Chapter 14: Midnight Man

All her motor functions seemed to shut down. Her eyes wandered over his glorious chest. She wasn't capable of moving, of speaking… She was too far gone. She was reduced to a trembling mass of limbs when he kept her thighs spread with his strong yet delicate surgeon hands. He made her feel like a virgin, and that was quite a feat.

"Derek…" she moaned feeling the incredible need in her contracting walls.

"As you wish…" he whispered throatily and reached to the zipper of his trousers. When these were down, he hooked his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and started to drag them down… slowly, so torturously slowly… She would finally discover what was under that piece of designer underwear. She couldn't help licking her lips as the boxers went down and down, over a patch of jet-black hair to…

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Meredith opened her eyes abruptly, her pulse frantic, her brain completely disoriented… and her girl parts demanding attention. She sat up on her bed trying to make some sense of the situation.

She must have finally fallen asleep. She had trouble last night. A ping pong match seemed to be raging inside her skull. Derek. Jackson. Jackson. Derek. Mitch… When the sleep claimed her, Derek was clearly the winner in this struggle. She blushed even though she was alone in her room. She had a wet dream about Derek Shepherd! She could still feel how wet…

Thud. Thud. Thud.

That was what woke her up. Her nostrils flared in anger when she checked her watch. One freaking a.m.! Who the hell woke her up in the middle of the night? In the middle of her pleasant dream? Just when she was about to see everything behind those boxers…

She tore her cover angrily and marched to yank the door open.

"What?" she growled. Of course, Derek Shepherd himself! He had to haunt her both in her dreams and in reality, without satisfaction in either case!

"Hey, Mer," he gave her a nervous smile.

"Hey, Mer? You're waking me up at 1 a.m. and all you've got to say to me is hey, Mer?" she shouted. "Are you dying?"

"No-"

"Are you in labor?"

"No!"

"Then that about covers it. These are the only cases I allow to be woken up for. And you ruined my dream…" she grumbled eyeing him, her regard stopping a little longer at the level of his hips.

"No, wait! Please, Mer," he begged in her doorway. "I… I need your help."

"With what?" she stared at him.

"Uhm, I know you have the cable…" he trailed off.

"So what?" she shook her head. "You think it's remotely important in the dead of night?"

"Actually," he cleared his throat. "There's a match repeat-"

"Unbelievable!" gasped Meredith. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"It's the World Series!" he pleaded with desperation. "The Yankees-"

"I don't give a shit! I'm not gonna let you into my room to interrupt my precious hours of sleep!"

"I'll do everything," he begged. "Whatever you tell me to do."

"You're volunteering to be my bitch?" she snorted.

He nodded vigorously, his eyes puppy-like.

She laughed, "As tempting as that offer is, I prefer to go back to bed."

"It's not like I'm telling you not to," he argued in a tiny voice. "I'll even mute the volume."

"I'm not gonna sleep with you in my room!" she huffed.

"Oh, come on! We've already slept together!"

"That was a critical situation."

"It is one too!" he tried to persuade her. "It's the World Series!"

"I don't give a cra-" a doorbell sounded loud and clear from downstairs. "Oh, no… It must be a patient…" she groaned eyeing Derek up and down. "You're clothed!"

"I'm unpopular here," he sighed with fake dejectedness lifting his hands in a defeated gesture. "Don't want to scare anyone."

"Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes and backed to her room to grab a sweater. Derek insinuated himself behind her, his eyes searching for the TV.

"What do you think you're doing?" she gasped when he found the remote control with shiny eyes and switched the TV on.

"Watching the match," he threw over his shoulders changing the channels with a zeal of a maniac. "You're going to take care of the patient anyway."

"What if it's a thief? A rapist? You're going to send me down myself?" she tried to trick him.

"Why would I go with you? To save him from a painful death at your hands?" he quipped.

"Ass! You're out of here when I'm finished!"

"Sure, sure…" he muttered absent-mindedly, already immersed in the game.

She left him with her nose in the air and he didn't move from his spot on the carpet for good ten minutes until the commercials appeared on the screen. He heaved himself up, for the first time registering he was in Meredith's room. Without Meredith. He couldn't believe he actually pulled that off. Thank god someone had got sick… oh, that came out so wrong…

Derek made a few steps around. A room could tell a lot about its owner. It was definitely bright, cozy. A plush carpet, rich curtains. But it was also messy. The desk was cluttered with all sorts of things, a plate with food crumbles rested peacefully on the laptop keyboard. Some clothes were thrown over an armchair in a heap.

One peek into the opened wardrobe told him she didn't have the habit of ironing her clothes. He tripped over an abandoned shoe and his eyes caught sight of one of the boxes on the top of the closet. He squinted curiously. He could make out the shape of a few frames. These could be her diplomas, certificates. This box could tell him where she came from, where she graduated from med school. He was tempted, oh so tempted to drag it down and have a look. But that would be an unimaginable invasion of privacy, travesty of her trust. She agreed to leave him in her room, her sanctuary. He couldn't trample it all just to satisfy his curiosity. Meredith would never trust him again after such trespassing. And even if she didn't know, his conscience wouldn't give him a rest.

He moved away from the closet towards her bed and the familiar lavender scent wafted to his nose. She was sleeping in it when he woke her up… This time he couldn't stop himself, he didn't see a reason why he should as he grazed the pillow with his fingertips. He felt like such a pervert when he sat down and sank his back into the soft rumpled bedding. He inhaled deeply, lavender enveloping him whole. Meredith's bed… he wished she was with him in it. Or did he? She would probably be tearing her throat out at him. But he didn't care. He felt so peaceful and lethargic. So good.


Meredith. He nearly came in his slacks just at the sight of her. She was a goddess, sensuality and sex appeal personified. His eyes scrutinized every inch of her, the red high heels at the end of her super long legs, the flimsy strapless red dress that barely covered her ass, it barely contained her breasts either. Her long hair was perfectly straight, shiny and luscious. It took his breath away when it flew in the air when she turned, sending golden reflexes.

They were playing. They always played games with each other but this time it was pool. She squeezed the cue seductively with both of her hands and he almost expected to see her dance around it. Instead she brought it onto the table, bending down, her breasts practically spilling from her tight dress. She sent him a saucy wink before suggestively posing the pole to hit the ball.

He was breathless admiring her flawless curves as she walked around the table, winking at him, her fingers suggestively tracing the pole making him lose the grip of his. Next thing he knew, she had fistfuls of crimson rose petals at the level of their faces. Her glossy lips rounded and she blew out making the petals fly into his face, tickling his skin.

"Derek…" she purred, her eyes locked with his, crawling to him over the table. "Oh, Derek…"

"Oh, Mer…" he moaned.

"Shepherd!"

His eyes shot open, his name still ringing in his ears after she had screamed it at the top of her voice inches above his face.


Meredith climbed back the stairs to her loft wearily. Helping the patient took longer than she anticipated, much too long. However, she was sure Mr. Perkins was in a more uncomfortable position. This was the first sex injury she had tended to in Rachel. She was completely unprofessionally beet red when Mrs. Perkins finished the account of the incident, her own blush just as intense. Meredith had to admit people here were resourceful… no! Not going there… She was enough sexually frustrated as it was.

She pushed the door to her room open. She expected to find Derek still glued to the screen. Indeed, the match was on but Derek Shepherd didn't seem to pay the slightest attention. Her jaws clenched and she swallowed hard as she saw him lounged on her bed, his feet on the floor.

What the hell was that? She fumed. A present for her? Her dreams coming true?

She cautiously went in and right now her jaw hit the floor as her eyes were fixed between his legs. Holy mother of erections… The bulge in his slacks stood out in the air like a little mountain. Derek Shepherd was rock hard. In her bed. His head trashed a little from side to side. Her core pulsed dangerously when she heard his muffled moan. Holy crap, was it her name she heard?

She took a few deep breaths crossing her legs as she felt herself getting wet. Self-control, she needed to grip herself together! She wasn't some hormonal bitch in heat, led by the urges of her vagina. She had more dignity than that. Or did she?

Clenching her fists she hovered over him and over his gianormous hard on.

"Shepherd!"

His large dark eyes fluttered open in a haze.

"What are you doing in my bed, pervert?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "Jacking off?"

"No!" he gasped and sat up with a groan, unsuccessfully and painfully trying to hide his erection from her view. Judging by her smirk, she already got an eyeful.

"A had a wonderful dream and you ruined it…" he huffed mournfully abandoning all pretences.

She gulped. She could bet the practice she was the protagonist in this dream. She cleared her throat, "Well, you ruined mine so we're even."

"What was your dream about?" he asked cocking his head.

"About you naked," she snorted.

"Seriously?" he gasped excitedly.

"God, you're easy," she lied with a snicker and shooed him away. "Get off."

He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

"Off. The. Bed," she gritted out feeling like slapping herself. Everything came out involuntarily porny.

He got to his feet with a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, the match is still on…" he muttered.

"Yeah, you wanna watch it?" she asked with a doubt in her voice.

"Uh," he sighed looking down at himself. The bulge seemed embarrassingly reluctant to shrink. "No, thanks. I'll actually…"

"Go to the bathroom?" she smirked knowingly. "Just not mine. Use the one off the corridor. And kindly disinfect after yourself."

His lips pressed into a tight line. "I'm not gonna…" his voice faltered as hobbled to the door.

"Right," she rolled her eyes.

"But if I were," he smirked turning to her in the doorway, "I would totally think of you."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" she choked out.

"Could be. I also thought you'd appreciate my honesty," he quipped.

"Sometimes you'd prefer to stay tongue-tied," she grumbled. "I want to get back to sleep now, Derek."

"Going, going," he said hastily. "Sweet dreams, Mer."

"Thanks," she muttered diving into her bed. "I'm pretty sure I don't have to wish you the same."

He chuckled softly and closed the door. Meredith switched off the bedside lamp with a sigh of relief. Or was it frustration…? She stilled suddenly sniffing her pillow. It smelled like him… She felt her walls clench. Damn you Derek Shepherd! She hoped he would take care of his business really quickly and go home because… because she had her own business to take care of. The walls here were paper thin and she was always quite vocal…

She smiled when she heard him walk downstairs. Off to her own sweet dreams…