opened earlier (foresight and experience) but it’s slipped beneath you on the seat and the foil is digging into your back. You’re still reaching for it when her hand curls around your wrist, and she’s crawling on her knees to slide into your lap.

“We’ll stop,” she says. “Before.”

Both of you know you should say no because you’re going into your second year of medical school and you’ve covered sexual health, but you know she only sleeps with Derek and she knows you never do this with other girls and besides, everything about it is wrong anyway, and you want her to feel the evidence of it in the morning.

“Okay,” you say, with her hand fisted around your cock.

With her crowding you, breasts pressed up against your naked chest, it’s stifling. “We should crack a window.” You care less though, because with a jerk of your hips you’re pressing up against the last evidence of her orgasm and her hand is adjusting the position of your cock between her legs.

“Aren’t you afraid we’ll wake the campers?” she says. The red of her hair spills forward over your shoulder and she huffs in your ear, “I know you like it when I’m loud.”

When she sinks down over you she moans, loud and over the top, but you don’t care, because you can feel her own hand working between your bodies and suddenly her gasps are more genuine. You grip her hips, hold her still so you work yours up into her until you find a rhythm. She tongues along the unshaven line of your jaw, groaning encouragement against it and you release her hips, let gravity help her efforts to slam down into you, against her hand, again and again, punctuated by the sound of wet flesh on flesh and her, saying your name, swearing, coming hard around you with her teeth grazing your shoulder.

She slides off you before slumping into you, rocks against you as you thrust up against her stomach and smirks against your ear when you come and it sticks between your bodies. Her arms hug her against you and she rubs her torso against yours until you’re both a mess.

When you do crack the window, it smells like pines and sex.

You let your lips rest against the wet hair above her ear, edge your palms up into the hollow of her shoulder blades and breathe her in.

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Mmmmmm . . . just, yeah, mmmmm. I loved it.


Also:

in honour of otp possibly being canon

Really?!!! When?!! Am I getting over-excited?!

That's a really nice one-shot. Pity it's only a one shot...

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