A/N: This is the second of the final 3 chapters of this story, which are all going live at the same time. If you've been waiting for the finale, start at Chapter 17, not this one.
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Five months ago, Major Owen Hunt had blown into Seattle Grace as part of an incoming trauma and caused quite a stir, not only by torquing off some of the doctors, but also by infusing some much-needed heat into the previously frozen emotional tundra of Cristina Yang's injured psyche. Sparks had flown, and he had finally kissed her so passionately and unexpectedly that it had taken her a moment to realize there was a good reason to put on the brakes. Then he had disappeared for months, and returned with so much intense emotional pain that Cristina had begun to despair of their spark ever being rekindled in anything but desperation and need. She had mourned the loss of the man who first showed up as her patient, while learning to embrace the one who had eventually come back as her boss. Steeling herself for a long haul, she had hoped against hope for an eventual reward, all the while worried that she might be throwing herself away on yet another Attending... and coming up empty.
But something had changed in the last 24 hours. If today was any indication, Cristina was pretty sure that first guy, the crazy one with the pen and the cocky attitude, was on his way back. How else to explain the sexual tension, the light teasing, the innuendo and playfulness that had filled this workday? While remaining completely professional in front of the rest of the staff, Owen had somehow managed to initiate foreplay without ever saying an obvious word or making an inappropriate move. He had caught her eye several times, sending her a jolt of sexual electricity so strong she half expected someone to yell, Clear! He had teased her, found opportunities to inadvertently touch her, and finally asked her if she had any plans for the evening. Whatever had come over him, Cristina liked it and was flustered by it at the same time, and she was tingling with anticipation over what this evening might hold. She mentally slapped herself for counting the minutes until her shift was over. Could this be it? Are we finally going to move forward here? If her instincts were worth anything, (and they usually were, secretive imbecile interns notwithstanding) all signs pointed to Yes.
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Owen met Cristina outside the hospital at 6:00 and they crossed the street to her apartment. She was bubbling over with curiosity. Butterflies had taken up an agitated residence in her stomach, and it was all she could do to keep herself from blurting out something inappropriate… something like Are we finally going to get naked tonight? The anticipation was definitely taking a toll on her composure. Still, she held herself back. Patience had been hard to come by where he was concerned, but had so far served her well in the intimacy department, if not the hot sex department. She decided to keep her thoughts to herself and just let him take the lead.
When she opened the door, she immediately noticed the small kitchen table set for two, complete with wine glasses and a couple of unlit pillar candles set in the middle. A French baguette lay in a long paper bag on the counter, with a small dish of olive oil and balsamic vinegar already prepared and sitting nearby. "Oh, wow. This is really nice of you…" She smiled at him, then grew puzzled, "Wait. How did you get in here?"
"We military guys are very resourceful," he kidded a bit uncomfortably. This was her turf, her sanctuary. He was putting himself out there, and as much as he knew they both wanted this, it was still a bit awkward.
"Uh huh… This must have something to do with my roommate, who by the way is likely to arrive back here any minute, in case you didn't know… So are we expecting take out or something?"
"No to both questions. Dr. Torres has been dealt with – which is something we'll need to talk about later - and we're definitely not having takeout tonight."
Ok, this IS serious. If he got rid of Callie, he must mean business. She eyed him speculatively as he opened the fridge and pulled out a package of chicken breasts and a bottle of marinade. "You have something to cook this in, right?" It was a small detail but an important one he had somehow overlooked.
Her mouth dropped open. "You know how to make food?" she asked incredulously.
He didn't know whether to be insulted or amused, and decided on a little of both. "I can keep myself from starving. It's not so hard to do." He put the chicken and the marinade bottle on the counter, then leaned on both hands and looked at her with a bit of playful exasperation. "…Uh, I could use that dish right about now?" Cristina gave him a raised eyebrow and a snotty glare, then got up and rummaged for a minute before finding a suitable container in the cupboard and handing it to him. Owen then slit the package with a knife and expertly dumped the chicken in the dish without touching it, impressing Cristina no end. She had no problem dealing with tissue, live or dead, but she liked her food already cooked, and something about touching raw edible meat put her off. That probably explained why food preparation had remained a mystery to her for so long.
He was conscious of her watching him as he tore the seal off the marinade bottle, and glanced up at her, "It's not brain surgery, Dr. Yang. You should try it some time."
She snorted with derision. "If it WAS brain surgery, then I'd be inclined to try it."
She could tell by his expression that he was amused by her comment, and she sensed a golden opportunity. He won't know what hit him, she realized with a touch of fiendish amusement. He's been heating things up all day at my expense. Now it's my turn to shake him up a little. She came around behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and leaned against his back. Having her hands on his warm, hard body felt so incredibly good.
"Y'know, this domestic let-me-cook-for-you thing?" she said matter-of-factly, as her hands wandered over his chest, "It kind of makes me want to rip your clothes off." She ran a hand down the front of his jeans suggestively and gave him a little squeeze.
Whoa. Wasn't expecting that. The jolt of pleasure from that one simple caress had him almost completely undone. Owen froze. Shit. No fucking way I'm making it through dinner like this. So much for all my careful planning. Instead of putting the dish in the oven, he reopened the fridge and placed it on a shelf, then turned around to face her.
"You do realize that what you're ordering is quick and dirty, and what I had in mind for tonight's menu was more along the lines of slow and…" he paused and gave her a wicked grin, "…slow." He kissed her lazily to make his point.
"Mmmm… that's tempting," liquid heat was pooling in her belly, "but I'm growing to appreciate the merits of quick and dirty," she whispered.
"Fair enough." Owen didn't need an engraved invitation - certainly not tonight. She had just thrown out the first pitch, and the least he could do was to take a good, hard swing at it. He slid his hands down to cup her bottom and pulled her against him, covering her mouth this time with a fierce kiss brimming with pent-up sexual tension. She could feel his arousal against her belly, and her pulse and breathing kicked up a notch. He backed her up against the fridge and felt a kick of adrenaline when she yielded against him. Suddenly his hands were everywhere - in her hair, along her jaw, down at her waist... When he surfaced long enough to remember where they were, he picked her up and carried her in his arms to the bedroom. "Even us quick and dirty military types draw the line at doing it in the kitchen," he whispered roughly into her ear.
Owen deposited her onto the bed and followed her down, sliding one hand underneath her sweater as the other tangled in her hair. Her bra was sheer and silky, with no padding, and he lightly teased his fingertip over her nipples as he continued to move his lips over hers. She was busily working on his shirt buttons, but paused with a little gasp as he hit just the right spot on her breast. "You like that?" he murmured. "Mmmm hmmm…" was all he got back. He smiled, "I'll keep it in mind." He reached around her back and expertly unhooked her bra with two fingers, then returned to try and elicit that same response flesh to flesh. He had not seen her naked yet – had actually spent the past few weeks pretending not to look - but he knew that rather than voluptuous, she was small and perky up top. Just the right size, in his book. "Let's get this thing off, shall we?" he proposed, and yanked both sweater and bra off over her head in one swift movement. His mouth immediately took over where his hands had been, and Cristina began moving slowly and sinuously beneath him. She had gotten nowhere with his shirt, but she was much more focused on the sensations he was making her feel than on such trivial details.
It was already dark out, and the streetlights shone in through the window and illuminated the room in a warm glow. Now that they were finally here, Owen wanted to see all of her. He sat up, straddled her legs and took a moment to appreciate the view before using both hands to undo the zipper on her jeans and yank them downward and off. He left the lacy panties where they were for the moment, as much for the surprise of finding this particular style on this particular woman as for the turn-on of having one last article of clothing to remove.
"Hey, no fair," she protested and sat up a little to get her hands back on his shirt and deal with the buttons. Her fingertips slid softly over his torso as she undid him, feeling the springy chest hair and taking a moment to caress what she had exposed. The light touches grazing his heated skin were driving him crazy. Owen had to grit his teeth to keep from consuming her completely, and once she was done he shrugged himself violently out of his shirt. She moved swiftly to his fly, where she got hung up on the button. "Allow me," he insisted, not willing to endure much more of this torture. He brushed her hands away and quickly divested himself of his pants, leaving his boxers on in the hopes that her talented fingers might find a particularly enticing way of removing them.
He pushed her back down on the bed, his mouth quickly finding hers and then traveling downward, kissing her jaw, nibbling on her neck, and delaying for a few moments to tease her breasts. He slowly moved southward, until he was kissing the skin just above the lace of her panties and inhaling her unique scent. He recalled with a smile their first date at the bowling alley when she had mumbled, "Eat me," and thought, We'll definitely have to get to that later… In the meantime, the panties had to go, and he removed them without delay, then moved back up to lie beside her, capturing her mouth for another deep kiss. His hand reached down to find her wet and ready, and he watched her closely as his finger began to move in lazy circles. He loved that he could read the pleasure on her face and hear it in her ragged breathing. There's that look... that M&M thing... "I think there's still something in the way here…" she purred. She reached for the front of his boxers and lightly teased his hard length through the fabric, then grabbed the waistband and began to yank it downward. Impatient, Owen helped her.
Once she had removed his last piece of clothing, she tentatively reached down to hold and then stroke him. She loved how he was built, and this part proved to be as engaging as the rest of him. She was interrupted almost immediately when he rolled over on top of her. "Much more of that and we'll both be disappointed," he whispered into her ear with a little chuckle. "Hang on a second." He reached over the side of the bed for his jeans and found the condom he'd stored in his pocket, made quick work of it, and then rolled back on top of her. "Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?" he smiled and rubbed his lips over hers lightly before moving in for a deeper kiss. He entwined both his hands with hers, and she opened her legs to allow him access. He could feel her small pelvic movements beckoning him in, and took a second to savor the moment and catch her eye before plunging himself inside her in one hard stroke. She moaned, a sound so sweet to his ears that it nearly made him explode on the spot. "Oh God, you're so soft," he groaned into her hair and began to move slowly and deliberately, using all his restraint to hold himself back from just pounding her into the headboard.
Cristina was aroused beyond anything she had ever felt with anyone. Owen made Burke look like a robot, an automaton, a fucking Disney character, and she had herself a little self-satisfied giggle. Who knew that being left at the altar could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to her? I'll take a real, human MAN any day of the week, especially when he comes in a package like this one. She didn't stop to question the deep connection she felt and the intense pleasure she got from feeling his excitement. That involved thinking. Thinking could come later.
Cristina had never had an orgasm from intercourse alone - had thought it impossible, in fact - but something about the way their bodies fit together was different in a really good kind of way. She began to wonder if it might just work this time, but quickly found out that Owen Hunt didn't like to leave anything this important to chance. He shifted them so he could reach down and tease her again, and all at once she knew she was done for. She felt herself climbing toward the peak, then hanging there for that exquisite second before letting herself crash over the edge, the feel of him inside her accentuating the pleasure as she rode the wave. Omigod, this is too good… As he felt her quiver, heard her little sounds, and watched her dissolve, Owen could hold back no longer. His thrusts became harder, faster, and more intense as he let himself go and followed her down into an exquisite oblivion.
There was silence for several moments, punctuated only by their heavy breathing and an ambulance siren in the distance. Owen shifted his weight a bit so as not to crush her, but remained on top, his body covering hers, his head buried in her hair.
"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Cristina chided him playfully. She was rewarded with the deep rumble of his chuckle into her ear. He rolled off and pulled her on her side to face him. "I think I'm starting to fall for you, Cristina Yang… just a little bit." He kissed her nose, and the cocky twinkle in his eyes made her heart do a little flip.
"Does that mean you're still willing to fix me dinner? 'Cause I'm really starving now."
He gave her a long look before closing his eyes and rolling on his back. "Nah... I'm a guy," he gave an exaggerated yawn, "I think I'm supposed to just roll over and go to sleep…"
"Don't be a jerk!" she punched him in the shoulder.
He rolled on top of her in a flash and pinned her to the bed. "Well, since you asked me so nicely, Dr. Yang," he rubbed his lips over hers, deliberately tickling her with his facial hair, "I think I could be persuaded to scavenge up some food… but after ruining all my elaborate plans, you'll have to assist."
"I can manage that," she gave him a little shove so she could sit up, and her stomach rumbled in agreement. "Just tell me what to do."