Derek grabbed a fistful of hair, drawing your head up to watch him as he defiled you. He’s been craving this for week, months— day after day there’s an event he can’t control that’s led to time spent away from you.
His teeth left red hickeys as he dragged his lips across your collarbone, marking you up on purpose. Telling everyone youre his and his only.
“God, fuck—“ he moaned as his hips starting giving shorter, deeper strokes. Your lips let out a string of soft, short whines as he hit the spot every last thrust. “All I’ve wanted is to fuck you,” he moaned as his hand left your hair and steadied onto and gripped your hips.
But suddenly, there was a beep.
Derek picked up the pager, and stared at it, still thrusting inside of you.
“If you gotta go Der, it’s okay,” you moaned out, bummed. All you’ve been thinking about is being used by him and you’ve both been so busy.
He ignored you, simply continuing his pace.
“Der, really—“
His hand clamped over your mouth. “It’s not dire. I’m in control. I’m going to finish fucking you first,” he growled into your ear, keeping the hand over your mouth as you continued to moan and whine helplessly.
His pace, became faster and shorter, holding onto your shoulders for support. As your walls tightened around his cock, he moaned out your name before thrusting in one last time, releasing inside of you.
Still dazed, you laid on the on-call bed half naked with his cum dripping out of you.
He hopped out of the bed, redressing himself quickly.
“I’m not letting a pager control me,” he said harshly before kissing you one last time, leaving the sex linger in the air.
Tags: fluff, flustered addison, reader is a little shit lol, they're in that bar I can't remember the name of but nobody drinks, no use of yn
Summary: Addison is trying to ask you out. You're trying to make the blush on her cheeks last longer.
Word count: 0.6k
If this is ooc I'll just kms no worries <3
The thing about surgeons is that they think they're god.
The thing about Addison Montgomery is that for all that blustering confidence, her unshakeable pride, she trips over her words and blushes pink as she stands in front of you, out of her scrubs and in tailored designer. Her hair is loose and pretty around her shoulders, long fingers fidgeting, the question right on her tongue, all but falling into your lap. Almost, but not quite there yet.
You have to say, you're enjoying the front row seat to Seattle's most successful neonatal surgeon stumbling at your feet.
"Dinner?" You grin, arms crossed on the edge of the bar. She's already flushed, her hair tucked and un-tucked behind her ear a dozen times in the span of three minutes, and you'll give in, you will, but you want to draw it out first.
Addison nods.
"You mean, like, with the girls?"
"What?" Her eyes widen. She stares at you for a second, trying to gauge if you're joking, before a nervous laugh bubbles from her chest. "No, that's not—not with anyone, I meant just…us." Her voice trails off, hands flexing on the edge of the bar. Lovely hands, you think, your eyes dropping down to where her wrist curves into her thumb, slender bones shifting under the thin cover of her skin. One goes up, to her ear; she pushes a few coppery strands back, and you hide your smile in the hinge of your shoulder. "Just you and me," she repeats, as if to get it through your head. Her voice is softer now, layered under the din of the bar. Losing conviction.
You edge a little closer, bridging the gap just enough to see the faint pulse between her collarbones. You raise your eyes to hers, let the rush of that glacial blue wash over you with a faint shiver down your spine.
"So, like a date?" You ask.
You're sure that if she were drinking she'd have choked. Her inhale is sharp, her chest expanding, chin ducking as she nods one two three times, the flush crawling down her jaw.
"Yes." She manages.
That should've been enough. It should've been more than enough.
But.
Your smile stretches coy, seeping into your voice. "Platonic date?"
"Those don't exist." Addison snaps, her eyes going narrow.
You laugh. Her shyness melts to exasperation, a pointed set to her jaw that has your veins burning.
"You're fucking with me." She exclaims.
"I'm not," you promise.
"No, you are."
"Addie." You say warmly, taking her hand. She immediately goes still again, her breath hitching. "I'd love to go on a non-platonic dinner date with you, just the two of us." You hold her gaze, your thumb skating over her knuckles. "That's what this is, right?"
Addison swallows.
"Yes." She says.
You smile, softer now, giving her hand a squeeze. "Well then, I'd love to." You say genuinely.
Her chest expands with a deep inhale. You're looking at her far after she looks away, another laugh tickling your mouth.
"Oh my god." Addison shakes her head, pressing a hand into her eye. You're more than ridiculously pleased that the other one is still trapped beneath yours on the bar. "You were enjoying that, weren't you?"
You look at her with all the innocence of a saint. "I just didn't want to understand you wrong. Get the wrong idea, you know."
"Liar."
You shrug, your teeth biting down on your lip. "You're cute when you're flustered."
Addison takes her hand back, tucks it into her body as she crosses her arms. The loss doesn't make you feel cold. You're hot all over.
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." She mutters, the corners of her mouth lifting.
