missingthekeep | Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

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Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

Two weeks. Two bloody weeks since that damned station fell out of the sky, he and Meredith on it, two weeks since their not-so-grand getaway, two weeks since Sean's been able to voice a simple thought. And it's been miserable, there's no denying it, worse even than the last time he found himself unable to speak, when things had been good and it had just been a whim of the island doing it instead of his own stupid mistakes, but he's trying. For Meredith, and maybe more importantly, for himself, he's trying. He gets up, he fills his days, he makes it from sunup to sundown, and then he does it all over again, because the alternative is giving up, and he can finally see that that's exactly what he'd been doing for months. It hadn't helped.

So he's trying. He still spends most of his time alone or with Meredith because it's simpler, he sneaks the odd drink when he can, but overall, he's being good. He's being good and he's trying because he has to have faith that this will get better. Faith in her, faith in himself, faith in what's left of the life he built for himself here, any of the above, all of the above, it doesn't matter. He can do this.

It's a seemingly unbearable situation, but he bears it anyway, because that's just what he does. He bears it and he keeps the faith that things will improve again. And if they don't, if something else breaks, then he'll weather that, too. Today, bearing it means not ignoring what day it is, no matter how silly a day it may be.

Waking early, he tears half a sheet of paper from the notepad on the nightstand that he's been relying on and scrawls a quick message, adding a small, lopsided heart for good measure before folding it in half and resting it gingerly on Meredith's chest.

Morning, beautiful.

Who says he needs to be able to speak to be cheesy?

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"Okay, that's unfair," Meredith says, turning her head like she might be able to see him still. The protest is half-hearted at best, though, when she can't actually say she minds being at this kind of a disadvantage. Though she has a good idea where he's headed, not knowing how he intends to get there is half the thrill.

Sean has to stifle the urge to laugh at that (it really is the little things that he misses most of all), a playful nip at her side serving as his reply before he busies himself drawing her nipple into his mouth, finally relinquishing his hold on one wrist to run his hand down her leg.

Meredith starts to laugh, but it's cut off a moment later, replaced with a moan as she arches up against him. That makes up for whatever injustice she was claiming, at least. Careful not to dislodge the sheets too much, she slips her hand under to find the back of his neck. That's another point in the holiday's favor, then.

Fingers digging in momentarily as she presses against him, Sean recovers quickly, his tongue swirling around and over as he languidly mouths her. All the while, he lets his hand creep lower before slowly sliding back up her inside leg, just enjoying the feel of her.

Tipping her head back, Meredith makes an effort to keep taking deep breaths even as her hips strain pointlessly toward him. The slow drag of his tongue keeps sending little waves of heat through her, running straight down, content but wanting more with every touch.

Sean takes his mouth off of her just long enough to pay the same attention to the other side, grinning to himself all the while. Drawing the hand at her leg away at the same time, he lets that severed point of contact hang in the air for long seconds, taking advantage of the fact that she shouldn't be able to see him to try surprising her. Cutting right to the chase, his movements still slow, he slips his hand between her legs to rub at her out of the blue, his touch light and teasing.

Any effort at focus and calm Meredith's making, she forgets. Even having half-expected that, his touch catches her off-guard and she moans, back arching, legs spreading a little further. It's just enough from him to make staying still difficult, though she tries to, free hand sliding into his hair. She did say they should take their time.

Sean stays true to that plan, leisurely stroking her with thumb and fingers. Eventually, he takes his mouth off of her, instead just shuffling down a little more to rest his cheek against her belly, enjoying the feel of her hand in his hair. He's not so much holding her down anymore as just hanging on to her arm, drawing slow circles against the inside of her wrist as his eyes slip shut and he breathes deep.

Even with him working her up like this, Meredith finds there's something peaceful about lying here like this with him. It feels like just them again, the whole rest of the world disappeared, unimportant, nothing mattering so much as the slight weight of his head and the press of his fingers. "Sean," she says, her breath catching in her throat, little moans and whimpers escaping, and it's all she can do not to buck up into his touch.

Sean turns his head just enough to press a soft kiss to her stomach in reply, almost reverent. As aggravating and painful as it continues to be, it apparently took the universe shutting him up for a while to get him to appreciate these moments of peace again, and for the moment, he can't even be resentful of it. Not when it's this nice. Slowly, his touch still light for as long as he can keep it up, he shifts to press a finger smoothly into her, starts to work at her that way as well, cherishing every sound he gets out of her.

It's absurd, how gratifying one finger can be. Meredith sighs. She still feels he's being a tease, but when she so badly wants more, she'll take what she can get. Besides, this has its benefits, too, his willingness to lavish time and attention on her as much of a turn on as it is, currently, a frustration. She lifts her hips, trying to get him to push deeper, at least.

Still smiling as he drags his lips slowly across her skin, Sean acquiesces to her physical demands and firms up his touch, pressing a little deeper, a littler faster, sliding in a second finger after a few long moments. Letting go with his free hand, he runs it slowly up her arm, intent on just taking in as much of her as he can, touching as much of her as he can without rushing.

Meredith moans, head tipping back again, this close to thanking him or God for more. Hand slipping away from him, along his shoulder, she twists her fingers in the sheets. Drawing everything out so slowly is, somehow, intoxicating, her cheeks flushed and head light, even the simple touch of his hand along her arm feeling so good.

Sean doesn't think he's ever wanted to talk so much in bed than he does right now, simply by virtue of not being able to. Still, he holds steady, slowly walking his fingers up her arm and along her shoulder, fingertips brushing her neck. Underneath the sheets, he continues apace, finding a steady rhythm that he adds to, bit by bit, almost in sync with his own increasing arousal. Hearing her like this, feeling her like this, it's like a drug, and Sean will never understand how he could hold out for so long, the risk of bodily harm to himself be damned.

Turning her head toward his hand, Meredith tightens her grip on the sheets, that slow tension building steadily. She wants to see him, but her eyes are closed anyway, to touch him though she wouldn't have him stop for anything. Her breathing shallow, uneven, she couldn't ask for either if she tried, coming up with nothing more than his name now and again. There's nothing else that really needs saying when she can barely bring herself to bother thinking anyway.

She's getting there, Sean knows, and it takes a conscious effort not to just pour it on, to push her to the end as quickly as he can. What he really wants now is to go down on her, but again, he still hasn't shaved, so he contents himself with tipping his head a little further to kiss her thigh, his tongue darting quickly out to taste her skin as he crooks his fingers within her, adding a bit more pressure.

The feel of his lips, his tongue, anywhere on her is unexpected enough, it nearly undoes her. He's everywhere and Meredith can't quite breathe, dizzied by that and how close she is. She just wants to hold out, forever if at all possible, right on the edge with his breath on her skin. It's usually the idea, really, making it last, trying to hold onto whatever moments of pleasure they get, to lock them into a time and place that's just this, just them, but it's more so today, so theoretically it's a defeat when she can't quite manage that any longer. It doesn't feel anything like one, though, when she finally starts to tense around him, under him, the way she shakes punctuated with a soft cry.

Sean nearly freezes as he feels her tense, even his breath catching in his throat in his zeal to not miss a moment of this. Only his hand keeps moving, easing her through it as best he can, drawing it out. He presses another kiss to her thigh once she starts to come down, and then forces himself to move back toward the head of the bed, at once awed and kind of smug.

Meredith turns toward him, pressing her face to his shoulder, her lips to his skin. The initial movement is languid, easy, eyes half-lidded as she curls against him, though a moment later, her kisses trail higher. "Best way to start the day ever," she murmurs, smiling as she kisses him. In spite of how bad things have been for a while, she's struck by how lucky she is anyway, how perfect moments like this are.

Sean makes a motion that starts life as a vague 'well, I try' sort of shrug, but quickly degenerates into just leaning wantonly into her kiss. Far be it from him to disagree with the sentiment, since it had struck him as a pretty good one when he'd started, too.

There's one advantage to kissing, at least, in spite of her general aversion to stubble, which is that the fact he can't talk doesn't especially matter. It's not like they'd be talking now anyway, as Meredith deepens the kiss, hand finding the back of his neck.

As it stands, any time that Sean doesn't feel completely handicapped by his injuries counts as a victory, and when something as simple as kissing the woman he loves can bring that on, he sees no reason not to throw himself into it utterly and take his sweet time. Shifting a little, he rolls flat onto his back, not as mindful of his abdomen as he probably should and not particularly caring as he pulls her over him, not breaking the kiss.

"Careful," Meredith says, more habit than something she's thinking about, and then forgets to be, the word lost against his mouth anyway. She settles over him, careful about his injury as she can make herself remember to be, sighing contentedly.

Her warning, such as it is, goes all but ignored as Sean winds his arms around her, tangling his fingers in her hair with one hand. Even if he can't assure her that he'll be fine in the usual ways, hopefully he'll be able to make it abundantly clear with his hold on her, the slide of his tongue against hers, and all the other ways that really matter.

Meredith couldn't bring herself to protest even if she felt the need, hand at his cheek as she presses closer, a moan in her throat. While she has her concerns, they're tucked neatly away, easily forgotten when he's under her like this. If he's not up to this, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

Edited 2011-03-01 10:39 (UTC)

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