"Quinn?"
I looked up from my copy of Robert Frost's Hard Not To Be King and met the rich, chocolate brown eyes of my girlfriend. Rachel sat cross-legged at the end of my bed, calculus notes scattered around her on the baby blue comforter. She was wearing one of my McKinley Titans Soccer t-shirts with a pair of my black mesh running shorts, and I was trying my best not to stare at the beautifully tanned flesh of her legs as I cleared my throat to answer.
"Yeah, Rach?"
Her perfectly formed lips fell into a pout as she picked up one of the pieces of notebook paper and scanned it, undoubtedly for millionth time.
"It's too hard."
I put my book down and chuckled to myself as she ran a hand through her brunette tresses in frustration. Everything else in the world may have come naturally to Rachel Berry, but calculus was simply not her subject. I sat up and took both of her small wrists in my hands, causing her to release a sigh of exasperation.
"Do you want me to sing to you?"
She nodded enthusiastically. Singing was not something I normally offered to do, especially because I was dating the star of the New Directions. Nevertheless, I released her wrists and let her crawl over the papers and up the bed to settle in my arms. I guided us back against the pillows and stared at the high, white ceiling of my bedroom, her face burying in the warmth of my neck as I began to sing.
There are times that walk from you,
like some passing afternoon.
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon.
And she chose a yard to burn,
but the ground remembers her.
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms.
As I sang, I felt Rachel's arm snake around my waist and the smooth skin of her bare legs as they intertwined with mine. She let out another sigh, but this one was far more contented than the last. Her silky brown locks lightly teased the underside of my chin as she snuggled closer to me, and I looked down at my angel. In this moment, with her eyes closed and her body wrapped in mine, I fell in love with Rachel Barbara Berry all over again.
There are things that drift away,
like our endless, numbered days.
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made.
And she's chosen to believe,
in the hymns her mother sings.
Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves.
I began to feel Rachel's soft lips placing tepid kisses against the plane of my neck as I crooned the Iron & Wine song into the stillness of the room. Keeping my composure required a great deal of effort, but I managed to stay focused enough to stay on-key. The hand that rested against my waist began tracing slow circular patterns on the skin exposed by my Cheerios t-shirt that had ridden up slightly. I was almost lost in her ministrations, and a curtain of aroused haze began to come down over my mind.
There are sailing ships that pass,
all our bodies in the grass.
Springtime calls her children 'till she lets them go at last.
And she's chosen where to be,
though she's lost her wedding ring.
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds.
Rachel's kisses became bolder, leaving my neck and beginning again on my collarbone. Her hand ceased its spherical movements and dipped into the waistband of my grey sweatpants, gently caressing the heated flesh of my hip. She took one of my legs between hers, and I instantly felt the moist heat that emanated from her sensitive territory through the mesh of her shorts. I hid my own arousal and continued singing, a smile at her body's reactions gracing my features.
There are things we can't recall,
blind as night that finds us all.
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls.
But my hands remember hers,
rolling 'round the shaded ferns.
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned.
Finally, her resolve broke. Her lips left my chest and connected with my own in a slow, burning kiss. I smiled into it and slid my hands into the bends of her hips as she moved to straddle me. The brown of her irises were engulfed by inky pupils, and electricity surged in my own body as she ground her hips against the musculature of my stomach in earnest. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as I flexed my abdominal muscles underneath her.
"Quinn," she hissed as she rested her head against my shoulder, unable to hold it up any longer.
"Yes, baby?"
Her body shivered when I used the affectionate term, and she whimpered as my hands moved beneath her t-shirt, my thumbs gently tracing the small dimples in her lower back.
"Please… touch me."
I was never one to deny her. One of my hands left her back, traveling across her smooth abdomen and plunging below the elastic waistband of the shorts. My fingers danced along the seam of the black lace panties she wore, and I chuckled to myself again.
"You assumed you'd be getting some, huh, baby?"
"I always hope, sweetheart," she husked against my ear before tracing the shell of it with her tongue.
I smirked at her admission and pushed the lace aside before entering her wetness with two of my fingers. A moan ripped from the back of her throat, and Rachel gripped the mattress to steady herself before using her newfound leverage to grind down on my fingers. My hand found a rhythm, her hips meeting each thrust with more enthusiasm than the last. My thumb applied playful pressure to her pleasure center, and her long eyelashes tickled my shoulder as a thin sheen of sweat began to cover our bodies. When I felt her walls begin to squeeze my digits, I spoke again.
"Rachel?"
"Yeah, baby?" she forced out in shallow breaths, her orgasm clearly eminent.
"I love you."
She exploded at my words, my name on her lips as her walls clenched my fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over her again and again. Rachel's spent body collapsed on top of mine as she tried to restore a normal breathing pattern, and I could feel her out of control heartbeat against my own chest. I withdrew my fingers and wiped them discreetly on the bedspread before wrapping my arms around her again. I nuzzled her ear affectionately with my nose, and inhaled the smell of her body. Her scent was delicious, smelling faintly of strawberries. Closing my eyes, I let my mind forget everything but her.
"Quinn?"
"Hmm?"
"Finish the song."
I grinned incredulously, and began running my fingers through her brunette tresses before finishing the last verse.
There are names across the sea,
only now I do believe.
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me.
But she'll mend his tattered clothes,
and they'll kiss as if they know.
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone.
Rachel smiled into my shoulder as I finished.
"Oh, and Quinn?" she said sleepily, her voice now weighed down by exhaustion.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I love you too."