missingthekeep | [for Meredith]

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[for Meredith]

Let it not be said that Sean has no Christmas spirit. Granted, the only reason he's up on the roof in the first place, stringing lights stolen from some nearby trees along the edges of his bloody cabin, is because he needs the distraction, but the point here is that he's doing it at all. The fact that he's heading towards another major holiday without Maeve, one of many, many more to come, the memory of how hard last year had been, running into Moira and everything that entailed, Sean isn't so oblivious as to not realize this is really just about finding something to keep his thoughts from heading to any of the old dark places and he hasn't suddenly turned over some festive new leaf. Really, it's almost the opposite, like he's cheapening genuine appreciation for the season by faking it for all the wrong reasons, but he doesn't care. He's up there, he's got his lights, he's got his Christmas spirit, and he's distracted enough by the simple act of not falling off for all the confusing thoughts and worries that having a girlfriend from the future show up apparently bring to be miles away. It'd be nice if he didn't have to look so damned ridiculous while he's at it, but it's a small enough price to pay for peace of mind, however brief.

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Tracing wet fingers along her breasts as he settles between her legs, still in no rush whatsoever, Sean gives a hum of appreciation, pressing a light kiss to her inner thigh as he nudges her panties further to the side. "Guess so," he says, almost sing-song before he puts his mouth on her, because even if he's supposed to be acting all hot and porny right now, there's no getting around how happy she makes him. Licking her from top to bottom, quick but thorough, he slips a hand under her leg to come up and rest against the soft curve of her waist, watching her all the while.

So much for holding still. So much, for that matter, for having anything to say, because for a moment, all Meredith can get out is a shaky gasp, hips rising without her say so. Even watching what he's doing never really prepares her for how it feels, how completely he gets to her every time. She reaches for his hand, wanting to touch him somehow without interfering with his touching her. "Sean," she sighs, eyes half-closed, and bites her lip again to keep from begging for more. Desperate though she is for it, she has no intention of rushing him.

That right there is the most potent encouragement she could give anyway, writhing on the floor with his name sounding just plain amazing on her lips, and Sean hums quietly as he repeats the motion, one long, slow swipe with the flat of his tongue. No matter how many times he hears it, sees her like this, gets to tell himself that he's the one drawing every stunning reaction out of her, it never gets to him any less, simultaneously going straight to his dick and making his heart feel like it's lodged somewhere up by his throat. The angle's a little awkward, but the urge to pivot his hand and thread his fingers through hers is such an automatic one, he barely takes notice, focusing instead on pushing the point of his tongue inside her as far as he can, twisting his head.

There's a long, long list — in no particular order, not consciously formed — of things Meredith loves about Sean, but right now, this is incredibly high up the list. It's not just the way he makes her breath catch in her throat or the things he can do with that wonderful, wicked tongue of his, feeling her pulse throbbing as much under his mouth as in her chest. It's his hand warm in hers, too, and the utter lack of pretense. She's never been one for embarrassment in the bedroom — or on the floor, against the wall, wherever — but there's something about being this vulnerable and this adored all that the same time that makes her skin hum and head spin just as much as the rest of it. It's asking for this and getting it and being able to wake up beside him and not want him to leave, wanting him never to leave. Lips parted, she tips her head back, not trying at all to hide the sounds he draws from her every time.

It's almost unfair, the way she's apparently trying to drive him insane by overwhelming his senses with touch and taste and smell, the way she looks, the way she sounds, all of it conspiring to make him lose it. It's no small boost to his ego when he doesn't, though, when he keeps it together and remembers what he can do to her with just a practiced curl of his tongue and the myriad ways she pays him back so many times over. Drawing back for just a second, he mutters something that starts out as "God, ye're beautiful" but trails off about halfway though and replaces his tongue moving within her with fingers, lips now encircling her clit. This feeling right here, this heady mix of love and lust, adoration and pride, it's the closest thing to worship that Sean ever feels, and no matter how much of it he gets, he knows it's never going to be enough.

It doesn't seem to matter that he said he can't be everywhere, given how absolutely her world narrows down to him now. His skin is warm where her legs press against him, his hand so right in her own, but oh, most of all, it's down to his fingers and mouth. Meredith arches up with a cry so soft, it's almost silent, hips bucking up against him, her other hand tangling in his hair. It's the way he seems to enjoy this nearly as much as she does, the pleasure that's so focused, so persistent, it's almost too much. The building pressure, the heat of the fire, the bite of her own nails when she lifts her hand to clutch at her breast for lack of anything else to hold tight to — he might as well be all of it, everywhere, pushing her ever closer.

Sean's heart seems to skip a beat at every new gasp, every cry, every time she grabs at him or herself, so much so that a part of him wonders if it's just going to forget to start back up again one of these days. Pulling her gently into his mouth, he flicks his tongue over the sensitive flesh there, letting his eyes slip shut for a moment. If anything, it just makes his other senses more of a distraction, but when that consists of amplifying the gorgeous sounds she makes and the heat coming off both the fire and her, he can't complain. Finding a steady rhythm with the motion of his fingers, he crooks them carefully upwards and loses himself in the feel of muscles trembling just under her skin wherever he touches her.

Meredith's distinctly aware of every tiny motion, every swipe of his tongue, the slide of his fingers, how he makes something tighten in her chest, her heart ricocheting against her ribs and up into her throat. Through the hazy intensity of it, all she can do is lie there, trying in vain not to drown in sheer sensation, overwhelmed by just how good it feels, how easily he can make her breathless and unsteady. It's impossible not to get lost in it, until he's sent her crashing, coming hard, sure her heart's stopped but not caring in the least. Eye shut tight, arching her back, she gasps, shaking, reaching blindly for him again.

Sean forces himself to look back at that, eyes wide and mouth gone slack as he watches her come apart with something like awe, savouring every frantic movement and touch, swept along in it almost as fully as if he was the one getting his rocks off instead of her. He's never been one for power trips, but the rush he gets out of this, his stomach working itself into knots just trying to deal with it, it's something else, something special. Every damn time. Resting his cheek against her leg and flexing his jaw, he doesn't ease out of her until she starts coming down off that peak, the barest hint of a smirk turning up the edges of his mouth as he licks his lips.

Meredith watches him through half-closed eyes, blissfully boneless, and though she's not yet ready to move, he does that and she wants to, another little shiver running through her. Even utterly satisfied, she looks at him and wants more every time. It's impossible not to when he looks like that, flushed and disheveled and just as insatiable. Smiling, she opens her mouth to speak and spends the next several seconds catching her breath first. "Sean," she says finally, still half in love just with saying his name. "Okay. Yeah." Biting her lip, she lays her head back again, holding her hand out to beckon him closer and it's almost a question when she adds, "Come back up here."

Sean barely needs to be told, let alone asked, and he drops a couple quick kisses to her thigh and hip as he pushes himself up onto his knees and leans over her again to nuzzle against her neck, grinning openly now. There's nothing like the way she says his name, how much weight it carries even when she's saying nothing at all, and he's never been as fond of it as he has recently. "If ye thought that was somethin', jus' wait 'til Christmas," he laughs, a little breathless himself.

Meredith smiles, inexpressibly fond, something about the way he laughs getting to her. Slipping her arms up over his shoulders, she turns her head to kiss him lightly. "Something doesn't even begin to describe it," she says, smile turning sly. "Now you've actually got me looking forward to Christmas." That in itself has to be some kind of Christmas miracle. Bringing her legs up to rest against him, she brushing kisses along his shoulder, her movements still small and languorous. Whatever the holidays hold, however content she is just to lay here, the immediate future is pretty promising, too.

Well, he does aim to please. Sean sighs, letting his forehead rest against her shoulder and closing his eyes at the gentle brush of her lips. He's still on pins and needles, his body thrumming and yearning for more of her, wanting to leave them both feelings ravished and debauched, but when he speaks, there's a lazy, far-off quality to his voice. "Silly lights an' all?" he murmurs, smiling to himself.

"Silly lights and all," she sighs, nodding, giving in just a little. "Maybe even a tree." It's all so absurdly ordinary and Meredith doesn't really know what to do with all that, but there's a part of her that doesn't entirely mind the idea of a normal Christmas with him. Working her way up along his jaw, sucking lightly at his ear, she shifts under him, stretching her muscles. "Whatever you want."

Whatever he wants.

The things that Sean wants have always had to compete with each other, the urge for nice and normal and happy constantly at odds with the need for more. Even before Maeve died, the holidays tended to be lonely affairs for him, just because he was away more often than not. Now he has no say in the matter, nice and normal is the only path there is for him to take, and somehow he finds that, for once, he's glad for the lack of freedom because he wouldn't have everything else without it.

Moaning softly, he slides his hand along her body to cup a breast, leaning his weight on one elbow and pressing himself against her. "Want ye," he mutters, still stuck in that dream-like feeling, "everythin' else is jus'... bonus."

Meredith tips her head back, arching up into his touch with a small, high sound as her eyes fall shut. As good as it feels, his hand on her, the insistent press of his body, it's the words that wind up being most potent. Because, the thing is, she believes him. It's a little terrifying, believing that, being this sure he loves her, when she's been so uncertain of these things for so long, when she's so used to second-guessing — terrifying, but heady. Being all that matters — it would be impossible not to let that go to her head and her thundering heart.

She could make some crack about the lights or tell him the feeling is mutual. Instead she settles her hands against his face, pulling him toward her so she can kiss him, slow and deep. "You have me," she murmurs against his mouth. "Whatever you want. Tell me what you want."

What he wants is to marry her and live in a big place in the Irish countryside where they can make love every night and he'll never be allowed to make another decision for himself ever again, but not only is that all patently impossible, it's pretty far outside the scope of the moment. Still a nice thought, though.

"Want ta be inside ye," he sighs, not wanting to break that kiss for longer than absolutely necessary, running the back of his nails lightly along the curve of her breast. He has her, and she's got him just as fully, if not more. Most of the time that terrifies him because of how dangerous it is, but right now it's just a comfort. "Want ta make ye scream."

There's not a chance in the world she'll ever say no to that, not when his just saying that runs right through her, makes her so wet for him all over again. A whimper catching in her throat, she kisses him hard, nodding as she pulls back again, tracing her nails down his back. Desire tying knots in her belly, heart pounding under his touch, she opens her eyes to look up at him, and god, she just wants it to be like this forever — looking at him and needing him in her like this, loving him this much. "I want you so bad," she says, voice falling to a whisper. She doesn't trust it not to break with desperation if she talks any louder. "Need you so..." She shakes her head and kisses him again, figuring that has to be clearer than any words could be.

Sean makes a sound that's more growl than anything else, arching up into her touch and kissing her fervently. There's nothing as hot as this, that urgency in her voice, that look in her eyes, nothing that's ever set him off as much as being wanted so much. He's a simple man with simple pleasures, but in the right hands, even the simple things can be absolutely devastating, and Meredith's are about as right as they get. He should probably force himself to get up right about now, go grab a condom, but it's damn near impossible to break away with her under him like this, and he's busy sliding damp panties down her thighs anyway.

When he has her this wound up, this ready, his fingers moving over her skin and her hips lifting automatically to help him, even moments seem like forever. It makes focusing on anything outside of Sean more than a little difficult, but she has to, reaching blindly overhead to fumble for her pants (these days, when the least little thing has her on her back for him, it pays to be prepared, even if she sometimes forgets anyway). She kisses his throat, then tips her head back, exposing her own as she tries to look behind her to where they're out of reach. Stretching means shifting, breasts brushing against his chest in a way that draws another nearly inaudible gasp from her, and she barely even wants to bother.

His hearing might not be what it used to, but even the subtlest of sounds that she makes seem to ring in Sean's ears as clear as day. He looks up for just a second to see what she's doing as he moves to finish ridding her of what little clothes she has left before he's kissing her again, lips sucking at her neck, unable to resist taking advantage of the opening she's given him. It occurs to him that he's probably not making things any easier for her, but until she actually tells him to lay off, he can't be bothered to quit worrying at her skin with his teeth, not when he can feel her pulse under his tongue, can practically hear it.

Meredith stops straining to reach, fingers curling in and shoulders relaxing. It's too easy to get distracted by how good it feels, the slight tug of his teeth, the warmth of his tongue, the distant thought that that'll leave a mark. Sighing, she arches up toward his mouth, eyes closing, and every nip just makes her want more, makes her want him now. "Sean, wait," she murmurs, draping her arms over his shoulders again, sliding a hand to the back of his neck. "Wait. Condom. I can't reach." She really doesn't want him to stop at all.

Sean groans quietly in complaint, more petulant than anything, but in his defense, the way she wraps herself around him again seems really counterintuitive to making him stop. "Mmm, so?" he mutters against her skin in protest, but he's dragging himself up even as he says it, brushing a kiss across her temple as he forces himself to reach up and grope along the floor until he can grab the edge of her pants and drag them over. They're already far too lenient when it comes to remembering these things, but in the moments like this one, it's at least easy to understand why that is.

"So," she echoes, but there's no real reply, nothing to follow it up. Meredith's in no mood to get into that, not when he's already complying and she can watch him, rising up on her elbows just enough to take advantage of the movement to kiss along his chest. Twisting halfway onto her side, she searches blindly in the pockets. She'd be faster if she could just focus, she knows, but she'd rather pay attention to the slope of his shoulder, the line of his neck, the familiar taste of his skin as she nips playfully at him, smoothing over the tiny bites with her tongue. Distracted or not, though, it's a relief when her fingers close on the package and she pulls it out.

There's nothing frustrated in the way Sean groans this time around as he tips his head back for a second, eyes shut tight at the ministrations of her lips, her tongue, her teeth. No matter how familiar she feels, no matter how well he knows this, there's still a quality of 'new' to it all, like the past however many months have just been one long revelation that has yet to quit. "So," he sighs again, barely aware of it as he settles back against her. Kissing her deeply, he reaches up to pluck the packet from her fingers before he pulls back and opens his eyes to regard her with a teasing smirk. "Girl scout."

[for Meredith]

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