All Meredith can do is hold on, all the more aware of every inch of him as he slows his pace. As she moves with him, lets him guide her, there's nothing but his breath on her skin, his voice in her ear, his body warm and strong and, for these perfect minutes, part of her own. In the midst of all this frantic need, the way she strains to feel him on her everywhere, there's a kind of peace in letting him be the one in charge, giving her a stretch of time where she doesn't have to try and fix anything or be ready for anything. She doesn't have to try to hold herself together here, she's encouraged to unravel. Her sole responsibility is to be here with him wrapped around her, driving her right to the edge, making her feel almost unbearably, wickedly electric, leaving his name woven almost incomprehensibly through her gasps.