Title: "Unwrinkled"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Rating/Classification: AC for mild sex talk and language. Addison/Mark, ep filler.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and am making no profit.
Summary: A filler for 3.3, "Sometimes a Fantasy." 450 words. It always comes down to the panties.
Mark can make her come just by looking at her.
This is something she knows even as she's stumbling out of the bar -- away, Addison, away…move it -- because her knees are trembling and her panties are damp. It always comes down to the panties, doesn't it?
She's Addison Montgomery Shepherd, dammit -- okay, probably just Montgomery now, but she's still got a while before the ink officially dries on that identity change -- and Mark *gets* to her. On that level. On that level that she hasn't known for way too long because her husband was out being on that level with some doe-eyed little intern who could stand to eat a sandwich now and then.
That's the excuse she gives herself as she pushes through the doors of Seattle Grace, past Izzie Stevens, who's been rooted to one spot since the morning. She hasn't had any in a while -- not any that was actually for her, with her name being gasped *like that* -- and that's why when Mark stepped off that plane and she fell into his arms, it was so damn hungry. She was starving for it.
And he fed her. Champagne and Kiwi fruit -- strawberries are such a cliché -- and marathon sex. Her thighs are still sore. She might be full up on sex for at least a few months. Except that all he has to do is look at her to make her come. To make her feel desirable and feminine and beautiful.
That was how it started back in New York.
It was so cold. And so empty. The unwrinkled side of the bed. And one day Mark looked at her without blinking, with that slow, sensual stare that she'd seen him give so many Upper East Side trust fund bimbos over the years. Only it was her and she wasn't a bimbo, she was Derek's wife. They were Mark and Derek and Addison, three best friends…except without their third party on one random night where they'd both had too much to drink and Mark was *looking* at her.
She'd crossed her legs under the table, clutched her Cosmo and bit back the shudders, but he'd known.
He always knows.
He leans back, languid and lazy in the chair like he doesn't have a care in the world, and watches her break into a million pieces. With a smile.
And, somehow, every time Mark shatters her, when he cuts right down to the truth of her before he even puts those deft surgeon's hands on her…it doesn't hurt.
In fact, it feels a little too much like love.
Away, Addison. Away.
Move it.
Because she has no use for love anymore.
--end--
October 6, 2006