The first time Addison bought lingerie to display for Derek. . . .

Belladonna

The delicate lace flows between her fingers, making the intricate details unfold under her touch. Red flowers cover the bottom of the brassiere with the same coloured sprigs venturing up, along with a few stems to mark an otherwise uncovered cup. The bottoms matches the top - flowers to mark the hips with a mostly transparent behind. It's something out of mesh and it reminds her of one of those ... things Derek brings along when he goes fishing.

Addison appraises the piece, scrutinising its cut until she sees a woman in her peripheral vision and she turns - fuck - "Can I help you, ma'am?" the boutique assistant approaches her with a wide welcoming smile and an eagerness in her step that does nothing to make her less uncomfortable.

If she did, she'd ask her for help the second she walked in. But she didn't - for a reason.

"Nothankyou," she dismisses her offer, quickly and all in one breath. Perhaps sounding a lot harsher than intended, but she can excuse it with her need to be invisible and ignored.

It's her first time doing something like ... this (they've been together for over five years, it's a shock that they still manage to have firsts) and she knows she shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed, because - what is there to be - it's just undergarments and it's totally normal, just as it would be if she were to be buying normal-everyday-not-too-overpriced-and-no-one-is-going-to-peel-them-off-you-like-you-are-a-delicate-flower underwear at Bloomingdales.

This is normal, she tells herself, trying to get herself to loosen up a bit.

The garment is well crafted, she can tell at once. She has always appreciated beautiful lingerie, enjoying having something exquisite hidden beneath her daily attire. But this piece is not meant to be tucked away under silks and tweeds and navy scrubs. It is meant to be displayed - displayed for someone else, that isn't her.

The corners of her mouth twitches once as she reconsiders the idea. "Red is your colour," the woman does not give up on the chance of a commission as Addison continues to examine the attire.

She does not counter the feeble attempt of flattery, nor does she respond; she knows the woman is right, though. Derek has commented on that a few sometimes already. Mostly at the dresses she wears. Yet red is not a colour she would normally be drawn to at first (her hair is already red, wouldn't there be too many clashes of red going on?), another betraying sign of the true purpose of her endeavour. She recalls, last week at his cousin's wedding, shining dark eyes reflecting her visage and soaking up the image of her dressed in red, tinting their shade with pinpoints of the same colour.

You look gorgeous in red, Addie. Have I told you that already?

Not in so many words.

With a decisive swipe of her hand, she takes the hanger off the wall and makes her way to the dressing room, no doubt closely observed by the saleswoman, but luckily, she does not follow her. She closes the door behind her and appraises the overly velvety interior of the space. Taking off her jacket, she drapes it over the armchair in the corner, the vermilion red of its upholstery staring back at her almost defensively; there is no escaping the similar hues it seems.

It's screaming red everywhere.

Her dress and undergarments are looking so tamed by comparison and they follow, she slowly slips on the detailed lace. She adjusts the brassiere much longer than needed as if reluctant to look at her own reflection.

When she finally looks up, she cannot help but smile. The fabric envelopes her body elegantly, accentuating her curves in just the right way, playful and teasing in its half-reveal. The hue appears darker against her creamy, fair skin, like deep arterial blood suddenly rising in floras on the surface of her body.

Addison lets her hands trail sides of her body, admiring the gratifying view.

She does look striking.

As her hands reach her hips, she thinks of Derek's sure touch, setting off sparks beneath her skin with a mere brush of his fingertips. She imagines him tracing the lines of the undergarments, eager fingers wanting nothing more than to unwrap the remaining gems of her body concealed by the fabric, even if barely. Suddenly, she feels her nipples hardening, each shallow breath pushing them against the lace, the friction only arousing her further. Instant heat rises beneath her belly as she shifts in her spot.

Brushing off the increasingly stimulating thoughts, she removes the lingerie with haste; it would be beyond inappropriate to ruin the fabric even before she buys it. Leaving the dressing room with the set held tightly between her fingers, she goes straight to the cash counter before she could change her mind.

"For a boyfriend? Husband?" the saleswoman asks with a practised yet still genuine smile, carefully wrapping the lace in black paper.

Detesting any social preconceptions, Addison would normally frown at such attempts of familiarity and presuming to know her, but the previous musings at the dressing room still lingers with pleasant warmth cruising through her entire body, and it tingles, sure that this tension will be relieved soon.

"Husband," she admits unexpectedly as the woman hands her the bag.

They've been married for over a year now but somehow the word still feels new and foreign and good on her tongue, warming her further.

Husband.

She's a Shepherd. She 'Dr. Shepherd' now.

She takes the package and leaves the boutique before the flush of her cheeks becomes ruby bright.

x x x

The dinner passes in unusual silence as Addison's thoughts keep venturing off to the package hidden away in the wardrobe. With a strange fusion of hesitation and anticipation, she picks at her sea bass without really savouring it.

If Derek noticed her distraction (she is certain he must have), he kept it mostly to himself, settling for enjoying his meal in quietude. But she cannot say he didn't try to get her attention, to question about their mysterious solitude.

"Everything okay, Addie? Did something happen at the hospital?"

"No. Everything is fine."

"Are you sure?"

She gives him a nod of her head.

When the plates and glasses are finally empty, he sets to clear the table and she excuses herself at once, before her over-analytical mind banishes what she planned next altogether.

She retrieves the lingerie from the bedroom and slips, unobserved, into the bathroom. Her usual long bath is foregone in favour of a shorter cleanse, merely a steppingstone in her preparations for tonight. A bottle of scented balm awaits on the side table and she applies it lavishly over her body, encasing herself in the aroma of freesias. When her skin is soft and fragrant, she finally unwraps the paper and puts on the new lingerie with care.

She appraises herself in the gilded mirror again, making sure her locks remain intact. Adjusting a few unruly strands, she can see a glow emanating from her skin, but she attributes it to the effectiveness of the hot water and balm. The lace is sitting comfortable on her curves, appearing even more tempting than before under the golden lights of the bathroom. She adds a finishing touch of red lipstick, matching the shade of the undergarment; if the purpose of the outfit were not completely settled before, it definitely is now.

She presses her lips gently to even out the coat and inhales deeply. She has never done this for a lover before. Nervousness and excitement make her blood rush anew. She has never enjoyed being on display for someone, but now the anticipation of Derek's reaction makes her heart flutter and fingertips quiver with impatience.

She steps away from the mirror just as Derek's weary voice sounds from behind the door. "Is everything alright in there, Addison?"

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and she can find no response, but smiles to herself nonetheless as she turns the knob and steps out of the bathroom in a haze of steam and perfume.

She sees him unrolling the sleeves of his shirt and buttoning it up at his wrists.

"Addison, if you - are you-" Derek turns at the sound of the door opening and the words get lost in his mouth as they fall open at the sight of her, hand half suspended in the air.

Still smiling, Addison steps closer, mix of hyperconsciousness and arousal reaching a new peak, now that she is faced with his reaction. But when his eyes continue to watch her tentatively, mouth agape and saying nothing, the apprehension advances ahead. Perhaps, she has misjudged his tastes.

"You don't like it," she proclaims, ready to retreat back into the bathroom.

"Yes - no. I mean I do like it," he manages to get the words out at last, his face flushed with sudden shyness, making her realise that his silence was not a sign of disapproval, but a sudden return to his boyish self.

He looks utterly endearing; Addison's exhilaration soars.

Now she can see him managing to collect himself enough to close the remaining distance between them. His hands rests on the small of her back as his gaze trails heat over her skin just the way she imagined he would. His continued bashfulness mingles with unrestrained lust and Addison finds herself breathing faster as his hands move to explore the lines his eyes marked. Curious fingers trace the outline of the embroidery, thumb skimming teasingly over the half-covered nipple, prompting a soft moan to fall from her lips.

This is exactly what she was hoping for and much much more, his touch has always been a thrilling surprise. Derek dips his head, lips caressing her exposed cleavage and the mounts of her breasts, before kneeling in front of her and continuing his journey down her abdomen, marking the way with slow kisses. Admiration of his favourite masterpiece in a magnificent new frame.

"You are perfect. Everything is just perfect about you," he declares, placing a kiss beneath her belly button and then lower, and lower, making her legs tremble, lace already soaking wet; she no longer cares about ruining the ensemble.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, making him look up at her, eyes gleaming ocean blue with familiar dark undertones, yet there is nothing but adoration and desire beneath the luminosity, a tamed beast at her feet.

"I am certain other girls have dressed for you before, Derek," she continues to stroke his hair, luxuriating in his affection. Also, she already knows the answer to that one, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it from him again.

Derek's tilts his head as though the mere idea of any past lovers were incredulous. He stands up slowly, hands reversing their journey up her back, making her body shiver and press forward, pliant under his expert touch.

"You have not dressed up for me before," the slight tremor in his voice betrays his emotions further, "No one else matters but you, Addison."

She briefly averts her gaze, feeling a fresh blush advancing under her cheeks. One of his hands rests on the back of her brasserie, fingers tracing the hook closure teasingly and the confinement of the lace no longer serves her breasts, now pushing against his chest in a silent plea for him to remove the barrier. He inclines his head again, this time to press her lips against hers, burning red and equally tempting. His other hand ventures to her behind, squeezing it firmly before wrapping itself around her body. Her arms encircle his neck as he lifts her up with ease.

"We need to make sure that your efforts are not wasted," Derek whispers into her ear while carrying her slowly in the direction of the bedroom, a thrilling promise of pleasure to come making her sigh in response.

Soon, the fine pieces of lace lay discarded on the floor, red petals of flowers blossomed and fallen. They hold each other closely, minds and bodies entwined in bliss, branches reaching high in their exuberant growth.

The floret buds in their hearts are only beginning to bloom.

/

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. ;) This one is a little different for me, I don't usually write stories like this. It was fun though.

I have no ideas what's happening, I've been deathly uninspired lately (a little more than lately), hopefully writing OneShots will wake my brain up!!

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