the ivy league boys could never compare
Title: the ivy league boys could never compare
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Betas: Beth
Rating: Adult
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 3,450
Characters/Pairings: Quinn, Jesse (Quinn/Jesse)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: A random visit to New York turns into a night they'll never forget.
A/N: For Beth ♥ And the first new fic posted here at the comm!
"And here I thought you wouldn't notice me."
Quinn's smile is wry, a little teasing, when Jesse opens the door to his dressing room, and he grins at her.
"Ghost of Grace Kelly. You tend to stand out."
She flushes at the nickname, just as she did the first time he said it, and his grin widens as he steps back to let her inside.
"So," he says, turning to face her after he closes the door. "What brings you to my show?"
She shrugs. "I was in town, and saw something about it."
He cocks an eyebrow. "Or you were in town because you saw something about it?"
She gives him a look. "Don't flatter yourself."
He continues grinning, unswayed by her jab, and raises his eyebrows as he moves towards her.
"Still down New Haven way? Ivy Leaguing it up?"
"Mmhmm," she hums, circling around his small dressing room, aware of his eyes on her ass. "Junior now."
"Halfway done."
She hums another affirmative, standing in front of his dressing table now. It's completely empty of pictures or any other kind of sentimental memorabilia, though there are two vases of flowers placed somewhat haphazardly on the surface.
"Have you got some clean cut, polo shirt wearing boyfriend waiting for you?"
She laughs lightly, finally turning to face him again. "No. Single as I can be. Not a big fan of Ivy League boys. You?"
"Same. And I'm single too."
She rolls her eyes at his joke, though he's rewarded by the small curve of her lips, and leans against the edge of the dressing table, crossing her legs at her ankles.
His eyes drift over the bare expanse of leg between the hem of her dress and the tops of her shoes, and he moves closer to her, lifting his gaze to her face again.
One eyebrow is arched, and she takes a breath. "So how come you asked me to come back here, anyway?"
He shrugs. "Not often that I see someone from Lima, and you're one of the few I can actually stand to talk to."
"I'm flattered."
"You should be."
The corner of her mouth rises, and he swallows hard; he's always loved that little smirk of hers. Even when he dated Rachel, he thought Quinn's smirk was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen.
"Any other reason?" she asks, and he notices the way her fingers curl around the edge of the table as he moves closer to her.
"You stand out," he says again. "You're more beautiful now than you were in high school. Connecticut looks good on you." He raises his eyebrows. "What made you pick my show, out of all the shows in New York?"
"I wanted to see you," she murmurs, looking up at him when he stops right in front of her. "I didn't come to New York to see you, but when I saw your show -"
Her words are cut off by his lips pressing against hers, and she doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, one hand rising to the back of his neck as her teeth scrape over his bottom lip.
His tongue slides into her mouth as he brings his hands up to push the black leather jacket from her shoulders, and he spares a thought to think of how her sense of style has matured as well since high school, the jacket and shining black heels so different from the cardigans and flats of fifteen.
The dress evokes memories of those times, black patterned with multicolored flowers, but when he gets her jacket off, he sees the straps are thin and flimsy, and it's evident she's not wearing a bra.
Her breath is hot on his mouth when he cups one breast in his hand, feeling the hard point of her nipple through the fabric, and he pulls a low moan from the back of her throat when he rubs his thumb against it.
His mouth drops to her neck, kissing his way down her chest, and he tugs the top of her dress down to reveal her perfect breasts.
She moans again, louder this time, when his mouth closes over her nipple, and her fingers slide into his hair, tugging sharply with every nip of his teeth and flick of his tongue.
One hand drops to her thigh, and he eases it under her skirt, drifting down and around to caress the skin of her inner thigh as he works his way up.
His fingers brush against her panties, and he finds her already wet, the soft material soaked through and clinging to her skin.
He traces her folds through the fabric, loving the way she grips his shirt and moves her hips forward into his touch.
He's already hard, has been since he kissed her, and wastes no time in tugging her panties from her hips and down her legs.
She sits on the edge of the dressing table as he hurries to work the fastenings of his pants, and they drop to his ankles as he steps forward.
He pulls her closer with his hands firm on her hips, and then lifts her legs over his arms, bracing his hands on the table as he spreads her wide.
He buries himself inside of her with one smooth thrust, and she gasps, her arms circling his neck as he begins to move.
Their bodies are pressed together, and the top of her dress is still pulled down, making her nipples rub against the fabric of his shirt, and she gasps at the extra sensation.
His movements are quick and a little rough, pressing as deep as he can and making her cry out softly against his neck.
After a couple of minutes, she leans back, her head tipped against the mirror as she brings her hand to her breast, and he watches as she kneads the soft swell, pinching the nipple between her fingertips and making herself gasp and moan.
He leans forward to place his mouth on her other breast, changing the speed of his hips a little, and she cries out softly, the mirror rattling slightly as she presses against it.
A moment passes and he straightens again, his hips speeding up once more as he pounds into her.
She swears softly as her eyes close, her brow knitting together, and a beat later, her hand drifts down her body to press her fingers to her clit.
His gaze drops to watch as she rubs herself, pressing and circling the tiny nub, and then she's coming hard, her mouth open wide, her back arching as she clenches around him.
The pulse of her muscles makes him come a second later, and he barely hears the sound of glass breaking in the haze of his orgasm.
When he comes back to himself, she's slumped on the table, a lazy, satisfied look on her face, and the corner of her mouth rises when she meets his gaze.
"I accidentally broke one of your vases," she murmurs a little sheepishly, glancing to her left.
Her hand is holding the edge of the table, and he leans over slightly to see the shattered vase and heap of flowers on the floor.
He smiles when he looks at her again, and shakes his head. "I think it was worth it."
She giggles softly and nods as she sits up.
He bends to pull up his pants, handing her panties to her when he straightens, and she stands to pull them on and fix her dress.
She gathers up the flowers while he goes in search of a broom, and after the glass is swept up and disposed of, he looks at her with a slight curve to his lips.
"I've got another vase back at my place we could put those in."
"Subtle," she says with a snort.
"I've never pretended to be subtle."
"True."
His smile widens. "We can order takeout, catch up a little bit, maybe go for round two."
She laughs softly at that and shakes her head. "If you expect me to stay with you tonight, then you need to reimburse me for the hotel room I've already paid for."
"So," he begins, drawing the word out and narrowing his eyes slightly, "I'd basically be paying you for sex."
She rolls her eyes and smacks his chest. "You are such an ass."
"Yeah, I know."
He steps closer to her, pressing against her as he kisses her. His hand slides around to grip her backside, and he swallows the moan that slips from her mouth into his.
"Come on," he murmurs against her mouth, reaching for her hand and leading her from the room.
They walk to his place, and she barely has a chance to set the flowers on the kitchen table before his mouth is on hers and he's backing her towards the couch.
She sits down hard, the kiss barely breaking, and then he's on his knees in front of her, reaching under her skirt to pull her panties off once more, tossing them over his shoulder.
"Fuck," she breathes when he pulls her to the edge of the couch, his hands on her thighs as he spreads her open.
She's still wet and a little sticky from before, and her head falls back when he touches his mouth to her, his tongue light and teasing before it dips inside of her.
Her shoe slips off as she lifts one leg to brace her foot against the cushion, opening herself to him a little bit more.
Her eyes open and she realizes she can see the moon through his windows, bright and full in the sky.
His tongue flicks over her clit, and she shivers, the moon wavering as her eyelashes flutter.
It disappears completely when he sucks on her clit, her eyes closing as her head tips back even more, a long, low moan escaping her throat.
He spreads her open wider with his fingers, lapping at her and making it sound like she's the best fucking thing he's ever tasted, and fuck, she doesn't even have to tell him what to do; it's like he just knows.
The Ivy League boys could never compare to this.
Two fingers slide inside of her as his tongue returns to her clit, and her hand drops to his hair, tugging the soft waves as he brings her closer and closer to the edge.
Finally he curls his fingers, sucking hard on her clit, and she comes with a loud cry, her hips rising against his mouth as her hand drops to the couch cushion, the other rising to grip the one behind her head.
His fingers keep moving until her body relaxes, and she sags in her seat, running her hands through her hair and covering her face with her arms.
She hears his voice a moment later, and feels his presence over her, and moves her arms, opening her eyes to see him staring down at her, a bemused expression on his face.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," she breathes, her thighs clenching against the vague pulse of her intimate muscles. "I just wasn't expecting that. I thought we were going to eat first."
He grins. "I never said that list was in order." One eyebrow arches. "And one of us did eat."
She snorts laughter, and he grins again as he dips his head to kiss her before pushing to stand.
She follows him into the kitchen to look at his takeout menus, and he doesn't miss the fact that she doesn't put her panties back on.
They decide what they want, and he phones in the order, and then fucks her once more on the counter while they wait for their food to arrive.
"God, Jesse," she breathes, her body still shaking a little as he pulls out of her.
"Something tells me you haven't been fucked really well in a long time," he murmurs against her neck. "I'm just trying to help make up for lost time, and give those Yale boys something to live up to."
"I may never get laid again after this," she mutters when he steps away from her, and doesn't miss his quiet snicker as he moves to answer the door.
She finally gets a moment to look around his apartment as he talks to the delivery person at the door, and it makes her smile.
It's a loft space, completely open, except for an enclosed area in one corner that she assumes is the bathroom. The walls are exposed brick, and the outer wall is lined with windows, big and uncovered. She wonders briefly what it must be like in the morning.
There are several low bookshelves under the windows, random little knick knacks situated on top of each one. The couch is a sectional, tucked in another corner, and she can see a TV on a stand at the edge of the rug.
The dining table separates the living room from the kitchen, and when she hops off the counter as he comes back inside, she can see his bed against the wall opposite the living room.
It's large and unmade, and looks terribly inviting.
They settle on the couch with their dinners, and do catch up as they eat, though she mostly listens rather than talks; his stories about living in New York are much more interesting than hers about New Haven.
After they finish and throw the takeout containers in the trash, their clothes come off and she pushes him onto the bed.
She rides him to one orgasm, certain there will be bruises later from his fingers digging into her hips, and then he flips her and joins her for her second, spilling inside of her before slumping over her.
He lets her shower first, and then climbs into bed behind her, humming happily as his hand passes over the smooth skin of her stomach and up to gently squeeze her breast.
She makes a sleepy noise of protest, twisting away from him a little, though nothing about her suggests that she's annoyed, just tired.
"Let me rest, okay," she mumbles. "You wore me out."
He laughs quietly and nods as he presses a kiss to her shoulder, murmuring, "Sweet dreams," against her skin before settling down to sleep as well.
Weak morning light streams through the windows when he wakes up, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her and smiling a little as thoughts of last night flash through his mind.
She stirs against him, her ass brushing against his already half-hard length, and he bites back a groan, burying his face in her hair.
A moment later, her hand finds his, her fingers weaving briefly through his before she lifts his hand to her breast.
He smiles again and presses a kiss to the back of her neck as he gently squeezes her breast, his fingers ghosting over her nipple and making her sigh.
Her arm rises behind her to thread her fingers in his hair, and he brings his kisses to her shoulder, his hand still on her breast.
Another few moments pass, and then he grabs the single sheet over them to throw it aside before his hand drifts down her body to dip between her legs, feeling how wet she is as his fingers pass over her folds.
He's fully hard now, and his hand moves to her thigh to lift her leg over his, spreading her open so he can slide inside of her.
His other arm slides underneath her, pressing his hand to her stomach and holding her against him as he begins to move.
His pace is languid, a drastic change from the night before, but it's early, probably not even eight o'clock yet, and it feels like they're both still half asleep anyway, like they're having sex in a dream.
He touches another kiss to the curve of her neck, and then nips at it gently, scraping his teeth over her skin and making her moan and tighten around him.
His hand is on her thigh again, holding it in place as he slides in and out of her, and her hand drops to cover his, pushing a little, coaxing him to spread her legs a little wider.
He obliges, the movements of his hips speeding up just slightly, and she gasps, turning her head towards her pillow as her free hand grips the corner tightly.
He's about to come, and he brings the hand on her thigh between her legs to press against her clit, rubbing and circling just as he watched her do the night before.
Her orgasm is quiet, soft gasps and whimpers escaping her lips, but he can feel the clenching of her muscles, sees the arch of her back, and knows it's just as good as it was last night.
He comes a second later, groaning against her back as his grip tightens on her thigh, his fingers pressing into her stomach.
They relax again a few minutes later, and he slips out of her as he turns onto his back.
A heartbeat later, she shifts, turning towards him and curling against his side, her head on his shoulder as she rests her hand on his chest.
He makes no move to pull the sheet over them again, just loops his arm around her shoulders, and before long, they're both asleep once more.
The light is brighter when they awake again sometime later, though neither of them moves, his fingertips absently tracing over the skin of her upper arm.
"God," she finally murmurs. "I don't think I've ever had that many orgasms in one night. How many was it? Five?"
He grins a little. "Six, if you want to count this morning too."
She laughs softly, tapping her fingers against his chest. "You could try not to sound so proud of yourself."
"What's wrong with taking pride in what I do?"
She laughs again, shaking her head as she tips it up to look at him, and he grins before bending his head to kiss her.
They're quiet for a moment after it breaks, and then he takes a breath.
"I came to see you once," he says softly. "I heard about one of your shows, and had some time, so I came down to New Haven for one of the performances. You didn't see me, obviously," he says, laughing a little at the surprised look on her face.
"Why didn't you say hi then?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. It just didn't feel right. Something just compelled me to slip out quietly. When I saw you in the audience last night, though, it felt like a sign. I'd come to see you, and then you came to see me. I couldn't ignore that."
A smile curves her lips, and he returns it.
"You're a wonderful actress, you know. Maybe one day you and I could star in something together."
Her smile widens. "Maybe one day."
He dips his head to kiss her again, and then asks if she wants to grab lunch.
She smiles and nods. "Sure."
They get dressed, she in her dress from last night, finding her panties half under a chair in the living room, and shrugging her coat on before they leave.
After they eat, he walks her to her hotel so she can change and check out, and slips her enough cash to cover the cost of the room.
She shakes her head, giving him a look. "I was just kidding -"
"Take it. Hold on to it, and maybe you can take me to dinner if I'm down your way again."
She laughs and rolls her eyes, but nods as she tucks the money into her purse.
They walk to the train station next so she can go back to New Haven, and she smiles as she thanks him for a great evening.
"And morning," she adds, gently biting her lip as her smile widens.
"For once, I can't take all of the credit. Some of the thanks goes to you as well."
She gives a short laugh, and he smiles as he tips her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, bending to touch a light kiss to her lips.
"If you get bored with those Ivy League boys," he murmurs when he pulls back, "you know where to find me."
"Got it," she says, the corner of her mouth lifting in that smirk that still drives him crazy.
He watches her go until she disappears into the crowd, and then turns to head home, a smile curving his lips.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Betas: Beth
Rating: Adult
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 3,450
Characters/Pairings: Quinn, Jesse (Quinn/Jesse)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: A random visit to New York turns into a night they'll never forget.
A/N: For Beth ♥ And the first new fic posted here at the comm!
"And here I thought you wouldn't notice me."
Quinn's smile is wry, a little teasing, when Jesse opens the door to his dressing room, and he grins at her.
"Ghost of Grace Kelly. You tend to stand out."
She flushes at the nickname, just as she did the first time he said it, and his grin widens as he steps back to let her inside.
"So," he says, turning to face her after he closes the door. "What brings you to my show?"
She shrugs. "I was in town, and saw something about it."
He cocks an eyebrow. "Or you were in town because you saw something about it?"
She gives him a look. "Don't flatter yourself."
He continues grinning, unswayed by her jab, and raises his eyebrows as he moves towards her.
"Still down New Haven way? Ivy Leaguing it up?"
"Mmhmm," she hums, circling around his small dressing room, aware of his eyes on her ass. "Junior now."
"Halfway done."
She hums another affirmative, standing in front of his dressing table now. It's completely empty of pictures or any other kind of sentimental memorabilia, though there are two vases of flowers placed somewhat haphazardly on the surface.
"Have you got some clean cut, polo shirt wearing boyfriend waiting for you?"
She laughs lightly, finally turning to face him again. "No. Single as I can be. Not a big fan of Ivy League boys. You?"
"Same. And I'm single too."
She rolls her eyes at his joke, though he's rewarded by the small curve of her lips, and leans against the edge of the dressing table, crossing her legs at her ankles.
His eyes drift over the bare expanse of leg between the hem of her dress and the tops of her shoes, and he moves closer to her, lifting his gaze to her face again.
One eyebrow is arched, and she takes a breath. "So how come you asked me to come back here, anyway?"
He shrugs. "Not often that I see someone from Lima, and you're one of the few I can actually stand to talk to."
"I'm flattered."
"You should be."
The corner of her mouth rises, and he swallows hard; he's always loved that little smirk of hers. Even when he dated Rachel, he thought Quinn's smirk was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen.
"Any other reason?" she asks, and he notices the way her fingers curl around the edge of the table as he moves closer to her.
"You stand out," he says again. "You're more beautiful now than you were in high school. Connecticut looks good on you." He raises his eyebrows. "What made you pick my show, out of all the shows in New York?"
"I wanted to see you," she murmurs, looking up at him when he stops right in front of her. "I didn't come to New York to see you, but when I saw your show -"
Her words are cut off by his lips pressing against hers, and she doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, one hand rising to the back of his neck as her teeth scrape over his bottom lip.
His tongue slides into her mouth as he brings his hands up to push the black leather jacket from her shoulders, and he spares a thought to think of how her sense of style has matured as well since high school, the jacket and shining black heels so different from the cardigans and flats of fifteen.
The dress evokes memories of those times, black patterned with multicolored flowers, but when he gets her jacket off, he sees the straps are thin and flimsy, and it's evident she's not wearing a bra.
Her breath is hot on his mouth when he cups one breast in his hand, feeling the hard point of her nipple through the fabric, and he pulls a low moan from the back of her throat when he rubs his thumb against it.
His mouth drops to her neck, kissing his way down her chest, and he tugs the top of her dress down to reveal her perfect breasts.
She moans again, louder this time, when his mouth closes over her nipple, and her fingers slide into his hair, tugging sharply with every nip of his teeth and flick of his tongue.
One hand drops to her thigh, and he eases it under her skirt, drifting down and around to caress the skin of her inner thigh as he works his way up.
His fingers brush against her panties, and he finds her already wet, the soft material soaked through and clinging to her skin.
He traces her folds through the fabric, loving the way she grips his shirt and moves her hips forward into his touch.
He's already hard, has been since he kissed her, and wastes no time in tugging her panties from her hips and down her legs.
She sits on the edge of the dressing table as he hurries to work the fastenings of his pants, and they drop to his ankles as he steps forward.
He pulls her closer with his hands firm on her hips, and then lifts her legs over his arms, bracing his hands on the table as he spreads her wide.
He buries himself inside of her with one smooth thrust, and she gasps, her arms circling his neck as he begins to move.
Their bodies are pressed together, and the top of her dress is still pulled down, making her nipples rub against the fabric of his shirt, and she gasps at the extra sensation.
His movements are quick and a little rough, pressing as deep as he can and making her cry out softly against his neck.
After a couple of minutes, she leans back, her head tipped against the mirror as she brings her hand to her breast, and he watches as she kneads the soft swell, pinching the nipple between her fingertips and making herself gasp and moan.
He leans forward to place his mouth on her other breast, changing the speed of his hips a little, and she cries out softly, the mirror rattling slightly as she presses against it.
A moment passes and he straightens again, his hips speeding up once more as he pounds into her.
She swears softly as her eyes close, her brow knitting together, and a beat later, her hand drifts down her body to press her fingers to her clit.
His gaze drops to watch as she rubs herself, pressing and circling the tiny nub, and then she's coming hard, her mouth open wide, her back arching as she clenches around him.
The pulse of her muscles makes him come a second later, and he barely hears the sound of glass breaking in the haze of his orgasm.
When he comes back to himself, she's slumped on the table, a lazy, satisfied look on her face, and the corner of her mouth rises when she meets his gaze.
"I accidentally broke one of your vases," she murmurs a little sheepishly, glancing to her left.
Her hand is holding the edge of the table, and he leans over slightly to see the shattered vase and heap of flowers on the floor.
He smiles when he looks at her again, and shakes his head. "I think it was worth it."
She giggles softly and nods as she sits up.
He bends to pull up his pants, handing her panties to her when he straightens, and she stands to pull them on and fix her dress.
She gathers up the flowers while he goes in search of a broom, and after the glass is swept up and disposed of, he looks at her with a slight curve to his lips.
"I've got another vase back at my place we could put those in."
"Subtle," she says with a snort.
"I've never pretended to be subtle."
"True."
His smile widens. "We can order takeout, catch up a little bit, maybe go for round two."
She laughs softly at that and shakes her head. "If you expect me to stay with you tonight, then you need to reimburse me for the hotel room I've already paid for."
"So," he begins, drawing the word out and narrowing his eyes slightly, "I'd basically be paying you for sex."
She rolls her eyes and smacks his chest. "You are such an ass."
"Yeah, I know."
He steps closer to her, pressing against her as he kisses her. His hand slides around to grip her backside, and he swallows the moan that slips from her mouth into his.
"Come on," he murmurs against her mouth, reaching for her hand and leading her from the room.
They walk to his place, and she barely has a chance to set the flowers on the kitchen table before his mouth is on hers and he's backing her towards the couch.
She sits down hard, the kiss barely breaking, and then he's on his knees in front of her, reaching under her skirt to pull her panties off once more, tossing them over his shoulder.
"Fuck," she breathes when he pulls her to the edge of the couch, his hands on her thighs as he spreads her open.
She's still wet and a little sticky from before, and her head falls back when he touches his mouth to her, his tongue light and teasing before it dips inside of her.
Her shoe slips off as she lifts one leg to brace her foot against the cushion, opening herself to him a little bit more.
Her eyes open and she realizes she can see the moon through his windows, bright and full in the sky.
His tongue flicks over her clit, and she shivers, the moon wavering as her eyelashes flutter.
It disappears completely when he sucks on her clit, her eyes closing as her head tips back even more, a long, low moan escaping her throat.
He spreads her open wider with his fingers, lapping at her and making it sound like she's the best fucking thing he's ever tasted, and fuck, she doesn't even have to tell him what to do; it's like he just knows.
The Ivy League boys could never compare to this.
Two fingers slide inside of her as his tongue returns to her clit, and her hand drops to his hair, tugging the soft waves as he brings her closer and closer to the edge.
Finally he curls his fingers, sucking hard on her clit, and she comes with a loud cry, her hips rising against his mouth as her hand drops to the couch cushion, the other rising to grip the one behind her head.
His fingers keep moving until her body relaxes, and she sags in her seat, running her hands through her hair and covering her face with her arms.
She hears his voice a moment later, and feels his presence over her, and moves her arms, opening her eyes to see him staring down at her, a bemused expression on his face.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," she breathes, her thighs clenching against the vague pulse of her intimate muscles. "I just wasn't expecting that. I thought we were going to eat first."
He grins. "I never said that list was in order." One eyebrow arches. "And one of us did eat."
She snorts laughter, and he grins again as he dips his head to kiss her before pushing to stand.
She follows him into the kitchen to look at his takeout menus, and he doesn't miss the fact that she doesn't put her panties back on.
They decide what they want, and he phones in the order, and then fucks her once more on the counter while they wait for their food to arrive.
"God, Jesse," she breathes, her body still shaking a little as he pulls out of her.
"Something tells me you haven't been fucked really well in a long time," he murmurs against her neck. "I'm just trying to help make up for lost time, and give those Yale boys something to live up to."
"I may never get laid again after this," she mutters when he steps away from her, and doesn't miss his quiet snicker as he moves to answer the door.
She finally gets a moment to look around his apartment as he talks to the delivery person at the door, and it makes her smile.
It's a loft space, completely open, except for an enclosed area in one corner that she assumes is the bathroom. The walls are exposed brick, and the outer wall is lined with windows, big and uncovered. She wonders briefly what it must be like in the morning.
There are several low bookshelves under the windows, random little knick knacks situated on top of each one. The couch is a sectional, tucked in another corner, and she can see a TV on a stand at the edge of the rug.
The dining table separates the living room from the kitchen, and when she hops off the counter as he comes back inside, she can see his bed against the wall opposite the living room.
It's large and unmade, and looks terribly inviting.
They settle on the couch with their dinners, and do catch up as they eat, though she mostly listens rather than talks; his stories about living in New York are much more interesting than hers about New Haven.
After they finish and throw the takeout containers in the trash, their clothes come off and she pushes him onto the bed.
She rides him to one orgasm, certain there will be bruises later from his fingers digging into her hips, and then he flips her and joins her for her second, spilling inside of her before slumping over her.
He lets her shower first, and then climbs into bed behind her, humming happily as his hand passes over the smooth skin of her stomach and up to gently squeeze her breast.
She makes a sleepy noise of protest, twisting away from him a little, though nothing about her suggests that she's annoyed, just tired.
"Let me rest, okay," she mumbles. "You wore me out."
He laughs quietly and nods as he presses a kiss to her shoulder, murmuring, "Sweet dreams," against her skin before settling down to sleep as well.
Weak morning light streams through the windows when he wakes up, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her and smiling a little as thoughts of last night flash through his mind.
She stirs against him, her ass brushing against his already half-hard length, and he bites back a groan, burying his face in her hair.
A moment later, her hand finds his, her fingers weaving briefly through his before she lifts his hand to her breast.
He smiles again and presses a kiss to the back of her neck as he gently squeezes her breast, his fingers ghosting over her nipple and making her sigh.
Her arm rises behind her to thread her fingers in his hair, and he brings his kisses to her shoulder, his hand still on her breast.
Another few moments pass, and then he grabs the single sheet over them to throw it aside before his hand drifts down her body to dip between her legs, feeling how wet she is as his fingers pass over her folds.
He's fully hard now, and his hand moves to her thigh to lift her leg over his, spreading her open so he can slide inside of her.
His other arm slides underneath her, pressing his hand to her stomach and holding her against him as he begins to move.
His pace is languid, a drastic change from the night before, but it's early, probably not even eight o'clock yet, and it feels like they're both still half asleep anyway, like they're having sex in a dream.
He touches another kiss to the curve of her neck, and then nips at it gently, scraping his teeth over her skin and making her moan and tighten around him.
His hand is on her thigh again, holding it in place as he slides in and out of her, and her hand drops to cover his, pushing a little, coaxing him to spread her legs a little wider.
He obliges, the movements of his hips speeding up just slightly, and she gasps, turning her head towards her pillow as her free hand grips the corner tightly.
He's about to come, and he brings the hand on her thigh between her legs to press against her clit, rubbing and circling just as he watched her do the night before.
Her orgasm is quiet, soft gasps and whimpers escaping her lips, but he can feel the clenching of her muscles, sees the arch of her back, and knows it's just as good as it was last night.
He comes a second later, groaning against her back as his grip tightens on her thigh, his fingers pressing into her stomach.
They relax again a few minutes later, and he slips out of her as he turns onto his back.
A heartbeat later, she shifts, turning towards him and curling against his side, her head on his shoulder as she rests her hand on his chest.
He makes no move to pull the sheet over them again, just loops his arm around her shoulders, and before long, they're both asleep once more.
The light is brighter when they awake again sometime later, though neither of them moves, his fingertips absently tracing over the skin of her upper arm.
"God," she finally murmurs. "I don't think I've ever had that many orgasms in one night. How many was it? Five?"
He grins a little. "Six, if you want to count this morning too."
She laughs softly, tapping her fingers against his chest. "You could try not to sound so proud of yourself."
"What's wrong with taking pride in what I do?"
She laughs again, shaking her head as she tips it up to look at him, and he grins before bending his head to kiss her.
They're quiet for a moment after it breaks, and then he takes a breath.
"I came to see you once," he says softly. "I heard about one of your shows, and had some time, so I came down to New Haven for one of the performances. You didn't see me, obviously," he says, laughing a little at the surprised look on her face.
"Why didn't you say hi then?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. It just didn't feel right. Something just compelled me to slip out quietly. When I saw you in the audience last night, though, it felt like a sign. I'd come to see you, and then you came to see me. I couldn't ignore that."
A smile curves her lips, and he returns it.
"You're a wonderful actress, you know. Maybe one day you and I could star in something together."
Her smile widens. "Maybe one day."
He dips his head to kiss her again, and then asks if she wants to grab lunch.
She smiles and nods. "Sure."
They get dressed, she in her dress from last night, finding her panties half under a chair in the living room, and shrugging her coat on before they leave.
After they eat, he walks her to her hotel so she can change and check out, and slips her enough cash to cover the cost of the room.
She shakes her head, giving him a look. "I was just kidding -"
"Take it. Hold on to it, and maybe you can take me to dinner if I'm down your way again."
She laughs and rolls her eyes, but nods as she tucks the money into her purse.
They walk to the train station next so she can go back to New Haven, and she smiles as she thanks him for a great evening.
"And morning," she adds, gently biting her lip as her smile widens.
"For once, I can't take all of the credit. Some of the thanks goes to you as well."
She gives a short laugh, and he smiles as he tips her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, bending to touch a light kiss to her lips.
"If you get bored with those Ivy League boys," he murmurs when he pulls back, "you know where to find me."
"Got it," she says, the corner of her mouth lifting in that smirk that still drives him crazy.
He watches her go until she disappears into the crowd, and then turns to head home, a smile curving his lips.