Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek/Meredith, dancing. [for the grey's anatomy porn battle.]

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy.
Characters: Derek/Meredith
Prompt: Dance.
Word Count: 1240.
Rating: NC-17.

for the Grey's Anatomy porn battle here and for distant_dreamer who is pretty much better than the best you could ask for.

This isn't the sort of bar you ever go to and you suspect that's pretty much the point.

You can see her on the other side of the crowded room between flashes of strobe lights and gyrating bodies. Her back is to you and you admire the way her jeans fit snugly on her slight hips as you approach her, watching her sway to a beat that doesn't quite match the one blaring out of the sound system.

You shouldn't be here-- this is none of your business. But she shouldn't be here with him and that is your business.

Him. Wherever-- whoever-- he is. It doesn't matter. She's alone for the moment and that's enough.

Your hands settle low on her waist in greeting and she starts, letting out a tiny squeak as you pull her against your body.

"Meredith," you murmur against the baby-soft skin of her ear and for just a moment her body relaxes as she realizes it's you.

But only a moment. A short, minuscule point in time because as soon as she realizes it's you, her body becomes hard again and she struggles in your grasp.

You only tighten your hold around her, one arm sneaking snake-like around her middle as your thumb traces the non-existent swell of her belly.

"Derek," she hisses, glancing furtively at the line of people waiting for refills at the bar.

Mr. Not You must be there but you barely pay any attention to which one he might be. And why should you? Her tight, lithe body is warming yours and it really doesn't matter who broke up with whom last because she fits just right against you and her hair still smells like lavender.

Which is pretty much all the encouragement you need to brush your lips over her ear, sucking gently on the little pearl of her lobe before moving lower to claim a spot on her neck.

She gasps and you don't stop.

The music is a pulsing, throbbing thing around you and before you know it you are a part of it, shifting your weight from one heel to another as you continue your assault on Meredith's neck.

If she is still searching out her date, if he's noticed you with her, or if he's making his way toward you to fight for her you don't know it. You are lost in the taste of her skin, your face buried in the crook where her shoulder becomes the graceful column of her neck and when she tilts her head to the side you forget everything else.

"Mine," you inform her without remorse, knowing well she could throw your ass out of there with only a few words but instead she only nods and you can feel your body tighten and swell at her consent.

She must feel it too because she turns suddenly in your arms, faster than you can stop her, and then the two of you are face to face and you can't remember the last time she was close enough to kiss.

It's dark in the club. Dark with lights flickering like flashes of a camera, revealing every movement in slow motion. Your bodies move close together in those sparks of luminescence. She pulls you in with a hand on the back of your neck and you press your leg between her own, lifting her flush against your arousal.

Her hooded eyes close completely when you rock against her and her lips part on a sigh when you pull the bottom one between your own.

She tastes spicy like tequila and once isn't enough so you slant your mouth over hers, tongue slipping inside to map every crevice, tempting her own to twist and curl with yours.

The two of you grind together as the music shifts into another song and your fingers flex against the back pockets of her jeans, anchoring her to you as you plunder her mouth.

Until she tears hers away, panting and gasping for air as she kisses a blazing trail to your ear and says your name again, a word that stops abruptly when you move your hand between your bodies and then her thighs to press hard against her.

Every snapshot of light shows you the effect you have on her, her head falling back weightless on her shoulders and her lithe body moving like liquid as you stroke the seam of her jeans.

There are people around you everywhere, on every side, pushing and dancing up against you but really, it's only her. Only her and the way she clings to you when she rests her cheek against yours, begging for more because your hand isn't enough.

It's only her as you somehow find your way into the nearest bathroom and you accidentally shove her against the door harder than you intended. Only her as she tears at your jeans and then hers while you fumble with the lock on the door and the clasp on her bra.

And there is absolutely no one else but her when your fingers slide against her sex and your mouth descends on her breast and she bats your hand away, whining.

"Not like this. The thing. I want-- do the thing."

You don't even have to wonder what the thing is because she pushes away from you and faces the door, bracing her hands over her head as she looks back at you over her shoulder.

And you know exactly which thing she's begging for. The thing where you thread your fingers with hers and she pushes her hips against you, teasing you, driving you out of your mind with want until you have no choice but to thrust up inside her.

She is so goddamned hot and you can't stop the growl in your throat when you rock against her and she clenches around you in retaliation.

"Fuck," she groans, forcing the words out with each breath. "Fuck. Me."

And you do.

Right there against the filthy door of a club you'd be embarrassed to admit even knowing the name, you take her until she's begging you for more, harder, faster, more, more, more, and you give it to her because she's Meredith and she's yours.

You won't be letting her go again.

And then she's coming before you can even slip a hand down her body, arching hard against the door as her inner walls quake and tremble around you, pulling your own orgasm from you with a sudden sharpness that leaves you weak and mindless and slumping roughly against her when it's over.

She doesn't say anything but neither does she shove you away in a panicked frenzy and you take that as a good sign. She hasn't always stayed, afterward.

"I love you," you tell her softly, placing a gentle kiss on her neck that is nothing like the marks you left there earlier.

"I'm always going to love you," you promise when she still doesn't respond.

The moment stretches on, making you uncomfortably aware of the noise just beyond the door and the complete silence on this side of it when she finally sighs and pivots around to look at you, biting her lip.

"Do you think my date will be mad when I go home with you instead of him?"

You stare at her until her words finally register and she smiles tentatively at you, breaking the tension instantly as you sweep her back into your arms, your mouth finding hers again.

Then she laughs and you do too.