On Fire

She's a natural seducer (even if she doesn't know it); she's innocent and young, but at the same time he knows the youth is a mask, he's certain that she's seen death and hurt, has probably had her heart broken too, and she's in love, even if it is with O'Malley. Her face is youthful, unlined and pale with a glow that lights up a room when she walks in, but he recognizes the old soul within her. His soul is the same way, broken far before its time and the shattered remnants recognize the kindred spirit in her.

Lexie makes him laugh; the way she talks fast when she's nervous about something, or even the way she comes up with crazy stunts that he knows are vain attempts to catch Meredith's attention.

For the first time, he recognizes the inner beauty before the outer.

Late at night when he's lying on his sheets and he's already gotten himself off with her body in his minds eye, he considers if she would even let him touch her if he let himself break his promise. She seems pure even though he knows she isn't, it would seem like he was tainting her if he touched her.

Everything he touches seems to eventually wither and grow to hate him; sometimes he thinks it's ironic that he ever became a doctor in the first place.

The moment the word sex comes out of her mouth, his mind is wandering and suddenly he's no longer in the hospital, but rather in his hotel room, and they're together. They're on the bed, on the table, against the wall, on the floor, and his ultimate favorite… bent over the sofa. But if he thinks too long about Little Grey that way, his grip on his meager self control is going to fly out the window and the next thing he'll know he will be kissing her and the promise he made to Derek will be broken.

He tries so hard, really he does… which is funny since he's never tried to not notice a woman before. Except he thinks about her all the time and it's only getting worse.

Mark is hyper-aware of her body at all times. When she accidentally brushes up against him now and then, it's like an electric shock through his veins and it takes everything he has to not reach out and touch her hair, which is odd too because hair had never been that important to him before, he's always been an ass man. Except, her hair is different it looks like silk and no matter how many hours she's been working, it always smells good. The times when he's close enough to catch the scent of her hair, it makes him dizzy with desire.

Sometimes he wonders if she knows what she does to him and if she isn't purposefully trying to kill him with some sort of freaky sexual torture.

When she leans forward it suddenly feels like she's all around him; he can smell her hair, he can feel her body heat, and he wants to take her right there on the desk whether Bailey is there or not. He can almost taste her, can almost hear her moans, her screams even, and it isn't lost on him that he's quickly losing it.

When he opens the door that night after her quiet knock, he knows why she's there and he knows that there is no resisting now. The woman before him had given him an around-the-clock hard-on, and really, one man can only resist so much.

She steps into the room, her back straight and the determination evident in her posture. He watches, slightly stunned at the bravery that she shows, he never really thought that she would have the guts to do something like this. He still tries to resist, even though he knows his efforts are futile; with each inch of skin that she reveals his self control cracks, closer and closer to shattering. It's her sexy red bra and her words to him that finally do him in.

"Come on, am I really so bad?"

Bad? There's nothing bad about her. She's the image of Athena on top of some great monument in Greece , she's perfect and he's going to touch perfection… the thought sends a thrill through his blood. He's the bad one, she must not understand that there is something fundamentally wrong with him, if she did, she wouldn't be there. How many times did he fuck it up with Addison ? How many times has he fucked nameless, faceless women, who were nothing but objects in his quest for sexual satisfaction? But even when his control is cracking down the middle, he understands something significant: he doesn't want her to be faceless or nameless.

He doesn't know if it's the long wait or if it's simply just her, but the kiss makes him feel like he's choking on the fire that's raging through his veins. The desire is heady and strong and absolutely mind blowing. Oh God, he wants her, he needs her. Derek wouldn't understand the way this feels; it's like she's put a spell on him and all he's thinking about is her. He's thinking about the little sound in the back of her throat she makes when his tongue sweeps over hers and how it's positively the sexiest thing he has ever heard. She's there and she apparently wants him as much as he wants her.

They're against the wall, her bra is somewhere on the floor and her legs are wrapped around his waist like a vice. He's kissing the column of her throat, being careful not to mar her pale skin, no matter how much he wants to; she's moaning his name over and over, her hips moving against his, seeking friction through her jeans. And through it all, all he sees is her face, her head tipped back, her long brown hair cascading down as she moans and writhers.

When he comes, buried deep inside her, it's her name that falls from his lips.