flipflop_diva: (Default)
[personal profile] flipflop_diva
Title: Pain passes, but the beauty remains
Pairing: Addison/Derek
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 511
Summary: Addison & Derek deal with tragedy in their own way. AU after Grey’s 8.24 but spoilers for the episode.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
Author’s Note: Written for [community profile] kink_bingo amnesty.

There was nothing loving about it. Not that there should be. After all, this was probably the last thing they should be doing.

They were at his funeral, for goodness sake. His funeral. Mark, his best friend — her best friend — was gone. Forever. Lost in a fucking plane crash that came out of nowhere.

She had been numb since the phone had rung five days ago. It was like she was living in a fog. Nothing felt real. Nothing felt right.

Nothing felt at all. Which was the whole problem.

She couldn’t feel anything. Pain, grief, guilt. None of it. Instead, she just sat, and stared, and moved through the motions.

Until now.

Now that she had her legs locked around his waist and he had her pinned up against the bathroom wall of the church, her arms above her head, her wrists trapped in one of his hands. His teeth were at her neck, biting into her skin, drawing specks of blood. His other hand was at her hip, his fingers digging so hard into her flesh she could almost feel the bruises forming.

It felt so wrong. Yet it felt so good. And it was so nice to feel something, even if that something was pain.

At least, that’s what she told herself as he drove into her, harder and harder and harder. And that’s what she told herself when he released her wrists to rub harshly at her clit, making her cry out, her fingers using their freedom to make their way to the soft flesh on his back, leaving marks of their own.

“The pain is good,” she reminded herself when she finally clenched around him, her head flying backward and smacking into the wall behind her. “The pain is good,” she reminded herself when they were finished and were cleaning themselves up, blatantly ignoring the other.

“It didn’t mean anything,” she told herself when they snuck back into the reception and she was met with the sight of his wife and his daughter and her son. “It didn’t mean anything,” she told herself that night when she stared at her naked body in the mirror, her fingertips tracing gently around the mottled blue and purple specks that now dotted her thighs and her hips.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said to him the next day as he pushed her down on the bed and yanked her skirt up above her waist.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, as he shoved her panties to the side and slid inside her, not even bothering to ask her if she was ready.

“It’s just nice to feel something,” she said, as she wrapped her legs around his waist and tried not to wince in pain.

“It is,” he said, seconds before his lips found her, both of them rough and bruising against the other.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered again when they were finished, laying side by side, her head on his chest.

“ It definitely doesn’t,” he said six months later, as his lips met hers once more.


flipflop_diva: (Default)

June 2012

101112131415 16

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 21st, 2017 06:42 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios