Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Merely borrowing.

A/N: Just something I wanted to try. Completely AU, doesn't follow any particular timeline, I hope this is okay. I have more written, so it will probably be a two-shot. Let me know what you think! (:

He wants a no strings attached deal.

You tell him that's fine, even though you both know that you're lying. This isn't you, of course it isn't but things have changed and you're fed up with being the good one. Nothing good has ever come out of being the nice one or the sensible one, so when he told you he didn't want to commit, you said yes to him, you accepted him into every corner of yourself and now this is the way things are, this is what you signed up for.

Great sex, but nothing more.

Mind-blowing sex, but emotions were not permitted (they were ugly things that trapped you, and surely, you didn't want that to happen).

He wasn't ready for anything serious, and maybe you weren't either.

Maybe, for once, all you need is someone to scratch the itch, to make you feel good, to make you feel better about yourself.

At the back of your mind you can hear your mother's soft voice telling you that you should never need a man to feel good about yourself.

You drown out her voice with another shot of vodka.

I.

When you see him leaving Joe's with a blond in a red dress three sizes too small for her, you slam your drink down and immediately scan the room for someone for yourself, because he was having sex tonight then damn it, so were you.

It was an irrational, sudden thought but you were slightly tipsy and the determination raged through you as your eyes fluttered across the room.

There's no-one that catches your interest.

A few people you don't recognize lurking in corners and a few people from the hospital, all higher than you in position and there's something that holds you back from going there.

You didn't want to be that girl.

But you have to do something because this no strings attached deal is annoying you more than it should. You know the rules and you usually stick to the rules but this time it is different.

Maybe you should tell him you can't do this.

You can't remain meaningless because that isn't like you. This isn't who you are.

Those thoughts get cancelled out by another sip of burning liquid.

You scan the room again and your gaze finally lands on the guy at the other end of the counter. And as if this was meant to be, he chooses that moment to turn and look at you.

The look he gives you – that pure appreciate look – is enough.

If Mark was having sex tonight, then so are you.

II.

It isn't as good.

He's smaller and quicker and there are no intimate touches.

It reminds you of the look he gave you earlier. Raw, fluttering and…Quick. For some reason, you can't get over that fact.

You get dressed and leave before he has the chance to notice. You don't leave a phone number and as you walk down the streets, you wonder if this was how Mark felt after one night stands. Alone, dismissed, used.

Perhaps he compared women to you. Suddenly, you wish you never thought about that. There was no way you were as good as or better than the girls he takes home.

This is ridiculous, of course it is, you should just tell him. Tell him you aren't this type of girl, you aren't okay with open relationships – if you can even call what they're doing a relationship – and you certainly don't appreciate being thrown to the side when someone more attractive comes along.

You'll talk to him.

Eventually.

III.

"Grey," he murmurs as he runs his lips along your jaw, his stubble causing wonderful sensations that seems to touch your whole body. He nips at your neck as he roughly says, "I've missed you."

Sure, you think as the feel of his hips pressed tightly against yours causes you to let out a breathy sigh, of course, because that's believable.

"Lexie," he murmurs urgently before his lips claims yours again and although you want to be mad at him and you want to deny him of pleasure, this feels too good, he is way too good, brilliant, amazing, and so many other things that it hurts you every time you think about him with someone else.

And that causes you to crash.

"Stop."

The word leaves your mouth before you have the chance to control yourself and when he slowly pulls away from you, the lack of warmth and the hurt in his eyes causing your heart to squeeze gently, you suddenly regret saying anything.

You're going to ruin this.

He frowns at you, his finger running gently down you cheek when he whispers, "What's wrong?"

"I–"

Nothing.

You've lost any determination that you had built up.

Great.

You sigh and shake your head.

This is as good as it gets – why screw it up?

And with that thought at the forefront of your mind, you stretch up and gently kiss him. It takes him a moment to respond–he's obviously a lot more concerned than you would have predicted–but then he's there again, his tongue rough against yours, his presence taking you over, claiming you in a wonderful way, and once again, you are completely overwhelmed.

For the moment you forget that tomorrow, he will be with someone else.