AN: So this is a prompt that was submitted to the tumblr ask box.

This was the prompt:

"Could you do a M rated fic of Will and Emma's wedding night? Emma is still a virgin but by the end of the night she won't be."

In two parts because it got lengthy, here is part one...

Happy reading, and thanks so much to those who decide to review!

The hotel room was silent.

"So..." Will murmured as he awkwardly rested his elbows on his knees. The loveseat in the bridal suite was too small for Will.

As he gazed at Emma, his bride, perched on the end of the bed in her white satin wedding dress, he realised that the king-sized mattress more than made up for the tiny couch. And that was wonderful. If she'd invite him to sit beside her.

Emma smiled shyly at Will, and bit her lip. Will cleared his throat, and sat back against the loveseat as he watched her closely.

She glanced down to her bare feet that dangled at least a foot from the carpet, her knees bent at the edge of the mattress. Only her toes were visible beneath the layers of gorgeous, gentle fabric.

"You look absolutely stunning tonight. Today, too."

Emma glanced up at her husband. Will swallowed over the hard lump that had formed in his throat.

"The first time I saw you in the church...I just..."

Their eyes locked as his sentence trailed to an uncertain end. Emma's eyes were clouded with curiosity, and Will's body hummed with anticipation. His voice was husky when he continued, "You make a beautiful bride."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you."

She looked so small sitting there on their marital bed, drenched in her wedding dress.

He pulled at his tie, loosening it. The lump in his throat bobbed.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first, Em?"

"Sure."

Will stepped inside the small bathroom, and closed the door behind him softly. He turned the cold tap on, and watched as the water flowed into the pristine sink. He took a moment, and splashed his face with the icy water.

How was he going to initiate this? She obviously had no intention to make the first move. He didn't want to pressure her. But it was their wedding night. She seemed nervous, like she was expecting it. Yes, Will was certain. She knew it. Maybe even wanted it. Ask, Will, his conscience demanded. Just talk to her. She's your best friend, your wife. Just be honest, and everything will be okay.

When Will stepped out of the bathroom, he didn't know what to expect. But there Emma sat, on the edge of the bed where she had before, a dazed look in her eyes.

She stood slowly.

"Can you help me take my dress off?" she questioned with an expression of sweet seriousness as she turned her back from him and gestured to her zipper.

"Of course."

Will's fingers worked with incredible grace as he began to very gently run the zip down her back, mindful of the lace trim of her strapless gown. Inch by inch, Will was granted more. More skin. More freckles. More of Emma.

"I guess I'll can never wear that dress again," Emma chuckled nervously.

Will was silent as he swallowed.

Emma cleared her throat. "I don't know why I said that..." she muttered. "Obviously I don't want to wear the dress again."

He tried not to stare. He focused on the zip of the dress, the faint ripping sound it seductively made as it travelled lower, and lower, and lower.

No bra.

He watched her curls bob around her shoulders as she shook her head. "I mean, I love the dress, but I don't want to get-

"You'll never marry anyone else as long as I'm alive." He instantly regretted the tone of his words. He wasn't the possessive type. But there was so much skin, so much of Emma he had never seen. He wanted it all. For himself. Only for himself. He was mad with need.

His tongue couldn't work the muscles to form an apology for his disruptive remark. He'd make it up to her later. Yet, Emma didn't seem to mind. The moment he had made the possessive remark, her neck had blushed hotly.

He pulled firmer on the zip.

No slip.

The opened dress gradually overflowed into his arms as it retreated from the warmth of Emma's body. Her sides were exposed to him, and in the corner of his vision, he could see the soft swell of her breast. Milky white. Just begging to be touched.

Will closed his eyes when the zipper stiffened where the dress tightened around Emma's lower half. Control, Will. Where had his self-control disappeared to?

Her spine arched with delicacy where her slim waist curved to her hips. She was almost bare, he realised.

Will felt Emma tense, and in a kind moment, Will gently forced the zipper, and her dress fell below her hips and pooled in his hands.

Exposed to Will, as he bent slightly to gather her dress from around her thighs, was the hot curve of Emma's behind. Emma Pillsbury's white lace panties. Emma Schuester's ass.

She stepped forward out of the dress. Will gently laid it over the arm and length of the loveseat.

When he turned, Will found that Emma had allowed her immaculately styled, previously pinned hair to fall. Red curls messily fell over her shoulders, and covered her naked sternum as she gently raked it forward with her fingers.

"You have a beautiful...back," he murmured huskily as she stood before him almost naked. He reached out a hand, so tentatively, to touch her skin. Hot. Emma was still as his fingertips drew a line over her spine and shoulder blades. She didn't turn to face him, and her arms dangled loosely at her sides. "Your skin is so soft." His index finger traced the rim of soft fabric that covered his wife. "So pale..."

He couldn't help himself. His lips fell on the curve of her neck, and slowly, he devilishly adored the perfection of her naked back, her shoulders, her spine, the small, hot curve that teased towards her round behind. His mouth worked hungrily as he stood and knelled, as she shuddered with remarkable stillness.

It was all so new. "Will..." she gasped when his tongue daringly poked out to taste the arc of Emma's lower back, the hottest surface of any woman's body. But Emma...her skin was boiling.

He couldn't help himself. As a pleasured moan escaped Emma's lips, as his knees pressed into the carpet of their bridal suite, his hands had a mind of their own. His fingers remembered discovering the dips and rises of her ribs as his hand slid higher. His palms remembered the smoothness. But Will...all Will knew was the second before his hands had cupped her soft flesh, and in a moment of sheer ecstasy, his fingertips meet her nipples.

Emma cried out an uncharacteristic whimper, and the desire inside of him that had began to boil the night she claimed to want to possess the empowerment of Madonna, threatened to scar. He stood in shock, his hands mindlessly resting upon her small breasts.

His grip was warm, so warm. Slightly rough. Manly. Strong. She needed his strength, for her thought process was altering as each second passed. Will's hands on her naked skin, on her untouched breasts, weren't scary. They were a wonderful comfort she never would have imagined. It wasn't dirty, she realised. It didn't make her want to laugh, or cry. It warmed her soul, made her feel more feminine than she ever had in her life. She felt in control, and yet so dependent on Will, all at the same time.

Emma rested her head back against his shoulder, as her new thoughts confused her and changed every ideal she had ever known. It was overwhelming.

"I'm frightened, Will."

"It's okay, Em," he whispered, his thumbs learning the silky curves of the undersides of her breasts. "It's just us. Just you and I." His cheek pressed against her temple. "I won't hurt you, Emma."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." He breathed against the shell of her ear. "And I want to be with you so badly."

And she could feel it. It was pressed against her behind. It was strong. Hard. Maybe even wild.

But Will wasn't. He was gentle as his arms slipped around Emma and turned her into him, bringing her into a warm hug.

Her body flushed with immediate relief, and Will simply felt at home. His shirt was soothing against her bare skin, reminding her that she was naked, but so loved, because beneath white cotton was her husband's chest. His heart that beat as rapidly as hers.

For Will, his mind was dizzy at the recognition that Emma's breasts were pressed against him- and she was okay. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, sliding his hands over her back, his fingers splaying across her rib cage. She was tiny, so small and fragile. His hands wandered low. Lower. Emma pressed herself tighter against him, and relished in the heat his body offered. His hands ran all over her back, her sides, holding her to him. And then he began to feel her. Slim, slender Emma. He felt lace at his fingertips when his hands ventured low.

The pressure was endearing when Will's large hands grasped her behind firmly, pressing her further into him and discovering a part of her most men idealised. But Will...she knew he was absolutely obsessed. He always...looked. And then looked some more when she stepped out of any room. And stared when she bent over the stove. And obviously gawked as he sat up in bed with a novel in hand when she practiced yoga, in her black tights, in the bedroom on a Friday night.

He lifted her against him, his hands firmly pressed against her behind, and lost in the closeness, Emma wrapped her legs around his middle.

He could feel the heat of her core aching against his torso as he carried them to the bed. She was hot, so hot. Her chest was warm as it pressed against his white dress shirt in all its nakedness. But the juncture of her bare thighs...fire.

"I don't know what to do..." she mumbled as he laid her down on the bed, his lips finding solace in the dip of her collarbone.

"Yes, you do," he groaned.

His tongue lay flat against her sternum, dragging slowly, so slowly towards her breasts. God. She'd never done anything as wild as this, she decided. The furthest they had gone was an intense kissing session in bed one night when Will's fingers had tentatively explored the curve of her inner thigh for a few moments. And that had been all. Now it was different. Will was so passionate...so raw.

"Can you turn the lights off?" Emma choked.

The soft wet heat of his tongue left her body and suddenly, Emma was cold.

"Sure, sweetheart." He kissed his way down between her breasts, over her abdomen. His curls followed and tickled her skin as he made his retreat to slide off the bed.

Will froze at the line of her panties and inhaled deeply, as though in agony. A moment passed, and Emma could feel the tip of his nose pressed low against her abdomen. Too low. Emma closed her eyes tightly. Oh god. He released a shuddering breath, and then he was gone, making his way towards the entrance of the suite to eliminate all light from the room.

But he didn't turn the lights off. He dimmed them, so lowly. Emma opened her eyes widely, waiting for the soft yellow to vanish. But it never did. And in seconds, Will was holding himself above her again, and she could see him. Not well, but she wasn't completely blind to him or to his expression of ecstasy. This time, his arms were trembling as his palms pressed into the mattress at Emma's sides.

She peered up into his expressive eyes. She could read his frustration, his longing. And in Emma's stare, Will could read feigned innocence. She wanted more, the brown depths of her eyes glittered. She knew there was more than just that moment he would be inside of her. There was exploration, and adoration. She knew there were other things that were just as important, just as pleasurable. He'd show her; he'd show his wife.

He waited for a moment, attempting to regain composure. His length was hard. Too hard. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so aroused. He needed to be careful, to pace himself. Otherwise it would all be over...too soon.

His hand fell from its place hesitantly resting just above her knee, to press firmly between her legs.

She froze.

He froze.

Her eyes were wide and shocked. He gulped the breath that had caught in his throat.

He released the pressure slightly, and then dragged his fingertips over her panties where the heat sizzled beneath lace.

She puffed a sigh, and as his fingers travelled over her core so slowly, her body relaxed upon the mattress. Upon the sheets and duvet, Emma's hips rose ever so slightly in the greatest physical pleasure she had yet to meet. And he hadn't even started yet.

He bent his head lowly to watch his hand move over her. But sight was not his greatest, most appreciative sense in that moment. Touch was. And there was only one thing that his conscience emphasised.

She wasn't damp. She was wet.

Fuck. He was so hard. He just wanted to rip the panties off and fall into her. Take her hard, fast. He wanted to make her sweat and pant and cry for more. Deeper, harder, faster. Oh, how he wanted to just fuck his sweet wife. All the things he wanted to do to her- for her- that she had no idea of. Sweet, precious Emma doing such dirty things.

It wouldn't be long, because they had barely been in the bridal suite for thirty minutes and her panties were already soaked.

His virgin wife was aroused.

Her face flushed hotly as she stared down to Will's hand. She could feel it, the growing pressure beneath her legs that was so...dirty.

"It's okay," Will breathed against her lips when his excited eyes met hers. "Don't be embarrassed."

It was so new. How could she have known her body would react in such a way? She buried her face in his shoulder as he leant over her.

"It's hot." He drew lazy circles between her legs, and Emma squirmed subtly. "It's really hot, Em."

His lips ran gently over Emma's as he discovered the fineness of the white lace that covered her. She was still, but for moments when Will's fingers touched her and a nerve was caressed.

A gasp interrupted their kiss.

"Nobody's ever touched me like this," Emma exclaimed sharply. A delightful cramp pulsed through Will's length. She closed her eyes tightly when he looked up to meet her stare. Her chest heaved, and her body went rigid as he ceased trailing his fingers, and began to circle her nub.

Her thighs were hot against his hand as she clenched them together to relieve the pressure. Her eyes shot open in distress, and she sat up abruptly. "I need to go to the bathroom."

She had no idea.

"No, baby. No. It's supposed to feel like that," Will revealed softly as his hands fell to the edge of her panties. She tilted her head and watched him closely for a moment, as though trying to determine if she could really do this. There was an intimate pause as fully clothed Will sat before his almost naked wife.

"You've never had an...?"

She shook her head at his question. He bit his lip, and nuzzled her hair. "Does it feel good? What we were doing?" he asked hotly as he gestured to his damp fingers, his eyes clouded with arousal. She'd aroused him. His eyes were dark, wanton she realised as she gazed up at him. She bit her lip.

"Yes."

And it had. It had felt wonderful, daring. She had felt sexy as his stare had been trained on his hand, working against her, bringing her such bliss.

"You've just got to let it happen..." he encouraged as he swallowed at the sight of the wet spot that darkened her panties. His fingers curled around her shoulder as he struggled to find his breath. "Lie back down."

He fell upon the bed next to her. He couldn't hold himself up. He felt like he was going to faint.

Will drew a deep breath. Soon, the room would smell like sex. He'd feel like sex, and he'd listen to Emma's cries that instigated sex.

Her hips begin squirming, rising from the mattress, and Will begged every god for the moments he wanted to follow each passing second. He was desperate to slide his fingers beneath lace and touch his wife's velvety wet, swollen flesh.

"Wait," Emma moaned as her eyelids fluttered. Her lips were parted and he could tell she was having trouble finding words as he massaged her. She appeared to be on the brink. So close to delightful spasms. He couldn't wait to watch her give in.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly as his fingers rubbed and teased and pressed against her.

"I don't want to...I mean, I want to, you know, let it happen...I just-

His gaze questioned her with confusion when she fought to open her eyes. Her stare was hazy with denial and sexual frustration and something she had never known- the desperate battle for orgasm.

"I want to be with you when I...you know..." Emma panted.

"Oh." Finally. His cue to be with her. She was asking for it. She wanted it. She was close.

But could he hold out long enough to please her? Oh god. This was it, the moment he'd waited for. It would be difficult, so difficult. He already felt possessive of the control of a fifteen year old boy as she writhed beside him on the made bed. What if just the whisper of her breath against his skin caused him to lose control?

This was her first time. It had to be special. So special, he clarified to himself.

"Okay," Will whispered as his hand stilled between her legs.

"Okay," Emma replied shyly as her fingers worked the buttons of his dress shirt.

AN: Part Two is on it's way!