Healing Hands

"Ugh!"

Jesse looked up from the pages of his book as he heard the front door slam shut with a vigorous force, swiftly followed by a disgruntled exclamation and some general huffing, all of which seemed to announce the rather overdue return of his ever-charming girlfriend to their humble abode.

With a sigh, he put aside the copy of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night' and swung his legs off the bed. There was a stream of low grumbling and occasional cursing coming from the hallway and he stuck his head out just in time to see Rachel dump her duffel bag on the floor by the door and give it a sharp kick, scowling so hard as she did that Jesse couldn't help wondering what the poor object had done to deserve such contempt.

"Good day, was it?"

Rachel's head snapped up to shoot him a withering look. "Don't even," she said grumpily, pointing a warning finger in his direction, as if to ward off the amused smirk that was threatening to break across his face. She was in no mood for his flippancy right now. She was utterly exhausted, frustrated and pissed off and generally just in a foul temper.

Jesse crossed his arms and leant his shoulder against the doorjamb, waiting calmly as she yanked off her jacket and discarded her various other accoutrements in a disorderly pile under the coat hooks.

"You certainly took your time," he remarked almost in reproach, though the corners of his lips were soft with teasing. "I thought you'd fallen asleep on the subway again."

"You're lucky I made it home at all," she retorted moodily, kicking off her shoes without even bothering to untie them and carelessly tossing them aside. "I was this close to just crashing at the damn studios. Charles is an absolute nightmare. I swear to god, that guy is more a slave-driver than a choreographer."

"I didn't know there was a difference."

Rachel rolled her eyes, throwing him an impatient glare. "If you start regaling me again with tales of the superhuman endurance of Vocal Adrenaline – I will have to hurt you. And it won't be pretty."

Jesse smiled. "Don't blame me just because Schuester mollycoddled you lot with nice bedtime stories and motivational speeches."

"As opposed to the tyrannical intimation that drove your team?"

He shrugged. "It got the job done."

Rachel waved a dismissive hand before bending down and turning her attention back to her bag, digging through the depths in search of something. "Yeah, yeah, I know – 'Mr. Four-Time-National-Champion' and all that. Spare me the oh-so-impressive résumé, will you? You're not the one who has to be back at the grindstone, all bright and perky, at seven am tomorrow morning."

"The price of fame, my love."

Rachel looked up from her rummaging, sending him a dangerous glare that did nothing to deter the infuriating smirk on his lips. "Stop gloating just because you've got a few days off," she ordered irritably. "It's not fair; you guys must have it so easy."

"We don't actually," he corrected. "Maybe I can just handle the pressure with a little more grace than some."

"Excuse me?" Rachel scoffed, eyeing him incredulously. "Selective memory strikes again, I think. The week before your opening night, you were unbearable."

Jesse adopted a lofty expression, though his lips twitched up playfully. "That's a subjective opinion and you have no proof to support such a slanderous claim."

Rachel shook her head in exasperation. "You know, you're wasted on Broadway. You should be in politics."

"No thank you," he said quickly, glancing away with a small shudder. "I'll take a twelve-hour rehearsal any day."

"Yeah well," she grumbled as she finally withdrew her cell phone from the bag. "You don't have 'Mein Führer' as a dance director." Straightening up again, Rachel reluctantly hoisted the duffel back onto her shoulder and slipped past her boyfriend as she headed into the bedroom just behind him.

Jesse stepped aside to let her pass, a knowing frown creasing his brows as he observed the current of tension that disrupted the smooth flow of her movements, invisible to all but the most intimate eye. He stayed silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, as Rachel spared her phone a quick glance before leaving it on the bedside table and dropping her bag onto the nearest chair.

"I don't care how famous he is, the guy is bordering on deranged if you ask me. He takes OCD to a whole new level. Nothing is good enough."

He watched as she unzipped her hoody and threw it over the back of the chair, attempting to relieve the uncomfortable heat of her body. "I'm aching all over," she muttered, her features tightening in exhaustion and frustration as she lifted some damp hair away from her neck. "Some of the exercises he makes us do, they're ridiculously unnecessary. I don't know what point he's trying to prove." Rachel winced and raised a hand to rub at the back of her shoulder, trying to work out the cricks. "We're actors, not acrobats!"

Jesse's gaze was dark and assessing as he studied her, picking up on every twinge that crossed her face, the pained pinch behind her eyes. It didn't take him long to decide on the best course of action.

"Take off your shirt."

Rachel glanced up in surprise at the abrupt command, raising her eyebrows in a deeply sceptical look. Jesse held her gaze with a familiar twinkle of amusement.

"Purely medicinal, I assure you."

"Pity," she mumbled under her breath.

Jesse smirked as he walked over, more than happy to lend a helping hand as she obediently pulled the garment over her head and let him take it from her. She felt his fingers trail lightly down her bare arm as they stood together, his touch lingering against her heated skin as he held her eyes for a moment longer, one that seemed to suggest he was about to break his previous promise. Rachel felt a fresh warmth stir through her body, catching in her chest and burning through her heart, her gaze lowering to his mouth almost against her will. But then Jesse smiled and stepped back, leaving her almost dazed and wondering again at just how quickly the temperature could change in relation to his physical proximity. The heady effects were not dissimilar to the ones produced by a lack of oxygen at dizzying heights.

He gestured towards the bed, telling her to lie down, before he moved away to add her shirt to the rest of her discarded attire. Rachel cast a dubious glance at his back but opted not to argue, instead collapsing gratefully onto the mattress with a weary breath. She rolled over onto her stomach and wrapped her arms under the pillow, hugging it close and burying her face into the comforting scent of home.

She was just thinking she could so easily fall asleep right then and there, when she felt the bed shift again as Jesse sat down beside her. A soft sigh of gratitude escaped her lips as she felt him lay his hands upon her back, his fingers kneading slowly but firmly along the bruised muscles with a tender strength she was repeatedly left in awe of. Rachel wriggled slightly, adjusting her head and settling down comfortably as she submitted to his expertly skilled touch.

Jesse frowned gently as he worked his way up and down the planes of her back, feeling just how stiff and sore her body was beneath his hands, wound up tight with fatigue. He felt her flinch silently as he ran his thumbs up her spine, his palms exerting an almost painful pressure as he pushed and teased at the knots in her muscles, feeling them start to crack and strain under his fingers. The massage was hard and thorough, Jesse diligent in his efforts to ease the aches that plagued her, soothing away the tension slowly but surely.

Rachel winced as he found a particularly raw bruise, hiding her face deeper into the pillow. "Ohh, I think I've pulled muscles I didn't even know I had," she groaned in a muffled voice. "I've got half a mind to stage a mutiny tomorrow."

Jesse smirked to himself, letting his fingers slide down to caress the small of her back. "You know, a very smart girl once told me: 'The worst day in a theatre will forever beat the best day in an office'."

A reluctant smile pulled Rachel's lips at the familiar words. "Well, I can't argue with that. But it doesn't mean we're not still allowed to gripe and bitch occasionally, right?"

"Right."

"Still," she said quietly, her voice warm with wonder and unwavering in conviction. "I would never trade it. I wouldn't give this up for anything."

Jesse smiled in mutual understanding; a profound truth that defined them both almost as much as their tumultuous love. Leaning down, he gently swept aside the silky locks of her hair, enjoying the subtle shiver of desire that raced through her body so close to his. "So maybe life isn't so bad after all."

Rachel gave a murmur of appreciation, shifting restlessly as Jesse rubbed at her shoulders and the nape of her neck. "It has its moments," she conceded at last.

She didn't fail to notice that the massage was softening, the exploration of his fingers turning increasingly intimate and provocative. Rachel felt a familiar adrenaline pulse through her nerves, stealing her breath and tensing her muscles with a whole new heat. The exhaustion that had so consumed her body earlier had all but vanished, eclipsed by a much more potent need; one that was forever simmering just under the surface of all their public cordiality and affectionate sparring.

She couldn't help smiling as she felt the clasps of her bra fall undone at the whisper of his coaxing fingertips. "Any excuse," she mumbled reprovingly, attempting to hide the curve of her lips in the pillow under her cheek.

"I could be offended at that slur on my professionalism, you know," Jesse replied, his voice just as teasing as his hands as they slid up her back once more, slow and wandering. She could hear the smirk in his words and it did nothing to quell the burning ache that was building through her. "You want to feel the full benefit, don't you?"

Rachel had to bite her lip to stop the wanton plead on her tongue from betraying her so early in the game. Pressing her eyes shut, she forced herself to breathe steadily and temper the fire that was smouldering through his touch, rushing through her skin and spreading into every part of her.

Jesse leaned down close, brushing his lips lightly over her ear. "Are you sufficiently relaxed yet?" he inquired, the softly enticing notes of his voice anything but innocent.

Drawing on every inch of her artistic composure, Rachel managed to find her words once more. "Extremely satisfied," she assured, allowing her own mischievous smile to cross her lips. She could feel his fingers lingering over her spine, tracing out interlacing circles against her skin, and the heavenly distraction was almost unbearable. "Couldn't have asked for a more attentive set of hands."

"We aim to please," he murmured against her neck.

Rachel shifted slightly, turning around inside his arms to bring them face to face. She met his dark, piercing eyes with a soft pout. "Is my time up?"

A sly smile tugged his lips, before he gave a regretful sigh that was damn near convincing. "I'm afraid so. Any overtime services you may require will have to cost you extra."

Rachel tilted her head, as if weighing up the proposal. "And what is the price of these additional perks?" she asked curiously, grazing her own fingertips along his arm.

"Hmm…" Jesse frowned thoughtfully, analyzing all the options at lightning speed through his mind. A smug grin finally broke across his face, like the cat that had got the cream and was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. "I get to choose the duet for the Tony Awards this year."

Rachel groaned loudly, her expression fraught with reluctance. Of all the dirty, underhanded tactics… Her inner rant was cut short as Jesse's hand subtly slipped under the loose cups of her bra, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin underneath with a devastating precision. A sharp gasp left her lips, her fingers clenching around his bicep, and she felt him smile knowingly against her cheek. Rachel knew when she was beaten. For now, at least. She gave up her statement of surrender with a breathless moan. "You drive a hard bargain, sir."

Jesse didn't even have time to gloat before Rachel wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, absorbing them both in a flame of desire that ignited a raging heat in their veins. Ever quick to push his advantage, Jesse deepened the kiss with a fierce sweep of his tongue, drawing a soft whimper from her throat as his hands continued their assault of pleasure on her body.

It was a demand she was more than willing to meet. Rachel's heart was pounding urgently hard as she dragged him closer, her fingers dropping to grasp the folds of his shirt. They sunk down onto the bed together, falling away into the fire with an almost frantic force. Rachel fumbled blindly, refusing to release his mouth as she felt her way over his body, every part of her aching with the need for touch. She pulled at the material impatiently, her hands sliding under the warm fabric to run up his chest, eager to feel his skin against hers.

When Jesse finally drew back an inch from the burning pressure of their kiss, it was nearly agonizing.

"Well, someone is feeling in a better mood," he teased, catching her fevered eyes with a cocky and completely irresistible smirk.

Rachel had to struggle to catch her breath, amazed he could still find the composure to quip at a time like this. Yet she could feel the shallow, erratic beat that strained in his lungs, the heave of his chest under her palms, and she knew only too well that his apparent self-control was only skin deep. She flashed a cunning smile and skimmed her fingers over his ribs, feeling a tight tremble of restraint run through him and provoking a retaliatory squeeze of his own exploring hand.

"It's…only fair," she retorted firmly, forcing herself to hold his gaze despite the overwhelming urge to let go and surrender to the bliss of his gently toying fingertips. She met his face and cocked an eyebrow in playful reproach. "You've already got me half naked."

Jesse ducked his head lower to hers, brushing her smiling lips with his own. "Hey, I'm not arguing."

Rachel grinned in satisfaction and wasted no time in renewing her determination to strip him of his remaining clothing, keen to be rid of the cumbersome layers that so painfully separated them. A feat that was achieved all the quicker when Jesse withdrew his wandering hands to help her tug the material up and over his head, the reckless vigour of their efforts succeeding in tousling his hair into a gorgeous muss at the same time. His thumb glided along the curve of her jaw and she nuzzled her face into his, her voice no more than a whisper as she breathed her reply against his lips. "Good."

Jesse smiled in agreement before swiftly claiming her mouth in a roughly possessive kiss, plunging all the harder as the dancing battle began all over again, readily submitting to the demand of her touch. Her fingers were knotted tight in his messy curls, her slender legs entwining with his, and it was like being embraced by paradise itself. He heard a longing moan slip from her lips as he finally allowed his attention to stray, his heightened senses drinking in the floral scent of her hair as he explored the slope of her neck, biting hard enough to make bruises bloom across the tender flesh. An intimate assault of fresh marks that would again require the masking presence of stage make-up come tomorrow, but right now neither artist could summon the will or focus to spare a thought to such insignificant consequences.

They were tangled so deep in each other it was almost more than he could endure. Jesse groaned her name softly, only to hear his own echoed back with similar anguish. Her hands grasped at the bedcovers as he continued his decent over her body, relishing the taste of her skin as he kissed down her breasts, dragging his wicked mouth over the supple slope of her stomach as he inched ever lower…

It took a moment for the sweetly familiar notes to penetrate the consuming haze of their minds, and another for the meaning behind such a sound to consciously register. Jesse frowned as the familiar lyrics of 'Defying Gravity' cut through the air, her current choice of ringtone. He raised his head to cast a glance towards the flashing light of her cell phone, resting within easy reach just beside their bed.

Rachel saw his eyes flicker towards the source of the unwelcome interruption, and she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Leave it," she ordered breathlessly, drawing his gaze back to hers.

Jesse remained quiet as he observed her for a long moment, perceptive eyes gleaming in growing mischief, unable to help himself. He finally lowered his head and pressed his mouth against her skin once more, hiding the smirk that was spreading across his lips.

"It could be your dads."

He felt her tense sharply under the pressure of his touch, a whispering shiver stirring in the depths of her body that he recognised well. A searing rush of longing that thundered through them both in a swelling chorus of private music.

"They'll call back."

"It might be Kurt," he murmured, the taunting words warm against her skin as he continued to draw slowly up her trembling form. "Calling to catch up on all the day's gossip."

Rachel didn't answer him, her nails scraping along his back with a bittersweet sting, crushing them all the closer as he trailed kisses up her throat. She let out a shaky sigh, her eyes slipping shut at the demand of his fingers as they drifted down the cleft of her breasts. She felt him smile against her neck.

"You know how pissed off he gets when you ignore him."

"Kurt will forgive anything as long as he gets all the details tomorrow," she countered stubbornly, tugging his head up an inch to skim her mouth over his. "Besides, we're having him and Blaine over for dinner on Monday anyway – so he can't complain."

Her hand reached for the snap of his jeans and Jesse's breath caught hard in his chest as he felt her slip the button, smoothly releasing the zip with all the ease of practice. He shuddered against her, his eyes darkening until they were almost black, and still that teasing smile lingered on his lips. Ever the player, both on stage and off. His voice was a hot flutter against her ear, deep and ragged with a crux of emotions only she was privy to.

"Maybe it's New York magazine, calling to request an interview with the bright young ingénue of Broadway's hottest debut."

Rachel couldn't take it any longer.

"Jesse…"

She all but growled his name in frustration, digging her hands into his chest and pushing him over onto his back beside her. In one graceful turn, she moved to sit astride him, pinning him down and locking them in place. Ignoring the smug arch of his eyebrows, she pulled off the loose straps of her bra and finally discarded the garment to the bedroom floor. Her long, soft hair tumbled over her shoulders like a waterfall, as bold and untamed as the passion that burned in her eyes. Jesse gripped her waist, his gaze dancing over her face with unconcealed wonder, his fingers itching to bury themselves in those dark, luxurious waves.

Rachel put her hand to his stomach and leaned down, kissing his chest, his neck, the edge of his jaw. Her mouth brushed his, her finger coming up to trace his bottom lip as she whispered the words in a dangerously soft command.

"Shut. Up."

Jesse could hardly breathe, aching with the urge to claim every inch of her all over again. He raised his hand to the back of her head, grasping the flowing locks of her hair and firmly tugging her closer, that irrepressible smirk still warming the curve of his lips.

"Yes, ma'am."

/o/

"Hi, this is Rachel Berry. Sorry I missed you but leave a message and I will call you back. Thanks."

The impatient sigh was unmistakable.

"Rachel, when you're done molesting Jesse for the evening – call me. Honestly, I don't know why we put up with you two. Blaine sends his love."

/o/

AN Ahem. My muse kinda ran riot with this one… I think my St. Berry frustration is on overload. They just can't seem to keep their hands off each other! ;) Oh well, hope you enjoyed! Reviews are little gold stars for my poor, overworked muse! She really does appreciate them :)