ambassador of kwan (abvj) wrote,
ambassador of kwan

Fic - The Long Way Home (Mark/Lexie) NC-17, 1/1

Title: The Long Way Home
Summary: I tried to think of something summary worthy, but, uh, came up with nothing. Let's just say that the title of this was going to be Mark and Lexie: Sexy Times. There is plot (I think), but blink and you'll miss it.
Rating: NC-17.
Author's Notes: 3,490 words. Takes place somewhere in-between 5x11 and 5x12. I feel like I should preface this and say that it's for a friend,justforyoudear who asked for smut for her birthday of the Mark/Lexie nature which I kind of suck at, so con-crit is, of course, welcome and appreciated. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not.

Author's Notes (and yes, I know, I'm being one those, but this has to be said, so please forgive me): So once upon a time in fandom when I was a wee little teenie writing really bad fic I met this girl who I immediately became BFF's with.This was over almost ten years ago, I think, and we've been close ever since. Anyway, even though she has this super cool life now and barely ever participates it fandom (although she just got LJ again and this makes me very excited because now I can bug her through PM), we have still kept in touch and when she found out I was going to Africa she sent me this HUGE package, a survival kit of sorts, because she is just that awesome. She is so awesome that I just spent the last five hours of my life trying to get internet service so I could post this in advance for her birthday in case I couldn't get to it later. She has a pretty big birthday coming up and I asked her what she wanted and she said, and I quote: Mark and Lexie. In a car. Sexin' it up because we do not see nearly enough of them getting naked on that show! I did my best, dear. I love you and am so thankful to have you in my life and can't wait for our coffee date when I get back! Happy birthday, bb!

“You can come up you know,” she says quietly, hand already on the door handle, bracing herself.

Mark looks at her for a beat, pressing his lips into a thin line. She has to ask. She always asks. And it unnerves her, really, the way he looks at her as the words fall off her tongue. He’s playing the role of good guy tonight – she almost thinks boyfriend, but even in her mind the sentiment rings false, because it has only been a week, maybe two, and they are definitely not in the position to be adding labels to things that simply don’t need them – and drove her home after one too many beers at Joe’s. It had been partly his fault, anyway (and she didn’t waste time telling him this, either; in fact, she’s pretty sure she told him just that. Twice) with the looks and barely there touches. The way his fingers would skim the small of her back and linger there.

“You know I can’t.”

“I know.”

“I want to,” he says quietly, trying to placate her, and it’s a funny feeling that passes over her when she realizes she doesn’t really need it. Not yet anyway. “I do, I just…”

Her smile is blinding and full of teeth. “I get it.”

And she does. She understands now what she won’t later – why he doesn’t want people to know. There’s Derek and Meredith and all the complications that come with them knowing, and what’s the point, really, when her and Mark aren’t sure what exactly this is and where exactly it’s heading? They had the conversation the night he brought her home from the bar the first time, the one that says, without no further preamble I like you, let’s just see where that takes us and she’d kissed him and agreed with her fingers trailing down, down, down and let that be that.

Only now she’s starting to do what she does best and over-think things.

Starts to wonder if this is just about fucking or something more, something less even.

Lexie has grown to accept uncertainty, the dull ache in the back her chest that ebbs and flows periodically in regard to certain things, but what she is not accustomed to is having it relate to him, or any man for that matter.

There have been boys, of course, men, even, but in college she was all about making the grade and having fun and everything else became second best. Now she’s starting to wonder what she’s going to do when this ends because as sad as it is, she has come to depend on his presence in this far-off, removed way that’s beginning to grow into something deeper, something more. Not so much that she needs him, exactly, because she doesn’t, she doesn’t need anyone, but she likes it when he’s near, when he’s with her.

Lexie just enjoys being with him and for now, that is enough.

It is also not a good sign.

“You could come back with me,” he says quietly and even in the dark she sees the flash of white as he smiles.

“I could,” she replies, and her fingers tighten on the door handle before letting go of it completely. She sighs and rests her head back against the seat.

It’s late. Maybe two or even three in the morning. She glances towards the house and all the lights are off, everybody already asleep. She should be asleep. She should let this be and move on. She knows this.

She turns her head towards him and just smiles.

“Do you want me to come back with you?” She asks and doesn’t even know why. Sometimes she just likes baiting him; she thinks he knows it, too.

He smirks. “Do you want to come back with me?”

“I asked you first.”

There is silence that stretches between them for a beat too long. They were busy today – he had surgery after surgery and she spent most of the day running errands for Cristina, fetching labs and charts and transporting patients. She’s tired, she’s been tired for days, weeks even, but her blood is humming from the alcohol, from Mark’s close proximity – there is this blinding hum that starts in her toes and travels upwards whenever he’s near and it has settled somewhere deep in her belly right now – and her fingers keep curling into her palms and flexing periodically at her sides.

She sighs again.

“I think you know my answer,” he says and she reads the yes underneath.

Already she can read him, can see the things he doesn’t say in-between the words he does.

“I think I want to hear you say it,” she prods, the chuckle that escapes her lips echoing throughout the car. She’s baiting him and he smiles like he knows it, too, raises his left hand and rubs at the back of his neck, shakes his head.

“I want you to come home with me.”

Lexie lips curl as he scowls and she thinks about kissing him.

She barely saw him today, even at the bar they had kept their distance, and she misses him and understands fully how odd a thought that is considering they are sitting less than a foot apart, and she knows if she wanted to kiss him she could.

So she does.

Leaning forward, she places her left palm flat against his cheek, the other curling around his neck, pulling him forward. His lips meet hers and their kiss is filled with need and want and she doesn’t waste time, pulls his bottom lip between her own, sucking for one second, two second before letting go. His moan is guttural as it leaves his lips and she swallows it wholly and laughs, but it comes out muffled, fading into the silence that is pounding in the base of skull. His hands are on her face first, framing her jaw, her cheeks before sliding lower, brushing her shoulders, her sides, her back before resting fully on the curve of her ass.

She laughs again, chuckling against the corner of his mouth and she can feel the gentle smile against her cheek as he pulls away. Her eyes are slow to open, lids heavy and when she does her one arm is still around his neck, the other still on his face; she doesn’t want to lose contact.

“Sorry,” she breathes, breathless from laughter, from him. “I just,” she sighs and buries her face into his neck. She loves the way he smells – like soap and the OR, the heady scent of male. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all day.”

Mark pulls back to look at her. His smile is sudden, possessive and his mouth presses over hers again and it’s amazing to her that every kiss with him still feels like the first.

The kiss is harder, urgent. His tongue slides over hers, applying pressure above and under and there is a warmth that spreads and coils somewhere inside her. She shifts closer. His fingertips digging into the bare skin under her shirt, teasing the flesh near the waistband of her jeans and she moans, the sound low and heavy. Her hand falls from his face to his chest, fingers twisting in the cotton for a second before moving downwards, fingering the buckle of his belt the button of his jeans.

“Let’s go,” he whispers harshly, mouth skimming the underside of her jaw, her ear.

Lexie shakes her head vehemently and leans in for another kiss, but he pulls back.

“Are you drunk?” he is smiling, just a little, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards just slightly, but there’s an edge to his tone.

Giggling she shakes her head. “No,” she says with a soft sigh then amends almost immediately, “Okay, maybe a little,” but it doesn’t matter because she’s already shifting, out of her own seat and moving towards him, her knees resting on either side of his thighs as she settles over top of him. He reaches down and uses the lever to push the seat all the way back and they move together for a moment, his chest against hers, and she can feel his heartbeat against her ribcage. His car is small, too small and her thighs are already straining from trying to keep from sliding off the edges of his seat; they’re going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but she doesn’t care.

Leaning in she brushes her lips against his.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” she shifts her weight, rotating her hips towards his. Mark bites the inside of his cheek and tires not to look at her. “Come on,” she coaxes, and one of her hand reaches down to grip him through his jeans. His eyes fall closed. “Come on,” she tries again teasing the corner of his mouth again, his cheek, that spot behind his ear.

And then he kisses her, full and hard, his tongue pressing against her lips, begging for access and she grants it freely. She feels like a teenager, the way her hands are everywhere at once. He’s grabbing at her jacket, a nuisance, pushing it off her shoulders and it’s a struggle for a minute with her lips never leaving his until she’s free of it, flinging it next to her on the vacated seat. She laughs and so does he for a moment, the sound quiet as it rests on her shoulders, envelops her fully and then it’s back with the hands everywhere, one of his on her waist, the other floating upwards under her shirt, finding the silk fabric of her bra and staying there.

Retrieving one of her breasts, he rolls the nipple between his finger and thumb and her fingers tighten against him.

“Jesus,” she breathes, but it comes out strained and she presses her eyes shut tightly, back arching against the steering wheel. She rotates her hips forward, searching for friction and Mark bucks his hips up towards her own. He starts to grind his pelvis against hers, the hand on her waist pressing her as close as possible. She can feel the hard length of him through the thick fabric of their jeans and it won’t take very long until she found her release from this and this alone.

It’s not usually like this. Not this frantic. Passionate, yes, always, but this is primal, pure need with the groping and necking and she hasn’t had sex in a car since seventeen and some guy she barely remembers.

Her attention is thinning and she can do nothing but kiss and feel him, sigh at the way he fits against her, her chest flush against his, his hand still on her breast. Mark’s free hand slips to her jeans and the snap of the button echoes somewhere in the back of her mind as his fingers tease the elastic of her panties. She pulls away from his mouth; grits her teeth, pulling her bottom lip between them as she prepares herself.

Mark has fantastic hands, surgeon’s hands, and after the first time, hell the first kiss even, she understood the rumor and she’s thankful, really, because god he is entirely way too good at this.

“You’re jeans are too tight,” he half-laughs, and she does, too, mumbling a sorry that gets lost between them as soon as his fingers slide into her, teasing, curling into a precise rub and jerking motion as both of them gasp a bit.

She’s been wet since the bar and his smile is predatory when he realizes it.

One of her hands fastens against the back of his seat, gripping so tightly she is almost positive her knuckles are pearl white, the other reaches down, palming him, hard. He whimpers and she grins into the curve of his neck. She’s on the verge of losing her mind, his fingers continuing their careful ministrations and shaky fingers toy with the buckle of his belt again, the sound of metal sliding against metal echoing throughout the quiet car. Slipping underneath, she grips him, first gentle, then with a little pressure, her thumb rubbing the head of his cock.


His voice is in her ear, and she can practically hear him grinding his teeth. She applies more pressure and he stills, his teeth sinking into the skin of her shoulder. Fingers curling around him she drags them up and down, up and down, until he pulls his hand out of her jeans and starts pulling at them instead, trying to pull them down frantically. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck… they’re too… this isn’t working.”

The words are choppy and ragged, like he can’t breathe, and her hands are still working against him, up and down, up and down, as her lips fasten themselves around his neck.

“Stop,” he bites out, and his hands leave her hips and find her own, yanking them away. “I’m gonna…” he starts, stops, and she pulls back to look at him, grinning.

“Who knew you were so easy,” she says quietly, and leans into to kiss him. It’s meant to be tender and brief, but his hands pull at the back of her head, crushing her mouth against his and she moans, shifts her hips closer, once, twice, three times.

Mark pulls away, “Don’t,” he breathes, gasping for breath and his hands are pulling at her jeans again; he gets them halfway down her thighs before giving up completely. “Why couldn’t you have just worn a fucking skirt today?”

Lexie’s eyes are heavy-lidded as she grins. “Next time.”

“Take ‘em off,” he mutters, and she rolls away from him, legs twisted as she lands on the passenger’s seat. She leans forward and pulls at her boots, pulling them off one by one and tossing them to the side. She looks over and his own pants are already somewhere around his ankles. She laughs again, and pulls at her jeans.

“What the fuck is taking you so long?”

“Hold your damn horses,” she grunts, kicking her jeans and panties into a pool of fabric at her feet. When she’s done she sighs with satisfaction and leans her head against the back of the seat as she looks at him. “Happy?” she asks, but he’s looking at her, really looking at her with dark eyes and a series of emotions flicking over his features that she can’t read. “What?”

“Come here,” he says quietly, and he leans forward, reaching for her and she meets him halfway.

Again with her thighs on either side of his, and she settles her weight over his lap comfortably as she leans forward to kiss him. It’s tender, but all too brief and she reaches down for him again, smiling against his mouth when his hips flex upwards at the mere her touch. Mark snakes a hand between her bare thighs, presses a knuckle into her and she goes completely still, pulling her lips away from his. It’s too much.

A low moan stumbles out of her lips as his cock brushes against her thigh and his fingers are still between her legs, still teasing and she can do nothing but lean her forehead against his shoulder and breathe.

“You,” she starts, but can’t form the words completely and has to pause. She moves her hips and reaches down to stop his hands. She’s ready. She’s been ready. “You’ve got a condom, right?” she asks quietly, voice a harsh whisper in his ear and he immediately stops and reaches down for his pants.

Lexie closes her eyes and tugs at the collar of her shirt; it’s too hot in here. She feels the sweat pooling at the base of her spine and it’s odd, this awkward feeling of vulnerability she has before him. When she opens them again there is a foil wrapper in his left hand she takes it from him, tearing it open with her teeth.

At his raised eyebrow she half shrugs. “Taking too long,” she mutters, hands already on him, sliding the condom down the length of him. His hips buck a bit and she chuckles. In the back of her mind she wants to ask him if he always carries one on him or if it’s a new thing, because of them. She almost does, opens her mouth to make a joke, but deep down she already knows the answer so she doesn’t.

“Lexie,” he says and something twists deliciously in her stomach as she looks at him. “Lexie,” he repeats, hands on her waist as she raised her hips, knees straining as she poised herself over him. There’s a moment where they lock eyes and it’s like a scene from some stupid movie, the way the world just kind of stands still for a second. She forgets how to breathe. “Lexie,” he tries again, begging almost, and she just sinks onto him then, both of them groaning as he enters her completely. His hands on her waist tighten, fingers digging into the skin and she’ll have reminders of his come tomorrow.

She waits a few moments, resting her forehead against his, adjusting, breathing. His are closed and she watches him closely, the way his mouth falls open, just slightly, the way he bites the inside of his cheek. She leans forward, kissing the corner of his mouth and she starts to move, painfully slow.

“So serious,” she mocks and his eyes slide open as he does his best to glare at her.

“Shut up,” he grunts as she moves and she laughs, shoulders shaking as she holds onto his shoulders for support. “Don’t,” he hisses, and she winces and mumbles something incoherent against his lips.

It’s good and slow, and she’s starting to unravel already. They find their rhythm easily, his hips raising to meet hers and it’s too much too soon. He’s everywhere and she can’t breathe again, suddenly gasping without stopping, his name slurred as it drops off the tip of her tongue, muffled as she closes her eyes and buries her face into his neck.

The car is filled with the sounds of grunts and moans and when she slides open her eyes, Mark is looking right at her, his hand reaching up to palm her cheek in this tender way that makes her chest feel too tight and full. She can’t think about it, doesn’t want to think about it, so she just breathes and moves and keeps moving like it is all she knows.

“Don’t stop,” he manages between open-mouthed kisses and she shakes her head, not able to form words, not able to even think. Her toes are already curling, back arching and he knows, always knows and he slips a hand between them, floating over the cotton of her shirt, her stomach, between her thighs and she comes, fast and blinding with his thumb on her clit.

“Fuck,” she grinds out, “Fuck, Mark,” but he’s still moving, the hand on her left hip guiding her and she digs her nails into his shoulder, finds his lips and kisses him fiercely, loving the way her name falls out of his mouth, a reverent prayer as he comes.

There’s stillness after. It’s blinding almost and everything is too hazy and bright as she slumps against him, trying to catch her breath. She buries her face in the crook of his neck. Breathes. Everything is too loud around them, and she can hear her heartbeat in her head, feels his under the hand that she has fisted in his shirt. He’s holding her tightly, a hand on her waist, the other pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, pushing her into him.

It’s suffocating almost, but she likes it, likes the way he carries her weight, the way he supports her.

“You okay?” He asks sometime later, his voice muffled. She pulls back a little to look at him and her thighs strain with the movement.

“I’m going to be paying for this tomorrow,” she remarks and chuckles a bit. She uncurls her fingers and drops her arms to her sides. They ache, too.

“It was your idea.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“Well, yeah,” he smirks, somewhat sheepish and she leans into kiss him again. It’s soft and tender, sweet and she loses herself in it, in the slowness. In him. When he pulls away she sighs, eyes sliding open slowly and the first thing she sees is him, looking at her in the most peculiar way.

It unnerves her.


Mark shakes his head. “Nothing…. I just,” he stops and looks at her for another long moment. “It doesn’t matter.” He kisses her again, just once, but it’s chaste and light with his lips landing somewhere near the corner of her mouth. “Can I take you home now?”

Shoulders shaking with laughter, she kisses him again. “Yeah,” she says and his grin is sudden and wide against her lips.

She’s grinning right back.


Okay, now I can go back to my hiatus. *sighs*

Tags: !fic, character: lexie grey, fic: grey's anatomy, pairing: lexie grey/mark sloan, rating: nc-17
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