viva las vegas [elvis]; mark/addison (mark, addison); nc-17; 3,374 words;

au; grey's anatomy season 3; seattle/las vegas; chpt 2; with every mistake we must surely be learning - (while my guitar gently weeps) the beatles

addison and mark connect in vegas one last time before she moves to la

a/n: i am currently in vegas and it's awesome and i want to write something of this place and here we go, an au for the end of season 3

Mark smirks as he approaches the hotel clerk of the Paris Las Vegas Hotel and Casino, hoping that they can still get a decent room at last minute. They don't have a reservation and they boarded the last plane from Seattle to Vegas on an impulse decision to end whatever kind of relationship they've ever had on a good note and so far it seems to be filled with reminiscing and laughs despite their heavy moment before they left. Their actions and reactions seem to be the way they were in New York, before the affair and before their mistakes; they are comfortable and as he waits in line behind 2 different families he feels her slide her arm through his.

"One room or two?" He asks with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

She smirks and absently toys with a loose thread at the sleeve of his jacket, "we're adults, Mark. I'm pretty sure that we can share a bed."

"Because that's never gotten us into trouble before," he counters with a wink. He feels her hand slide into his back pocket and he lurches forward with furrowed eyebrows. He looks at her, mouth agape, and lightly shakes his head; she laughs as she pinches his wallet in her grasp. "You better stop that – hey! What are you doing?"

"While you get the room, I'm going to use your money to gamble," she explains.

The echo of machines going off surrounds them and he concedes under the grin on her face accompanied with a glint in her eye. It isn't fair that she has power over him, but then again he seems to have a power over her. They are so very bad for each other but something keeps drawing them back together. She plucks a one hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and hands him the black, leather holder back. He lights shakes his head as he pushes the bags further up on his shoulders and moves up in line.

Of course she was going to use his money to entertain herself.

He briefly wonders if they are here as friends or if they're testing out a friends with benefits scenario, all he knows is that they seem to fall together over and over. On one hand, he gets why she is moving to Los Angeles but on the other it doesn't mean that he still hopes that he factors into her decisions somewhere. It isn't like he ever has, really, especially since he lied and told her that he broke the bet when he never did. He wishes he could tell her the truth, that if she didn't want to be with him then she didn't have to be, but he thinks that she'll be mad at him for telling her that he broke the bet so she didn't have to feel guilty.

He smiles at the clerk as he finally steps up to the counter, "one room, best view you have."

"That's our Suite Calais, six hundred dollars a night," the young guy replies.

"That's no trouble. See that woman over there? If I play my cards right, I might be getting laid this weekend and trust me when I say it's been a very long time. Two months is a long time for a guy like me," Mark glances at Addison over his shoulder about three paces behind him and turns his full attention to the guy behind the counter. The guy purses his lips and Mark can tell the guy doesn't know how to response because he clearly didn't get the joke. Mark laughs a little deep into the bellows of his throat as he hears Addison's heels echo against the tile; her arms slide around his waist from behind and he thinks he maybe has some kind of an idea as to what kind of weekend they might be having. "I'm kidding."

Mark slides his credit card over the counter and receives two room keys in return. He shakes his head as she grabs two drinks on the way to the elevator and thrusts one in his direction. He downs it quickly, whatever it is, and sets it on a table as they walk by; he can tell that he's going to need a lot of alcohol to understand this weekend at all. Even that might not help.

His head swirls a little as he steps onto the elevator, her fingertips sliding just below the hem of his sweater and teasing the skin just above his waistline. He inhales a deep breath, thankful that they only have one small carryon bag each that he can easily get on his own, and shifts his gaze in her direction. He takes a moment to feel relief that there are other people in the elevator with her or else he'd probably have her pressed against the wall right now.

"Would you stop it?" He asks quietly.

She smirks, "why is that?"

"You know why," he counters.

"Maybe I'm asking for it."

"It certainly seems like it," he observes. She takes her straw between her lips and sips on her drink. He can't help the way he leans a little more into her when she does, his fingers sliding over the small of her back en route to her hip on the opposite side of him. She briefly glances at him, leaning more into him as if encouraging him. "You should know better by now."

She smirks and the last couple steps out of the elevator so they're in it alone. The moment the doors slide closed he turns on his heel and presses her against the wall, his lips blindly finding hers out of habit. Their bags hit the floor before his fingers slide into her hair and her arms secure around his neck. Her nearly empty glass drops the remaining liquid down his back and neither stop to acknowledge it.

His tongue rolls over her bottom lip, probing her mouth to part open so he can push his tongue against hers. Slowly, she opens her mouth beneath his and the fingers of her left hand press into his the back of his neck while she clutches her glass with her other hand. Her knee runs up his inner thigh, his growing erection hitting her knee cap, and he smiles against her mouth. His hands slide down her frame and his thumbs press into her hips in preparation to lift her up when the elevator dings on their floor.

She laughs and mutters against his lips, "saved by the bell."

"We can resume this when we get inside," he muses, pressing his body into hers a little bit longer for affect before he steps away and picks the bags up.

"We could," she replies.

He can't tell if she wants to or if she's just saying it to tease him. He's afraid to ask for fear that he'll hear something that he doesn't really want to hear. All he knows is that the length of her dress isn't nearly enough and he hates how no matter who else in the room his eyes always find her first. She doesn't get how intoxicating she is and he doesn't know if she gets that he'll miss it.

He pushes open the hotel room door and lets her enter first, flipping on the lights as he enters and watching the room light up before them. She sets her glass on the nearest table and advances further into the room; he feels a little lost because she's been so easy to read for as long as he can remember but right now she isn't. It's always left him in distress when he can't read her like she's an open book, especially when he knows he's getting to her but he can't tell how much.

"So did you," he starts but trails off, deciding to follow her further into the room and drop the bags at the foot of the bed.

"What?" She probes, turning to face him with a small smirk.

He tilts his head in response, lightly shaking his head. He doesn't know how to answer her, how to continue, because he doesn't really know what's okay to say and what isn't. All that he knows is that at the airport they kissed like they were lovers, in the airplane they laughed like they had inside jokes, in the cab she teased him like she wanted him, downstairs she touched him like he belonged to her, and in the elevator she made it clear that she wants something from him. But now that they are alone, he's a bit afraid that he'll push her to do too much too fast because he simply doesn't know how to stop himself when it comes to her.

"Nothing," he approaches her and pushes his fingers into the small of her back, "look at the view."

"Don't blow your wad too soon," she teases.

He narrows his eyes at her double entendre before he laughs the question of whether she's suggesting that he should or warning him that she shouldn't on the tip of his tongue. She leans against him when the full view of the lit up Eiffel Tower replica takes her breath away and the busy streets below don't even seem to faze her. They're used to New York and how the city never sleeps, the noise something that won't keep either of them from sleeping at night.

"Is there some reason you wanted to come to Vegas?" She asks him, teasing the last word.

"Remember that weekend we spent in Atlantic City?" He asks, waiting for her nod that tells him she remembers, "I felt like even though Derek didn't show up, we still made the best of it."

"You're just saying that because you got laid that weekend," she teases.

"Something like that," he agrees.

He thinks that she gets what he's alluding to. That it was the first weekend since their affair started that they didn't have to hide anything, they could be together however they wanted. She gets it because they were both blissfully happy considering that in their world neither of them was happy. He wants to recapture that, even if it means that they aren't together.

"Maybe if you play your cards right, you could get laid this weekend too," she replies suggestively.

He smirks, pushes his fingers into her hips when she turns to face him. Her fingertips tap at his jawbone before grasping the lapels of his jacket and pushing his coat off of his shoulders. He releases the contact and hears his leather jacket collide with the floor, a gentle thud sounding out. His fingertips brush over her skin just below where the hem of her dress stops.

He pulls upward, his fingers curled and taking the material with his movement. He waits for her to shake her head, to tell him no in some way but she slides her hand through the hair at the nape of his neck in response. His nails scrape at her skin, index finger circling her inner thigh. He grins slightly as she leans forward and presses her lips to his, his mouth sliding against hers at first touch.

He moves his hand further inward, fingers grasping at the skin between her thighs. His index finger slides against her skin between her leg and her pelvic region, the material of her panties catching on his nail. She sighs against his mouth as he drags his hand back towards the space between them, his teeth nipping at the corners of her mouth. His other hand slides beneath her dress, pulling it more up her body as his fingers tap against her torso before sliding around to the skin at the small of her back.

"Did anybody ever tell you that the length of your dresses is very distracting?" He mutters against her mouth; he leads her towards the bed.

The back of her knees hit the mattress, "there was once a guy who said that. He had a thing for redheads."

His finger slips beneath the lining of her panties and dips into her center, a sharp intake of breath at the sudden movement slicing against his mouth when she breathes in. He claws at her hip, pushes at her bone until he can tug at her panties. The material scratches at her legs as he tugs downward; his tongue touches hers briefly before he pulls back and slides his lips along her jaw. His teeth nip at her neck, tongue swirls against her skin and his lips suction her flesh in unison.

She nearly squeaks her warning and he pulls back with a grin; "Doctor Sloan, don't do it."

He laughs as he guides her back onto the bed, his mouth covering hers again just briefly. His fingertips feel for her opening again, dipping into her wetness with ease. The base of his finger glides over her clit, pulling his finger back out and circling it. He feels her moan just below his ear, the sound escaping her lips hot on his ear.

He pulls back and leans down, his hands sliding down her thighs as he lowers his mouth to her. His fingers delve into her as he flattens his tongue against her bundle of nerves, causing her to buck her hips at the contact. His freehand circles her calf and brings it up to his shoulder – it prompts her to move, her ankles flush against the back of his neck.

He slides his tongue against her, index finger being joined by his middle finger as they slide into her wetness and back out. He pumps his fingers in and out, his teeth scraping over her clit as he sucks. He pulls his fingers out, sticky as he presses his hand against her thigh, and dips his tongue into her. His nose rubs against her bundle of nerves, the coldness of his breath against her warmth making a chill skate up her spine.

Her legs tighten to pull him closer and he laughs against her, his tongue circling inside of her before he pulls it back up to her clit. He pushes his fingers into her again, pumping in and out as his erection presses more against his thigh and he grinds his middle against the foot of the bed without meaning to. Her sighs and moans encourage him to pick up speed, his fingers and tongue working together to bring her to an orgasm.

Her legs tighten, the heels of her shoes digging into his shoulder blades, her knuckles turn white as she grasps at the sheet. He groans against her, the noise vibrating inside of her and being just enough for her muscles to contract around his fingers. His chest rises and falls quickly as his hands press into her upper thighs and his fingers grasp at her flesh. He drops to sit on the floor as he catches his breath, lifting his eyes to hers and laughing a little when she offers him a smile.

"I got mine," she says.

"Hey now," he retorts with a light shake of the head, "that isn't very nice."

"Tell you what," she replies, leaning forward and hovering her lips over his, "you beat me at cards and I'll finish you off."

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," he counters.

"It's a long weekend," she teases. He narrows his eyes in her direction and releases a slightly exaggerated breath, lightly shaking his head at her teasing manner. His dick throbs in his pants against his leg and he lifts up a hand indicating that he needs a few moments to contain himself. She smirks, "that is, of course, unless you finish yourself off first before I can get to you."

"Please," he replies, lips turning into a frown as he looks at her deadpanned, "you don't have to be such a tease."

"Since when?" She asks with a playful shrug.

He growls at her and shakes his head, watching her with a narrowed gaze as she sneaks off to the bathroom before he can even get to his feet. He pushes himself to his feet and sits on the side of the bed, shaking his hands at his wrists in an attempt to distract himself and make his erection disappear. He points a finger at her when she finally comes out of the bathroom, looking refreshed and offering him a smile. He drags his fingers through her hair as he picks up his bag and goes into the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as well as uses mouthwash, wills his erection away (at least so it doesn't throb so much), and changes his shirt before he leaves the bathroom. He forces a smile on his face when he sees her. He pushes his hands into his hips and scrunches his nose when she returns the smile. She briefly presses her lips against his as she walks by him, asking if he has the room key before opening the door and stepping out of the room. He doesn't know if he can handle her being this way, although endearing, driving him crazy.

In the elevator she stands close to him because there are a few other people on it as well, but when she slides her fingers up his spine his gaze sharply cuts to her. He warns her with narrowed eyes but she just laughs and presses her lips to his. He opens his mouth under hers as his eyes drift closed. She pulls away too soon and his eyes open again, a small sigh escaping him when her lips are no longer against his.

He wonders if she's only doing it to drive him crazy or if she has other reasons.

"You better stop," he warns. He leans towards her but is met with her hand pressing against his chest. He grunts and drags a hand through his hair, the rest of the elevator silent besides them. He offers the guy beside him a small smile as Addison slips her fingers just below the hem of his sweater to tap against his back. He turns his attention back to her; "you're driving me crazy, woman. Stop it."

"You're kind of cute when you're flustered," she comments with a laugh.

"You're doing this on purpose and it isn't nice," he counters, "give me my money back."

She smirks and pulls a hundred dollar bill out of her bra; he rolls his eyes in response. He snatches his money but feels her fingernails trail over his skin. The small hairs on his skin stand upright and he inhales a deep breath. He pushes his arm around her in a rush, fingers digging into her waist when his forearm presses against her back. He's barely able to stop himself from guiding her lips to his.

"Sorry," she says to someone glancing over their shoulder, "he doesn't get out much."

"Don't lie. You just don't know how to play nice," he corrects.

He forces himself to think of ugly things before his erection can come back, not that he isn't usually able to control himself in public anyway. The elevator stops at the bottom floor where the casino is and he follows her onto the floor just a few steps behind. He tries to regulate his breathing as they make it to a Texas Hold 'Em table where they often spent most of their time back when they were young.

They each buy in with two hundred dollars and get settled in with their drinks. She offers him a side glance and can't help but smirk as they each put their chips onto the table. His knee rubs against hers as she scoots her chair a bit closer to his so that someone else can sit down on the chair on the other side of her.

He narrows his eyes, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Because," she says, tucks her bottom lip into her mouth briefly, "I know you didn't break the bet."

He laughs and drops his eyes to the table, the dealer's facial expression showing the confusion; "we've been gambling for a long time."