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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Meredith laughs and keeps kissing him, a hand traveling carefully down his side to his back. When she finally pulls away, it's just enough to rest her forehead against his, content just to lie still for a moment. There are times when she's worried all the time they've had only means it'll run out soon, but today it just seems right. Why shouldn't they get a second Valentine's when they've put up with so much, nearly had Christmas ruined? Why shouldn't things go their way, just for a little while?

Sean finds himself torn between the urge to fill the silence (since that's one thing he's long since grown tired of appreciating) and not wanting to interrupt the quiet electricity of the moment. Eyes closed, he runs his hand slowly along her arm and just mouths her name, lets the word ring through his head over and over, keeping the silence at bay without actually breaking it.

It's perfect.

In the quiet, she can almost hear it in the way he exhales. Having those three be the last words he said to her now, being able to replace that other, darker memory with something like this, is gratifying and, nudging closer, Meredith kisses him, sucking at his lip. She strokes her hand down over his leg, fingers brushing up again over his hip bone.

His momentary neuroses beaten for now, Sean gives himself over to her completely, letting her take the lead as he sighs against her mouth, his body straining into her touch. As he does, he keeps running his hand, feather-light, along her arm, his fingertips still itching for every point of contact he can make with her skin, however fleeting.

Dipping briefly lower, Meredith's fingers move higher instead, skating over his side, careful to avoid those places he's still injured. If she can help it, she won't be the cause of more hurt, not when this much is already on her, whatever he's said to the contrary. She pulls slowly away to kiss his shoulder instead, propping herself up to turn her head, trace the line of his collarbone with her tongue.

Sighing again, Sean tips his head back, eyes shut tighter now at the sweep of her tongue. It's strange, how being unable to speak properly makes him want to do it that much more, even when that's the sort of thing he's always been perfectly content to leave out of the bedroom. He's no talker, but right now, he feels like he could be, a thousand different things that he wants to say to her flitting through his thoughts, stuck there. It's aggravating, to be sure, but God, she makes it difficult to care.

Though Meredith had every intention of continuing on down, the way he bends his head back, exposes his throat, draws her back up again to suck at his skin, careful in a not altogether conscious way. She isn't much thinking about whether or not it's a good idea, only about how she wants to take advantage of the moment, taste him, drawing her teeth lightly down the line of his neck. This is one time the silence doesn't bother her, accustomed as she is to his being quieter in bed than she is, to hearing on his breath and her own soft sigh.

Biting his lip on a moan that would only be more trouble than it's worth, Sean shifts only enough to give her as much access as possible. He feels odd, though, self-conscious and exposed in a way he hasn't felt in a very long time at the attentive scrape of her teeth on his throat. He knows that it's likely just a lingering oversensitivity from being caught unawares back on the station, but his heart starts to race a little, anyway, at odds with the lazy pace they're moving at. At least there's no denying how good it feels, and his fingers curl gently against the nape of her neck, goading her on.

Meredith closes her eyes, a sound like a hum in her throat at that slight touch. Making her way up to his ear, drawing it lightly between her teeth, she stretches against him. It's so easy to get lost in this, moving in a kind of haze, drifting somewhere between a sense of security and renewed arousal. One hand seeking out his free one, the other skates along his side again. At times like these, she's stopped thinking if she'll get a lifetime of this; for the most part now, she assumes it, and somehow that just makes it better.

Sean's known for a long damn time that he's going to spend the rest of his life loving this woman, but there are still things about that which manage to surprise him. Right now, the big one is that even after everything they've gone through, all the pain and misery, she can still make him feel so good, can put him on top of the bloody world, higher than ever. Threading his fingers through hers, he presses wantonly against her, opening his eyes to dazedly regard their linked hands. Even if this perfection is only fleeting, who cares? She can always do it again.

"Sean," Meredith breathes out, turning her head to kiss him again, harder now, curving toward him. It's a while before she bothers to break away the way she intended to, so she can go back to trailing kisses down his chest. The difficulty with taking things slow is she's never been that good at it, too impatient, too desperate, as much as she enjoys it. There's something to be said for it, though, that measure of anticipation, her hand gripping his hip.

He may not be able to reply, but she's all that's on Sean's mind as he ducks his head to brush a kiss across her brow before laying his head back down with a drawn-out exhalation. Does he really need to say as much? His muscles go taut with that simmering anticipation and he wills himself to relax as best he can, desire and arousal trying valiantly but failing to upset the sense of peace he's got going.

Turning her head to press a kiss to his arm, Meredith slips further under the sheets, glancing up at him with a quiet laugh as she does so. It seems an almost childish thing to do, getting under the covers backwards like this, entirely at odds with her purpose, and she ducks her head again to nip at his hip, tongue sliding over the spot right after, smiling to herself.

It always feels like the hardest thing in the world not to echo her laugh, but Sean is all about persevering in the face of adversity, and one side of his mouth just hitches upward in a lopsided grin as he watches her slip under the covers, teeth showing and all. The feel of her tongue smoothing over those playful little bites to sensitive skin never fails to give him shivers, though, and he squeezes her hand, his smirk wavering a little as his eyes slide shut.

Kissing the inside of his thigh, Meredith runs her free hand over his leg, slowly but steadily moving higher. Between the way he holds her hand and the feel of his muscles taut where she's touching him, there's something about knowing he's already waiting for her to do something and then not doing it, not yet, at least. It's her turn to draw this out, take her time with him. She turns her head, close enough for him to feel her breath, for her to feel the heat of him, and, tracing idle circles on his skin, waits.

She's evil. She's sadistic, she's the devil incarnate, and saints, does Sean love her for it. His breath gets stuck in his throat as his whole world narrows down to the wait, the singular anticipation of what's to come, and he can't even say anything to express the urgency he feels (as if she doesn't know). All he can offer is a desperate, encouraging squeeze of her shoulder as he focuses on not squirming too much under her touch.

Meredith's shoulder rolls up into that touch as she sighs, admittedly smug knowing what she's doing to him. She holds out just a little longer, then leans in to drag her tongue slowly, slowly along the length of him. If she's going to take her time, this is what makes it worth it, feeling that tension, the desperation she needs no help catching. It sends a shiver through her as she licks him again.

Briefly, Sean wonders if it would be cheating to just throw the covers off so he can see her, but then, yes, that's her tongue, and any other concerns require far too much thought to be worth bothering with. Forcing himself into stillness and twisting his insides into knots in the process, he presses his head back into the pillow, silently begging her for more and knowing that he'll get it if only he can just manage to wait for it.

It's warm down here under the sheets, but Meredith doesn't care, eyes closed, focus on him. Free hand resting on his thigh, she wraps her lips around him, just the head, tongue swirling over his skin. She can feel it in her gut, this slow burn of wanting him, the way her heart leaps into her throat with it, until she thinks she might start squirming before he does.

Sean sucks in a quick, sharp breath of air through his teeth as her lips close around him, but he lets it out nice and slow, reining in his every screaming impulse to needfully press her for more. She's going to maintain whatever brutal, terrible, wonderful and utterly brilliant pace she wants to set, and even if it's a battle of wills that he's destined to lose, he's still not about to just give in. He'll feel debauched enough by the end of it anyway, he's sure. His feet flex against the mattress as he raises his knees up a bit, but he otherwise manages to keep still, taking measured breaths honed from a couple of weeks spent being painfully aware of that sort of thing.

It'd be one thing if this were just about getting him off. Meredith would give in to the desire to accomplish just that if it were. Today, though, it isn't even just about taking their time, being patient. It's embarrassing sometimes, how much he makes her feel adored, something she doesn't actually feel she deserves but wants anyway, and she intends to give him that in return, drawing back to trail first kisses, then her tongue along him again, taking him into her mouth slowly.

If anything, it just makes Sean adore her that much more, her willingness to take things so slowly, to taunt him so beautifully and just enjoy it all the while. Everything winds up being a reflection on her, but it makes him feel amazing just by association, so it all works out. It feels amazing by way of her mouth on him as well, of course, and so any overly introspective thoughts are quite effectively drowned out by those just pleading for more. His fingertips dig briefly into her shoulder, blunt nails pressing into her skin before he gains control again and draws back to fist his hand in the sheets, though he doesn't let hers go with the other for an instant.

That brief, goading touch makes Meredith moan around him, pressing forward, and she has to remind herself again to take it easy. Thumb tracing along the back of his hand where they're linked, she keeps the other running along his skin, just to touch him wherever she can reach, sucking slowly up and down. Maybe it's early yet, but she's fairly certain it counts as a good day when her one complaint is that the covers keep her from watching his reactions, having to read them instead in the slight movements he can't keep himself from making.

God, he wasn't this slow with her, was he? Sean swears he can feel her moan, and his hips shift slightly beneath her as he tries not to push up into it. Somehow, it's so much easier to stay in control of himself when it's quick and desperate, nothing like this. Or maybe the rush of sex just makes it easier to look past the way that getting this kind of attention from her strips him wide open in ways that both terrify and enthrall him. Either way, it's all fantastic, his tenuous grasp on steadiness and all. Twisting his fingers around hers and pressing his lips together hard, he really starts to get into it, the rise and fall of his chest falling into sync with the perfect pace she sets.

Though she thinks little of it now, Meredith enjoys being the one in control here, one small pocket of her life where she gets to call the shots and please him all at once, leaving her more smug than she probably has a right to be. He hardly moves, but it's amplified by proximity, and she picks up her speed just a little in answer — there's a line between prolonging this and doing so unnecessarily, and she doesn't want to torture him, just to take her time, feel him so perfectly on edge under her.

Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

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