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It takes Lexie a good couple of minutes to realize where she is when she wakes up. For one, she's not shivering under the covers (she and George agreed to not turn on the heat until Christmas). No, she's decidedly very warm. Probably due to the fact that she's being held by a person. A very large, very warm, very naked male person.
She tries to stir in his arms to turn around and look at him, but his grip on her instinctively tightens, and she feels absent-minded kisses pressed to the back of her shoulder, and incoherent mumblings that let her know he's still asleep. He has one arm pulling her tight under her belly and the other is draped over her shoulders holding her hands in front of her face. One of his knees is between her thighs. There is not one part of her body that Mark Sloan has not claimed.
Becoming aware of every inch of him surrounding her, the memory of last night comes flooding back, all in one hot, felt swoop. She's twenty-six years old, not a child, by any means, but the things she did last night…She wonders if Dr. Sloan would be offended or flattered if she asked him if he invented sex. And the things he'd said, Lexie has to blush just thinking about it. "Lexie, sweetheart, lift your leg just a bit higher…Yes, right there, baby…Shhh, just let me…Oh God, you taste so sweet…"
What would today bring? She'd heard rumors around the hospital…Well, if enough people said it, it was probably more fact than rumor. Mark Sloan didn't do the morning after. Should she just slip out quietly, gracefully? Should she just pretend that this never happened? Would that make him respect her more, or…or had there been more to this?
She could hardly believe what she'd done herself last night. From the moment she got off her shift, it seemed she was watching another person inside her body, another person meticulously shaving her legs and everything, another person carefully making sure that her sweater matched her camisole and her camisole matched her bra, and it was surely someone else who marched her up to Mark Sloan's suite in the hotel, and only stumbled when she'd tried to unzip her boots (why hadn't she worn flats or something that slips off easily?)
Mark Sloan doesn't do the morning after. And up until last night, Lexie Grey didn't just march into Surgical Genius's/Sex God's homes and demand that she be taken (taught).
"Lexie."
Even though he's whispering, his voice still scratchy with sleep, she jumps in his arms. He lays one steady hand over her heart and she can feel her pulse quicken, heart threatening to beat right out of her chest.
"Lexie. I can hear you think. It's seven a.m. Relax and go back to sleep."
She gives a nervous giggle. What was the right thing to say in this situation. "Ah…Ha ha…Ah…"
Even though she's still facing away from him, she can almost sense the McSteamy grin on his face. "Can't relax? Well then...if you insist..."
And with one gentle nudge to roll her onto her belly, he is between her thighs again and swiftly, all analytical thoughts are pushed away as Lexie realizes that she was mistaken. Mark Sloan does Mornings After very well.