DE LUXE ARCHIVES

(archived)

[andrewdeluxe]

                         i don’t UH, have any intern buddies. n o b o d y                                wants to TALK to me, let alone L I V E with me

                                          [indie andrew deluca rp blog]

                                                                                                                        rules | mun | home

[andrewdeluxearchive]

hey folks, this blog has officially been archived in favour of having a main (because who doesn’t want andy asks?) and you can find it over here. hope to see y’all there!

[mcmachine]

                    she can feel the fire growing inside of her,  ready to coil and explode,  even if she doesn’t want to end.  it’s a desire that runs deeper than just the circumstances,  the need for this to be more than a one  ( and a half? )  time thing between the two of them.  she craved more of this and more of him,  the feeling too good,  too hot,  too perfect to try and not take at every available opportunity.  there’d be questions to come later about what exactly she’d want from him,  an eventual realization of guilt that she didn’t want to seem like the kind of woman who used him for his impressive physique and abilities,  but now wasn’t the right time for that.  she knew that she’d wanted him and this time and time,  over and over again.  the current time was relative and she’d long since lost track of it,  but it’s hard to want to label the time that makes her feel whole and complete,  that takes off every painful edge and worrisome thought that brought her down otherwise.  it’s more efficient than any kind of pill,  healthier  ( maybe )  than any kind of addiction.  there’s risks that she doesn’t want to recognize,  that she’ll refuse to validate and bury as most came at the cost of simply being april kepner.  but for now,  he’s hot and she feels so good that she came barely remember her own name,  so desperate for the way that he feels inside of her,  and growing desperate for her own release as she can feel it creeping up on her.

                    “andrew…”  his name sounds like a prayer and a whimper leaving her lips,  and somewhere april knows that she definitely shouldn’t be moaning out his name within the walls of the hospital they both work at,  but she’s just glad it’s his first name,  that it’s common enough that there had to be others in the hospital,  and that her voice comes out so raspy it’s nearly difficult for herself to identify it as her own.  the teeth in her neck prove to be a slight surprise,  more than what she was expecting.  she’d never had that done to her before but she knows immediately that she wants to do it again,  that she’d be in admiration of the bite marks left in her skin in the coming hours and days.  her own teeth dig hard into her bottom lip in an attempt to shut herself up,  but she’s so close and she doesn’t know how he’s managed to push her there so quickly.  thighs shake and tremble against his hips and she’s glad to be held up by him.  there wasn’t a point in trying to hold off,  though,  this was supposed to be fast and satisfying,  compensation.  april allows herself to bask and embrace it,  succumbs to the will of her body.  her hips twitch against his,  inner walls spasming and squeezing around his length,  yearning for his finish.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

he can feel it coming, like a kettle boiling, the whistle of it captured in the way she whimpers his name. in this together, the way she tenses around him making it harder and harder to resist. he almost wants to make her wait, draw it out and keep her in his arms for as long as possible. a small fear, muted and ignored, that once she was done with him, she would be done with them. this was what she hadn't gotten the first time, wasn't it? it'd be understandable if this was all she wanted from him, just one release. the thought fueled the fear though, already knowing he wanted this again before they'd even finished round one. not immediately, thoughts of his patients would rush back when they parted bodies, but soon. he wants to be like this, unthinking but getting exactly what he wanted, for as long as possible. stretching the seconds their bodies were one, time forgotten except for in the form of another thing they'd abandoned in favour of each other.

holding out proves difficult as her thighs tightened around him a last time, body broadcasting everything. her movements, twitches and gasps were enough to push him over his own edge, having to pull his mouth away lest he break skin in the heat of the moment. it crystalizes what was so intoxicating about this strange relationship they were forming; worries, thoughts, feeling, ingored in favour of having their connection consume him entirely for just a few seconds. it passes all to quickly, leaving him breathless and sweaty, forehead resting against her shoulder as he tried to gather himself again. pull his thoughts together enough to form a coherent sentence. concern surfaces again, the intern already preparing himself to deal with any rejection but hoping - hoping she'd feel as elated as he did. drawing his head back, cracking his neck like he'd just finished a workout, not a clandestine hookup, he lets his eyes fall on her face, trying to analyze how she felt. keeping his grin at bay until he knew it would be welcome, biting his tongue to prevent some cheeky remark popping out.

[mcmachine]

                    april feels like a feast and he was the starving man.  it’s too easy to reverse their roles a work and let him be in charge,  to be dutiful and to obey the silent orders that his body sent to her.  she’s smothered by his want and need,  the greedy touches making it easy to drown in everything that he had to offer her.  it’s a relief to be wanted like this.  it wasn’t a thought to invalidate what she had had with jackson.  their sex life had perhaps been the only part of their relationship that wasn’t problematic by the time their relationship had dissolved and they’d becoming the speaking example of why love wasn’t always enough to save two people.  she’s familiar with the feeling of being wanted and loved,  desired by a husband.  she knows the songs of solomon all too well,  she could quote parts of it if she thought hard enough,  and knows too well the fervent passions of the flesh.  and she’s all too familiar with the idea of losing one’s self entirely in the moment,  of forgetting logic and reason at the door.  mixing the two ideas was something that just managed to come most naturally to april,  beyond what was perhaps better judgment.

                    the exam table is suddenly gone from behind her and april realizes what he’s done.  a laugh slips out,  joyous and relaxed,  the emotion rippling through her and her face flushes with the joy,  grateful for his enthusiasm.  it’s hot.  god,  it’s really hot.  her thighs squeeze around him tighter and she allows herself to bask in it,  feeling the warmth inside of her only rise and spread throughout every cell of her body.  one arm wraps around his neck to make it easier for him to keep her upright,  not that it’s particularly difficult given her small stature and his obvious muscles and the adrenaline pumping through the both of them.  a louder moan escapes her lips even as she knows that they both need to try and be quiet but he’s making it harder and harder with each passing thrust and each deep movement inside of her.  but she doesn’t try to muffle herself against his skin.  instead,  she arches her back more into him,  breasts pressing harder into his chest,  and lifting up her chin to extend the length of her neck for him,  trying to give him every square inch of her body she had to offer.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

against his chest, andrew feels a bubble of surprise in concert with her giggle. she was lighter than helping a patient up, almost like when he helped out with sofia. effortless, his body steel scaffolding, her nothing but silk in his arms. maggie, she hadn't allowed him this level of control. or much control at all, always needing to know every detail, every motivation and action. the redhead driving him to the edge, she let him take, take, take what he wanted. let him abandon thought and for their brief but burning respite let his body take control, take her. her sounds, the louder ones, the ones he should worry about nosy nurses hearing, working like gasoline within the fire of their embrace. he knows she can feel his; feel the growl and grunt through teeth that graze her flesh. last time, last time he'd marked her in the heat of the moment, unable to stop himself, but this was different. he wanted to lay claim to her, no, he wanted her to be claimed. he was reasonable, knowing she was unlikely to name the artist who'd turned her neck into a canvas of crimson and burgundy. he knew, though, and she knew. she'd see it in reflections, too high to be hidden with clothing, and that excited him.

finish line in sight, feeling the twitches indicating his own restraint was waning. somehow he'd reached the edge she'd left him on before in minutes. too proud to be a cliche, to be the boy who came too fast, the intern renewed his resolve. he wanted her first, wanted to demand she give in to him first. there was no competition in it, no struggle. practice had given him not only the skills to hold out, but the talent to force her to the same edge. teeth dig into her soft flesh, surely adding deep purple bruises to the mess he'd already made, his breathing a mix of gasps and her name turned growl. fingernails closer to breaking skin where ever his hands hungered for her, uncaring for the potential to leave thin red crescents. muscles tense and pull, grip enough to slide her body however he wants to. enough to push her as close to the edge as he wants her.

[mcmachine]

                    it’s nearly strange to be with a man that wasn’t jackson like this,  to expose the entirety of herself to him and offer a piece of vulnerability,  offer a piece of trust as she laid out everything to him.  she’d long since come out of the shell that the virginal april kepner had been  ––  she’d overcome her childish insecurities  ( even if she’d found new ones )  and had a strong sense of self,  had accepted her sense of self.  she preferred to call it growth but it was certainly a change and a development,  for the better.  april wanted to mark this down as a part of that change,  pushing herself to be more with someone new,  to not depend so heavily on her past.  there were religious consequences she’d bring on herself to consider soon enough,  but even then,  her perspective on religion had changed.  samuel and the divorce,  and maybe even riggs,  had changed that.  she didn’t have to hate herself for doing this with him.  she could bask in it.  her guilt would not be religious.

                    the feeling is enough to put away any sense of guilt.  her body accommodates to his size with the short pause and when he finally moves inside of her,  the timing is near perfect.  something about feeling his moan against her lips delights her,  assures her that he wanted and already enjoyed this just as much as she did.  his statement is sweet but she hardly takes the time to really think about it,  barely shaking her head.  “no,  don’t stop.”  it’s not quite fierce enough to be an order like her previous words to him had been,  but more pleading and desperate for him to ravage her.  a primitive piece of her like to feel like some kind of anti-feminist drivel,  to know what it means to be under his authority.  the desire seems like a contrast to who he knows her as,  but she’s comfortable giving him both the knowledge and power over her.  her hands run down the muscles of his back,  and it’s gentle,  the tension in the movements and control it took to not hurt her tangible.  but she wants the soreness and the hands tight enough to leave marks,  legs wrapping high around his waist and ankles crossing behind him.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

quiet, in the back of his head a voice reminded him;  the beautiful woman he was ravishing, damn near impaling with how small she was, was his boss. a responsible voice, but an understanding one. not enough to pull his attention from the way she felt around him, how the heat between their bodies consumed him. just enough to wait in the wings, ready to take over should something happen and his thoughts, hazed by lust, were not enough. she wasn't even back to being his boss for another few weeks, right? by then he'd (hopefully) be a resident. no longer a baby intern if they revisited this again - and he wanted to. before they'd even finished what began a week ago and continued in the way she squeezed around him, he knew he'd want it again. and again. and again. barring another breakdown on her end, of course, and even then, she would be worth it to work though. this, this primal need and lust being appeased by the rhythm between them, this was worth it. trapped between his firm hold on her, and the rough roll of his hips, right now she was his, and his alone.

every beg, every whimper drives him, wood to the fire they were sure to burn up in. he's still careful, with every movement comes a little more experience. knowing a little better how to avoid causing her the wrong kind of ache. a shift, a step, and a hand finds its way to grip between her neck and shoulder. lay her weight against his strong arms and dig his fingernails into the skin just enough to mark. he can pull away from the table now, not missing a beat of their intimacy as they become free standing. a old move, holding a girl up with they fucked, but he has no doubt she's the kind with a soft spot for it, and enjoys the precise control it give him. both of their movements - where he was hitting, how hard he was pressing - and of her entirely. wrapped in his arms, barely able to escape if she wanted to. the ache of a week ago is hot in his gut, pushing him closer with every gasp. lips roam again, like a habit he can't break, before finding a pulsepoint on the side of her neck. free hand slips to grip her ass, enabling him to drive his actions rougher. sealing against her neck almost to muffle his own moans, knowing they couldn't be too loud, the intern pulled against the flesh again, familiar with the hickey he was about to give her. loving it; loving marking her, the  dominance of it.

[mcmachine]

                    the pause in which she has to be placed down feels impossibly longer than the few seconds it actually was,  loss of heat sustaining her need to be filled and pressed up against him,  fueling the desire to feel anything but alone in the world.  she wants them in on this together,  and waiting another second seems damn near impossible.  patience is a virtue and april normally strives to accommodate to the prescribed virtues as adherently as humanly possible,  but there’s nothing but sin here,  and she doesn’t want to change a thing about it.  sin was within the realm of human nature,  and this was one of the most human things the world had to offer,  a necessity of the human race itself.  an act that had to be committed,  a necessary evil.  it nearly takes a minute for her to still realize that she still has her own pants covering skin,  covering no doubt what he was aching to see and feel,  and that he must want them off of her just as desperately as she wanted his.  her own fingers quickly find the button of her jeans and flick it  undone before looping her thumbs under the waistband of both of her pants and underwear,  hips lifting up just enough to slide them down her thighs,  hitting her ankles and she kicks the last of her clothes off to the side.

                    another round of blush hits her cheeks,  and april can’t be sure if it’s from the simple word that escapes his lips,  or seeing him completely for the first time.  a wave of insecurity is brief but not induced by the vague nature of his comment,  but instead by the sight of them,  realizing she hasn’t done anything like this in months and she’s not sure if he’ll be able to tell and think differently of her.  but it’s a fear that’s swallowed and conquered by his hands and his mouth,  gentle but needy noises escaping her lips as she finds herself less and less inclined to wait,  foreplay no longer needed for her,  her body already feeling prepared enough for them to become one.  her hands run down his chest,  nails barely scraping against his skin and slip around to his back,  determined to keep him as close as possible to him.  when his lips are on hers again,  she can feel him pressed up against her and teasing the both of them,  but doesn’t have the patient to take it.  april shifts her hips quickly and pushes them to where they both want it,  a deep moan muffled by his mouth as she takes him inside of her.  it feels like a stretch but it’s good enough,  but she’s craving it and him enough,  that she can’t find it in her to mind.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

she's radiant; a glory before his own eyes in a way he hadn't anticipated. sure, he'd seen her in various states of undress, including half naked in arizonas dim living room, illuminated by the blue light of the tv. but this was different. being able to bathe himself in nothing but the ample distraction of her pale beauty. the moment, freezing him below her as he utters a single word, barely able to process what was happening - what he was about to do. the air in the room shifts and he's between her legs again, holding her in place like she might shatter if he moved too fast. like fine china, delicate touching only. the way she pushes them is anything but delicate and it takes every iota of his self control not to return the favor fervently. instead, he give her a minute. lips press his desire into her like scorch marks of need against hers, but his hips remain at rest. letting her get used to the feeling, the fullness. without presuming too much, he was sure it had been a while since she'd done this, and wanted to ensure she enjoyed it as much as he was aching to.

aching, etched over his features. in the way his pulse raced, the way his breathing choked in his throat. hands slide gently up her back, one holding the weight of her body, other keeping her steady as he rolled his hips slowly. a gentle first movement, bringing a low moan to reverberate against her lips, verbalizing his need. still gentle, still slow, the intern pulls their lips apart to murmur near her ear, sliding his hips back til only a tease remains connecting them "say the word and i'll stop." not an offer to be taken up immediately, but a warning. reminding her that even though his body was totally dominating hers, she could still reach out and grab control if she needed.  a final kiss, pressed to her temple, and the intern pulls her down onto him, near inhuman sounds escaping as he found rhythm in the movement. found ability to focus on nothing but the places he couldn't tell where he ended and she started.

[mcmachine]

                    a shiver runs down her spine,  chilled air contrasting the heat his contact surged through her.  it only serves to make her crave the warmth of his touch even further,  wanting to press more and more of herself into him until she can’t tell the difference between her soft curves and the harder planes of his body.  fingers brushing against her back are quick to curb the hunger as he puts them in the same position that they had had to leave things be in the week before,  but she’s in no such position to be content with a similar ending.  last week now felt like a bitter tease,  a sample that left her nearly delirious for more and more and more.  but she’s sure that she’ll get it now,  sure that there’s no amount of restraint within either of their beings to be able to stop what now seemed to be the inevitable between them.  she’s a believer in fate and the powers that be,  though,  and she can’t think of a single reason in the moment to try and avoid it.

                    thighs tighten around his hips when the ground is removed from beneath her and she can feel the temptation pressing against her,  body aching as it grew more and more frustrated with the few clothes that still remained between them and what they really wanted.  the ache was nearly painful,  particularly in contrast to the kisses and touches that seemed nearly surreal,  and grows when their lips part again,  nearly dazed when her eyes reopen to find his on hers already.  april instinctively knows what he’s asking.  they were both adults,  and the next step is too obvious.  she wants to reach down between their hips and be bold with her answer,  too wrap her hand around him and show him just how sure she was now,  but it’s too difficult with the way she’s held against him and her own unwillingness to add any space between the both of them.  april nods her head with nearly too much enthusiasm for him,  pressing her lips hard against his for a surprisingly short moment before words fall from her lips.  “take off your pants,  deluca.”  a command as if she were somehow in charge here,  when it’s clear this was one area where she was so obviously not,  but there’s one never changing thing about april kepner:  she knows what she wants.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

like a freight train, her comment overpowers the rest of his thoughts, catching almost off guard. surprising himself with how much he enjoys it. strong arms holding her up, his body holding near complete control of the redhead, but her words-- like he was a grunt, and she a captain. his strength and resolve held under her watchful eye. it renewed his vigor, how she wanted to share their passion, exchange heat and god knows what else with as much intensity as he did. he, in complete charge of their physicality, but her still reserving her power (had she really used his surname?), letting herself give in the the primal nature of their attraction and forget her own control unless she wanted it. a mutually beneficial balance. all these thoughts, of course, pushed to the back of his head to consider later. the only thought in his mind was how to get his scrubs off as soon as damn possible. resistant, but knowing he must, the intern sets her down onto the bed for a moment. hooks fingers into her belt loops and tugs, only pulling them down a few inches before leaving the rest for her to finish. with the evidence of his beating faded, andrew no longer had any reason to be self conscious but he knew, knew she would be.

breaths already hungry, heavy under his breath as he shucks the scrub pants off, aware of how clearly outlined his underwear must make his desire. it's the first time he even considers covering himself up, but then his eyes flicker up, catching on her body as he leans up from tugging his remaining clothes off. "woah." spoken quietly, but feeling like he shouted it from the rooftops. he should say more, should shower her in the compliments she deserves. but he's rendered speechless, unable to bring his lips to do anything other than swarm her body again. roam, find every sensitive place she'll let him at and kiss, bite, suck, burn into her. hands, firm and rough against the silk skin of her thighs, slide up, over her hips, to her back again. holding her steady and leaning her back. rushing, wanting more, wanting her, wanting-- wanting it all. now. they'd had enough foreplay last week, and a small voice in the back of his mind reminds him they're on borrowed time. the heat between them like wildfire over skin that should chill but instead is electric. lips meet hers again and suddenly he's pressing against there, ready to cross the line in the sand. aching, aching to feel her shift and push them across.

[mcmachine]

                    this feels fast,  but april doesn’t mind enough to stop it.  she knows that he’s supposed to be working anyways,  not that that had ever stopped any doctor or intern within the walls of the hospital,  and that they’d pushed so far and so slow without going where they both wanted the first time,  that taking it slow seemed silly.  there’s a part of her that needs this on much more than a physical level,  that there’s much more than a physical satisfaction in being held tightly in his arms,  hands gripping her hips,  and she half hopes that it’s just tight enough to leave light bruise marks along the skin.  there’d been a small satisfaction in seeing the hickey,  after all,  a reminder of their own dirty little secret,  hidden and out of sight.  she’d always liked the secrets and the sneaking around,  locked on call rooms and supply closets,  a few quiet seconds in the elevators.  it doesn’t even occur to her that the exam room door hadn’t actually been locked to start with.

                    instead her thoughts are consumed with the hands on her,  the short backwards steps until there’s no more room for her to walk.  her lungs burn for oxygen and there’s a brief moment of relief when they separate as she sucks in the cool air,  chest already rising rapidly as she made an attempt to compensate for the lack of breathing.  it’s not the first time that she’s seen him shirtless but it’s still just as satisfying,  a greedy hand reaching out to run over the defined muscles of his abdomen.  his cockiness doesn’t bother her,  it nearly has the opposite effect of her,  a corner of her mouth pulling upward.  “mmhm,”  she hums in agreement,  not quite as good with the cocky or sexy comments.  her hand returns to herself as both work to quickly unbutton her own blouse,  momentarily cursing herself for her own choice in top as it feels like it’s taking nearly forever to get the damn cotton material off her frame.  fingers deftly reach the last button and she’s quick to get the shirt off of her completely,  letting it drop as her hands find his shoulders,  pulling him back down for a kiss.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

air conditioning drives a chill over his exposed back, working in tandem with the rush of her hands on his skin. for a moment, instinct and desire tell him to take her wrist, push her hand lower, but he doesn't. they were moving fast, but they didn't have to rush. he didn't want to rush, wanted to soak the sensations up and hold onto them. keep the memories intense enough to tide him over, should she leave him hanging for another week. of course, that isn't what really happened last time, but there's a chance, and that's enough. her hand leaves him and for a few moments he's starved of her touch. the compensation, hungry eyes following her fingers as they work off her blouse, isn't too bad. every glimpse of pale skin between the fabric just enough to appease him. to stop him from pushing her hands away and firmly tugging the shirt off, buttons be damned. he has some respect though, some self control, waiting like a puppy that's been told to heel until she rewards him with a kiss.

not waiting to check with her, andrew pushes on, wanting more. his hands are fast, skimming over her back and up to make light work of her bra clasp. that's the point where most girls reconsider him - just how quickly he can work them out of their clothes. it's muscle memory for him, the same as it is to part aprils lips, drive the kiss and feel the heat of her mouth. hands shift, tugging to let the last piece of fabric separating their chests drop, before finding their way back to her ass. he pauses for a moment, reminding himself not to be too rough, before lifting her, pressed between his chest and hands. he'd only meant to move her onto the exam bed, but holding her like that pressed them against each other in a way he couldn't ignore. trapped in the feeling for a minute, irritated at the fabric still separating them, andrew shifts her on his hips. makes sure she can feel why there's no blood in his brain. lips break from hers and he pulls back, knowing the distraction of desire is burning in his eyes as he meets her. raising an eyebrow, its silent bar greedy breaths, the way he pauses one last time to be sure. to give her a last chance to escape before they took it further than last time.

[scalpelsuperstar]

Callie was working yet another long day this week. But she was happy to cover things so the others could be at the wedding. Not like she really had anywhere better to be. Saving lives was what she did for a living after all. She could catch up on sleep and food and whatever else she needed to later. Or at least that was the plan. The place was still pretty well stocked with nurses it was just lacking on surgeons. Thankfully it was a slow night. But that only made it harder for Torres to refrain from falling asleep. She was trying to keep herself busy as much as possible.

And then she felt it, that tap on the shoulder and the sound of a vaguely familiar voice muttering her name as she turned around to face Andrew, immediately noticing the reason he was there for. “Sure.” She responded being fairly chill about the situation since this man didn’t seem too concerned himself with whatever the situation was but that clearly needed some sort of medical attention, just maybe wasn’t as urgent as most things were around this place. “What’s up?” Clearly this man knew what he wanted from her at least to some extent, right?  She’d only assumed by the fact that she’d been approached directly but she’d been wrong before. Not everyone had her expertise. A thing she forgot from time to time or rather completely treated everyone like they knew nothing at all.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

The more he thought about it, the more Andrew hesitated on his choice of doctor. Torres was, at the very least, a better option than Arizona. He didn't want to think about how that would go down - telling the blonde her star pupil had probably fractured his facial bones over nothing. Worse, the intern already knew nobody was going to believe it was nothing, not when it was his word against Alex Karevs. Which brings him back to the hesitation with Torres, not knowing what her relationship with his attacker was. Everyone in the damn hospital was so tight-knit. Regardless, he was at her side now, face still aching.

"I uh, had an accident." his words are carefully chosen, avoiding explaining exactly what had happened. He'd heard about Riggs and Hunt, the blase way everyone had reacted to a brawl in the hallway, so figured it'd be pretty easy for Torres to deduce what kind of accident he'd had. The intern raises a gentle hand to point to the rising swelling over his cheekbones. "When you're not busy, could you give me a consult?" It felt strange, requesting a consult for himself and not a patient, but it seemed like the easiest way. All he wanted was to know he wasn't bleeding out into his skull, maybe get some painkillers, and find an on call room to crash in.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

Why do you only rp with April?

i hadn’t noticed but on here that’s how it probably looks lmao. i guess combo of: jill is an a+ april, i love our threads, i’m pretty new to the community, and do a lot of rping off tumblr. i’m always keen to chat with new people and write with them!

[mcmachine]

                    part of it feels wrong to be embracing a stereotype that the hospital had somehow managed to establish,  the trap of falling between the sheets with either a superior or an inferior,  the ideas of taking advantage and going to extremes for surgeries.  it’d been nothing that she understood as an intern,  and she’s not really sure that she understands it now,  either.  she doesn’t see age.  she likes to think she doesn’t look her age,  and she still got the occasional,  undermining  ‘ honey ‘  or  ‘ sweetheart ‘  from patronizing males that tended to back up that theory.  but she doesn’t see him as a younger in terms of lacking maturity or real world experience,  just as a younger surgeon,  a student.  she’s not teaching now,  though,  there’s nothing that she can offer him any more than any other now.  right now it’s just the two of them as individuals.  his lab coat and her job don’t matter.  they were just details that could be ignored for now,  pushed away and something to have to think about later.  she still had weeks before she’d be back in the o.r. rotation.

                    the space between them is gone and it’s the same intense heat that she’d felt with him a week ago.  his hands on her hips feel nearly tame as she can feel her pulse pick up a few beats,  color no doubt rising to her cheeks again in a way far preferable to her prior embarrassment.  her hands go to his chest,  immediately balling the light blue fabric within her small fists.  red hair falls to the side as she tilts her head to the side as if luring him to the soft skin of her neck,  but it’s a short-lived tease as she moves her head to kiss him,  lips moving against his familiar ones.  memory has already started to fill in the holes and put her at ease around him,  there’s no need to be careful or try and tiptoe around things,  the only thing they have to worry about is not being too loud with people on the other side of the walls and door.  then she offers a verbal answer,  “i’m feeling pretty lucky.”  a tease,  nearly cliche enough that it’s a laughable response,  but the humor of it is lost of her,  focus having entirely shifted to him and the way she feels pressed up against his body.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

thought evaporates, carried away by their hastening breaths. how he'd felt in the hallway was a million miles away now, insignificant compared to the way her hipbones felt, pressing into his palms. there's no hesitancy in the redheads response, confirming his hopes that she wanted him the same as he craved her. hands close around her hips, holding her in place, finger tips pressing into her skin. aware, in the back of his mind, of the proximity of his thumbs to her scar, and careful. they can't ignore it-- that would be irresponsible, but he just makes note of location and works around it. grips her tighter as she catches his lips with hers, stopping his mind entirely for just a moment. crystal clear, as if he'd been drowning and she was delivering cpr. the taste of her floods his mouth, washing out remaining thoughts of work, location, anything but the warmth rapidly spreading from her lips over his skin. instincts drive his response, thoughts drowned out by the pounding blood rush bringing a flush to his checks. she's so small, pressed against the solid heat of his chest, he wants to pick her up, sweep her off her feet.

her answer is short, but enough. even if he had enough blood left in his brain to worry about it, he wouldn't. they were in an exam room specializing in dealing with the kind of things that could go wrong. concerns dealt with, he could focus on the way she tasted on his lips. could shrug off the lab coat and let his hands creep to the grip seat of her jeans, fingers on fire against the denim. desire urges him to slip under the clothing, but eyes dart to the door again, the lock staring him down like an omen. he should - he should lock it, but he can't. can't risk having her escape his embrace again. head shifts, initiating another passionate kiss, and he's moving them, walking her backwards towards the exam bed, unstopping til he can feel the edge of it against his fingers. hands move of their own accord, tugging the collar of his scrub shirt until he's forced to break the kiss to slip it over his head. doesn't return his lips immediately though, pulling back a fraction to let her take in the hard work etched against his torso muscles. "like what you see?" the comment slips out before he can stop it, cocky and playful.

[mcmachine]

                    it’s not the first time that she’s spilled out more information than what’s intended and with equal certainty,  it would not be the last.  oversharing was an unfortunate habit to have for someone who was as easily embarrassed as she was  ––  she had a lifetime of being pushed and pulled around for her choices,  and even if most of that had faded since the end of her residency,  the memories never faded so easily.  but she can hear it in his voice when he questions the validity of her statement.  part of her wants to bring up that it’s impressive she was a fifth year at twenty-nine,  that thirty-one was normal and hell,  even if cristina yang had been thirty-three.  but she doesn’t.  she’s not as braggy as she wishes she was sometimes.  instead there’s just lingering embarrassment.  it’s hard to be proud of holding out for so many years when you even didn’t make it till marriage.  waiting that long and losing the purpose of it had certainly made it awkward to handle.

                   “yeah.  i was.”  ugh.  “but it’s not a big deal,  okay?”  april’s only grateful that she doesn’t go on to explain the solution,  or that jackson was the only man that she had ever slept with thus far.  somehow her tongue stills enough to not share that detail.  it didn’t seem right to remind him of that,  or to plant more ideas in his brain about what their night together may have or may have not meant to her.  she’s too scared herself to put down anything on it out of the assumption that it hadn’t meant much for him,  and certainly far too scared to consider asking.  but at least he seems interested in continuing what they’d started.  she’s not sure if it’s some pent up frustration  ( because lord knew,  she had that,  too )  or something else going on his mind.  her tongue briefly appears as she wets both of her lips and finds her mouth drier than what she’s expecting,  but she tries to play it cool.  “well,  that depends…”  her voice trails off with the brief pause,  thin eyebrows raising.  there’s nothing more she wants than to kiss him and feel his hands all over her again,  but she wants him to initiate.  “do you think you’ll be able to finish whatever you start this time?”  it’s slightly more than a teasing question,  an edge of seriousness as she seeks out how concerned he may have been about the scar across her stomach,  but her tone still remains light.

[andrewdeluxearchive]

a little bit taken aback, andrew cocks his head a little at her tone. he'd kept himself from laughing, tried to make sure she wouldn't be offended at his request for confirmation. it wasn't just her side that he found funny; half of the motivation behind the silenced chuckle was the sting of her age - of their age difference. if he'd thought about it harder, dedicated more of his mind to considering their relationship rather than the curve of her body against his, it might have been more obvious before. compared to the inches between their bodies now, the decade between their ages felt like a canyon. he doesn't press any further, knowing perhaps she doesn't want to be reminded of that. surely, some of his appeal was filling the boy toy archetype, but it might be too much to address that. instead, the intern just bobs his head, keeps his expression neutral but friendly.

she returns his challenge, his tease, effortlessly. his mind flicks back to earlier, when they'd first laid eyes on each other in the hospital. doubt of her words danced around them, hesitant to fully believe her affirmation of health and healing. her question rings in his ears though, pushing him to ignore his own concerns. something about being in these halls, where she was his boss, made it harder to push back - harder to try and feel like he even wanted to push back. lip pulled tight between his teeth for a second, he finally closes the space between their bodies. she's fire under him as he slips hands to her hips and it takes more restraint than it should to not immediately begin working her jeans off. restraint not to throw her onto the exam bed and have his way. firm, his words are rushed into her ear. "do you think you can handle it?" a flirt, a proposition, to hide the question she must know needs to be asked. like hiding medicine in candy. he doesn't wait for her answer before his lips make contact, burning against her jawline.

[mcmachine]

                    when he insists again that she’d just left,  instead of guilt flooding her,  irritation takes over for a few moments.  stubborn had always been one of her fatal flaws,  it probably always would be.  april had been careful to make things seem less harsh than what he’d been awoken to,  and she was half annoyed with arizona for having pick up the note when it wouldn’t have made any sense for it to be directed at the blonde.  except she would have recognized her handwriting,  there was no doubt about that much,  and that did make her cringe a bit.  so she knew something had happened,  but if she hadn’t asked…  maybe that meant she wasn’t suspicious enough to get near what exactly had happened.  her expression softens at the added comment.  maybe she should’ve made it more obvious,  left it on the coffee table in front of the couch or on top of his shirt,  something that he would’ve had to seen.  but it was too late to change that now.  at least he didn’t seem determined to hold it over her head.  she would appreciate that much.

                    “that’s not what i wanted you to think.  trust me,  i’m not that kind of girl.  i’m nowhere near that girl.  i’m the girl who stays a virgin till she’s a fifth year at twenty-nine and loses it right before taking her boards and then fails her boards and then tries to revirginize again after she loses her job and prays to a justin-timberlake-jesus.”  the words come flying out too quickly for her to be able to reel back the ramble in an attempt to overcompensate for how he’d been feeling in the past week,  but she’s quick to realize that it was far too much information for someone who had not known her that long.  cheek flush with color and only manage to turn even redder when he teases her about the night,  glancing down and away for a moment in a weak attempt to try and lose some of the redness that stained her cheeks.  “yeah,  except,  i’m pretty sure you had to get me to stop.”  she points out as she looks back up at him,  taking a small step forward in a natural motion.  a corner of her cheek pulls up in a way that she can’t fight.  “you’re supposed to be working.”

[andrewdeluxearchive]

her rant takes him by surprise, though by now it probably shouldn't. what was it now, the third or fourth time she'd done it? if the situation were different, he might be irritated with her for talking so much, spilling so much onto him, but it's different. in part, it's what got them to where they were now; his lack of desire to discuss his own issues, how she'd placed hers in his hands instead. not to solve, just to hear. her ramble is different to the others this time. less heartbreaking, more nervous, more unintentional. he's trying to flirt with her and suddenly she's talking about virginity and boards and jesus. an outburst of laughter is only just caught in his throat, requiring as much self control as it had to not ravage a week ago. thankful, perhaps for the first time, for his relationship with maggie - at the very least, it had taught him how girls like them, the flighty ones, the nervous ones, they hated being laughed at. fair, it's not a pleasant feeling, but he has to at least explain why he wants to laugh to her.

"wait, wait, hold on." the intern throws his hands up ready to defend himself against her reaction, hoping his contained laughter can’t be heard in his voice. "you were a virgin until twenty nine?" the emphasis is heavy on the age, forcing his eyes wide. he waits a beat for her response, unable to imagine being a virgin still, let alone going another two years without. it was a christian thing, surely - she was a much more devout christian than he. he wanted to push it, remind her she was a virgin for longer than he's been alive, but he leaves it for now. saves it to tease her later, now that he had a inkling there might be a later. eyes strayed to her cheeks, grinning at the blush. enjoying teasing her, playful  but loaded. she was moving like him, inching closer as they spoke, like she felt the same desire that was growing in his chest. "no ones going to die if i deliver a form twenty minutes late, y'know." the words are gentle but communicate exactly what he means. what he wants. this time he's bolder, closing the distance between the two. untouching, but close enough to breath her in, feel the heat of her body. eyes cycle between hers, the lock on the door, and the lips he wanted to revisit. he wants, more than anything, to lean down and reconnect them, but hesitates, needing confirmation. "just say the word, dr kepner"

[rxggs]

merliaseidon:

This has been on my mind for long but I’m gonna do this - please reblog this if you’re comfortable with pre-establishing relationships. I do not mean “met at the grocery store two weeks ago” or “have a common friend”, but rather stuff like “have been best friends since kindergrden”, “go for a beer every friday”, “friends with benefits”, “dated in highschool”, “hate each other’s guts because -insert reason-”  etc. Something meaningful (but not necessarily shippy) and I mean with muns/characters you have not interacted with, because I cannot believe I am the only one who prefers jumping right into the heart of the human interaction

[justanotherrpmemeblog]

Send a ◎ and a question and my muse must answer, even if it’s a secret.

[mcmachine]

                    the laughter that boils from his lips only serves to confuse april further about how he feels about this entire situation.  she certainly didn’t have the backbone to ask him directly,  stemming solely from a fear that he would shoot her down entirely and mock her for even having to ask,  as if it was something obvious that she did every day.  waiting forever to lose her virginity and only have two serious  ( and well,  extreme opposite ) relationships had more or less screwed her over for having to deal with anything remotely similar.  that much had made itself obvious all too quickly with him.  the frown on her lips only deepens,  her fingers coming up to lightly scratch over her clothes where the mostly faded mark had been distinct from the rest of her skin.  it’s a little unsettling,  to have no idea what’s happening in his brain,  and she could only wish that she knew him better,  knew about his past more,  or simply knew anything that would’ve given her some kind of better footing with him.  she’d already jumped in deep,  but she didn’t know if she was drowning.

                    “i don’t remember.”  april admits after a quiet pause. she had a general idea of what she’d written,  sure,  but it’d been a week ago and she was tired and in a hurry,  it hadn’t been anything that she’d bothered to try and commit into memory.  “i  mean,  it wasn’t anything…  dirty,  if that’s what you’re thinking.”  there’s another pause after the words leave her mouth,  brows furrowing and analyzing his face to try and figure out if that’s what he had been expecting out of her.  “i was tired,  i was in a rush  ––  i don’t remember what it said.  i don’t think i put my name on the bottom.  i just put that i had to go take my pills and that i was sorry for leaving without waking you first.”  she hopes,  she crosses her fingers like a child,  and she prays that she hadn’t put her name.  if she had,  arizona would have said something to her about it,  right?  that would have been in the normal realm of behavior for the blonde.  another moment passes before the question that’s really itching at her nerves finally comes out.  “did you think i’d just leave without a word?”

[andrewdeluxearchive]

raising an eyebrow, it's hard not to laugh again, especially at the thought of april freaking kepner leaving him a dirty note. thick, waiting in his throat, it's the nervous kind of laughter. directionless, the kind that makes itself known when you're not sure what exactly you're really laughing at. a good representation of how he felt, studying her tense form. he couldn't be angry anymore, not with her certainty that she hadn't abandoned him, but he was quite sure what else that left him to feel. he could stay, frozen in nervous laughter like it was neutral. the alternatives were limited; feel the passion again, shut her up with a kiss and regain what they'd lost in parting ways, or pain. deal with why that night had happened, the ache it had left in him, whether she was holding it together. he doesn't like the options, but she's pushing him towards one. inquiring about things he'd stopped himself from thinking of because they hurt.

"you did." no anger in blunt words, eyes meet hers. more than anything, he wishes it was like that night. that they could read each other in lip twitches and heartbeats again. despite their closeness, despite being able to tug her into his arms if he wanted, they felt miles apart. "i mean, that's what it seemed like, all week." soft, he doesn't delay too much before the follow up. doesn't want to see the guilt or whatever she felt wash over her face. over and over he repeats to himself, it wasn't her fault, she didn’t leave. he believes it, at least enough for now. even reasons - if she didn't leave a note, and regretted it, covering it up as she was now, then she deserved a second chance. that's what they'd given each other that night, a chance to be something different. train of thought deciding how he’d feel, he pressed on. another step closer, her scent burning in his nostrils. the interns rolls his lips into his mouth for a second, wetting them. "seemed like you didn't like the time we spent together." audibly teasing, the interns is careful to make his intentions unmistakable. "unless--" he's cocky, confidence in every words, playful expression creeping over his features "unless you wanna prove me wrong?"

[mcmachine]

                    she’s starting to feel progressively worse about the night as each tense second tickers by.  had she really used him?  that hadn’t been her intention,  not in the least,  but she’s feeling more and more guilty the more the thoughts plague her.  maybe she had taken advantage of him.  a frown tugs more and more across her features,  gaze flickering down as she thought.  she know that she would’ve been a little upset if their roles were reversed,  yet april figured she’d be pretty understanding of it.  taking antibiotics were important.  as doctors,  they preached about the importance of it,  about not leaving half a bottle untaken and how much more effective it was to take them on a regular schedule.  not to neglect healing yourself.  now she feels like she’s managed to neglect him in the process.  and that’s one thing that she doesn’t know where or how to begin apologizing for,  even if she already feels like the  ‘ sorry ‘  should be leaving her lips aggressively.  a frustrated sigh is barely contained between her pink lips,  even if her features aren’t exactly happy.

                    “there was a note!”  the pitch of her voice rises and her hand flails out into the air wildly,  unable to break her habits even when she tried.  the redhead takes a deep breath to try and calm herself.  “i left a note right by the coffee maker. i wasn’t trying to pretend that it didn’t happen,  andrew.  it happened.  that hickey was freaking huge.”  the last comment isn’t quite intended to fly from her lips half as freely as it does,  and color barely rises to her cheeks with the comment,  only hoping that no one who walked by would be able to overhear her and recognize her voice.  “i’d left my antibiotics and pain meds at home.  i had to leave to go and take them,  andrew.  and i explained all of that in my note.”  she’s very insistent about the existence of it,  her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of the nose to try and contain some of her own irritation.  as she lets out a sigh,  the most likely circumstance finally hits her,  hand dropping back to her sigh as she bites down on her lower lip at the realization.  “––  crap.  arizona must’ve come home and picked it up.  crap.”

[andrewdeluxearchive]

tension drawn tight like a razor wire between their bodies, leaving him unable to decide what he wanted. did he want to stay mad at her for the hollowness she'd left in his cold chest that morning? that would be hard - her own frustration at the situation beginning to etch itself over her pale features. both of them steadfast in their assertions regarding the note she may or may not have left. barely turning his body, the intern shucked the folder he'd been clutching to his chest, as if to protect himself, onto the bed a few feet away. just a glimpse of it, a flicker of possibility crossed his mind before her shrill cuts through it. she's trying to explain it, again, as if repeating it would make him believe it, to no effect. it's what follows, her finally verbalizing what he thought wasn't true, that cracked the stoic expression he'd been holding on to. it fell into place, the insistence she hadn't used him, the confusion over a note, her persistence in explaining herself. she didn't regret it, didn't want to talk around it. cracked a joke about it. or he hoped it was a joke. blush clashes with the shine of her eyes and he's laughing before there's a chance to restrain it.

he'd all but forgotten the rich mark he'd left over her collarbone, but she-- she must have worn it for days. if he studied her skin hard enough he'd probably still be able to find it. she insists on continuing her verbal self defense, even as the intern quiets his chuckle. there's a beat, where she's irritated and he's gathering his thoughts after the inappropriate laughter, and he can see cogs turning behind her eyes. "i'm telling you, there was no --" his words are too quiet to breach her thoughts and she cuts him off, finally delivering an explanation that makes sense to both of them. he knew arizona had been home; muted tv and clean dishes alerted him to that. "april --" her name, again, again, couldn't help himself. head tilted, the intern can't help but inch closer to her. the ache he'd woken with a week ago not gone, just fading. outweighed by the worry of his room mate being privy to -- "-- what, exactly, did you write?"