Ameilia☁️

Powdered snow dusted your boots as you walked down the quiet street. Cold air stung your cheeks almost like a burn, your breath fogging in the chill. You clung to your tote bag, shoulders tense as you marched forward—luckily, your destination was only a block away from your apartment.

You loved to read. Escaping reality into a different one, vividly living through the characters. You weren’t sure how many books you’d finished in the last few months, but it had been a lot. The employees at your local Barnes & Noble knew you by your name now, even slipped you good discounts whenever they could.

Most of them were chatty, but one guy always loomed in the shadows of the aisles, peeking at you from behind his rectangular glasses as he restocked shelves. You always noticed him—shot him a smile, a peppy “good morning”. He fumbled, cheeks flushing, scrambling to return the greeting.

Truth was, he wished he could interact with you like the others. But he couldn’t help letting his eyes wander, and he felt guilty about it. 

The curve of your ass when you bent over the counter to laugh at some joke his co-worker made, how your soft stomach peeked out from under your shirt whenever you reached for books on the top shelves. Your breasts bouncing when you jumped up and down and squealed from excitement that one time he told you they’d ordered a special release just for you… He felt awful. You were just so sweet and genuine. And he was a perv.

Not just figuratively. He was a perv. 

Because the second he got home from his shift, he ran upstairs to his room, ignoring the cheerful “how was work?” from his mom in the kitchen that smelled of tomatoes and basil.

He hastily unbuckled his belt, jeans dropping heavy to the floor with a thump, before he slumped into his desk chair with a loud creak. Fist flying over his throbbing cock—already leaking at the tip, imagining your sweet smile, the way you smelled, how perfect you’d look bouncing up and down on him right there in that chair.

His socked toes curled, head thrown back, broken moans and pleas spilling from his lips.

“Please—yeah, please—take me, just like that—“

It never took long. He shot warm, long stripes across his hand, some hitting his t-shirt, which he cursed about.

He immediately felt guilty afterward, that’s why he couldn’t meet your eyes at the store, but he could never get himself to stop. You were too good.

You stomped your boots on the doormat as the heavy wooden door closed shut behind you, snow falling off and instantly melting into little puddles.

It was quiet, your sniffles from the cold air sounded loud in the space. Warmth enveloped you, along with the scent of paper and a faint trace of spice from the candles they lit near the registers in winter. Shelves stretched in every direction, soft overhead lights casting gold on the hardwood floor. 

It felt like stepping into another world.

You shook the last flakes of snow from your scarf and headed toward the new releases table, tote bag bumping against your hip. Your boots left faint wet prints.

From the corner of your eye, you caught movement in the sci-fi/fantasy aisle.

Mikey.

He was balanced on a step-stool, sliding a stack of graphic novels onto the top shelf. Tall and lanky, dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes in that side-sweep, glasses perched on his nose, slipping slightly as he stretched. His usual uniform—faded band t-shirt, skinny jeans, scuffed Converse, made him look more like he belonged in a dimly lit basement show than restocking shelves.

But here he was, every shift, quiet and careful, like he was afraid he was taking up too much space.

You smiled automatically. “Morning, Mikey.”

His whole body jerked. One of the books slipped from his fingers, he caught it against his chest at the last second, cheeks blooming red.

“H-hey,” he managed, voice low and a little rough, like he’d forgotten how to use it. He pushed his glasses up with a knuckle, eyes flicking to you then away, then back. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Liar,” you teased gently, stepping closer. “You always know when someone’s in your section.”

He swallowed hard enough that you saw his throat bob. “I-uh. Yeah. Maybe.”

The silence stretched for a bit, comfortable but charged. You pretended to browse the table in front of you, but really you were watching him from under your lashes. The way his long fingers flexed around the book spines, the slight fidget as he shifted weight from one foot to the other. He looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but the words kept getting stuck.

You decided to throw him a lifeline.

“Got anything good in today? I finished that horror trilogy you recommended. Wrecked me.”

His eyes lit up behind the glasses, shyness cracking just enough for real excitement to show. “Yeah? Shit—uh, sorry—yeah, it gets dark fast. Did the last one ruin you?”

“Completely. I couldn’t sleep.”

He laughed under his breath, soft and surprised, in awe at how honestly you’d answered and how freely the conversation flowed. “I… I figured you’d like it. You’ve got good taste.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly from the quiet compliment. You tilted your head. “You always know exactly what I’ll like.”

Mikey froze again, lips parting. For a second you thought he might faint. Instead he climbed down from the stool and set the remaining books on a nearby cart.

“I pay attention,” he mumbled. Then, even quieter. “To you.”

You shifted your feet, suddenly feeling your pulse hammer. The store felt smaller, the hum of the heater and distant chatter from the register fading away.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s… um. A new limited edition graphic novel came in yesterday. Signed. It’s in the back. I—I held it. For you. If you want it.”

You blinked. “You held it?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder, awkward and so endearing. “Didn’t want it to sell out before you came in.”

Something warm spread across your chest. “Show me?”

He nodded too fast, almost tripping over the cart as he turned toward the staff door. You followed, past the “employees only” sign, down a short narrow hallway lined with boxes and extra shelving. He moved efficiently, shoulders hunched like he was leading you somewhere secret, it felt intimate in a way.

He stopped at a locked cabinet near the break room, fished a small key from his pocket. Fingers trembling just enough for you to notice.

When he opened it, there it was—sleek black cover, silver foiled accents, author’s signature in sharpie on the first page. He lifted it carefully, held it out to you like it was made of glass.

Your fingers brushed his as you took it. He inhaled sharply at the contact.

“Thanks,” you whispered, eyes locked on his.

He didn’t back away. Just stood there, close enough that you could smell the faint coffee on his breath, the clean laundry scent clinging to his t-shirt.

His eyes dropped, to your mouth, then lower... dragging over your throat, the soft swell under your sweater—before snapping back up, guilty and wide, mortified that you noticed.

“Sorry,” he breathed, so quiet you almost missed it. “I—fuck. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t step back.

In fact, you leaned in closer. Close enough that your chests nearly touched.

“Mikey.”

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Pupils blown wide, breathing shallow.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, gaze still locked.

“Wanna get coffee?” He blurted it like his tongue didn’t have a choice.

Silence for a long heartbeat. Then your soft voice finally cut through. “Yeah.”

Mikey straightened, cheeks flaming, twiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Shift ends at six,” he said hoarsely. “You’ll meet me here?”

You smiled, slow and sweet.

“I’ll be here.”

And you were. Through cold winter air and snowflakes relentlessly flinging against your cheeks, you met him outside the store at six. You were about to open your mouth to speak when a car pulled up at the curb—dented, spewing fumes, window rolled down.

“Hop in, Mikey, it’s freezing!”

Mikey tensed. Then groaned.

“My brother…” He turned to you, gesturing toward the vehicle and the driver, a mop of messy black hair and the same sweet smile.

“Forgot he was picking me up,” he said lowly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, looking shameful.

“You got coffee at home?” You shot him a playful smile, cheeks pink from cold.

He nodded.

The car ride was quiet at first, not really awkward just loaded. Mikey sat in the front passenger seat, long legs folded uncomfortably, one hand gripping the door handle like he was considering bolting at the next red light.

You were in the back, tote bag cradled against your chest, snow melting off your boots into the worn floor mats. The heater blasted warm air that smelled faintly of stale coffee and motor oil.

Gerard, of course it was Gerard, the older Way brother you’d heard Mikey mention in passing, glanced at your in the rearview mirror. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his eyes were sharp, curious, flicking between the road, you and his brother’s flushed face.

“So,” he drawled, voice low and amused, “this is the bookstore girl.”

Mikey groaned, sinking lower in his seat. “Shut up, Gee.”

You caught Gerard’s smirk in the mirror, crooked and knowing. “What? I’m just saying hi. Hi.”

“Hi,” you replied, fighting a smile. Your cheeks were still stinging from the cold, but heat crawled up your neck.

Gerard just chuckled under his breath and turned up the radio, some old punk pushing through the speakers. Mikey stared straight ahead, fingers drumming nervously on his thigh. Every once in a while he sneaked a glance back at you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were really there, in his brother’s shitty car, heading to their house.

You watched Mikey’s profile painted in gold streaks from streetlights, the way his glasses kept slipping down his nose, the nervous bob of his throat when he swallowed. He looked like he was mentally preparing a thousand things to say and discarding them all.

When the car finally pulled into a narrow driveway, the house came into view. Modest on a quiet residential street, porch light glowing yellow against the snow. It looked normal. Cozy. More normal than you’d expected from someone quietly losing his mind over you in the shadows of sci-fi aisles.

Gerard killed the engine. “Home sweet home. Mom’s probably got sauce on the stove, hope you’re hungry.”

Mikey was already out, rounding the car to open your door before you could reach the handle. He grabbed onto you as he helped you step over a wet, slushy patch on the driveway. Not letting go right away.

Inside, warmth wrapped around you like a hug, the scent of garlic, tomatoes and herbs drifting out from the kitchen. The living room was dimly lit, a little cluttered, comic books sprawled on the coffee table, a worn couch that had probably seen a few decades. Family photos on the walls, two boys with bowl cuts and a woman with big hair and an even bigger smile.

Mikey kicked off his boots by the door, muttering something about hanging up your coat for you. You followed him deeper into the house, and then a woman appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Oh hi! You must be the girl Mikey’s mentioned.” She shot him a teasing look. “Didn’t know he was bringing company.”

Mikey’s ears went scarlet. “Mom—“

“I’m just saying hello,” she laughed. “I’m Donna. You kids want some food? It’s almost ready.”

“Maybe later,” Mikey said quickly, already steering you toward the stairs. “We’re… uh… gonna hang out upstairs.”

Donna’s eyebrow lifted, but she just smiled. “Alright. Door open, Michael.”

Gerard smirked. Mikey made a strangled noise and tugged you up the narrow staircase, steps creaking under your weight with every step. He led you down the hallway, his door was at the end. He pushed it open, flicked on the light.

The room was small, lived-in, a little chaotic in the best way. Band posters taped to the walls, a low bookshelf crammed with graphic novels and CDs, desk piled with notebooks, bass guitar leaning against the wall. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled. It smelled like him in there, laundry detergent mixed with the undeniable musk of a young man.

He closed the door behind you both. Not all the way, Donna’s rule, but enough to muffle the kitchen sounds.

You set your tote on his desk. Turned to face him.

He was standing by the bed, hands shoved in his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you. Cheeks red. Chest heaving a little too fast.

“So,” you said softly, stepping closer. “This is where you run to after work.”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

You let your gaze wander deliberately, over the rumpled sheets, the chair angled toward the desk, and at the same time you felt his eyes wander too. Over your exposed collarbones, your breasts under that tight sweater, the curve of your hips.

Your eyes finally met. His were wide. Guilty. Hungry.

“I’m sorry—again—“

You reached out to touch his arm. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Not for looking. Not for wanting.”

He swallowed hard. “I… I think about you. Too much. All the time. It’s not right, you’re nice and I’m just—“

“A perv?” you finished softly, echoing the word he’d called himself a hundred times.

He winced, but didn’t deny it.

Your hand found his wrist, pulse racing under your thumb.

“Maybe I like that you’re a perv,” you said. “Maybe I like that you think about me when you’re alone. You ever say my name when your fist’s around your cock?”

His knees almost gave out. A broken sound escaping his throat, close to a moan.

“Jesus—“

“Show me,” you whispered. “Show me what you think about when you’re alone in here.”

He froze completely. In utter disbelief at what you’d just said.

Then his hands found you, careful, fingers curling into your sweater, pulling you flush against him. Your eyes stayed locked relentlessly, not even blinking, until your lips brushed his and his eyelids fluttered shut.

He let out a whimper as your tongue slid against his bottom lip, prompting him to open up more. Your mouths worked together graciously, tentatively, tasting of nerves and months of want mixed with that sweet gum you’d seen him chew earlier.

Downstairs, the faint clink of dishes continued. Gerard’s footsteps thudded somewhere below, heading toward the basement stairs with a muttered “Gonna work on some stuff.” Donna hummed along to the radio.

Up here, though?

The door might’ve been cracked, but the rest of the world felt miles away. Along with the promise of that coffee.

The kiss turned filthy fast, tongues, teeth, little broken sounds muffled against your mouth. His fingers dug into your hips, then slid up under your shirt, palms hot and trembling against your bare skin.

You pushed him backward until the back of his knees hit his desk chair. He sat down hard. You followed, straddling his lap, grinding down once just to hear that pretty sound again.

“Shhh,” you breathed against his ear. “Your mom.”

He whimpered. Nodded frantically.

You slid off his lap, sank to your knees between his spread thighs. His jeans were already tented an obscene amount. When you tugged them down, his cock sprang free, flushed, leaking at the tip. He slammed a hand over his own mouth when you licked a slow stripe from base to head.

You took him into your mouth and his whole body jerked. Head thrown back, throat bobbing, teeth sunk into his palm to stay quiet. You bobbed slowly at first, indulging in the way he twitched against your tongue, the salty taste of him, the way his thighs trembled under your hands.

“This what you imagine at your desk?” You lifted off just enough to tease before sinking back down.

He wasn’t gonna last long like that.

“Gonna—fuck—wait—“ His voice was wrecked, desperate. “Want—want you on my face. Please.”

You pulled off with a wet pop, grinning at how close he already was.

You kicked off your jeans and panties while he scrambled to lay flat on the bed instead, shoving pillows aside. When you climbed over him and lowered yourself, his hands clamped around your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have marks the next day.

His face was flushed, pupils blown wide, glasses askew.

He ate you like he was starving.

Messy, desperate, nose buried against you, tongue working in frantic laps. Every time you rocked down harder, he moaned—muffled, vibrating straight through your clit. You leaned back to fist his cock, pumping him in a sloppy rhythm as you felt yourself get close.

When you came, you had to bite down on your wrist to stay quiet, thighs shaking around his head, slick coating his chin.

He didn’t stop until you were squirming away from his grip.

Then he flipped you gently, always gentle, even when he was this far gone and desperate. Your back hit the mattress and he settled between your legs, forearms braced on either side of your head, forehead pressed to yours.

“Condom?” you whispered.

“Y-yeah, drawer,” he rasped, already reaching.

He rolled it on with shaking hands. Lined up. Pushed in slow, agonizingly slow, just so he could watch the way your face changed with every inch. When he bottomed out he dropped his head to your shoulder, breath hitching.

“Fuck… so tight… feels so good…”

He started moving. Long, deep rolls, careful, respectful even.

Missionary in his childhood bedroom felt strangely intimate, the way he kept eye contact, the way his fingers laced with yours and pinned your hand beside your head, the way every thrust made the bed frame creak just enough that you both froze and listened for footsteps.

Then he lost whatever battle he’d been fighting with himself.

Hips snapped harder. Faster. Deeper. The wet slap of skin on skin was way too loud in that quiet room. He buried his face in your neck, panting against your pulse.

“Gonna—shit—gonna come—“ His voice cracked.

“Yeah, come. Come. Mikey, please,” you whispered, locking your legs tight around his waist, urging him deeper.

That undid him.

He slammed in one last time, hips stuttering, a broken moan muffled against your throat as he came, pulsing hard inside the condom, whole body shaking. You clenched around him, milking every tremor until he was gasping, collapsing on top of you.

For a long minute there was just the sound of your ragged breaths. His heartbeat slamming against your chest. Your fingers combing through his damp hair.

Then, from downstairs.

“Mikey! Food’s ready!”

He jolted like he’d just been pulled back down to earth.

“Coming!” He yelled back, voice cracking so badly his cheeks turned pink.

You laughed softly into his shoulder, biting your lip. He groaned in embarrassment, but didn’t move, just nuzzled closer, pressing soft kisses under your jaw.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled against your skin. “Then… bolognese. And pretending I’m normal.”

You smiled, tugged him down for one more slow kiss.

She hated how everything reminded her of him, even though she was far away from New York and her name was no longer Sloan, There were still small and big triggers that made his face pop in her mind. Y/n and Derek had this case. A 15 year old named Jake Burton, he had advanced craniodiaphyseal dysplasia. Now, naturally y/n was on this case because she specialized in pediatric surgery, but a case like this you'd need a plastic surgeon as well. 

The hospital didn't have a plastic surgeon who took advanced cases like this, so naturally Webber called Mark. Weber had a thing about bringing ex wives and husbands to Seattle lately. 

“Invasive non-cell. With a history of COPD” Mark said, reading over my shoulder. “That guy's pretty much a goner, huh?”

Y/n sighed, she hated having him here. What she hated most of all was how her heart rate picked up just because of how close he was to her. It was so sickeningly nostalgic, his body being only a hair away from hers and his breath on her neck. She ignored it, she had too. She wasn't gonna fall for it again. 

“nice to see you still haven't lost your sensitivity” y/n said sarcastically, not looking up from the computer. 

“hard to be sensitive, all this rain gets a guy down” 

“Well too bad you won't be here long enough to get used to it” she said, grabbing the chart and walking away. 

Mark followed after y/n as she walked down the hall. He knew he shouldn’t be following her, hell she probably didn’t even want him talking to her but he couldn’t help himself. Y/n looked so good, even though she was still pissed at him. The way her hips swayed while she walked, her hair in a tight bun, he always preferred her with her hair down. “I think I could get used to the rain before getting used to your name not being Sloan. I actually asked for y/n Sloan”

“You knew I changed my name after the divorce”

Mark watched as she walked, his eyes traveling up and down her body. He always thought she was beautiful, her curves, her eyes, those soft lips…he had to force his mind to stop going there, especially after all that he put her through. “You look good” 

“Can't help yourself, can you?” she rolled her eyes.

Mark smirked as she spoke, his eyes drifting down her body again before he finally looked away. “Old habits die hard”

“Too bad it's your worst ones”

Mark chuckled again, that little smile still on his lips. “Don’t you remember the good habits?”

Y/n did, of course she remembered his good habits. The way he never failed to make her laugh, the way he'd hold her if she was scared or hurting. Y/n remembered he'd cook an amazing meal if she was sad or not feeling up to cooking. In the years they were together he would put her before him, at least that's what it felt like. 

She still felt betrayed and all the good memories didn't seem so good now, because now she knew what was happening in between all those good moments. “What good habits?” she finally said. 

Mark looked down at the ground for a moment, his mind also wondering to the good parts of their past. He smiled as he remembered when they first started dating. The dates, the way everything seemed so perfect…the way she laughed at his terrible jokes, how she'd fall asleep tucked under his arm in bed, how soft she always felt against him. 

After a beat of silence, y/n sighed. “Let's just get this case done”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

The day was dragging on, we had just convened Jake Burton's parents to let us do the surgery. Mark and Derek were going at it in Webber's office about it for ten minutes. Y/n just wanted to be done for the day, but she still had the rest of the day and Jake's surgery. While Mark was getting a consult, y/n went to take her break in a on-call room. She had half a mind to maybe find her boyfriend if he wasn't busy. Y/n made it an on-call room and she stopped in her tracks. all she saw was her new boyfriend making out with Christina yang.

She stood there shocked and found herself feeling more frustrated than heart broken. Y/n's been through this before, but it wasn't like a painful act of Déjà vu. Seeing him pinning a bitch like Christina yang to the wall made her blood boil, why did it have to be her? Why did she have to be with him shirtless, sticking her tongue down his throat? 

Preston saw you. He quickly pushed Christina off of him and approached her. “I can explain-”

“Really?!” y/n said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She slammed the on-call room closed, loud enough to make Christina jump and a couple of nurses to look up from the nurses station. The door slammed shut with Preston and Christina still in the room and y/n walked away. 

“God dammit” Preston pushed Christina to the side and ran after y/n. After the scene she caused, the last thing he wanted was her making a spectacle of herself. He caught up to her in the hall.“y/n, don't walk away, let me explain!”

Y/n immediately stopped in her tracks and turned to him. “alright, genius,” she snapped. “Let's hear it, let's hear the explanation”

He let out a sigh before speaking, his voice quiet. “I...I care for you. I truly do. I can't deny that, but” He looked away for a moment, seemingly trying to find the right thing to say. “I've been seeing her on the side.  For a little while now”

“Yeah, no shit!” y/n snapped. She recognized the sighs, this wasn't her first rodeo. She suspected something, but didn't want to believe it. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and not let her insecurities and paranoia get in the way of her being happy. Today only confirmed her suspension. She was hurt, but she found herself not feeling as hurt as she was when Mark cheated. She blamed herself this time, she knew she couldn't trust him. 

Preston sighed again, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall. He wasn't ready to lose her, not like this. He hated the fact that he was cheating, he promised her he wouldn't. But he could explain why he did what he did. “Can we talk about this somewhere else? Please. I don't want the whole damn hospital to hear us”

“Why bother, they all find out anyway” y/n held her arms out sarcastically, looking around the hospital. 

Preston took her hand and pulled her into an empty room, away from the prying eyes of the others.  He was desperate to explain. “Because you are everything I need. Smart. Confident. Talented. Beautiful,” He caressed her cheek gently, trying to soothe her. “But, she's fun. She's like me. We understand each other”

Y/n pushed his hand away from her cheek. “good. You can have her” she snapped. 

His eyes widened at her response. “No, I don't want her. I want you. Christ, I don't know why I keep going to her. She understands me in ways you don't” He let out a frustrated sigh, the realization of how horrible this must feel to her fully setting in now.

“I'm sure she does” y/n rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

Christina doesn't understand him, the only thing they have income is their ego and they both think they are God's gifts to medicine. Not to mention he wanted a family and kids, Christian yang was disgusted by all of that. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. 

Preston could see the hurt in her eyes and it made him feel like crap. He just had to come clean about why he continued seeing Christina. He looked at her with a saddened expression as he exhaled through his nose. “She's...more like me. Her and I can talk about surgery all night and never get bored.  She gets it. She's intense”

“I think our relationship just ended,” y/n said softly. 

Hearing those words made his heart sink. His head fell forward in defeat, not wanting to accept the truth behind what she said. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm and collected. It's not like he didn't deserve this; he cheated on her, after all. After a few seconds, he looked up at her. “You're...breaking up with me?”

“I am” she mumbled. 

Preston nodded slowly, taking in what she said. He understood why she was breaking up with him; it was warranted. It didn't make the hurt he was feeling any better though. “I...I understand,” he reached for her hand again, gently holding it. “I'll always care for you, you know that, right?”

“Y-yeah” 

Y/n let go of his hand and walked away, she didn't know rather to laugh or cry. She also didn't know why it… she wasn't hurting? Walking in on Mark and Addison having sex hurt way worse than this. Y/n was more shocked I supposed, Preston seemed to be the last person that would cheat. He was level head, and romantic, way too mature. Cheating didn't seem to be his style. 

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Today just sucked. Jake Burton was a sweet kid and just wanted to look normal, y/n knew Derek and Mark did everything they could, but it still hurt to see the kid go. After her shift ended she got ready to go home, it was the first time in months she was walking alone. Y/n would usually stay at Preston's place or he'd stay at hers. Thank God they haven't moved in together yet. 

The elevator that went down to the front entrance opened. Y/n looked up and saw both Mark and Preston in the elevator. She rolled her eyes, too tired for this shit. “I'll take the stairs” she mumbled and turned the opposite direction before either one of them could stop her. 

Instead of home, y/n found herself across the street in Joe's bar. She had been there before with her friends but never brought herself to drink. It just wasn't her style, but tonight all she wanted was a strong drink. 

“How many of those have you had?” Mark said, coming up to her an hour later. 

Y/n turned to him, she was tipsy, but not drunk yet. She pointed at him. “Shut it. You have no room to judge” 

Mark's lips curled into a smirk. “Maybe, but I have room to drink with you” he sat down next to her and brought the glass she had to his lips and sipped her drink. It was scotch, it was the only thing she probably knew to order since that was the only thing Mark drank around her. 

“Be my guest” she rolled her eyes. “don't get a say in anything around here anyway”

“Scotch, please and another for her too” Mark nodded to Joe. Joe brought two glasses and y/n took a drink immediately. “I drove you to drink, Jesus Christ” 

Y/n tilted her head back and downed the alcohol. She slammed the glass down, The alcohol making her head spin. “Hey, don't take full credit… That fucking heart surgeon helped” 

“Yeah, I heard. I'm sorry” Mark said genuinely, downing the rest of his scotch too. Mark hated she heart was broken. He wanted to kill Preston Burke, he didn't deserve her. 

“I don't care. That cunt Christina yang can have him. He had stick up his ass anyway” y/n rolled her eyes. She turned to Joe. “Joe, can we have shots please!” 

“So you're a no filter drunk” Mark chuckled, he had always seen y/n as strong. But seeing her tipsy and almost drunk was new territory. It was a little amusing. He sipped his drink and chuckled. And she was still so damn beautiful to him. “never saw the day we'd be drinking together”

“Don't get used to it,” she threw back the shot and started coughing. “That's so nasty” she cringed. 

Mark sat his glass down and chuckled again. He loved seeing that cute crinkled nose whenever she drank. “you have no idea how hilarious it is for me to see you drink”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up” she mumbled, taking his glass of scotch and finished it for him. “fuckin' man whore” She mumbled into the glass. 

That was a new one for Mark. Sure, he got that insult a lot but never from y/n, even after the divorce. He smirked, taking his glass away from her. “What was that?”

Y/n looked over at him, you could tell she was drunk just by looking at her eyes. “Man. whore” she repeated. 

Mark raised an eyebrow at her. There was definitely a hint of anger in her eyes. He liked it much more than he thought he would. He put his glass down, pushing his chair closer so that his knee was in between hers. “You really have a way with words tonight” he teased. 

“Just shut up and drink with me,” She mumbled. “before I punch you in your pretty face” she trailed off. 

Mark chuckled again. “Did you just call me pretty?” He teased taking the drink from her and setting it down. He took her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Don't let it go to your head” 

Mark smirked, his thumb tracing her parted lips. His body was so close she could feel the tension. Mark's cologne filling her nose. “you want me to stop?” 

Her heart skipped a beat. God, she didn't realize how much she missed the smell of that cologne, missed the feel of him this close. She shook her hand no. 

Mark smiled even wider. That little nod sent a bolt of electricity through his body. He knew she still wanted him. He was so close already, one more nudge and he could finally taste her again. his hand slid up her jaw to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her cheek bone. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

Mark laughed lightly before closing the distance between them. She felt warm and familiar. Mark's lips met hers and his body melted into hers. After all these months he finally had it. A small moan escaped his lips. He hadn't realized how much he actually missed it. Her lips moved against his, her breath hitched as she carded her fingers through his hair, kissing him roughly. Mark let his tongue part her lips more. Taking full control over the kiss. He pressed his entire body against hers, trying to get as close as he could. His hands found her hips and pulled her body so she was practically in his lap. The smell of her hair filled his nose.

Y/n pulled away abruptly. “Take me home with you”

Mark looked into her eyes. They were dilated and filled with lust. He hadn’t seen those eyes in so long. It made him want her even more. Mark nodded as he reached for his wallet pulling out the money to pay the bill. He stood up, holding his hand out for her. “Come on” He murmured, grabbing her hand and almost dragging her out of the bar. 

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

As soon as they got to Mark's apartment, her lips were back on his, the kiss was messy and rushed. Y/n quickly pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders as he pushed her backwards towards the kitchen counter. she moaned against his lips, running her fingers through his hair. Getting them lost in his soft hair. 

He chuckled, his hand leaving his jacket to grab her hair, tugging gently as he pulls back from the kiss. “Fuck, I love when you do that” He leans in again, kissing her roughly as he walks her backwards until her back hits the counter.

Y/n moaned, pulling away from the kiss and left messy kisses and love bites down his neck. He groans in pleasure as he feels her teeth marks on his neck. He sets her down on the counter, stepping between her legs as he leans in to kiss her again, his hands gripping her face. “You're gonna leave marks all over me, aren't you?” He murmurs against her lips.

“maybe”

He grins, his eyes darkening with desire as he reaches up to grab the back of her head, holding her in place as he kisses her again, his tongue pushing past her lips. she moaned against his lips, their tongues tangling together roughly as her hands traveled to the buttons of his shirt and tugged them open. He breaks the kiss only long enough to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest. He goes back to kissing her, his hands roaming down her sides. “You're overdressed”

Y/n’s eyes traveled down his toned chest. She'll never get tired of staring at him, he was perfect in every way. Her fingers trailed down his chest, tracing every muscle. “do something about it”

His breath hitches at her touch, and he quickly moves his hands to the hem of her dress, slowly sliding it up her thighs. “I thought you'd never ask,” He kisses her neck, carefully pulling the dress higher as he moves his lips lower. “Missed this” 

“M-me too” she said softly, tugging at his hair he inhales deeply as he buries his face between her breasts, his hands squeezing her thighs possessively. He slowly drags his fingers up her thighs, hooking them around his arms as he tries to pull her legs around his waist. “Damn it”

“I forgot how good you feel” y/n moaned softly at the feeling of his facial hair brushing over the skin on her breasts. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped the muscles on his biceps. 

His eyes darken with lust as he grabs her waist, one hand trailing up her back to tangle in her hair. He kisses her roughly, biting her bottom lip before pulling back slightly to look at her. “Better than good, baby” He starts to carry her towards the bedroom. 

He kicks the door to his bedroom open, stumbling inside with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He falls backwards onto the bed, pulling her on top of him as he starts to unhook her dress. “Fuck this dress is cute” 

He quickly removes her dress, tossing it aside as he takes in her appearance. He groans appreciatively, running his hands up her sides and over her ribcage possessively. “Damn” He murmurs, his eyes roaming over her. 

she reaches for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tugging it out of the loops of his pants. His abs tense under her touch as she unbuckles his belt, his hands going to her waist to help pull her closer as he lifts his hips to help her remove his pants. He's only wearing a pair of black boxers now, his toned stomach on full display. 

her breath hitched as she took him in again for the first time in a long time. She sat in his lap, nothing covering her but her bra and painties as her fingers brushed over his hot skin. 

He lets out a low growl, his hands going to her hips as he pulls her closer, his boxers the only thing separating them. He leans in to kiss her, his lips hard against hers as he grinds his hips up against hers. “Fuck, I missed this” 

she moaned against his lips as his hardened cock pressed against her clothed core. “M-me too” 

His hands go to her back, unhooking her bra with expert precision. He breaks the kiss to look at her, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in her nearly nude form. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties. He slowly drags them down her legs, tossing them aside as he spreads her thighs to rest over his. He runs his hands up her thighs possessively as he looks her over, his boxers the only thing left between them. 

“Please” she moaned softly.

He smiles, his eyes gleaming with lust as he reaches between them to rub his boxers-clad erection against her clothed core. “Please what, baby? You gonna ask me to fuck you? Because if you are, the answer is hell fucking yes”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “please fuck me” 

With one quick motion, he slides his boxers off and positions himself at her entrance. “You sure about that baby? No turning back once I start,” He teases her, pressing against her but not quite entering. “Last chance” His voice is husky and deep from desire. 

“Don't stop! Fuck me!” 

With a final growl, he thrusts into her slowly but firmly, filling her completely. One hand grabs her hip while the other moves to cup the back of her neck, pulling her face to his for a passionate kiss. “Missed this.so fucking much”

“Mark!” she cried out as she dug her nails into his shoulders as he thrusted up inside her. 

He quickly lifts her up and pushes her into the mattress. He pounds into her hard and fast, not holding back as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her legs over his shoulders to get even deeper. He grins mischievously, his voice low and dominant. “Shut up and hold on, baby” 

she shuddered, wrapping her legs around his waist and gripped his biceps tighter. He continues to thrust into her aggressively, his body glistening with sweat as he uses his powerful arms to keep her in place. He nuzzles his face between her breasts, inhaling her scent deeply. “Damn it, you always make me lose control”

“Mark!” 

His pace quickens, hitting that spot deep inside her just right. One hand slips between them to apply pressure to her clit, knowing exactly how she likes it. “Cum for me, baby, show me how much you missed me” 

the knot in her stomach snapped, making her head fall back in pleasure. She cried out his name as her orgasm washed over her. She squeezed his biceps, desperately trying to ground herself. It felt so good, so intense, sex hadn't felt this good in a long time. Seeing stars behind his eyes from how hard he's squeezing her legs, he continues to thrust into her through her entire release. He's not done yet, not by a long shot. He wraps his arms around her waist and flips them over, so she's on top.

she wobbled a bit at the sudden change of position. She was out of breath and her mind was still fuzzy. She gripped his chest, trying to stay up right. “Look at me” He demands, his hands tightening on her hips. He wants to see her face as he brings her back down to earth, shaking and overwhelmed. He continues to guide her up and down his length, his legs hooking hers to keep her upright.

she moaned and gasped, looking into his eyes. His jaw clenches as he watches her above him, their bodies creating perfect friction. He reaches up to pull her down for a rough kiss, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. “Fuck, I'm not going to last” His movements become more erratic, showing he's losing control.

“I need to cum again!” 

At her words, he flips them back over, slamming into her harder than before. He leans down to bite and suck at her neck, marking her. “Cum with me, baby. Right fucking now!” 

With a fierce growl, he thrusts into her one last time, burying himself deep as they both reach their climax together. He collapses slightly onto her chest, keeping most of his weight off despite their sweat-slicked bodies. “Holy shit, missed you so fucking much”

“Missed you too” she said softly and breathlessly. 

He nuzzles his face between her breasts, inhaling her scent deeply. He can feel his heart racing, trying to catch his breath. He wraps his arms around her waist possessively, not wanting to move or break the moment. “Stay, please” he murmurs, his voice muffled.