DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I don't own the Grey's characters. I just play with them, sometimes.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Turning Up the Heat
By sailorscully


You're pretty sure it was never, EVER, this hot in New York.

There's some sort of freak heat wave hovering over Seattle, of the sort that isn't supposed to happen but once every twenty years or something. And of course, does La Casa Intern have air-conditioning? Of course it doesn't. You start to wonder why you're actually here and not in your nice, air conditioned hotel room, when Izzie Stevens prances past you, clad in nothing but panties and her teeniest baking apron.

Oh yeah. THAT's why you're still here.

You lean against a counter and watch her as she bustles around the kitchen, where there are at least five electric fans running at full blast. It's somehow the coolest room in the house, despite the fact that she had the oven running earlier. Obviously, you'd protested THAT. But she'd protested back, saying that she wanted to make something...so you set her to making something cold. So she emptied an ice cube tray and now she's leaning over holding the tray in front of your face and asking you a question, and you totally can't focus because HI, that apron doesn't cover anything, and HI, Izzie's breasts...

"ADDIE!" She slaps her palm on the counter, snapping your attention back to the matter at hand. "Yes, those look good," you reply. You're sort of happy you thought up a quick response, but your happiness quickly dwindles as you notice that the trays are empty. Oops.

"I asked if I should make alcoholic or non-alcoholic popsicles...you're totally not listening to me." Izzie pouts adorably. And you can't help it. You melt like the broken ice cube that bounced out of the tray. Gently, you take the tray out of her hands and set it down. You catch her face in your hands and kiss her gently, apologetically. When you pull away, she's smiling, her eyes closed.

"You're lucky I like you, you know," she snarks at you. You take that opportunity to pin her against the counter, leaning over her and whispering "I know," into her ear. Before you can say anything else, she's hopped backwards to sit up on the counter, causing you to lurch forward into her arms. And then she kisses you, and there you go, untying the drawstring at her neck.

You'd always thought that eventually, Izzie's body would become familiar to you once you'd been with her for a long time, sort of like Derek's did. Not a bad kind of familiar, just a general knowledge of What Certain Areas Elicit What Responses. Not so.

With Izzie, moving from kissing her mouth to nibbling at her collarbone sometimes causes her to run her fingers through your hair, and sometimes causes her to trace her fingers across the parts of her clavicle where your mouth happens to not be. Today, she touches your face, tracing gently around your cheeks and lips. You pull back, grasping at her fingers, kissing and sucking gently on them. Izzie's breathing becomes erratic, and she leans forward, trying to unbutton your shirt with one trembling hand, and failing. You laugh gently at her, and release her other hand.

Soon enough, you've got Izzie naked in front of you, and you yourself are clad in nothing but your underwear. You trail your fingers down around the sides of her breasts, then swirl them back up to gently circle her nipples. She moans softly, and crosses her ankles behind your back, pulling you closer, and you kiss her, bracing yourself on her thighs. Her skin is slick and shining with sweat, her eyes hooded and heavy, lips swollen from kissing. You smirk at her and she whimpers, needy and wanting.

So you appease her. And you start by moving your hand from the top of her thigh down between her legs, slow as anything. And she writhes, hissing through gritted teeth, glaring at you. You know she wants you to hurry, but you can't help but love seeing her like this. When she digs her nails into your shoulder, though, you figure you should probably get moving. You hover your finger over her clit for the briefest of seconds, and just as she's about to curse you out for being the biggest McSatan ever, you press down, and you know she won't be saying anything for a while at least.

She cries out, a strangely lilting, multi-toned noise that sends a shiver right down your spine, into the pit of your stomach. Her body quivers with every circle your finger traces on her clit. Her body rocks back and forth against yours, her hands gripping your shoulders. You're surprised at her ability to hold herself upright, but when you finally bury three fingers deep inside of her, she loses that ability, to your delight.

Izzie Stevens is sprawled back on the counter before you, her delicate, painted toenails gripping the counter's edge, one leg slung over your shoulder. You're pretty sure it's the hottest thing you've ever seen - that is, until she finally comes, screaming your name. And you've never seen anything that made your insides churn like Izzie's body shuddering, her fingernails scrabbling the countertops for something to grip onto, and you've never heard your name like this before. Izzie finally relaxes, and you help her into a sitting position, where she immediately drapes herself over your shoulder. You kiss her softly on the cheek and brush a few sweaty curls out of her face, holding her against you. Her heart is still racing, and you can feel it. After a few moments, she regains her composure, and as you feel her hands reach around behind you to unclasp your bra, you grin.

Meredith Grey chooses that opportune moment to stroll into the kitchen, eating a breadstick. She looks up and gasps, drops her breadstick, spins right back around and marches out of the room, flinging her hands in the air.

"SERIOUSLY? When you two die of heat exhaustion, DO NOT COME RUNNING TO ME!" she yells indignantly, as she dashes up the stairs.

You grin. Heat exhastion from great sex AND getting to traumatize Meredith Grey in the process? Would totally be worth it.

The End

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