Basically, I just decided to write this because it was Halloween and I felt like writing something smutty for you guys since we're going through withdrawal and we're all perverts (clearly!) :p Enjoy and review, please!
"You could have at least worn a fake nose, Kepner."
She's there, dressed in black and with some dark hints of grey and red, and she rolls her eyes at Karev's comment.
Her nails are red, but her dress is long and covers her knees and calves and almost her ankles. Is it completely wrong of her husband to hope she would have worn something a little more... daring?
Since they'd gotten together, hell since he'd known her, she'd opened up. She was less wound up, uptight, and she definitely felt more confidant in her skin than she used to. It was a good thing. So, why in God's name did she have to dress up like an old witch instead of a hot younger one for Halloween?
Their one year old daughter wouldn't mind. Meredith had agreed to take care of everyone's kids for the night because she didn't want to partake in the festivities going on at Joe's.
"Shut up, Alex."
The paediatric surgeon rolls his eyes in return, turns toward her husband, watching as he messes with his tie. "Dude, who are you supposed to be?"
"Mr. Smith."
"So, nobody."
"Brad Pitt."
Alex nods once, tilts his head towards the redhead, now in a deep chat with his fiancée, "And she's meant to be Angelina?" He smirks, holds up his scotch glass, "Okay."
Jackson sighs, leans one side against the bar and moves a hand to rest on his hip. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, eyeing his wife from across the room, imagining the million other slightly more promiscuous things she could have dressed up as.
"She's a wicked witch, apparently." He frowns subconsciously, brows creasing and emitting a light chuckle from his friend.
"Judging by your face, it looks like it's working."
The darker man scowls, turns to face the bar and pick up his freshly ordered drink, "She's killing me with that thing."
"Consider yourself lucky. Jo dressed as freaking Superwoman, and now I've gotta fight off drunk guys every two minutes. Kepner dressing like an old hag is probably for the best."
"Yeah," Jackson breathes quietly, turning his gaze back to his wife across the bar.
Maybe it is better. He would hate to have to beat the crap out of anybody who tried hitting on her. She was his wife, he got her. He got everything underneath, everything that wasn't on display. Wow, he sounds like a pig right now.
Shaking his head, he raises his brows and clicks his tongue, "You're probably right."
"You do know this is harder for him than it is for you, right?"
April perks up then, brow raised and hand tight around her second wine glass of the night. "How so?"
The resident laughs, flips her long brown hair behind her shoulder, much in the same way she'd be been doing with her cape all night long.
"Uh, look at him!"
The redhead turns her attention across the bar, watching as her husband interacts with their colleague.
He clenches his right fist every five seconds, licks his lips every seven and flicks his eyes over to her every three.
Oh.
Yes.
She knows what that means.
"He's fine." April shrugs.
"You put her bottle in the diaper bag, right?"
"Babe, we dropped her off hours ago. I'm sure Meredith would have called if we didn't."
She walks across the kitchen, slides her purse along the countertop with a trail of her fingertips. "Right."
Jackson tosses his jacket down over the side of the sofa before he leans against the hard back, hands on his hips again.
He looks over at her then, watching as she licks her lips once, twice, and pulls the witch's hat from her head.
April walks around the counter, heading down the narrow hallway into their bedroom with a bite of her nails. She sheepishly grins as she moves, avoiding his gaze, and he frowns as she shuts the door behind her. Wait. What?
"April?"
No reply.
After a couple of seconds, he finally decides to take a step forward to knock on the door. She doesn't usually slip into their bedroom suspiciously and lock the door behind her.
Upon moving a foot forward, he stops when the door opens and his attention immediately drops to her legs.
"Trick or treat?"
"I- Uh-" He licks his lips, lashes fluttering and eyes taking in her appearance.
She'd swapped her long black cover-all dress for a pair of black lace panties and stockings, and her top half was only covered by a tight corset hugging her waist and perfectly sculpting her breasts.
Nervously chewing on her bottom lip, the redhead leans a hand against the painted doorframe, fingernails scratching the surface.
She doesn't dress like this often, but she likes it, and he loves it, when she does. And, well, she had been dragging him through hell all night.
His green eyes seem to light up when he notices the way she stares back at him, almost daring him to make a move. Please. Yes. Please. Do it already.
He walks toward her after a short moment, hands in his pockets and a smirk toying on his lips. When he reaches her, his hands stay to himself and his gaze drops to her cleavage when she straightens up.
"What's the trick?"
April giggles, shrugs her shoulders in reply, "I'm not sure yet."
He nods slowly, finally moving a hand to touch her waist, palms spreading around her sides and he draws her closer.
Forehead pressing against her own, his bright eyes pierce into her hazel ones, breath shallow and fighting with her own, "And the treat?"
"Whatever you want."
"Those are good terms." His hands drop to her thighs then, running his thumbs down the outsides, stopping just below the hem of her stockings. His hands mould into her flesh as he lifts her up and turns her around to their side to press her back against the door.
She wraps her legs around his waist, hands tugging at his tie to pull it loose. "I thought you might like them."
"Oh, definitely."
Before she can speak again, she feels his lips crush her own, tongue to teeth and teeth to lip.
Her hands slip his tie free before she drops it and moves her fingers down his torso, quickly setting to work on his pants as his hands run up and down her thighs, partially pulling the thin lace material of her underwear down her legs.
"Jackson?"
"Hmm?"
"I like your costume, too."
He grins without a solid reply and holds her closer once she pulls down the zipper of his black pants, slipping her small hands down to his backside, moving his pants and boxers below his ass, and pushing him into her intimacy.
April gasps when he slips into her quickly, a rough hand digging into her right side and the other smoothing through her curls. He threads his fingers through her hair, bringing her face closer to his own, lips smashing and breathing patterns evening out.
Her hips swirl against his, hands digging into his shoulders, cupping the base of his neck tenderly when he quickens his pace, lifting her left leg higher, angling himself to enter her at a better speed.
"Oh."
Jackson grits his teeth, pulling away from her mouth and leaning his head into the crook of her neck, softly nuzzling her skin as she continues to ride him and grind her back into the door.
"Shit."
When he feels her nearing her orgasm, he quickly pulls out and grasps her hips in his hands, lowering her back to the ground.
As if by intuition, she turns around, placing her palms flat against the cream coloured surface.
His hands grip her waist from behind, gently bending her waist to lean into her, push into her from behind. He runs a hand down her arm, covering her hand on the door, twisting and cupping her wrist.
Her eyes drift shut, and she can't help but bite her lip at the sensation. It's different, yet it isn't anymore, and she loves it just as much as the usual, conventional way.
"Jacks-"
She swallows a sharp breath when she feels him pepper kisses along the back of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin every few seconds, barely scratching the surface of her creamy flesh.
"I'm-"
She almost loses it then, when he's in and out and almost losing it himself. But she holds off until she feels a hand slip down her front, and his body pressing deeper into her own.
His hands work her body, fingers circling her nub to tighten her, to finish her, and his applies pressure with the ball of his hand to her swell, almost magically making her cry out as she feels herself orgasm at the feeling of him slamming into her from behind and his hands toying with her intimacy.
She slows the speed of her hips, bucking backwards into him and letting him drop his hands to her hips softly as she presses her forearms against the door for support as he finishes soon after, body fast and loosening up into hers.
His head plops down onto her shoulder when he reaches his own orgasm, circling an arm around her waist to hold her against him for heat and air and life and love.
"Was that the trick or the treat?"
"I have no idea."