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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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.

His breathing picks up speed right along with her, and Sean has to wonder if taking their time means holding off for as long as he can. If it does, than he might just have to say screw it, because damn does that feel good, and he's just not sure if he's got the willpower in him this early in the morning. He fidgets a little more underneath her as he feels himself getting somewhere, getting close, mouthing silent nonsense to the open air as he pulls up hard on the sheets at his side.

Things are different this way, under the sheets where Meredith can't actively watch him, can only tell she's getting somewhere by feeling it, the way he moves, the brush of fabric against her when he tugs at it, and how he sounds. Slowing down for a few moments, she then quickens her pace again, hand running over his chest, along his side, along his leg, everywhere she can reach, urging him on.

It's the pause that does it, the way she slows slightly just to pick back up again, causing his body to feel like it's playing catch-up and pulling him right to brink of climax all in a rush. With no vocal or visual cues to fall back on, and no presence of mind to think of anything else thanks to all those little touches of hers feeling like they're coming from everywhere at once, setting his skin on fire, he just has to trust that she knows him well enough to know it's coming. Reaching up with their linked hands, he presses his lips hard against the back of hers, stifling the sound he makes into a quiet, strained whimper as he comes, body tensing one final time.

Meredith tightens her grip on his hand, fingers digging into his thigh, slowing but not stopping until he's begun to relax. Eventually she kisses the inside of his leg, slipping out from under the covers to lay over him again, face pressed against the side of his, pulling his arm around her. There's a certain satisfaction in bringing him to this, but now he's got her wanting more and she knows she has to wait, to be content with seeing him again, like he was ever that far away to begin with.

Sean lets her maneuver him however she likes, his body gone limp and pliable as he rests his head against hers, pulling in slow, panting breaths as his heart continues to race. His side is bothering him a little after that last spasm, but not enough to get him to do anything drastic like move beyond wrapping his arm more securely around her. Eyes still closed, he finds himself trying to speak, but without enough focus to spare on the task, his throat won't cooperate and he has to give up.

With him holding onto her, Meredith lets go of his hand, fingers combing through his hair. She doesn't feel any need to speak, just to press close to him, eyes shut, feeling the way his chest lifts and falls against hers. Words can wait, words can be saved for later. This is how she likes it, safe and easy, what movements she makes languid, barely a conscious decision. It's one of the few things she's been able to rely on, the way he makes her feel.

She's so warm against him, and Sean wraps a leg around hers just to get as much contact as he can as he stretches out beneath her, unbelievably content. He'd be a fool not to see how hard things have been for them, but even with all the ways that their life is far from perfect (hell, he can't even talk), it still manages to feel like it is in the moments like this. And what is perfection if not just a feeling? Maybe this is all they need. It's with this thought in mind that he brushes the backs of his fingers delicately over her cheek and leans in for a lazy kiss.

Perfection.

Meredith sighs, kissing him deeper, hips pressing closer. Right here with the way they line up, tangled together, there's something so right about it, more than anywhere else she could be. How she found that here on this island or at this point in their lives, she doesn't know, but all she's really aware of now is him anyway, his body and the notion she could be happy just staying here in bed the whole day if she had her way, doing nothing but lying here with him.

Spurred by the sudden urge once all the feeling comes back to his limbs, Sean rolls, not moving a single inch of himself away from her as he switches their positions. Unfortunately, this causes that tug at his side to veer just that little way from discomfort to pain, and he winces, covering it up by kissing her that much harder as he tries to settle in again. With his voice still causing him untold grief, he's not about to let this slow him down, as well.

It's distraction enough that Meredith doesn't yet notice, breath growing shallow and a whimper in her throat as she wraps her arms around him. There's a lot to be said for idly making out, but this is better, the way he feels on top of her, everywhere against her, as close as possible and still not enough. She hooks her leg over his, nails dragging lightly down his back. She could talk enough for both of them easily, but she doesn't want to stop kissing him.

As if he wasn't already unwilling to disengage for anything, with the way she reacts, Sean could have knife stuck in his side and still not be able to move away. Forcing himself not to grit his teeth and letting pleasure override the pain, he arches his back up against her hands, skimming his fingers along the length of her body and letting himself become overwhelmed from kissing her.

Meredith's all but forgotten the idea of taking her time, and even if she remembered, she'd feel they've taken plenty as it is, not least because of all the waiting over his injuries. Even if that weren't the case, drawing things out means she's wound up enough that simple touch makes her want more anyway. Pulling him closer, she turns her head away to kiss his jaw, the easy, almost drowsy mood of a few moments ago gone. It's always been one of her first responses to trouble, which has made the last couple weeks difficult in some respects, though it's been a lot better than she expected it would be. That things are looking up doesn't make her any less eager.

There's nothing slow or lazy about her actions now, and while Sean's not yet ready to really make it worth her while, it's hard not to get swept up in all that she's giving him. His heart is racing as he tips his head to the side and rolls his hips against hers, breath coming in rough pants. What's a bit of pain when compared to what she does to him, anyway? They're both all too familiar feelings, but he's been waiting far longer to get the one than the other.

Meredith nips at his neck, a whine in her throat as she presses back, turning her head to kiss him again. Though he's pressed close against her, she strains toward him all the same, every inch trying to get closer, as if with enough effort that could be possible, like she's trying to disappear in it all. She'll never manage it, but she won't stop trying, leg hitching higher against his hip, holding him against her.

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Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

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