Another story from my creative writing class, hope y'all like it. Glee doesn't belong to me. This can actually be for any ship, since no names are mentioned, but still. My Faberry feels wanted it to be them. Rated M. Enjoy :)
A cello's low vibrato. The first touch was like one, harmonic and calm. It continued that way for a while, in the beginning. Nothing more than a low hum, warm arousal that formed inside your ribs but nowhere else.
But wandering hands do tend to find their own destinations, and soon a viola joined the quartet, but you didn't panic, not yet at least, because it was nice and the notes were long and melodic to the cello's harmony and it simply felt extraordinary, a creeping duet that didn't quite fit but wasn't enough to shut down the tempo.
Short tunes plucked out on a bass hopped in, and as your mind began to drift, somewhere in your subconscious you remember that quartet's don't have a bass, don't have something that reaches this low into your being. Your soul. The sound is so soft, so infrequent that your mind can't identify this infection that's seeping through your cells.
It's a silent disease. Perhaps even a killer, but you don't know that yet. And you can hardly stop from reacting when a chorus of violins join in to play the main melody. Get to the good part. Building a steady beat until all you can feel is this pulse throughout your entire core. This beat. Music, life flowing through. Keeping you alive, wanting, waiting.
The verse is coming around and repeating, blinding your sight with the overwhelming intensity of the orchestra behind it building to what you can only assume will be a fantastic end. You've never experienced this type of song before but it promises not to disappoint.
And when the climax of string -and an odd percussionist's beat- mix together, it quickly comes to a close that invites darkness to the now-silent room.