Twelve Days - December 21 - Mark/Derek/Meredith
Title: Take You
Challenge: The Twelve Days of Christmas!
Prompt: Grey's Anatomy, Mark/Derek/Meredith, desperation.
For: citron_presse
Word Count: 707
Rating: NC-17
Summary: You started it.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
You started it.
It's not something you meant to do, but it's not as if something like this can be an *accident.* But this much is true: there was no plan. Just some thoughts, some desires, some things you've never discussed with Derek and wouldn't act on if you weren't drunk -- it's been a while since you've let alcohol take over your impulses -- and you made a move, climbed into Mark's lap and pressed your lips against his. He kissed back automatically, as if by reflex, as if he was unable to refuse when a woman offered herself to him. You tilted your head and parted your lips and realized how kissing him was so close to kissing Derek, the perpetual stubble rubbing your skin... but different, too, because he's not Derek.
You want that, sometimes. Not Derek. A break from the normal.
(Maybe domesticity is too monotonous for you.)
His mouth tasted like yours because you'd been drinking from the same bottle. You moaned and reached back to touch your husband, planting your hand on his leg so he'd know you weren't *choosing* anyone else. You weren't choosing Mark. You just wanted to have fun, and this is what you said in a playful voice slowed by alcohol.
Mark looked at him. "You think this would be fun?"
His tone was halfway between joking and concerned, because there's a history. But a history where there was love involved -- at least on Mark's side, you only know how Mark felt -- but Mark doesn't love you. You don't love Mark.
You moved closer to Derek, your body fitting awkwardly between the two of them. He didn't say yes. He didn't say no. His kiss wasn't gentle, and neither were his hands. He didn't stop Mark from touching you at the same time he did.
Then, he let you take the two of them to bed.
They took turns kissing you, undressing you, moving their palms over your flesh, taking off their own clothes. You didn't know what you saw in the way Derek studied you, if the darkness that seemed to cloud the desire in his eyes was fueled by a new form of lust or repressed anger.
(Maybe he was considering you the way he used to: as a whore.)
You almost stopped this, but couldn't bring yourself to do so. If there was damage, you figured it had already been done.
Now, Mark's inside you. You're both on your knees, your legs spread wider and his hands on your hips. Derek's watching the two of you -- you assume -- out of your direct eye-line, and you can't bring yourself to look at him. Can't bring yourself to examine what it is he might be thinking.
Mark's hand slips between your legs, his fingers on either side of your clit as he moves inside you. He makes you come, and you lean back against him. His teeth scrape lightly over your skin as he sucks on your neck. When he comes, you're in a different position: on your hands and knees.
You still haven't looked at Derek's face.
(You wanted this to be safe. No. Not safe. You wanted this to be okay.)
Mark pulls out of you, the mattress making little noise underneath him as his weight shifts. You go back to resting on your knees as you gasp, the effects of climax still rushing through your body. Derek's in front of you before you catch your breath, his knees near your own. You still don't know what you see in his eyes. He grabs your arm and yanks you toward him before roughly kissing you.
You're reminded of that night years ago. You were with Finn and he was with Addison, but it didn't matter; he claimed you anyway. He claimed you and you were his, even if you didn't admit it right away. And maybe that's why he went along with this: he wants to claim you again. He wants to have the thrill of knowing that, no matter what you do, who you let inside you, he owns you.
You get on your back. You let him have you.
END
Challenge: The Twelve Days of Christmas!
Prompt: Grey's Anatomy, Mark/Derek/Meredith, desperation.
For: citron_presse
Word Count: 707
Rating: NC-17
Summary: You started it.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
You started it.
It's not something you meant to do, but it's not as if something like this can be an *accident.* But this much is true: there was no plan. Just some thoughts, some desires, some things you've never discussed with Derek and wouldn't act on if you weren't drunk -- it's been a while since you've let alcohol take over your impulses -- and you made a move, climbed into Mark's lap and pressed your lips against his. He kissed back automatically, as if by reflex, as if he was unable to refuse when a woman offered herself to him. You tilted your head and parted your lips and realized how kissing him was so close to kissing Derek, the perpetual stubble rubbing your skin... but different, too, because he's not Derek.
You want that, sometimes. Not Derek. A break from the normal.
(Maybe domesticity is too monotonous for you.)
His mouth tasted like yours because you'd been drinking from the same bottle. You moaned and reached back to touch your husband, planting your hand on his leg so he'd know you weren't *choosing* anyone else. You weren't choosing Mark. You just wanted to have fun, and this is what you said in a playful voice slowed by alcohol.
Mark looked at him. "You think this would be fun?"
His tone was halfway between joking and concerned, because there's a history. But a history where there was love involved -- at least on Mark's side, you only know how Mark felt -- but Mark doesn't love you. You don't love Mark.
You moved closer to Derek, your body fitting awkwardly between the two of them. He didn't say yes. He didn't say no. His kiss wasn't gentle, and neither were his hands. He didn't stop Mark from touching you at the same time he did.
Then, he let you take the two of them to bed.
They took turns kissing you, undressing you, moving their palms over your flesh, taking off their own clothes. You didn't know what you saw in the way Derek studied you, if the darkness that seemed to cloud the desire in his eyes was fueled by a new form of lust or repressed anger.
(Maybe he was considering you the way he used to: as a whore.)
You almost stopped this, but couldn't bring yourself to do so. If there was damage, you figured it had already been done.
Now, Mark's inside you. You're both on your knees, your legs spread wider and his hands on your hips. Derek's watching the two of you -- you assume -- out of your direct eye-line, and you can't bring yourself to look at him. Can't bring yourself to examine what it is he might be thinking.
Mark's hand slips between your legs, his fingers on either side of your clit as he moves inside you. He makes you come, and you lean back against him. His teeth scrape lightly over your skin as he sucks on your neck. When he comes, you're in a different position: on your hands and knees.
You still haven't looked at Derek's face.
(You wanted this to be safe. No. Not safe. You wanted this to be okay.)
Mark pulls out of you, the mattress making little noise underneath him as his weight shifts. You go back to resting on your knees as you gasp, the effects of climax still rushing through your body. Derek's in front of you before you catch your breath, his knees near your own. You still don't know what you see in his eyes. He grabs your arm and yanks you toward him before roughly kissing you.
You're reminded of that night years ago. You were with Finn and he was with Addison, but it didn't matter; he claimed you anyway. He claimed you and you were his, even if you didn't admit it right away. And maybe that's why he went along with this: he wants to claim you again. He wants to have the thrill of knowing that, no matter what you do, who you let inside you, he owns you.
You get on your back. You let him have you.
END