lexiesloan (lexiesloan) wrote,

Tangled Up in You (Mark/Lexie)

Title: Tangled Up in You (1/1)
Author: lexiesloan
Rating: M
Pairing: Mark Sloan/Lexie Grey
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: randomly set during S5. 

This is very random and pointless but I do love my Mark and Lexie in bed. Please read, comment and as always, please enjoy!

PS - I will be continuing I'm With You and will start work on the next chapter tomorrow. Thank you to those who love it and still want to read it. 

“Do you like that?” He whispered into her ear.
She laughed, breathless, her heart thumping madly in her chest. “You and your silly questions,” she smiled, running her hands in random patterns on his bare back.
His lips curved into a grin against the corner of her jaw. “I missed you today,” he then admitted, talking quietly as if he didn’t want someone to overhear him say such things even though they were in their bedroom, locked away and completely alone.
He pulled his head back and she blinked up at him with her warm wide eyes. She smiled faintly and lifting a hand, she rested it on the side of his neck, her thumb on his cheek.
“I missed you, too. It’s weird when we work on the same case. We’re standing next to one another but…” she tried to explain, wondering if he understood what she meant, and he did. He always did. He nodded and she smiled again. “It’s weird,” she said again.
He lowered his head and kissed her softly on the lips. “We have all of tonight and tomorrow morning,” he reminded her and she nodded. “Even though we missed each other, I’m still glad that we’re not using the on-call rooms anymore.”
“Me, too,” she agreed. “I don’t understand why people find us endlessly fascinating.”
“Because I’m me and you’re you,” he said, his hands now lightly running down the sides of her body, goosebumps fleshing across her skin in the wake of his touch. “And just a few months ago, you were buying balloons for Bambi and decorating his locker.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that one. “I’ll buy balloons for you if you want.”
He smiled a little. He didn’t doubt that she would decorate his office in a heartbeat if she sensed that he wanted her to. Last week, she had presented him with a green plant – “It’s impossible to kill” she had told him and then had proceeded to situate the pot on the windowsill behind his desk. He normally didn’t like clutter in his office – he had no personal mementos of any kind – but when she had brought him the plant, he had smiled and left it where she put it and found himself now watering it meticulously.
“And what do you mean, you’re you?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow. Her hands now rested on his shoulders, running down to his biceps and then back up again.
He gave her a look. “You know what I mean,” was all he said in terms of clarifying.
His hands came to a rest on her hips, his thumbs pressing into the jutted out bones – he sometimes thought she was too skinny. He sat up on his knees, straddling her thighs, and he looked at her, unable to move his eyes away. The hotel had white sheets on the bed and her hair – long and dark – starkly contrasted against the pillowcase. She wore only her bra and panties – swirls of black and purple lace – and he couldn’t resist. He leaned down and pressed his lips – warm and wet – to her stomach, kissing her there. In an instant, her fingers tunneled through his hair and he moved his mouth up her body, making her shiver and bite down on her lower lip and then his lips captured hers in a kiss.
Her hands rested on his cheeks, her mouth moving against his, and she shifted, lifting her hips when she felt him lower his body on top of hers and his hands went to her panties. It took some maneuvering but they were well-practiced at this now and together, they managed to keep kissing as they rid her body of the panties. He balled them in his hand and tossed them away, not to be found until the next morning. He settled on top of her, his hands rubbing her sides, his lips melting completely against hers.
This was his favorite place in the world now. It was what he waited all day for. To be in bed with her, kissing her and touching her and just being with her. What had this woman done to him? What made him want to be with no one but her? How had she completely captivated him? Him! He was Mark Sloan. He slept around and never stuck around for more than one night with a woman. The exceptions had been Addison and Callie but this, with her, it was different – so different already and it would have been terrifying if it wasn’t so exciting and addicting. He was constantly craving her and every time he was with her like this – every night now spent together – it was never enough.
He had never felt this way before – not even with Addison because when he had been with her, and he had thought to be in love with her, he had still been able to cheat on her. But now, here, with her, she was the first woman who had ever been more than enough.
When he sank into her, she moaned and lifted her hips as she always did, pressing against him, encouraging him to go deeper. Her back bowed from the bed and she squeezed around him, making him groan and clench his jaw. He felt like a teenager each time they were joined together and he always worried that he would end prematurely. This was what he was a master at. Sex. But when he was with her, she made him forget everything that had given him his reputation.
Her hands went to his back, holding on, as he began to steadily thrust inside of her, his lips fused to hers in an endless kiss. She moaned into his mouth, lifting her legs, winding them around his waist. Her body rocked with his, both of their hips meeting with a slap of skin and her body was tight yet accepting of him each time he drove inside of her. She broke her mouth away from his as her lungs burned and she tried to breathe. His thrusts became a bit faster, a lot harder, and she held onto him, crying out his name, pleading for more. He was the biggest man she had ever been with – and the thickest – and he plowed into her body, cutting into her, stretching her to the point of almost paining her. But he never hurt her. He was the absolute best – the best she had had ever had. He knew exactly what to do to her and he knew exactly what she loved.
He pushed himself up onto his knees, his hands grabbing her hips, and he thrust into her, pulling her body forward towards him. She cried out, her back arching, her head digging into the pillow beneath her. Her hands grabbed his forearms, holding onto him, her nails digging into his skin, and he gripped onto her hips, slamming into her. Both were sweating and their bodies slapped together with sharp stings that filled the hotel room.
Her entire body jumped when he touched her clit with his thumb and then she came, shouting, screaming, spasms shaking her body and he nearly smiled, listening as she called out without reigning herself in. She never did and was always quite loud during sex. He always was expecting the front desk to call to tell them they were being too loud.
He had to stop moving as her orgasm raged over her, her body squeezing so tightly around him, he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t blow, too. When he began to thrust again, rushing towards his own completion, his hands clutched her hips, almost forming bruises and he rammed into her, his entire body tensing as he emptied all of himself inside of her still quivering body.
He made sure he didn’t collapse on top of her and instead, he managed to find the strength to pull out of her and roll over, landing on his back next to her. They were both panting and he smiled a little when her fingers ran down the inside of his arm and then twined with his, her hand holding his. She shifted, moving closer, and her cheek came to a rest on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered, still breathless.
He smirked, wiping a hand across his forehead. “Stop doing that,” he replied softly. “It makes me feel like you’re about to leave money on the nightstand or something.”
She giggled softly, tiredly, shifting even closer. She rolled onto her side and rested her head on his chest, her thigh sliding across his knee. Her hand kept holding his between their bodies and he lifted his other hand, sliding it over the side of her face, brushing some of her sweat-matted hair back.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, staring into her eyes, studying the flecks of gold that speckled throughout the otherwise dark orbs, and it seemed to surprise both of them.
His eyes widened slightly and his hand stilled, tangled back in her damp hair, and her cheeks blushed that had nothing to do with the mind-blowing sex. She smiled faintly, almost shyly, and tilting her head up, she kissed him.
“Am I the first to ever tell you that?” He couldn’t help but wonder once their lips had parted. His thumb rubbed circles on the inside of her wrist and he stared into her eyes.
She paused for a moment and then shook her head slightly. “No. But,” she immediately added. “But you’re the first to ever give me butterflies in my stomach.”
He lifted an eyebrow at that. “Butterflies?”
She nodded. “Right here,” her hand dropped down and rested on her stomach. “Every time you look at me or smile at me or give me a wink when we pass in the halls, you give me butterflies,” she ended on a whisper, embarrassed but not enough to stay silent.
He didn’t know what to say to that. He found that this happened often with her. She said something to him – something that no one had ever said to him before – and he had no idea how to respond. She completely stunned him on a daily basis.
“You’re not at all like I expected you to be,” he finally spoke.
She looked at him for a moment and then she turned her head, her cheek returning to rest on his chest. “Thank you for getting to know me. Some people… most people, they just think I’m Meredith’s little sister or a stupid intern or a suck-up who has to know it all or… or a pathetic Lassie,” she whispered.
He stilled at that one. “I was angry at you,” he admitted.
“Why?” She turned her head once again so she could look back to him.
“You’re brilliant. Easily the best intern in your class. And I don’t let interns in on my surgeries. But I wanted you in that OR with me because you helped me and you earned it. Not many people earn anything with me. But you were turning me down and wasting this chance to help O’Malley. I couldn’t figure you out,” he tried to explain.
“George is my friend…” she tried to weakly explain.
“But you’re not his,” he said and his words were soft but harsh and she nearly flinched. He exhaled a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did,” she lifted a hand to his chest. “You’re always honest with me – no matter how much it hurts.” She kissed him lightly. “I don’t have a lot of friends,” she then whispered, dropping her eyes, not wanting to look at him when she said that.
“Me, neither,” he said and rubbing a hand over his head, he looked up to the ceiling.
She was quiet, resting her head on his chest again. After her mother died and she left Boston to return here, and began working at Seattle Grace, she never would have guessed that the person she would feel closest to, the person she would have the most in common with, would be him. She knew the stories and the rumors concerning him but it was at times like this, after the sex, when they were laying quietly wrapped up in one another, she had a hard time believing that they were about the same person. Perhaps it was naïve of her but she couldn’t help but think that she was the only one to know this version.
“Are you hungry?” He asked after a few minutes.
His fingers were stroking through her hair, playing with the long, dark strands, and her finger was drawing random patterns on his chest. He could feel each steady exhale of warm breath from her on his skin and he didn’t want to move. She made him feel completely relaxed – every night – but his stomach felt completely empty and he could assume that hers probably was, too.
“Mmmmm, you read my mind,” she smiled, stretching her arm out, and he smiled.
“I kind of have a taste for Chinese,” he said. “I can have it delivered.”
“Now I know why I keep coming back to your bed,” she teased, lifting her head and slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. “You keep spoiling me with incredible sex and delicious food.”
He smirked, sitting up as well. “I like spoiling you.”
He framed her face between his hands and kissed her tenderly. He then pulled away, seeing her blush, making him smile a little, and got out of the bed. He stretched his arms above his head, grunting, and he crossed the room to the dresser. He felt her eyes watching his naked body and he smirked confidently before he pulled out a pair of black basketball shorts and tugged them on.
He returned with the remote to the television and his laptop. She remained naked but had drawn the bed sheet around her body, wrapping it and tucking the corner between her breasts. Her hair was a mess – mussed and tangled – and she ran her fingers through it, not wanting to get up to retrieve her comb from the bathroom. Slowly, she was leaving things behind in the room – toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, a small jar of bobby pins and rubber bands for her hair, a couple pairs of panties and bras, a stick of deodorant and a bottle of her perfume. She wasn’t sure when it happened or what had sparked it but she tried not to blow it out of proportion. She spent nearly every night with him in this hotel room. It was all just a matter of convenience. This was what she told herself.
He sat down, reclining back against the headboard, and brought up the menu of the Chinese restaurant they usually ordered from. “What do you have a taste for?” He asked and she leaned in to study the menu on the screen.
“The General Tao’s, please. Oh! And-”
“Crab Rangoon,” he nodded. “I know.”
That made her smile and she kissed him on the cheek. “Butterflies,” she whispered in his ear and he smiled, turning his head and looking at her.
He had such blue eyes with swirls of grey. They were completely hypnotizing and sometimes, when he caught her eyes in the hallway or from across the operating table, she almost forgot herself. She had to fight the urge to go to him and kiss him and drag him away for some privacy. The way he looked at her, he looked through her and it made her shiver. He was so handsome and he was here, with her, wanting her to be here with him when he could have his pick of any woman. Even though they had picketed his surgeries and had called him a man-whore, she knew that most of them still wanted him.
But he was here with her and he hadn’t been with anyone else in months.
“I need to take a shower. I smell like the hospital and sex,” she smiled.
“I think you smell great,” he smirked and she laughed a little.
“I think if it was up to you, I would always smell like this,” she teased and with a quick kiss to his lips, she turned and pulled herself from the bed.
It was his turn to watch her now as she slowly unknotted the bed sheet, letting it fall from her body to the floor and she crossed the room, naked. She had gained so much confidence since being with him.
She gave him a small smile from over her shoulder and he smiled, too, before she went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. A few seconds later, he heard the shower turn on and he forced himself to focus as he ordered their dinner. He received a confirmation, guaranteeing delivery in twenty-five minutes. He forced himself not to get up and join in her shower. If he did, he knew there would be no way they would be done in twenty-five minutes. When he had her, naked and wet, in the shower, he had a tendency to keep her there, pinned to the tiled walls.
He closed and set aside his laptop and then sinking down, stretching out, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Nothing was really on that caught his interest but he flipped through every station, trying not to listen to the water in the bathroom and imagine her naked, the water droplets and soap running down her body. He swallowed and shifted and stopped on HBO. They were showing a marathon of Soprano episodes. This was one of his favorite shows and hopefully, it would offer him a needed distraction.
Just as Tony Soprano was strangling a man while on a college visit with his daughter, there was a knock on the hotel door and he pulled himself from the bed, grabbing his wallet from the nightstand. She was still in the shower and he closed the door to the bathroom before opening the door to the hotel room. The delivery man from the restaurant stood in the hallway with two bags of food. It had been a hectic day at the hospital and he hadn’t really had an opportunity to eat anything. And rounds of vigorous sex with her always made him ravenous afterwards.
After paying the bill and giving a generous tip, he brought the food back to bed. She stepped from the bathroom, wearing one of the hotel’s white fluffy robes and a towel was wrapped around her wet hair. She smiled when she saw the food and came to the bed.
“What are we watching?” She asked, glancing towards the television, before he handed her the container of Crab Rangoon. She set it aside and gently removed the towel from her head, rubbing it over her hair and then scrunching the end strands with it.
Sopranos,” he answered, his mouth already full of Lo Mein noodles. “Seen it?”
She shook her head and popping open the container, she took out on piece of the Crab Rangoon, holding it between her index finger and thumb, biting off one of the corners. One episode ended and another began. She watched it with curiosity, not sure who the characters were or what was going on, but she watched.
“Is this your favorite?” She asked him, looking at him as she began on another piece
He nodded as he took a sip from his can of Coke. “One of them. What’s yours?”
She had finished the piece of Crab Rangoon and set the container aside, grabbing the carton of her General Tao’s chicken. There were several packages of plastic ware and chopsticks that had been tossed into the bag and she took a pair of chopsticks. He watched her as she struggled with adjusting her fingers, trying to hold them properly. He smiled a little and with gentle, warm hands, he maneuvered her hands the right way. She tried to follow his silent guidance and pick up a piece of chicken. Nothing was cooperating though and she sighed heavily, frustrated. He couldn’t help but grin.
“What’s your favorite?” He asked again as she tossed the chopsticks into the bag and pulled out a plastic fork.
“You won’t believe me,” she decided.
“What’s your favorite?” He asked for a third time, the show on the television forgotten.
South Park,” she said, her eyes twinkling with a smile, and then she ate a piece of chicken, stabbing it perhaps too hard with her fork.
He stared at her for a moment and then smirked. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
She laughed a little, shrugging. “I love it. I own all of the seasons on DVD.”
You watch South Park?” He asked in disbelief.
She wasn’t sure why but that made her frown. “Why can’t I watch it?”
Feeling it shift between them, too, he sat up. “Of course you can watch it. It’s just surprising. I never would have thought you’d watch it. It’s… it’s crude.”
She looked at him for a moment, her head tilted slightly to the side. “And I’m not?”
He snorted. “You’re as far from crude as a person can be. You don’t even swear.”
“I do, too,” she insisted though she wasn’t sure why.
“During sex doesn’t count,” he shook his head.
She chewed on another piece of chicken. “Fuck, that’s good,” she said.
A moment passed before he burst out laughing and she beamed. She loved that she could make him laugh. It was deep, rumbling from his chest, and he looked so young and carefree when he laughed. He looked even more handsome and she giggled, watching him. It took him a minute but he gained composure again and he shook his head at her.
The longer he stared at her, his expression slowly became serious. She sat on the bed, her legs tucked underneath her, her hair damp from the shower, and she was gorgeous.
“I love… being with you,” he chickened out at the last moment. It was too soon – way too soon for that – and women didn’t want to hear that from him anyway.
If she had been expecting something else, and was disappointed when it didn’t come, she didn’t act like it. Instead, she smiled faintly and leaned in. She didn’t touch him or kiss him but her face was close to his and he smiled, too. “I love being with you, too,” she told him and then her nose nudged against his.
His smile grew a bit wider and hers did, too.
Resting his takeout carton in his lap, his hands slid onto her cheeks. They were warm from the heat of the food and it made her want to close her eyes. She leaned into him, doing just that, closing her eyes, her forehead resting to his, and he closed his eyes, too. She smelled of her bottle of blueberry body wash that she kept in the shower and her usual shampoo. But beneath that, he caught a whiff of something else – something he recognized immediately.
She smelled like him. She carried his scent, branding her skin. She belonged to him and he knew that already, he didn’t want to lose her or have her lose that scent. Maybe it was too soon for that, too, but he didn’t care. With his eyes closed, he smelled both of them mixed together and it tickled his nose. They fit. No one understood except them but they were all that mattered.
“Lexie,” he whispered her name and pulled his head back, opening his eyes.
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, smiling faintly. She always looked so happy when it was like this – just the two of them, alone, locked away in his hotel room. He made her happy and he wondered if that was something he would ever get used to.
Her hands slid up his arms and curved around his shoulders. “Mark,” she whispered back.
And suddenly, just like that, it didn’t seem too soon at all.
He stared into her eyes and his thumbs brushed along her cheeks. “I love you,” he said, never looking away, his voice soft but strong, not wanting her to doubt this – not even for a second.
And this time, if she was surprised, again, she didn’t act like it. Instead, she smiled at him and her hands squeezed his shoulders. “I love you, too,” she said without hesitation. They stared at one another – both amazed and slightly shocked. She then laughed slightly. “Wow. And there it is.”
He grinned and with his hands still on her cheeks, he pulled her forward, capturing her lips with his. He kept kissing her, pulling on her, and she laughed against his mouth as she straddled his lap, dropping her hands, pulling the carton of food away from between them. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she felt light in the head. She had never said that before to a man and she knew that he certainly didn’t go around, spouting those words off to any woman. He loved her. And she loved him. She had no idea when it happened but it had. She knew without a doubt. The butterflies had been telling her.
“Don’t you-” she kissed him. “Want to-” their lips met again. “Watch your show?”
He smirked against her lips and he took the carton still in her hands and set it aside. “That’s the last thing I want to do,” he said as his fingers then unknotted the belt of her robe from around her waist. 

Tags: pairing: mark sloan/lexie grey

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