Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy
Disclaimer: Not mine. So not mine.
Summary: Izzie has beautiful hands.
Izzie has beautiful hands.
Izzie has beautiful everything, but Addison’s eyes are focused on her hands, the shapeliness of each finger, tapering down to short, filed down nails that might look plain on another woman, but Izzie’s fingernails are clean, hang-nail free, and classic rather than unadorned.
Addison wants, very badly, to take one of Izzie’s hands in her own, and lift it to her mouth. Breathe on a finger, and watch Izzie’s pupil dilate before pulling one half of an index finger into her own mouth, tracing the contour of the digit with her tongue.
Suck it deeper then, listen to that thin rattle of breath, because Izzie knows how to hold still, how to accept the strangest, because after someone has told you to think of yourself as an animal having existential angst, having another woman suck on your fingers? Can’t be that strange.
“Addison, do you have a finger fetish?” Izzie might ask after Addison has moved on, possibly to Izzie’s pinkie, just the very tip of it.
Addison will just smile.
Blow on the moistened fingertip.
“It’s a good fetish,” Izzie will say, breath hissing out. “But there are better places for my fingers to be.”
Addison licks her lips. The wetness in her body has shifted significantly downward, along with her pulse. Which is starting to thud at the thought of Izzie-fingertips, slick-damp and pressing into her breasts.
There’s an ache about wanting these things, the kind of ache that makes Addison very aware how wet she can get, about how she wants to feel Izzie’s hair against her thighs.
Addison is tracing her throat over and over, ticklish-feeling on the skin as she traces her own jawline. It’s the kind of ticklish that makes her kind of sleepy and warm, makes her wants to feel skin on skin.
“I’m orally fixated,” Addison can almost hear herself confess in a husky whisper. “And you have beautiful hands.”
“Well, my beautiful hands and your oral fixation can, I don’t know, multi-task,” Izzie says with a wicked little grin. “If you don’t mind that I didn’t shave.”
“My pussy,” Izzie replies disdainfully.
Addison inhales and inhales hard. And she’d say it just like that, with a snort and raised eyebrow she borrowed from Yang. Reminding Addison that just because Izzie is eye candy doesn’t mean she’s a fantasy porn princess, hairless and brainless.
That just turns Addison on, the way Izzie’s hands would trail to Addison’s stomach and stroke while Addison started nibbling on Izzie’s earlobe, smelling the vague antiseptic-and-shampoo smell of Izzie’s hair and skin. Being able to rest her hand on the small of Izzie’s back, getting the distinct scent of sweat…
But Addison still wants to bite down on Izzie’s fingers, so of course the next time her hand trails up over Addison’s face, she bites down on Izzie’s ring finger and whimpers because Izzie would moan.
“Jesus, Addison, your finger fetish is getting me fucking wet,” she’d say.
“That’s fine by me,” Addison answers, dropping to her knees and pressing her flushed cheek against Izzie’s stomach, pulse pounding. “Because I want to taste you.”
She puts both hands on Izzie’s hips (she WILL, Addison remembers, this is not really happening), and pulls her flush against Addison, the funky but soft material of scrubs between Addison’s mouth and Izzie’s cunt, and Izzie is trying to grind and Addison puts her thumbs into the waistband of Izzie’s scrubs and jerks them down.
Izzie’s hand caresses Addison’s hair and face and that tremble of ticklish desire sends heat right down her spine, sweat and sticky pooling in her underwear. Addison rubs the edge of her hand against the thin material of Izzie’s briefs, back and forth.
“Uhhhh,” Izzie moans, jutting her hips back and forth. “Okay, okay, I don’t know if I can stand up for this…”
So of course they stumble to Addison’s bed, and the good thing about it not quite being real is that Addison doesn’t have to imagine any gap between herself and Izzie and Izzie’s hands and Izzie’s very wet panties. Or how she is naked now, and how Izzie is naked except those tiny little panties.
And no, Izzie hasn’t magically shaved, and so her leg hair prickles and tickles Addison’s skin.
“You are SO damn hot,” Addison says, still rubbing as Izzie’s thighs splay out at the sex angle.
“Uh-huh,” says Izzie, back arching up off the bed.
Addison giggles a little, and then bites the elastic waistband of Izzie’s underwear to let it snap back.
“You are, like, incredibly fixated,” Izzie comments as Addison drags the briefs off with her teeth and one helping hand. “You totally weren’t joking.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Addison hums, her lips right at the hinge of Izzie’s thigh. Izzie squeaks and Addison’s fingers slip and slide against a very wet Izzie.
Fuck, Addison’s nipples are hard. If she could, she’d be working them, but then her hands would be away from Izzie’s body.
And it just feels so good to rub her nose against Izzie’s clit and push one finger inside her cunt that Addison’s aching body can wait. Because all the moisture has come back to Addison’s mouth.
Her mouth is watering. How lovely. Addison’s tongue flickers out and licks.
Izzie shrieks. “Oh, fuck, do that..do that again,” she cries.
Addison does, licking and lapping and pushing another finger into Izzie, swirling and pumping away as Izzie’s hips buck and bump against Addison’s jaw.
And those beautiful hands are tugging on Addison’s hair, and the pain is like a telegraph, sending the feeling right to Addison’s clit, which is practically vibrating from anticipation. Izzie’s fingers, two or three or maybe four, stroking the insides of Addison’s pussy, fingering that one particularly sensitive spot as her thumb works Addison’s clit in circles.
So Addison keeps licking, tasting, and feeling Izzie get tenser and tenser around her fingers as she thrusts deeper, harder, softer, trying to figure out just what will make Izzie come all over her fingers and tongue.
Her middle finger finds a squishy-soft place inside of Izzie just when her tongue flicks teasingly over Izzie’s clit, and that does it, Izzie squirming and shrieking as she grabs the sheets with white-knuckled hands, riding Addison’s fingers and mouth through the climax.
And Addison comes…to herself with a shuddering gasp of a breath, pulled out of a nap with an orgasm that shivers all over her and Addison can tell with a glance at her exposed skin that she’s flushed red.
Holy hell, that was one hell of a frustrated sex dream. The kind she would get before the last time she cheated on Derek. Addison doesn’t plan to cheat again, but she can recognize the symptoms.
And she doesn’t know what to do, because to deny that woman — Izzie — a chance at a career she’d clearly thrive at because Addison is horny and unsatisfied with a husband she loves? Is wrong.
The flush is gone. Addison can go back to work.
She shakes her head. Addison is a big girl; she knows that dreams are not wishes your heart make, they’re both more and less than that, and Addison knows that even though her heart is making wishes, the one she really wants is not Izzie.
It’s not. It’s affinity felt for someone else who thrives in her specialty, someone else who is slightly alien at Seattle Grace, and so Izzie is merely a useful subconscious target.
Addison needs to find Derek. She needs to remember why she’s letting herself be so frustrated in the name of love.