Chapter title is from the song "Taste," by Sleeping At Last.
Things are gonna start to get a bit, well, steamy, so apologies if that deters anyone. Not every chapter will be sexual from here on out, but this one and chapter 8 are definitely, definitely smutty. The next chapter will be more Mark-centric.
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Chapter 7. Tectonic Shifts
Mark walks ahead of her into the guest room, and Addison blinks a few times as she crosses over the brightened threshold. The power coming back on has brought back all available sources of light in the room, including the bedside lamps, and she wants to ask Mark if this is just how it was before or if he needs to sleep with all accessible lights on as a holdover from his childhood. She wants to know for some reason, but before she can round her mouth to form the words, Mark captures her lower lip between his teeth, tugging lightly.
Addison's fingers eagerly curl around the bottom of Mark's shirt, and he takes the hint and peels it over his head. His hands then move to her shirt – the obvious next step, so that they will be even again – and she tenses a little.
"What?" He manages to ask between kisses.
"Mmm," she says back against his lips. That is not the actual answer, but right after Mark asked, his course of action changed and his hands cupped the soft curves below her lower back and pulled her closer, so all she could do in response was mewl with satisfaction.
"Mmm, what?" Mark says, which makes her giggle.
"Nothing. It's just been um, well over a decade since…since someone else…" Addison purposely avoids saying the name. As though Mark doesn't know. "Has, you know. Seen me naked. I still want this, Mark – just. It's a little weird, is all."
"Well." Mark pecks lightly at the corner of her mouth. "I have a feeling you're going to look pretty good naked." He cups her through her pajama bottoms, and Addison is certain he can feel how warm and damp she already is, even through two layers. The heat only spreads further when he strokes his tongue over the ridge of her ear and whispers his next words: "Take your clothes off."
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. .
Eleven Years Earlier
"I miss my little twelve-year-old who believed in unicorns," Addison says with a wistful, almost-teasing smile. She waits for a response from Amy, who has just taken a sip of her hot chocolate. They are having a girls' weekend, which was an invitation from Addison once Amy called her and said she wanted to talk about birth control, because she wasn't sure who else to ask. Amy is fifteen, almost sixteen. She is a bit too aggressive with eyeliner now for Addison's taste, but she is a sweet, thoughtful young lady who works hard in school and is relatively put-together (the infamous Hurricane Amelia phase is still about two years out). And, while Addison feels encouraged and perhaps a little honored that Amy felt okay with coming to her about this topic, she can't help feeling a little pensive, too.
"I still believe in the possible existence of unicorns. I just also want to have sex at some point."
"So…this isn't Casey Prince?" Addison asks. At the beginning of the conversation, Amy mumbled a name that Addison didn't recognize. Not that Amy really shares much about boys.
Amy tips her head. "Who? Oh, right. No, not Casey. He's still cute, but he's kind of a goody two-shoes."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I like bad boys."
"Oh, Amelia…"
"No, not bad-bad," Amy clarifies hastily when she sees the look of worry on her (now official) sister-in-law's face. "Just…boys that have a little edge, I guess. Trevor is a virgin too, if that makes you feel any better. Plus, he lost his mom when he was younger, so we kind of have death stuff in common. He's just different than boys like Casey. More sarcastic and stuff. More confident. I don't know if this makes sense, but Casey is sort of soft, and Trevor is…" Amy breaks into a fit of giggles. "Hard."
Addison sighs. "Okay. You are absolutely not ready to be intimate with someone if you're going to make jokes like that." Amy just shrugs in response. "Do you love him, Amy?"
"I'm not sure yet. I really, really like him though. Addie, does it…hurt the first time?"
"Yes, it usually does. A little bit."
"But then it gets…good? I want to know," Amy says quickly, "but you know I don't want you to say anything about Der-"
"I promise you I will speak about this in general, not about anyone specific," Addison interrupts. "But…yes. It gets good. It takes a little time to get comfortable with someone, and to…figure things out. It helps to pick the right people though, and even better if it's someone you're in love with and feel safe with. It gets good though. Good comes later, Amy. And then really good comes, if you're with the right person."
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. .
Mark doesn't touch her as she gives a slight pull on her pajama pants and then kicks them aside in a rumpled pile, and he also doesn't touch her when she lifts her CBGB shirt over her head. Addison feels a little shy – and exposed, save a pair of lacy panties still banded around her hipbones, though the exposed part honestly goes without saying – but there's also something really, really sexy about Mark watching her undress, and then him continuing to watch as she stands before him almost completely naked. And open and vulnerable.
"Pretty good?" She asks with a slight smile.
Mark's eyes climb up and down her body unabashedly. "Yeah," he says, voice hoarse. "You're beautiful," he adds, which prompts Addison to make a long "tttt" sound of disagreement. Not really though – she knows what she looks like, naked or otherwise. And it's probably arrogant to think so (and a lifetime of having Bizzy as a mother means her self-esteem does occasionally swoop up and down like a rollercoaster), but she knows that, objectively speaking, yes, she is beautiful. But still. She wasn't…expecting that. Or expecting that from Mark, specifically, who is now winding his hands through her hair while smirking at the noise she made.
"That's a very feelings-y thing for you to say." Addison wonders if it's rude to tell him this, but Mark doesn't seem offended. The hands he has fisted in her auburn hair tug lightly, just enough that her chin tilts towards the ceiling, and he licks the pale, soft skin under her jawbone before untangling his hands and resituating them on her hips.
"Yeah, well…" he says, pausing until she looks at him. His eyes are heavy-lidded, lustful. "You're beautiful and I want to fuck you." Mark drops a hand between them, and Addison's eyelashes flutter when his fingers first drag against her. "I can be both feeling-y and not feelings-y."
Addison marvels at his directness, that sheer honesty and unapologetic way with words. And even though she is thinking the same thing right now, is practically dripping about it, deep-seated WASP sensibilities make it so that she could never possibly say something like that aloud, or at least not the first time having sex with someone – but she absolutely wants to fuck and be fucked. And, it's another study in objectivity: Mark is beautiful, too, even though it feels funny to her to describe a man that way. He is though, she thinks as her hands clasp behind his neck and she can feel the ropy, defined muscles of his upper back beneath her fingertips. The pale blue eyes. The disarmingly gorgeous smile. The long, angular jawline. And his body…well. It's kind of ridiculous in its definition, honestly, with broad shoulders and taut, carved muscles lining his stomach and chest, and the tempting V-shape near the edge of his sweatpants. Addison sighs happily at the mostly naked sight of him, and leans into his chest when he urges her closer.
She feels spellbound, molten-like in his embrace. Mark is unhurried at first, just methodically skimming two fingers between her legs, and though it really is just the subtlest movement over wet lace, it's overwhelming to the point that the appreciative kisses Addison has been leaving below his collarbone segue into her just lazily resting her lips against his skin. She's fairly still, and she figures she should probably feel a little bad that her current idea of reciprocity is basically just clinging to Mark in a loose hug, but he doesn't seem to mind.
Respite. Addison thinks of the paint color in the hallway again. That's what this feels like. It's real, it's so damn real, but the sensations of her body flush against his and one hand of his spread across the small of her back and the other starting to increase the pace between her thighs feels dreamlike too, somehow. She's not falling asleep, but she's just…being lulled somehow. Or lulled along. It's peaceful, even in the midst of the quickened breaths he is coaxing from her. And either Addison is matching her breathing to the rhythm between her legs, or Mark is soothing his fingers in time with each sharp inhale and warm, breathy exhale.
"Feel good?" He whispers close to her ear.
"Yeah. God…yeah. Although…" she almost groans in disappointment when his fingers still against her. "I might not be able to stay standing if you keep doing this to me."
Mark grins. The implication behind her throaty words is that he should absolutely keep doing what he's doing, of course. "We should get off our feet then," he says.
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Twenty-Five Years Earlier
"Hey, Kitten…" the Captain pops his head into the kitchen, where twelve year-old Addison is mixing a drink for him: Vodka Tonic with lime, no ice. "Can you make two, please?" Addison glances up at this different-than-usual request, and notices her French tutor standing in her father's shadow. "Jolie is going to stay a bit longer so I can talk to her about your lessons."
Addison clamps down hard on the inside of her cheek for moment. "Okay," she answers with an edge in her tone, turning back to the highball glass in front of her. Tu es un…she thinks, then pauses. Liar. She's not sure what the translation for that one is. Perhaps she will ask Jolie during her next lesson…unless Bizzy quietly ends Addison's lessons with this particular tutor in the coming days, even though the reason Bizzy will give isn't the real reason.
"Thank you, Kitten. We'll be in my study."
Addison sullenly reaches for another glass. She knows the drill. She'll take the drinks to the Captain and his latest female visitor – and then he will tell her to go play in her room for a bit until her mother gets back and whatever Bizzy and the family's chef have decided upon for dinner is ready to be served.
Kitten. Chaton. C'est un nom stupide. The nickname from Addison's father has always annoyed her. Kittens are tiny and cute, but not really anything else. And it's kind of bullshit (not that she would say that word out loud in front of the Captain – nor does she know the French translation) as far as nicknames go, given that Addison isn't even allowed to have a kitten. Her parents don't particularly care for animals. Indoor animals, that is. The Montgomerys have horses on the estate, but the horses have trainers and riders (and since Addison isn't a particularly skilled rider, she doesn't spend much time with them). Addison did have a pet hermit crab for a little while that she won at a carnival, but the air filter was noisy so she shut it off, and then the hermit crab died. Bizzy told her this was not a good endorsement for having a kitten or puppy, even though Addison didn't know turning off the filter would have grave consequences.
She thinks of the delayed tape airing she and her parents watched last night about the engagement of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. During the interview, Bizzy was flipping through a magazine and the Captain was attacking draft dissertations with a red pen, but they did pause long enough to laugh when Bizzy declared that Addison was apparently an Anglophile now. Addison was so enraptured by the interview – and hanging on every word and trying to guess where the almost-princess might have gotten her outfit – that she didn't even think to ask what that meant. And then when the interviewer surmised that the couple was in love, the prince reported in his answer that love was "open to your own interpretation."
That part actually made Addison take her eyes off the TV to look at her parents. Weirdly, they seemed to genuinely like each other's company, and although Addison did her absolute best to cover for her father, surely Bizzy knew he was not faithful to her. And yet, Bizzy didn't leave. But neither did her father. They seemed almost happy together, sometimes.
The interpretation of what love meant to them was a strange one, apparently.
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. .
"Fuck," Addison murmurs, and Mark shifts his body a little against her stomach to ease her back down when she arches against the mattress and lifts her hips. His fingers inside her feel amazing, and even though he's not touching her in another spot that she really, really wants him to sweep over, this act on its own is somehow still enough to make her pant with increasing regularity. Generally, fingers inside her don't do much for her, and she's not quite sure why, because Derek is a good lover when he's present, and there were a few dalliances in college and in that summer before med school started where the men she was with were decent enough, or at least tried to be somewhat conscious of her needs. But whenever she does feel that satisfying coil of tension tighten and then release, the fingers inside her never seem to have any role at all. If anything, they're kind of a nuisance. She groans loudly. Not this time. And then she groans again – even louder – when Mark's thumb finally grazes over her.
"Sorry," she says, and Mark, who has been alternating between making out with her and paying a lot of attention to her breasts while somehow managing to consistently keep his eyes on her, stops all ministrations. She gets the sense that watching women in the throes of pleasure is probably a turn-on for him. "I just..." she smirks. "I know I'm being…loud."
Mark smiles and rubs his nose against her sweat-glistened cheek. "Keep making noise," he tells her. "You sound fucking incredible." And then he keeps going, fastening his mouth around her nipple and moving his fingers inside her again.
Addison has long since given up on doing something in return, because both times she attempted to slide her hand into Mark's sweats, he batted her hand away, making it clear this is about her for a while (though undoubtedly this is enjoyable for him as well, and the noises he is drawing from her are probably doing wonders for his already over-inflated ego). Instead, Addison exchanges lazy, somewhat messy kisses with him whenever he's not working his lips over her neck and breasts. She rests her hand lightly on his chest, and sometimes brushes at the salt and pepper hair near his temples and ears. Mostly though, regardless of what path her hands are pursuing, she looks at him, and he looks back at her, their foreheads almost touching. She did not expect this. She finds herself surprised at how attentive Mark is in bed so far, how utterly…unselfish he is. And this might be the first time she's thought of him as not selfish, even though he isn't particularly selfish with the people he is closest with. And Addison is amazed at how aware of her body he seems to be, although she knows this has to be chalked up to an alarming amount of sexual experiences with an alarming number of women.
And sex and everything that preceded sex with Derek was good. Really good, before separate lives and absenteeism settled over them. There was their honeymoon, for example, when they barely left the hotel. The place with the boat. The place with the big bed (and room service and the fireplace). A few memorable showers. The time on the kitchen floor. When they moved into the brownstone and christened every room. And all those times – most times, honestly – that the physical feeling and their love for each other collided together. Thinking of their sex life in the past tense isn't entirely fair though, Addison knows, because it's not a sexless marriage, or at least not yet; they typically do still have sex two or three times a month, save their latest dry spell. And while the sex isn't necessarily boring, there's no denying that ten years of marriage means the hot-bloodedness and ingenuity just isn't there anymore. It's biological rather than behavioral. But, most significantly for Addison, even though sex with Derek is still technically good, it's now habitual, dutiful sex, and the intimacy seems to be lacking on her husband's end (not that Addison has ever shared this observation with him), which means that even when they are together now, something is missing for her.
But absolutely nothing is missing right now. This experience with Mark is somehow filling and fulfilling, even in the absence of love. It's the newness of it, maybe. Or the thrill of it. Or perhaps it's just Mark's fingers inside her, and his tongue and mouth on her breasts.
And then his thumb touches her differently and his two fingers flex and curl inside her, and Addison can feel the heartbeat that has been growing steadily between her legs reach a crescendo. Mark guides her to an overwhelming, staggering finish. It's an earthquake and a volcano all at once as she cries out loudly and breaks apart beneath him.
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Fifteen Years Earlier
Addison used to play dress-up sometimes if there were extra surgical gowns lying around in the lab while her father taught his Human Development and Anatomy class. The gowns were always comically large on her, but now – now they fit, and she is wearing them for not-pretend-purposes. This is real. And exciting. But also pretty scary.
She is a medical student at Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia, probably only minutes away from getting to work on a (not alive) body for the first time. She feels grateful Naomi is in her group. She figures they will become friends, if only just by virtue of being the only two girls assigned to this particular cadaver. Naomi seems pretty connected with Sam though, who is standing on Naomi's other side. Addison already knows Sam from her Histology and Pathology class (he currently looks very, very nervous) and it doesn't take long to figure out Sam and Naomi are a couple. Naomi quietly asks Addison if they should introduce themselves to the two men on the other side of the table, who appear deep in conversation.
"Hi," Addison says without giving it another thought. She's not particularly shy or introverted anymore. Getting out of her childhood home has done wonders for her. "I'm Addison. And," she tilts her head slightly, "this is Naomi and Sam."
"Nice to meet you." The one directly across from Addison says. She can't see the lower half of his face due to the surgical mask, but she can tell he smiles as he returns her greeting. And he has beautiful eyes. The man with the hidden smile and beautiful eyes holds out a gloved hand, and Addison holds hers out in response, both of them amused at the strange idea of shaking hands over a cadaver. And although it is a bit strange, yes, a lot of things about being in med school and being a grownup really are just strange. "I'm Derek."
Derek then shakes hands with Naomi, and then Sam, who the other guy has just finished introducing himself to. Addison waits patiently, and then Derek's friend – she can just tell they are friends – looks at her. He has nice eyes, too.
"Addison?" Derek's friend repeats, to make sure he has it right, and she nods. "I'm Mark." He sneaks his arm under Derek's extended one, which has just finished shaking hands with Sam. This makes Addison laugh while she reaches for his hand.
"Yes, why bother to wait two seconds," Derek says sarcastically, and nudges Mark with his elbow. "Mr. Manners over here."
Mark shrugs with a playful grin. "Well, for one thing," he says, glancing away from Addison and back to Derek, "of the two of us, I've never claimed to be the good one."
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. .
She needs a few minutes. Well, more than a few minutes, probably, after that. But they've started kissing again, and even though there is still some sensitivity humming between Addison's thighs, she hooks a long leg around Mark, drawing him closer. He mumbles something about a condom that she only half-hears in her current state of euphoria, and he rolls away from her. She almost manages a laugh at the word condom when Mark gets out of bed. It's been so many years since condoms were even a thought for her. She shifts onto her back, eyes closed, and although it sincerely doesn't matter, she tries to imagine where Mark has stored it, and, because it's Mark, she thinks when she hears a foil packet being gently torn open – how many condoms he currently has on him.
But then he's back, the mattress rasping underneath him, and Addison opens her eyes, and there he is – naked, finally naked – and he's settling on top of her. She wraps one of her legs around him in encouragement, and then he pushes into her. She gasps slightly at the feeling. He's bigger than Derek. Like, quite a bit bigger. Not that she plans on sharing this observation.
"Okay?" Mark asks quietly when she briefly tightens around him.
"Yeah," she answers with a smile, relaxing her muscles and inhaling deeply as her body adjusts to accommodate him. And then she's definitely okay. More than okay. She draws her knees up a little further. "I'm good. Really good. It's just…been a little while for me." She is almost embarrassed about this, even though it's true. It has been awhile. Since she's had sex. And since, Addison realizes with a start, since she's felt this way – this excited – about having someone inside her.
Mark returns her smile, and looks as though he is concealing a chuckle. "It's like riding a bicycle." He reaches a hand up to rest it against the side of her head, his fingers sliding into her hair. "Tell me…" he says as he starts to move above her, "if there's anything you want." He pauses, lets out a quiet groan, and buries his face against her neck, sucking hard on a stretch of skin below her ear. "From me." And then his lips are briefly back on hers again. He swallows one of Addison's moans when he flicks his tongue against hers. "So that I'm making it feel good for you." He keeps moving, rocking and cantering his hips in a way that feels amazing, and he looks at her, waiting for some sort of acknowledgment.
"You're making me feel incredible," Addison manages to say between pants. "God, Mark."
Addison feels a twinge of regret about how she worded this. It feels far, far too intimate to whisper his name like that. But then she stops thinking entirely because he really is making her feel incredible. She can't imagine ever being able to bring herself to tell him exactly what she wants – at least not this time, and it will only be this time, anyway, she reminds herself, as more rounds of thunder set in motion above them across the sky – but somehow Mark just knows what she wants. Her body is the map, and his hips and fingers move over the terrain with ease.
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References:
The whole "good came later" bit with Amelia (Amy) was pulled from an Addison/Adele conversation in Grey's 2x26 about their first sexy times: "Good came later. And then really good came." Addison also told Amelia "all about birth control when she didn't know who to ask." She also did her hair for prom, and took her to get her ears pierced (PP, 5x08).
The place with the boat and the place with the (big) bed – these are mentioned in a really cute Addison/Derek deleted scene from Grey's season 2…shortly after Doc decided to chew up a $900 shoe of Addison's.
Addison did have a hermit crab and she turned the filter off, so it died. :( She was also able to make the Captain's drinks by the time she was eight, and the Captain did sleep with her French tutor.
Addison and Derek met in med school. Our eyes met over the cadaver…listen. If you know, you know. You either know the love song or you don't (first Grey's/PP crossover).
Oh boy, here's a long one. Per Private Practice, it was discovered that Sam asked Addison out first, but she turned him down because she knew Naomi liked him, and honestly, that detail just made me so, so sad, and I truly don't believe it would have been incorporated into the show unless: 1) the intent, at least at one point before the writers changed direction, was to make Addison/Sam endgame; and 2) to make it less weird for people to digest that Addison gets together with her best friend's ex-husband. Because otherwise, that detail feels so unnecessary and just…hurtful to Naomi? Not that Sam ever shared or would share that with Naomi, but if he did, I imagine there would be so, so many things about Naomi's former marriage that she would have questioned (as far as Sam's feelings for her). ANYWAY. I swear I remember hearing/seeing that Naomi and Sam met as undergrads, and at one point Naomi made a comment to Addison about having been married to Sam for 17 or 18 years (can't remember which, and I'm not gonna dig through episodes trying to figure this out), so presumably they were together in college and got married fairly young, based on their ages at the end of Private Practice and factoring in that they were already divorced when Addison first moved to LA. Again, none of this actually matters, but I REFUSE to incorporate any details about Sam asking Addison out first because that just breaks my heart, and apparently it's important for me to share these thoughts with the universe, apparently.
Thanks for reading!