One hand curled in the pillow over her head, the other tangled in his hair, Meredith relaxes. Oh, her hips still strain toward that amazing mouth of his, her whole body strains toward him, and a particularly sharp gasp reminds her that she's not altogether well yet, but she can't think how long it's been since she just felt good. She doesn't want to think about it, so she doesn't, she can't, not like this. All that rest has never felt especially relaxing, not for her, but at least for now, all the worries, everything that's been in her way, can be forgotten for a little while. Sober or not (she won't think about it), he's good at this, setting off sparks, drawing soft, high sounds from her over and over again, reminding her just how well he knows her.