First GA Fic!
Title: Sixty Days, or The Secret Sexcapades of Addison and Mark
Pairing: Um, all of them. Sorta. But I guess you could say Addison/Mark.
Rating: Adultish (helpful, I know)
Spoilers: General season three.
Summary: The title kinda says it all... :D
A/N: Welcome to my first ever Grey's Anatomy fic! Yay!
It was day nine, out of sixty, and Addison had lost. She’d lost because of Alex Karev and his tight shirts and annoying smirks and an on-call room that didn’t have a lock on the door. She’d lost when she’d pushed Alex against the wall and they’d raced to take each other’s clothes off, and he’d smiled breathlessly at her before murmuring, I knew you were into me. She’d said shut up, Karev and kissed him and tried not to think of Mark.
It was day nine, out of sixty, and Mark knew he’d lost. But Addison didn’t. And he sure as hell wasn’t telling her. He wasn’t telling her how he’d caught Callie O’Malley sobbing in the empty OR, or how he’d hugged her as she went on about her husband and how much she hated Izzie Stevens. He definitely wasn’t telling her how they’d kissed and ended up with Callie on her back on the table and Mark leaning over her, closing his eyes to block out the fact that she didn’t have red hair.
It was day twenty, out of sixty, and Addison was frantically re-applying her lipstick before Mark saw how smudged it was. Because he’d ask, and she couldn’t tell him it was smudged because Callie had crushed her mouth to Addison’s ten minutes earlier, mixing her own lipstick with Addison’s in the process. She could never tell him how shortly after that she’d been on the ground with her skirt around her waist and Callie’s hand between her thighs, and there’d been more kissing. And she could definitely never tell him that it didn’t just happen once, because Addison had rolled back over three minutes after they’d finished, and there was really no hope for her lipstick after that.
It was day twenty, out of sixty, and Mark was turning the hospital upside down for his left shoe. Not only was it frustrating wandering around with only one shoe, it scared the hell out of him to think Addison would find him before he found his Reebok. Because she’d ask first, and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to lie. He wouldn’t be able to deny he’d broken their promise again, and broken it with Derek lying naked on top of him. Mark would never be able to tell Addison how Derek had been yelling at him for… something, and then Derek was trapping Mark between the bed and his body, his hot, hard, impossible-to-resist body and working his way down Mark’s, removing every piece of clothing and throwing it over his shoulder as he went. The shoes went last, and by then Mark wouldn’t have been able to tell you where they went if his life depended on it.
It was day thirty-six, out of sixty, and Addison was sure the only hotter sex she’d had than with Cristina Yang was with Mark Sloane. But he’d never know. He’d never know that Cristina was so dominant Addison wasn’t sure she’d even consented to anything that time in the showers, or that her voice went lower than usual as she ordered Addison onto her knees. Mark would never understand how amazing it was that Cristina made Addison forget everything, including how to undo the ties on scrub pants or unclip the back of a bra, because Mark would never know. Mark would think she hadn’t slept with anyone for thirty-six days, and really, that was true… when she was with Yang, she definitely didn’t sleep.
It was day thirty-six, and Mark felt kind of dizzy. He felt dizzy and hot and satisfied and if Addison came near him now he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from boasting about the past twenty minutes, such incredible twenty minutes they were. He’d have to tell her how good Alex looked without a shirt, and without pants, and without underwear. He’d have to tell her how Alex’s skin feels under his hands when it’s sweaty and the things Alex says when he’s completely overcome, just to make her jealous. There was no way Mark could have held back from informing Addison that when she sees Alex next and his scrubs are ripped up the side, it was his doing. So really it was lucky that he didn’t see her, because if he’d told her, he would have lost.
It was day forty, and Addison was avoiding everyone in the hospital. She was avoiding Derek because if she saw him he’d want to talk about what happened, and she was avoiding Mark because if she saw him he might find out what happened. And if Mark found out, Addison would lose. She’d lose just because both her and her ex-husband were bored and a little drunk and the bathroom at Joe’s was empty. She’d lose because she’d wrapped her legs around Derek’s waist and kissed him until her chest felt tight and she remembered that oxygen was a necessity, but carried on anyway. The way Derek looked at her made her keep going and she was regretting it - though not as much as she would if Mark knew. And he couldn’t know, because she had to win.
It was day forty, and Mark felt like a dirty mistress all over again. That pissed him off almost more than the thought of what Derek would do if he found him, because mistresses were girls. So in reality, Meredith had been the dirty mistress involved when the two of them pressed the emergency stop button in the elevator and were late for… wherever they were going. She’d cheated just as much as he had when he was kissing her and their fingers were in each other’s hair and she swore, making Mark chuckle into her neck. He hadn’t even known why they’d done it - she was on top of him - but he knew that the nurses has probably seen Meredith’s hair sticking up in all directions and him trying to rearrange his clothing before the doors fully opened, and there was no way they’d missed her murmuring dirty mistress to him… he’d just hoped Derek and especially Addison, weren’t around.
It was day fifty-two, and Addison couldn’t think of anything more wrong than removing Meredith’s shirt after her own was thrown to the floor, couldn’t imagine what could be worse than finally kissing her for the first time after they were naked and alone in Addison’s hotel room. She knew it was bad when she’d told Meredith it was okay after the woman had confessed to cheating on Derek (under the influence of about ten shots of tequila), though she hadn’t said who she’d done it with. From then on it had gotten worse, because the way Meredith pulled Addison into the taxi after her and her hands had wandered made it hard for Addison to say no. So Meredith had cheated again, and Addison had another notch in the bedpost she was hiding so carefully from Mark.
It was day fifty-two, and Mark was about to fall asleep on his feet. But he stayed standing, because if he collapsed someone - knowing his luck, probably Addison - would want to give him an exam to make sure he’s fine, which he wouldn’t be. And that person - he knew it would be Addison - would see the scratch marks on his back and the bite mark on his shoulder, not to mention the fingers imprinted on his hips; Cristina’s fingers. She’d torn him apart and all he’d done was tug on her hair a little as she kissed him, brutally hard and fast. But he knew his exam would show this, so despite having no sleep for two days, he stayed standing, and after a while realised the only time he’d sat down in the past 48 hours was with Cristina in his lap, and that was hardly relaxing. He licked his bottom lip and could taste the blood, but thanked the heavens that was the only place she’d drawn blood.
It was day fifty-nine, and Addison and Mark were finally agreeing on something. They were agreeing with the way Addison was on top of Mark and their clothes were scattered from the door to the bed and their lips were connecting, their skin was touching. Mark was rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs and eventually it became too much for her, detaching their lips to moan and throw her head back, then let it fall forward onto Mark’s shoulder. He fell onto his back and she fell with him, landing heavily on his chest; but she didn’t complain. Their breathing evened out and Addison eventually lifted her head, resting her chin on Mark’s chest and looking at him slyly.
“You lost, Mark.”
Mark opened his eyes and looked at her, and started laughing.
“Whatever, Addison.”
Pairing: Um, all of them. Sorta. But I guess you could say Addison/Mark.
Rating: Adultish (helpful, I know)
Spoilers: General season three.
Summary: The title kinda says it all... :D
A/N: Welcome to my first ever Grey's Anatomy fic! Yay!
It was day nine, out of sixty, and Addison had lost. She’d lost because of Alex Karev and his tight shirts and annoying smirks and an on-call room that didn’t have a lock on the door. She’d lost when she’d pushed Alex against the wall and they’d raced to take each other’s clothes off, and he’d smiled breathlessly at her before murmuring, I knew you were into me. She’d said shut up, Karev and kissed him and tried not to think of Mark.
It was day nine, out of sixty, and Mark knew he’d lost. But Addison didn’t. And he sure as hell wasn’t telling her. He wasn’t telling her how he’d caught Callie O’Malley sobbing in the empty OR, or how he’d hugged her as she went on about her husband and how much she hated Izzie Stevens. He definitely wasn’t telling her how they’d kissed and ended up with Callie on her back on the table and Mark leaning over her, closing his eyes to block out the fact that she didn’t have red hair.
It was day twenty, out of sixty, and Addison was frantically re-applying her lipstick before Mark saw how smudged it was. Because he’d ask, and she couldn’t tell him it was smudged because Callie had crushed her mouth to Addison’s ten minutes earlier, mixing her own lipstick with Addison’s in the process. She could never tell him how shortly after that she’d been on the ground with her skirt around her waist and Callie’s hand between her thighs, and there’d been more kissing. And she could definitely never tell him that it didn’t just happen once, because Addison had rolled back over three minutes after they’d finished, and there was really no hope for her lipstick after that.
It was day twenty, out of sixty, and Mark was turning the hospital upside down for his left shoe. Not only was it frustrating wandering around with only one shoe, it scared the hell out of him to think Addison would find him before he found his Reebok. Because she’d ask first, and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to lie. He wouldn’t be able to deny he’d broken their promise again, and broken it with Derek lying naked on top of him. Mark would never be able to tell Addison how Derek had been yelling at him for… something, and then Derek was trapping Mark between the bed and his body, his hot, hard, impossible-to-resist body and working his way down Mark’s, removing every piece of clothing and throwing it over his shoulder as he went. The shoes went last, and by then Mark wouldn’t have been able to tell you where they went if his life depended on it.
It was day thirty-six, out of sixty, and Addison was sure the only hotter sex she’d had than with Cristina Yang was with Mark Sloane. But he’d never know. He’d never know that Cristina was so dominant Addison wasn’t sure she’d even consented to anything that time in the showers, or that her voice went lower than usual as she ordered Addison onto her knees. Mark would never understand how amazing it was that Cristina made Addison forget everything, including how to undo the ties on scrub pants or unclip the back of a bra, because Mark would never know. Mark would think she hadn’t slept with anyone for thirty-six days, and really, that was true… when she was with Yang, she definitely didn’t sleep.
It was day thirty-six, and Mark felt kind of dizzy. He felt dizzy and hot and satisfied and if Addison came near him now he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from boasting about the past twenty minutes, such incredible twenty minutes they were. He’d have to tell her how good Alex looked without a shirt, and without pants, and without underwear. He’d have to tell her how Alex’s skin feels under his hands when it’s sweaty and the things Alex says when he’s completely overcome, just to make her jealous. There was no way Mark could have held back from informing Addison that when she sees Alex next and his scrubs are ripped up the side, it was his doing. So really it was lucky that he didn’t see her, because if he’d told her, he would have lost.
It was day forty, and Addison was avoiding everyone in the hospital. She was avoiding Derek because if she saw him he’d want to talk about what happened, and she was avoiding Mark because if she saw him he might find out what happened. And if Mark found out, Addison would lose. She’d lose just because both her and her ex-husband were bored and a little drunk and the bathroom at Joe’s was empty. She’d lose because she’d wrapped her legs around Derek’s waist and kissed him until her chest felt tight and she remembered that oxygen was a necessity, but carried on anyway. The way Derek looked at her made her keep going and she was regretting it - though not as much as she would if Mark knew. And he couldn’t know, because she had to win.
It was day forty, and Mark felt like a dirty mistress all over again. That pissed him off almost more than the thought of what Derek would do if he found him, because mistresses were girls. So in reality, Meredith had been the dirty mistress involved when the two of them pressed the emergency stop button in the elevator and were late for… wherever they were going. She’d cheated just as much as he had when he was kissing her and their fingers were in each other’s hair and she swore, making Mark chuckle into her neck. He hadn’t even known why they’d done it - she was on top of him - but he knew that the nurses has probably seen Meredith’s hair sticking up in all directions and him trying to rearrange his clothing before the doors fully opened, and there was no way they’d missed her murmuring dirty mistress to him… he’d just hoped Derek and especially Addison, weren’t around.
It was day fifty-two, and Addison couldn’t think of anything more wrong than removing Meredith’s shirt after her own was thrown to the floor, couldn’t imagine what could be worse than finally kissing her for the first time after they were naked and alone in Addison’s hotel room. She knew it was bad when she’d told Meredith it was okay after the woman had confessed to cheating on Derek (under the influence of about ten shots of tequila), though she hadn’t said who she’d done it with. From then on it had gotten worse, because the way Meredith pulled Addison into the taxi after her and her hands had wandered made it hard for Addison to say no. So Meredith had cheated again, and Addison had another notch in the bedpost she was hiding so carefully from Mark.
It was day fifty-two, and Mark was about to fall asleep on his feet. But he stayed standing, because if he collapsed someone - knowing his luck, probably Addison - would want to give him an exam to make sure he’s fine, which he wouldn’t be. And that person - he knew it would be Addison - would see the scratch marks on his back and the bite mark on his shoulder, not to mention the fingers imprinted on his hips; Cristina’s fingers. She’d torn him apart and all he’d done was tug on her hair a little as she kissed him, brutally hard and fast. But he knew his exam would show this, so despite having no sleep for two days, he stayed standing, and after a while realised the only time he’d sat down in the past 48 hours was with Cristina in his lap, and that was hardly relaxing. He licked his bottom lip and could taste the blood, but thanked the heavens that was the only place she’d drawn blood.
It was day fifty-nine, and Addison and Mark were finally agreeing on something. They were agreeing with the way Addison was on top of Mark and their clothes were scattered from the door to the bed and their lips were connecting, their skin was touching. Mark was rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs and eventually it became too much for her, detaching their lips to moan and throw her head back, then let it fall forward onto Mark’s shoulder. He fell onto his back and she fell with him, landing heavily on his chest; but she didn’t complain. Their breathing evened out and Addison eventually lifted her head, resting her chin on Mark’s chest and looking at him slyly.
“You lost, Mark.”
Mark opened his eyes and looked at her, and started laughing.
“Whatever, Addison.”