Moaning softly, Meredith watches him, transfixed by him and by her own good fortune. She pushes up against his fingers, momentarily distracted from answering by his every movement, by the heat pooling low in her abdomen and all the possibilities. "You," she murmurs, because that part is always, always true. Beyond that, it's difficult to decide when she wants so many conflicting things, when her thoughts are already so disjointed. She tips her head up, brushing her lips over his, eyes half closing despite her efforts to keep them open. "Your tongue, your mouth on me. Everywhere. Sean..."