missingthekeep | (no subject)

Meredith draws in a deep breath and even the answering pang from her ribs can't pull her back down to solid ground, her thoughts hazy with lust. She knows the logic here, knows what she's afraid of, but it's nothing she wants to think about and she wants even less to say it. He makes it so easy not to think, to consider only that they've gotten away with it before. Hips pressing automatically back against his, she turns her head to kiss his neck. "You know the risks," she says, but it barely even tries to be a protest now.

If she's trying to dissuade him, she's not doing a very good job of it and Sean quietly moans, tipping his head to capture her mouth in a kiss, his fingers digging into her hip before he remembers that he's supposed to be being careful. "Worth it?" he mumbles, suddenly beyond the ability to string together complete sentences.

While there's a part of her brain that's distinctly aware that it really might not be, depending on the outcome, it's drowned out by the overwhelming sound and feel and taste of him. Meredith nods blindly, kissing him again, reaching up to rest a hand on his neck. It isn't fair, she wants him too much to keep saying no, but she can't bring herself to care. "Yes," she says, a little strangled, heart in her throat. "Yes, god, Sean, please."

Sean makes a noise that falls somewhere between relieved and ridiculously turned on, messily kissing her again as he shifts just enough to get a bit more leverage. He doesn't hesitate any longer, all his ability to take this slow having evaporated the instant those words were out of her mouth, and he's guiding himself into her from behind before the thought that he's doing it even really registers with him. When it feels this good, they should be allowed one little lapse in judgment.

Meredith gasps and turns her head to bury her face against her arm, head swimming, a little relieved herself just to feel him inside her again. It's been too long and he's right, they've been so good and had so much bad happen, and none of that even really matters when he feels so good. She moans into the pillow, drawing her knees toward her and out of his way, pushing back against him, tightening around him, as much as she can. The future and the past and everything outside this room, nothing matters right now but the way he makes her feel.

Sean's mouth falls open and he shuts his eyes tight, a choked moan dying in his throat and giving way to a few stilted gasps. For a second, it feels like it's too much, too overwhelming, too perfect, but whether or not his mind can decide if he can handle this, his body already has. There's no real pause before he's moving, short, sharp thrusts within her as he puts his arm around her to hold her close. This is it, this is what he has to live for these days, and if it's only for these periods that things can feel the way that they used to, then he's going to seize them with both hands.

As soon as she's regained some semblance of control over her breathing, Meredith's half-twisting around to try and kiss him again, holding tight to the arm around her, reaching with the other to find his neck, his shoulder, anything. Always vocal, she's even more so now, unable to suppress the sharp, short moans breaking through her panting. It doesn't matter if it takes longer to heal, she can deal with the pain. She can't be without him, can't live without him pushing into her, lined up against her. Tangling her legs with his, she pushes back as hard as she can, desperate for more, never troubling to hide how badly she needs this.

Distantly, Sean registers that all the moving around she's doing can't be good for her injuries, but he's sure as hell not going to complain. Right now, it feels like it's enough just to be solid and here for her, falling into a rhythm far steadier and more sure than anything going on in his head. When he kisses her, it's off-centre and distracted, but that only adds to the desperate, hazy feel of it all, pushes the real world that much further away. And anyway, he wouldn't want to smother any of those heart-stopping sounds she makes.

Meredith's never been physically masochistic, but there's something to be said for how aware she is of her breathing and where his arm falls across faded bruises, how much richer everything else feels in counterpoint to this and all the lost time. It's like an echo of that clarity she once possessed, even if he leaves her a little dazed, moving with him as she drops her head back against his shoulder again, looking hazily back. Her hand finds his and draws it higher, her heart racing and erratic. At least she's still here, at least he is, inextricably intertwined; she can take everything else in exchange for that.

It's all so easy, so natural, the way his hand finds her breast, the tangle of their legs, the unceasing give and take of their their bodies, perfectly fitted together as always, that Sean's thoughts stay heady and unfocused, constantly tripping from one nonsensical, blissed-out notion to the next. If this isn't the real world, than none of it's real, which just makes sense. These are sensations too perfect to exist. The real world, that's where he could have lost her, where he can still lose her at any second of any day, but wherever they are now, they're there together and nothing can change that. Propping himself up a bit on his elbow, he rests his lips against her neck with a long, panting sigh, and the slight delay he feels between her pulse there and the fluttering heartbeat beneath his fingers somehow manages to make him feel more connected to her than any of the rest of it.

With the way he's holding her, kissing her, part of her, all Meredith knows is that everything's so good here, everything can be good again. It can't be any other way, not when they feel so right; it has to be okay because they're the same perfect fit they've always been. It's the only thing she's known that is perfect, in spite of all their flaws. In spite of everyone else's. Overwhelmed, overdoing it, she can feel the throbbing ache in her side, already insistent, but it doesn't matter. It's no match for this incoherent satisfaction that just turns into more desire. She keeps her fingers locked with his just to keep him close, wanting every bit of him she can get as each stroke pushes her a little further, moaning and gasping, dizzy and dazed enough to half-believe she can make this last forever anyway if she really tries.

Sean couldn't relinquish his hold on her right now even if he wanted to, the way he can feel himself getting close making it all but a physical impossibility. He knows, in a vague sort of way, that she's still recovering, that they should be taking this as easy as they can, but having been denied for what now feels like forever, he wants to draw it out as long as he possibly can, wants to never be separate from her again. A quiet groan slips through his lips as he tries to reign himself in, tries to make himself last, but as his movements slow a bit, as he presses forward into her as far as he can before drawing back again, as he frantically whispers her name and gets distracted by the brilliant way her moans drown him out, he knows that there's only so much he can do.

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.

It almost surprises Sean, the way no one thing suddenly pulls him over the edge. It's just the steady build brought on by the slide of their bodies, that tight heat enveloping him, the way she feels in his arms, all of it coming together so slowly that he doesn't even notice he's almost there until he is. It catches him off-guard when his muscles tense and he buries his face against her neck, the soft cry he makes almost unrecognizable to his ears. Alright, so maybe he still never wants this to end, but as the force of his own orgasm hits him like a freight train, it's a pretty fantastic alternative.

Inasmuch as Meredith's thinking anything at all, she thinks she loves that — being enough to undo him, to draw those too-rare, heartstopping sounds from him. She holds out as long as she can anyway, barely stopping a moment, though there's something about actually feeling him come inside her that means it isn't long at all before she follows, eyes opening wide for just a moment as she draws a deep breath which hits her almost as hard. She doesn't have time to care (if she can still feel like this, there's nothing wrong at all). Tensing, tightening her grip on him, she curls forward to press back against him, nothing soft about her own cries as it sweeps over her, wave after wave of almost too much pleasure leaving her shaking.

Sean wishes he could do more, coax her through it or watch her come apart, but he's still in that nebulous period of dazed bliss and he's really just along for the ride at this point. Remaining unmoving for as long as he's able once she starts to come down, he spends his few scraps of awareness on getting his breathing to go from ragged gasps to something a little steadier, still clutching her tightly.

"God, I needed that."

Meredith nods, still trying to catch her breath, to ignore the ache in her side. It doesn't matter, it's insignificant; she twists in his arms a little to kiss him and that's all that's important now. "So much," she murmurs, voice still a little frantic and rough as she pulls her hand free of his to cup his cheek. "Oh, I love you. Oh, god." She doesn't want to move any further than she has to so she can see him, kiss him, back still pressed flush against his chest. She doesn't want to leave this room ever again if she can help it. "Never waiting again."

Somewhere in between the sex and the alcohol fogging up his thoughts, Sean feels an unexpected surge of emotion at that, sharply struck by the way she says it or how she kisses him or something. That's what it always seems to come down to with them, isn't it? Waiting. For something to happen, for someone to be ready, they're always waiting for something. "I'd die without ye," he whispers, eyes closed once again, unsure as to where the words come from but meaning them all the same.

Meredith closes her eyes, shaking her head. "Don't say that," she murmurs, holding onto him a little tighter, less afraid that he'll vanish than that she'll be the one to go, if she doesn't cling to him for all she's worth, however much that is. It's only terrifying because, when he says it, she knows it's the same for her — if she loses him, what's the point now? Except it's not an if, it's a question of when, and the dull, throbbing pain in her ribs is a reminder of how close she came to leaving him. "You won't."

"It's the truth," Sean protests, eyes still shut tight to the world, the warm body in his arms being the only thing he knows for certain. He's sure the moment will pass in short order and he'll feel appropriately stupid for it when it does, but for now, this seems like the most important point there is. "If I lost ye, I... I'd be lost, too. I'd be gone."

The safety she always longs for is such a fragile thing. Meredith can feel it slipping away from her already, replaced by all the old fears, heartbeat picking up again for less desirable reasons as she turns to press her face against his shoulder. "Don't," she pleads, "Sean, don't." It would be so easy to write off back in Seattle or anywhere else, but it's just not something she can take lightly here, least of all with the way things have been lately. "You aren't going to lose me. I'm not leaving. I could never leave, I can't live without you. Nothing's taking me away."

Sean doesn't answer right away, just takes a few deep breaths now that they're coming a little steadier and tries to let her words sink in, tries to believe them. It isn't easy. "I wish I could," he murmurs, shifting a bit so she hopefully doesn't have to twist as much to lean against him. "That's all I want, to be able ta take ye away from this place an' ne'er look back."

"I know," Meredith murmurs, taking in a slow, deep breath. "I know. I wish you could, too. I want that so much. To not have to worry so much anymore, to just... be sure." He's all she's sure of these days, really. Loving him feels like the only real certainty she has left sometimes. As much as she loves her friends, as much as she'd hate to abandon them, she'd do it in a heartbeat if it meant a lifetime together. "Just you and me."

Somehow, hearing Meredith validate his idiotic little wants and insecurities makes them somewhat easier to bear, and Sean finds himself relaxing again. It doesn't make any of it better by any stretch, but it's also nothing new. Besides, it isn't as if there's anywhere they could run that could magically make them immune to life; everyone leaves eventually and there's an infinite number of ways out there for it to happen. She's got the bruises to prove it. He's got Maeve.

"Someday," he says with a small nod, since it beats giving voice to the rest of it. "Someday it will be. Sorry 'bout all that."

Meredith shakes her head, relaxing again just a little. "No," she says, "no, don't be sorry. I told you I want you to talk to me and I meant it." If this is what happens, then she'll just have to deal with it; it's not like the sentiment's really anything they haven't felt a thousand times before, even if she'd rather have held onto that sense of security just a few minutes longer. He's still here with his arms around her, still warm and hers and perfect in all his imperfections, and in the face of the thought of losing him, it's security enough, if only just barely. She sighs and turns her head to look up at him, thumb running along his cheek. "Someday. We just have to keep believing that." Even if they sometimes have to take turns at it.