glee fic: let's go back to the start (1/1)
Title: Let's Go Back To The Start (1/1)
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,609
Summary: She'd known this guy for a total of five seconds, and maybe it was the martini speaking, but she didn't want to say no. AU.
She’s late.
Her apartment is a complete mess when Rachel opens the door just after six, her arms full of books and notes and her book bag slung over her shoulder. It’s dark out, and she snaps the door shut, taking a few steps into the dark room, dropping the contents onto the kitchen bench. She trips over God knows what as she makes her way to the light switch, a sharp ‘shit’ falling out of her lips as she hobbles over to the wall.
The clock is illuminated as her apartment lights up. She’s really late.
Her apartment is small, for New York standards anyway, but it does her just fine. It’s all she can really afford anyway, with her only real income being the small pub she works at down the street three nights a week. It’s an awful job and she hates it but the money’s good and it’s getting her through college, so she get’s by. The apartment only has one room, leading off the combined living room and kitchen, and she walks quickly through the door, flicking on her bedroom light and walking straight over to her closet.
It’s her fault she’s late to the party. She was at the library all afternoon, finishing the paper she had to hand in on Monday. She knew Santana was going to kill her, being late to your own best friend’s ‘thank fuck I graduated college’ party was frowned upon. Ignoring her wardrobe, and deciding to shower first, she walks into her bathroom and pulls off her jeans and NYU sweatshirt, dropping them on the floor as she steps into the shower. The warm water feels like heaven on her shoulders and she closes her eyes as she presses her fingers into her shoulder blade.
Ten minutes later she walks back into her bedroom, towel wrapped around her as she stops in front of her closet and brushes her fingers against the clothes. She grabs the black dress she bought for Santana’s last ‘thank fuck I graduated college’ party (you know, the one before she realized that she had actually failed stats and had to take it again next semester) and drops it onto the bed as she steps into her underwear before pulling the dress on. She stands in front of the mirror as she zips up the side, looking at her appearance. She really likes this dress. It fell just above her knees, was tight enough to be sexy without being slutty, and had thick silk straps running over her shoulders. She pulls her long hair out from the messy bun on the top of her head and shakes her head a little, letting her hair frame her face. Nodding, she walks back into the bathroom and begins to put her make-up on. Her phone buzzes from the living room and she rolls her eyes, putting on her lip-gloss before she grabs her handbag next to her bed and her black heels on the floor next to the closet and rushes into the living room.
“I know, I know I’m late, I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Rachel says as soon as she answers the phone, cradling the handset against her ear and shoulder as she put on her shoes.
“Yeah, well you better be, I’ve got a martini sitting here with your name on it, and currently it has nobody to drink it,” Santana says, and Rachel smirks as she hangs up, dropping her cell into her bag as she looks around.
Muttering ‘okay’ under her breath, she heads towards the door, making sure she has her keys and wallet as she glances at the clock. 6:35. Fifteen minutes to get ready.
She’s oddly proud of herself.
-
The bar is busy when she walks in. She brushes her fingers against her dress, looking through the crowd to try and find Santana. Within moments, she spots her, surrounded by about fifteen people, some of them Rachel’s friends too, others she is pretty sure are just randoms who wanted to get laid. Santana jumps up when she spots her and waves and Rachel laughs, moving over to the table.
“Move your asses, people,” Santana says loudly, gesturing for the girls on the other side of her to shuffle over so Rachel can come sit next to her.
“Drunk already?” Rachel whispers into her ear as she sits down, placing her bag on the table.
“Honey, I was drunk this morning,” Santana replies, loudly. She taps the drink in front of Rachel and she laughs, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.
It was loud. They had their own little booth in the corner, and Rachel sat there, drinking her drink while Santana talked about how happy she was that she had finished school and that now there was a whole world waiting for her. Rachel knew that she had no idea what the hell she was talking about though, because it was only yesterday that she rang her up crying about how she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life now that she had graduated. Rachel only had another semester to go, and then she was graduating. She majored in theatre and music, and had an internship lined up on Broadway. It wasn’t much, but it would get her foot in the door.
After the third guy came up to Santana, really wanted to hear the story about how the fuckers failed her in Statistics 101, she downs the last of her drink and gets up from the table.
“Going to get another drink,” she says to Santana, but she was too far into her story to care.
Smirking, Rachel grabs her bag and walks through the mess of people in the bar, heading to the bar. It’s less busy there than the rest of the establishment, so she takes a seat and orders another martini.
She kind of wants to just go home. She knows that’s entirely lame of her, and that she is a twenty two year old girl who lives in New York City and on a Saturday night she would rather be in her apartment than out at a bar with her friends. She looks back at Santana and laughs a little; she was surrounded by four guys now, each of them hanging onto every word she said.
The bartender places another martini in front of her and her fingers brush against the stem. She thinks she must look really pathetic, sitting up at the bar by herself cradling a drink, and when she looks up to see if anyone is looking, someone catches her eye.
He is standing near the end of the bar with two other guys. He was looking at her, a beer in one hand as he leant on his elbow. He was ridiculously good looking, and she smiled a little to herself before she focused her attention back on her drink. She brought it to her lips, taking a small sip when she saw him out of the corner of her eye walk up to her.
“Hi,” he says, taking a seat next to her at the bar. He has a small smile on his face, and she wants to roll her eyes because she knows how this goes, but she just takes another drink before setting it back down.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here all alone?” He asks her, taking a swig of his beer. His eyes never leave hers, and she would be a little bit concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that he was incredibly attractive. She smiles, and turns a little to face him.
“Oh, I’m not alone,” she responds, pointing to Santana and the band of drunks over in the corner of the room. The guy laughs a little and downs the rest of his beer, setting it on the bench.
After a few moments he reaches out his hand. “Finn.”
She takes his hand, shaking it softly. “Rachel.”
“It’s really nice to meet you, Rachel,” he responds, and she feels her stomach twist a little, causing her to smile.
He orders her a drink, and she doesn’t object. She drinks the last of hers and pushes it forward a little, crossing her legs and resting her elbow against the bench. He’s still watching her, and she finds it ridiculous because she kind of can’t stop smiling.
“So what do you do, Finn?” She asks him, running her fingers along the stem of her glass.
“NYPD,” he says, putting his new drink back down on the counter. “Well, almost. I’m in the final weeks of training.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says, twirling around the olive in her drink. She’s starting to feel a little tipsy.
“What about you?” He asks her, leaning forward a little. She could smell his cologne. He smelt really good.
“I’m in my last semester at NYU. Theatre major,” she replies, looking up at him and smiling a little.
He raises his eyebrows in return and she laughs a little, looking down. He continues to watch her, a small smile on his face, and she bites her lip. Her cheeks flush a little, and she brings her glass up to her lips, taking another sip.
“So, how come you’re not with your friends?” He asks her, and she notices that he had moved a little closer to her. She wasn’t objecting.
She glances over at Santana. “She, Santana I mean, can get a little full on when she’s drinking. This isn’t really my scene, anyway.”
“Wanna get out of here, then?”
Her breath actually hitches in her throat, and if it was five seconds earlier, she would have choked on her drink. He had that small smile on his face, and really, she should say no. She had known this guy for a total of five seconds, and hooking up with someone at a bar was never something she did, or contemplated doing. But the way he was staring at her, she felt a connection she had never experienced before. She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t want to say no.
So she didn’t.
“Okay,” she nods, and he grins downing the rest of his beer before he stood up, holding out his hand. She took it, biting her lip at the butterflies in her stomach as he weaves his way through the crowd, his hand still firmly clasping hers. She looks over at Santana, whose jaw dropped as she gave her two thumbs up, nodding enthusiastically. She almost laughs, but shakes her head and made the motion of ‘ring me later’ before she steps out into the night air.
It was almost summer, and the air was warm. She still shivers a little, compared to the stuffy bar behind her and Finn turns to face her.
“Where do you want to go?” He asks her, dropping her fingers. It was slow, and she immediately feels the loss of contact.
“My place is only a few blocks from here,” she answers. In the back of her mind, she questions who the hell she is because the normal Rachel would not outwardly suggest that she go back to her apartment with a guy she just met. But she couldn’t explain this feeling - this attachment she felt, like she was drawn to him.
She didn’t want to stop feeling like this. So she brushes her hand against his arm, a small smile on her face as she takes her eyes off of him and sticks her hand out to hail a cab.
They reach her apartment ten minutes later and she stops at her door, fishing through her bag for her keys. She can feel him behind her, almost brushing her back and she can’t ignore the heat that rushes through her body. Biting her lip, she finds her keys and shoves it into the lock, opening the door.
She opens the door for him to come inside, as she flicks the switch. Her place is a bit messy, and she curses under her breath silently, placing her bag on the kitchen bench before she brushes past him and moves over to the couch next to the window, picking up some stuff as she does.
“Sorry, it’s a mess. Finals…” she says softly and she hears him laugh gently behind her. It should annoy her, but she just openly smiles, turning back around. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”
“I can see that,” he responds, taking a few steps closer to her. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans as he moves towards her in the middle of the living room, a small smile on his face.
“Do you want a drink?” She asks him, circling him and moving towards the kitchen, her gaze still on his. He grins and nods, and she can tell he was close to reaching out and touching her, but she laughs to herself and goes to the fridge, pulling it open.
“Okay, I’ve got milk, orange juice and a bottle of disgustingly cheap wine, your pick,” she tells him, her fingers brushing against the door handle.
She feels him come up behind her. His fingers brush against her waist as he pushes himself against her back and she closes her eyes, the most powerful feeling she has ever felt engulfing her. She spins around and he closes the distance between them, pushing her against the fridge, his lips crushing against hers
She whimpers against his mouth and he lifts her a little, spinning her around and pushing her back against the solid wall of the kitchen. Her head spins as his fingers graze her waist, his other hand in her hair as he opens his mouth and she collides her tongue with his, pushing into him deeper. She can’t explain this feeling, she has never done this before, the whole sleep with someone on the first date. Not that this was even a date. But he pushes into her deeper and she moans a little, all thought completely lost because she was absorbed in him.
Her hands move to his shoulders and push off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He moves his lips to her cheek, then down her jaw to her neck, sucking gently on her collarbone as his fingers grasp the hem of her dress, brushing the line. She’s a little drunk, and she’s pretty sure he is too, but she is past the point of caring because she can feel him pressed against her thigh and she has never wanted anyone so badly in her life.
“Bedroom,” she whispers as he kisses her neck and she pushes him off slightly, her hand grasping his as she backed them both towards her room. He looked dishevelled, his shirt was lopsided and her lips were swollen, and as soon as they crossed the threshold of her room she pulls him against her, her arm curling around his neck.
He pushes her gently against the edge of the bed, his arm around her waist as he lowers her down onto her bed, continuing to kiss her. They became urgent, and she arches into him as his free hand moves down to her thigh.
“This dress is awesome,” he mutters against her lips, his voice low. His tone alone caused her to moan slightly as he slipped his fingers underneath her dress, splaying against the smooth skin of her thigh.
She wiggles slightly, the throbbing between her legs becoming deeper. He moves his hand up higher and higher and her breath became shallow, hitching in her throat. His fingers brush against the front of her panties and she whimpers slightly. She is already incredibly wet, and she arches her hips up, begging him to touch her. She feels his lips curl into a smile against her neck, and he hooks a finger into her underwear, pulling them down.
“We should probably exchange surnames,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers brushing lightly over the bare skin of her inner thigh. Her dress still covered her, even though now her panties were now laying beside her on the bed.
“Berry,” she moans slightly, arching a little into his hand. He skirts his fingers closer and closer and she swallows, pretty close to begging him to stop teasing her.
“Hudson,” he grins, and he brushes his finger along her wet centre, causing her to groan and push herself into the bed as her hips arched. His free hand went to her hip, pressing her down, holding her, as his lips brush against her neck. He touches her again, slowly, and she bites down on her lip, her finger curling into the fabric of her dress.
He dips a finger into her then, his mouth capturing hers as he began pumping, alternating between that and rubbing her clit with his thumb. She moans against his lips, feeling the pressure building in her stomach, the familiar tingling sensation building as he presses into her a little harder.
He moves his fingers, and she moans instantly at the lack of contact. He slides his hand up her hips, before he reaches the zipper of her dress. He kisses her as he pulls down her straps, his fingers brushing against her zipper before he tugged it down. Her fingers move to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as she hikes her leg up a little, causing him to settle between her legs. She arches her hips against him, brushing herself against his front, and she smiles against his lips as he groans, his finger stilling on her zipper.
She pulls of his shirt, tossing it to the side and moves her hands over his, tugging on her dress a little. He takes this as an invitation and pulls the top half of her dress down, as it pools around her stomach. She was particularly happy that she chose to wear the black and red combo lingerie tonight. He watches her and she bites her lip as his fingers skate over the strap of her bra, over the smooth skin of her collarbone. He pulls a strap down and she leans up, pressing her lips against his hard, her tongue running along the bottom of his lip as she grazes it with her teeth. She is now almost painfully wet, and she can feel him incredibly hard against her, his front brushing against her leg.
Within moments, his belt buckle had come undone, and she pushes down his pants and underwear, and he hooks his fingers into her dress, tugging it all the way down her legs. She unclasps her bra, her lips still playing against his, and brings her hand behind his neck, pulling him back down on top of her. She places her hand on his chest, moving down slowly before she curls her fingers around him, pumping slightly. He was incredibly close to her, and she squeezed him once before muttering ‘condom’ against his lips. He leans over, fishes into his wallet and pulls one out, sliding it on and within seconds is back on top of her, his chest pressing against hers. She guided him close to her, brushing him against her opening and watching his eyes close as an inaudible sound escapes his lips. He grabs her hands, holding them against the mattress on either side of her, before he enters her, groaning against her lips.
She’s kind of losing her mind, because he feels amazing and she shouldn’t be feeling so damn much because this is new. She barely knows him. And she isn’t sure whether it’s because he causes such a reaction from her, or something more, but arches into him, her breath hitching in her throat and she moans against his lips as he presses himself deeper into her. He pulls back and pushes forward and his lips find her neck, sucking on her collarbone as he pushes into her. He is still holding her hands, and he moves his lips to her cheek before crushing his lips back down on hers again, slowing his movements as he tasted her.
He pushed into her once more, and she falls apart, gripping his hand as she comes. He follows soon after, stilling as he came, his hand still firmly clasped in hers. He pulls out gently, and rolls to the side, cleaning himself up a little while she stares up at the ceiling. Her heart raced, and suddenly she found herself feeling extraordinarily exposed. She leans over and pulls up her sheets over herself, tucking the sheet over her chest as she leant on her elbows. He turns around then, lying back on the pillow with a small smile on his face. She felt exhausted.
“What are you doing?” he mutters, tugging on the sheets a little. He watches her again, and she feels the twisting in her stomach return, and she closes her eyes a little a laughs.
“I - I um, I don’t know how this goes,” she confesses, letting her head fall back on her pillow. She feels a little stupid, now that most of the alcohol had worn off, and she closes her eyes. She hears him chuckle a little beside her.
Her eyes snap open when she feels his lips brush against the bare skin of her shoulder. He leans over, his fingers rubbing into her hip, and he presses his lips softly on hers. It’s quick and when he breaks away, she looks at him and smiles, turning on her side slightly and letting her eyes fall closed.
She sleeps better than she has in months.
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,609
Summary: She'd known this guy for a total of five seconds, and maybe it was the martini speaking, but she didn't want to say no. AU.
She’s late.
Her apartment is a complete mess when Rachel opens the door just after six, her arms full of books and notes and her book bag slung over her shoulder. It’s dark out, and she snaps the door shut, taking a few steps into the dark room, dropping the contents onto the kitchen bench. She trips over God knows what as she makes her way to the light switch, a sharp ‘shit’ falling out of her lips as she hobbles over to the wall.
The clock is illuminated as her apartment lights up. She’s really late.
Her apartment is small, for New York standards anyway, but it does her just fine. It’s all she can really afford anyway, with her only real income being the small pub she works at down the street three nights a week. It’s an awful job and she hates it but the money’s good and it’s getting her through college, so she get’s by. The apartment only has one room, leading off the combined living room and kitchen, and she walks quickly through the door, flicking on her bedroom light and walking straight over to her closet.
It’s her fault she’s late to the party. She was at the library all afternoon, finishing the paper she had to hand in on Monday. She knew Santana was going to kill her, being late to your own best friend’s ‘thank fuck I graduated college’ party was frowned upon. Ignoring her wardrobe, and deciding to shower first, she walks into her bathroom and pulls off her jeans and NYU sweatshirt, dropping them on the floor as she steps into the shower. The warm water feels like heaven on her shoulders and she closes her eyes as she presses her fingers into her shoulder blade.
Ten minutes later she walks back into her bedroom, towel wrapped around her as she stops in front of her closet and brushes her fingers against the clothes. She grabs the black dress she bought for Santana’s last ‘thank fuck I graduated college’ party (you know, the one before she realized that she had actually failed stats and had to take it again next semester) and drops it onto the bed as she steps into her underwear before pulling the dress on. She stands in front of the mirror as she zips up the side, looking at her appearance. She really likes this dress. It fell just above her knees, was tight enough to be sexy without being slutty, and had thick silk straps running over her shoulders. She pulls her long hair out from the messy bun on the top of her head and shakes her head a little, letting her hair frame her face. Nodding, she walks back into the bathroom and begins to put her make-up on. Her phone buzzes from the living room and she rolls her eyes, putting on her lip-gloss before she grabs her handbag next to her bed and her black heels on the floor next to the closet and rushes into the living room.
“I know, I know I’m late, I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Rachel says as soon as she answers the phone, cradling the handset against her ear and shoulder as she put on her shoes.
“Yeah, well you better be, I’ve got a martini sitting here with your name on it, and currently it has nobody to drink it,” Santana says, and Rachel smirks as she hangs up, dropping her cell into her bag as she looks around.
Muttering ‘okay’ under her breath, she heads towards the door, making sure she has her keys and wallet as she glances at the clock. 6:35. Fifteen minutes to get ready.
She’s oddly proud of herself.
-
The bar is busy when she walks in. She brushes her fingers against her dress, looking through the crowd to try and find Santana. Within moments, she spots her, surrounded by about fifteen people, some of them Rachel’s friends too, others she is pretty sure are just randoms who wanted to get laid. Santana jumps up when she spots her and waves and Rachel laughs, moving over to the table.
“Move your asses, people,” Santana says loudly, gesturing for the girls on the other side of her to shuffle over so Rachel can come sit next to her.
“Drunk already?” Rachel whispers into her ear as she sits down, placing her bag on the table.
“Honey, I was drunk this morning,” Santana replies, loudly. She taps the drink in front of Rachel and she laughs, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.
It was loud. They had their own little booth in the corner, and Rachel sat there, drinking her drink while Santana talked about how happy she was that she had finished school and that now there was a whole world waiting for her. Rachel knew that she had no idea what the hell she was talking about though, because it was only yesterday that she rang her up crying about how she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life now that she had graduated. Rachel only had another semester to go, and then she was graduating. She majored in theatre and music, and had an internship lined up on Broadway. It wasn’t much, but it would get her foot in the door.
After the third guy came up to Santana, really wanted to hear the story about how the fuckers failed her in Statistics 101, she downs the last of her drink and gets up from the table.
“Going to get another drink,” she says to Santana, but she was too far into her story to care.
Smirking, Rachel grabs her bag and walks through the mess of people in the bar, heading to the bar. It’s less busy there than the rest of the establishment, so she takes a seat and orders another martini.
She kind of wants to just go home. She knows that’s entirely lame of her, and that she is a twenty two year old girl who lives in New York City and on a Saturday night she would rather be in her apartment than out at a bar with her friends. She looks back at Santana and laughs a little; she was surrounded by four guys now, each of them hanging onto every word she said.
The bartender places another martini in front of her and her fingers brush against the stem. She thinks she must look really pathetic, sitting up at the bar by herself cradling a drink, and when she looks up to see if anyone is looking, someone catches her eye.
He is standing near the end of the bar with two other guys. He was looking at her, a beer in one hand as he leant on his elbow. He was ridiculously good looking, and she smiled a little to herself before she focused her attention back on her drink. She brought it to her lips, taking a small sip when she saw him out of the corner of her eye walk up to her.
“Hi,” he says, taking a seat next to her at the bar. He has a small smile on his face, and she wants to roll her eyes because she knows how this goes, but she just takes another drink before setting it back down.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here all alone?” He asks her, taking a swig of his beer. His eyes never leave hers, and she would be a little bit concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that he was incredibly attractive. She smiles, and turns a little to face him.
“Oh, I’m not alone,” she responds, pointing to Santana and the band of drunks over in the corner of the room. The guy laughs a little and downs the rest of his beer, setting it on the bench.
After a few moments he reaches out his hand. “Finn.”
She takes his hand, shaking it softly. “Rachel.”
“It’s really nice to meet you, Rachel,” he responds, and she feels her stomach twist a little, causing her to smile.
He orders her a drink, and she doesn’t object. She drinks the last of hers and pushes it forward a little, crossing her legs and resting her elbow against the bench. He’s still watching her, and she finds it ridiculous because she kind of can’t stop smiling.
“So what do you do, Finn?” She asks him, running her fingers along the stem of her glass.
“NYPD,” he says, putting his new drink back down on the counter. “Well, almost. I’m in the final weeks of training.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says, twirling around the olive in her drink. She’s starting to feel a little tipsy.
“What about you?” He asks her, leaning forward a little. She could smell his cologne. He smelt really good.
“I’m in my last semester at NYU. Theatre major,” she replies, looking up at him and smiling a little.
He raises his eyebrows in return and she laughs a little, looking down. He continues to watch her, a small smile on his face, and she bites her lip. Her cheeks flush a little, and she brings her glass up to her lips, taking another sip.
“So, how come you’re not with your friends?” He asks her, and she notices that he had moved a little closer to her. She wasn’t objecting.
She glances over at Santana. “She, Santana I mean, can get a little full on when she’s drinking. This isn’t really my scene, anyway.”
“Wanna get out of here, then?”
Her breath actually hitches in her throat, and if it was five seconds earlier, she would have choked on her drink. He had that small smile on his face, and really, she should say no. She had known this guy for a total of five seconds, and hooking up with someone at a bar was never something she did, or contemplated doing. But the way he was staring at her, she felt a connection she had never experienced before. She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t want to say no.
So she didn’t.
“Okay,” she nods, and he grins downing the rest of his beer before he stood up, holding out his hand. She took it, biting her lip at the butterflies in her stomach as he weaves his way through the crowd, his hand still firmly clasping hers. She looks over at Santana, whose jaw dropped as she gave her two thumbs up, nodding enthusiastically. She almost laughs, but shakes her head and made the motion of ‘ring me later’ before she steps out into the night air.
It was almost summer, and the air was warm. She still shivers a little, compared to the stuffy bar behind her and Finn turns to face her.
“Where do you want to go?” He asks her, dropping her fingers. It was slow, and she immediately feels the loss of contact.
“My place is only a few blocks from here,” she answers. In the back of her mind, she questions who the hell she is because the normal Rachel would not outwardly suggest that she go back to her apartment with a guy she just met. But she couldn’t explain this feeling - this attachment she felt, like she was drawn to him.
She didn’t want to stop feeling like this. So she brushes her hand against his arm, a small smile on her face as she takes her eyes off of him and sticks her hand out to hail a cab.
They reach her apartment ten minutes later and she stops at her door, fishing through her bag for her keys. She can feel him behind her, almost brushing her back and she can’t ignore the heat that rushes through her body. Biting her lip, she finds her keys and shoves it into the lock, opening the door.
She opens the door for him to come inside, as she flicks the switch. Her place is a bit messy, and she curses under her breath silently, placing her bag on the kitchen bench before she brushes past him and moves over to the couch next to the window, picking up some stuff as she does.
“Sorry, it’s a mess. Finals…” she says softly and she hears him laugh gently behind her. It should annoy her, but she just openly smiles, turning back around. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”
“I can see that,” he responds, taking a few steps closer to her. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans as he moves towards her in the middle of the living room, a small smile on his face.
“Do you want a drink?” She asks him, circling him and moving towards the kitchen, her gaze still on his. He grins and nods, and she can tell he was close to reaching out and touching her, but she laughs to herself and goes to the fridge, pulling it open.
“Okay, I’ve got milk, orange juice and a bottle of disgustingly cheap wine, your pick,” she tells him, her fingers brushing against the door handle.
She feels him come up behind her. His fingers brush against her waist as he pushes himself against her back and she closes her eyes, the most powerful feeling she has ever felt engulfing her. She spins around and he closes the distance between them, pushing her against the fridge, his lips crushing against hers
She whimpers against his mouth and he lifts her a little, spinning her around and pushing her back against the solid wall of the kitchen. Her head spins as his fingers graze her waist, his other hand in her hair as he opens his mouth and she collides her tongue with his, pushing into him deeper. She can’t explain this feeling, she has never done this before, the whole sleep with someone on the first date. Not that this was even a date. But he pushes into her deeper and she moans a little, all thought completely lost because she was absorbed in him.
Her hands move to his shoulders and push off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He moves his lips to her cheek, then down her jaw to her neck, sucking gently on her collarbone as his fingers grasp the hem of her dress, brushing the line. She’s a little drunk, and she’s pretty sure he is too, but she is past the point of caring because she can feel him pressed against her thigh and she has never wanted anyone so badly in her life.
“Bedroom,” she whispers as he kisses her neck and she pushes him off slightly, her hand grasping his as she backed them both towards her room. He looked dishevelled, his shirt was lopsided and her lips were swollen, and as soon as they crossed the threshold of her room she pulls him against her, her arm curling around his neck.
He pushes her gently against the edge of the bed, his arm around her waist as he lowers her down onto her bed, continuing to kiss her. They became urgent, and she arches into him as his free hand moves down to her thigh.
“This dress is awesome,” he mutters against her lips, his voice low. His tone alone caused her to moan slightly as he slipped his fingers underneath her dress, splaying against the smooth skin of her thigh.
She wiggles slightly, the throbbing between her legs becoming deeper. He moves his hand up higher and higher and her breath became shallow, hitching in her throat. His fingers brush against the front of her panties and she whimpers slightly. She is already incredibly wet, and she arches her hips up, begging him to touch her. She feels his lips curl into a smile against her neck, and he hooks a finger into her underwear, pulling them down.
“We should probably exchange surnames,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers brushing lightly over the bare skin of her inner thigh. Her dress still covered her, even though now her panties were now laying beside her on the bed.
“Berry,” she moans slightly, arching a little into his hand. He skirts his fingers closer and closer and she swallows, pretty close to begging him to stop teasing her.
“Hudson,” he grins, and he brushes his finger along her wet centre, causing her to groan and push herself into the bed as her hips arched. His free hand went to her hip, pressing her down, holding her, as his lips brush against her neck. He touches her again, slowly, and she bites down on her lip, her finger curling into the fabric of her dress.
He dips a finger into her then, his mouth capturing hers as he began pumping, alternating between that and rubbing her clit with his thumb. She moans against his lips, feeling the pressure building in her stomach, the familiar tingling sensation building as he presses into her a little harder.
He moves his fingers, and she moans instantly at the lack of contact. He slides his hand up her hips, before he reaches the zipper of her dress. He kisses her as he pulls down her straps, his fingers brushing against her zipper before he tugged it down. Her fingers move to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as she hikes her leg up a little, causing him to settle between her legs. She arches her hips against him, brushing herself against his front, and she smiles against his lips as he groans, his finger stilling on her zipper.
She pulls of his shirt, tossing it to the side and moves her hands over his, tugging on her dress a little. He takes this as an invitation and pulls the top half of her dress down, as it pools around her stomach. She was particularly happy that she chose to wear the black and red combo lingerie tonight. He watches her and she bites her lip as his fingers skate over the strap of her bra, over the smooth skin of her collarbone. He pulls a strap down and she leans up, pressing her lips against his hard, her tongue running along the bottom of his lip as she grazes it with her teeth. She is now almost painfully wet, and she can feel him incredibly hard against her, his front brushing against her leg.
Within moments, his belt buckle had come undone, and she pushes down his pants and underwear, and he hooks his fingers into her dress, tugging it all the way down her legs. She unclasps her bra, her lips still playing against his, and brings her hand behind his neck, pulling him back down on top of her. She places her hand on his chest, moving down slowly before she curls her fingers around him, pumping slightly. He was incredibly close to her, and she squeezed him once before muttering ‘condom’ against his lips. He leans over, fishes into his wallet and pulls one out, sliding it on and within seconds is back on top of her, his chest pressing against hers. She guided him close to her, brushing him against her opening and watching his eyes close as an inaudible sound escapes his lips. He grabs her hands, holding them against the mattress on either side of her, before he enters her, groaning against her lips.
She’s kind of losing her mind, because he feels amazing and she shouldn’t be feeling so damn much because this is new. She barely knows him. And she isn’t sure whether it’s because he causes such a reaction from her, or something more, but arches into him, her breath hitching in her throat and she moans against his lips as he presses himself deeper into her. He pulls back and pushes forward and his lips find her neck, sucking on her collarbone as he pushes into her. He is still holding her hands, and he moves his lips to her cheek before crushing his lips back down on hers again, slowing his movements as he tasted her.
He pushed into her once more, and she falls apart, gripping his hand as she comes. He follows soon after, stilling as he came, his hand still firmly clasped in hers. He pulls out gently, and rolls to the side, cleaning himself up a little while she stares up at the ceiling. Her heart raced, and suddenly she found herself feeling extraordinarily exposed. She leans over and pulls up her sheets over herself, tucking the sheet over her chest as she leant on her elbows. He turns around then, lying back on the pillow with a small smile on his face. She felt exhausted.
“What are you doing?” he mutters, tugging on the sheets a little. He watches her again, and she feels the twisting in her stomach return, and she closes her eyes a little a laughs.
“I - I um, I don’t know how this goes,” she confesses, letting her head fall back on her pillow. She feels a little stupid, now that most of the alcohol had worn off, and she closes her eyes. She hears him chuckle a little beside her.
Her eyes snap open when she feels his lips brush against the bare skin of her shoulder. He leans over, his fingers rubbing into her hip, and he presses his lips softly on hers. It’s quick and when he breaks away, she looks at him and smiles, turning on her side slightly and letting her eyes fall closed.
She sleeps better than she has in months.