glee fic: my heart, it beats, beats for only you
Title: My heart, it beats, beats for only you. (1/1)
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Warning: Rated R, Spoilers for episode 5.
Summary: Fuck, he needs to focus. He shouldn't swear. He needs to keep swearing down to a minimum for this, he thinks.
He’s never been more nervous in his entire life.
Not even before Nationals last year, when he felt like he was going to puke. Not even before the championship game, when he was all but confident they were going to lose. He remembers the conversation like it was yesterday (well, it was yesterday) and his hands shake as he puts the last piece down.
The ‘I’m ready, Finn’ is still ringing in his ears, and he feels like an idiot, because he was the idiot that made her repeat herself about five times before he grinned. He remembers her taking his hand, smiling, and that small familiar flush across her neck. He felt the warmth of her hand, and remembers it shaking and fuck, he needs to focus.
He shouldn’t swear. He needs to keep swearing down to a minimum for this, he thinks.
There’s a knock at the door and he almost jumps out of his skin. When did he get so jumpy? He almost trips over the carefully positioned objects on the floor as he rushes to his door, pulling it open and making down the hall. He takes a breath, smooths his hand over his shirt and curls his hand around the doorknob, pulling it open.
The sight literally takes his breath away.
She looks as nervous as he feels, which is kind of relief. She’s holding her purse, and is wearing the prettiest dress he’s ever seen her wear (and that’s saying something). She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and steps forward, placing her hand on his chest as she leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek.
Her hand stills as he places his on top of hers. It’s shaking a little, and he squeezes it a little tighter, tugging her inside slightly. The house is empty (he still isn’t quite sure how they got so lucky with timing) and she clears her throat a little as he turns in the living room to face her, his hands still holding hers.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says softly, and her eyes light up. He gestures with his head towards his room and she walks around him, pulling him inside as she took the lead.
She opens his door and there’s a moment when he thinks that this is the worst surprise ever. That she’s going to hate it, and that it’s corny and cheesy and he’s going to ruin it, but her eyes settle on the ground and he hears her intake a sharp breath.
“Finn…” she says, turning slightly to look at him, and he sees her eyes a little glassy. Definitely a winner, then.
She walks around the picnic rug, and places her bag on his bed, pulling off her coat. She toes off her shoes, grins up at him and sits down gently, biting her lip. He does the same, being careful not to knock over the flask of drink, or the basket of food, and he swallows as she smiles at him again and bites her lip. Yeah, he’s nervous again.
Getting the picnic rug, one that looked identical was hard. But he found it at a swift shop downtown. The food was easy, the recipe for virgin cosmos just that little bit harder to find and assemble. He tried about four times before he got it right. She leans over and opens up the flask, pouring them drinks. She giggles, and he grins because damn he loves to hear her laugh. He’s nervous because he wants to make this perfect for her, for them and he loves her so damn much that he feels like his heart is about to explode. She takes a sip of the drink, and he does too and it takes a total of ten seconds of silence before she leans over and presses her lips against his.
“You taste like cosmo,” she whispers against his lips as she pulls away, still just inches away from his mouth. He grins as she takes his cup out of his still shaking hands and places both his and her own cup on his bedside table.
It’s his turn to kiss her now. He cradles her cheek in his hand, the other moving along her hip as he brushes his lips against hers, slowly, thoughtfully. She pushes herself a little closer, opening her mouth and running her tongue along the bottom of his lip as she tugs on his shirt a little. He grins against her lips and kisses her deeper, his hands going through her hair.
She breaks off, her lips bruised and her face flushed. He worries instantly that he’s done something wrong, but she kisses him softly, quickly before looking behind her, at the carefully placed pillows and blanket. Her neck flushes again.
“We should - um, lie down,” she says, a little quieter than usual, and her voice a little shaky, but certain. He nods, his eyes never leaving hers as his arm curls around her waist, lifting her up a little and lying her down on the pillows behind her slowly. The food and drink forgotten, she stares at him and tugs at his blue collar shirt a little, implying him to take it off. He obliges. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, in time with his as she watches him. She bites her lip as she shifts slightly, her hand moving to the side of her dress. She watches him as her fingers find the zipper to the side; as she pulls it down slowly and carefully; as she slides down the straps past her shoulders. He thinks his heart stops beating when she gently pulls the dress down her stomach, over her hips, and to her ankles. She looks amazing, more beautiful than anything that he’s ever seen, so he kisses her, his hand grazing her jaw.
He pulls up the blanket, as not to make her completely uncomfortable, and she turns on her side to face him, her hand resting on his chest.
“I’m nervous,” she says, so quietly, and she watches him for a response.
“Me too,” he replies, curling her hand in his on his chest. She smiles at that, and he grins at her in return.
She leans over and presses her lips against his, their hands still entwined on his chest. Her breasts, still covered were pressed against the side of his chest and he breathes because he still can’t quite believe this is happening. She kisses him deeper, deeper than before, and arches into him slightly, causing a small moan to escape his lips. She giggles against his lips, but he kisses her again, turning her over so that she was on her back.
He hovers above her, his fingers trailing from her cheek down to her neck, along her collarbone and down her chest. His breath catches in his throat when he reaches her breasts and she arches into him as he runs his hand along the hem of the lace. He thinks he’s in awe, a little bit, but she kisses him urgently, urging him to continue. He runs his finger alone the line of her bra to the back, where he settles on the clasp. She nods against his forehead and he twists his fingers until the clasp opens, falling to the side. He pulls it off, gently, and swallows as he casts it aside.
“Rachel…” There’s too many things he wants to tell her, too many things swirling in his head, but she kisses him, nudges her nose against his and covers his hand with hers, moving it to her breast. His fingers brush against her nipple and she moans into his mouth, arching into his hand, and he takes a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as he flicks it with his thumb, over and over, feeling her.
“Finn…”she whispers against his cheek, her breath hot against his skin. “Finn … please touch me.”
He swallows and nods, brushing his hand along the skin of her stomach, her hipbone, before grazing against the hem of her underwear. She lifts her hips a little, and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of her underwear, tugging them down her legs. He can already feel the warmth coming from her and she presses her forehead into the nook of his neck as his hand moves down, lower and lower, before he reaches the inside of her thigh.
She feels amazing, more amazing that he would have ever imagined, and he has to remind himself to actually breathe as he brushes his finger against her wetness. She whimpers against his neck, her hand grasping his t-shirt as he runs his finger in a circular motion around her clit, over and over, faster and faster. He dips his finger in her, slowly, and she tenses a little, grasping onto him a little tighter. He does it again, and again, and she arches herself into him, small breathy whimpers escaping her lips. He flicks his thumb, and she moans, so he does it again, over and over, until her whole body tenses and she grips his shirt as she releases.
The whole room is spinning, for him, because she’s against his chest, still gripping him tightly, her chest covered in a light sweat. She’s still breathing deeply, and he shifts a little, pressing his lips against the top of her head. His pants are painfully tight, and it’s almost uncanny that she chooses that exact moment to brush her hand against the front of his pants, pressing slightly. He moans, loudly, and she smiles against his chest, moving her hand up to the hem of his shirt and tugging upwards. He pulls it off, as she unbuttons his jeans, even slight push causing him to jump a little. She’s flushed, lying back on the pillows completely naked, and he pulls off his pants before hovering above her.
“Are you okay? I mean are you-“
She smiles. “I’m perfect.”
He smiles and leans down, brushing his lips against hers softly. She whispers “I love you” against his lips and he rests his forehead against hers, “I love you, so, so much” falling from his lips.
She takes a breath as he pulls a condom out of his jeans pocket, pushing it on quickly. She’s still holding her breath as he positions himself over her, his hands hovering over either side of her. He whispers breathe against her lips and she does before he pushes inside of her slowly, gently. She intakes a sharp, sharp breath, and her eyes glass over with tears instantly, so he pauses, stilling himself. She blinks and he leans over, kissing her over and over and over before she nods against his lips and he pushes into her deeper. She still tenses a little, but not as bad as before, so he continues, slowly. He pushes into her again and a soft moan escapes her lips, different to before. He waits for her to tell him to continue but she leans up, arching against him and crushes her lips on his. He isn’t going to last long, he knows it, but fuck - did that actually slip out? She groans after he swears and he’d be confused except for the fact that he can’t think of anything other than her right now, and this, and feeling every part of her. He thrusts one more time, his lips against hers, and he comes, holding her hips against his.
It takes a minute before he pulls out, pulling off his waste and throwing it in the trash. She lies against the pillows, her face flushed and sweaty and he moves back next to her, his fingers grazing her cheek.
She cringes slightly as she turns over to face him. He immediately panics. “Are you - I mean, did I-“
She smiles at his panic and shushes him, placing her hand on his chest. “I’m fine. It was expected I’d be a little sore.”
He nods, watching her. “Was it - I mean…”
“Perfect,” she whispers, brushing her fingers against his lips. “It was perfect, Finn.”
Nothing can stop the smile that appears on his lips, and he leans over her, pulling over the basket of food.
“Hungry?”
She giggles and nods. He kisses her shoulder.
They spend the night on that floor.
Pairing: Finn/Rachel
Warning: Rated R, Spoilers for episode 5.
Summary: Fuck, he needs to focus. He shouldn't swear. He needs to keep swearing down to a minimum for this, he thinks.
He’s never been more nervous in his entire life.
Not even before Nationals last year, when he felt like he was going to puke. Not even before the championship game, when he was all but confident they were going to lose. He remembers the conversation like it was yesterday (well, it was yesterday) and his hands shake as he puts the last piece down.
The ‘I’m ready, Finn’ is still ringing in his ears, and he feels like an idiot, because he was the idiot that made her repeat herself about five times before he grinned. He remembers her taking his hand, smiling, and that small familiar flush across her neck. He felt the warmth of her hand, and remembers it shaking and fuck, he needs to focus.
He shouldn’t swear. He needs to keep swearing down to a minimum for this, he thinks.
There’s a knock at the door and he almost jumps out of his skin. When did he get so jumpy? He almost trips over the carefully positioned objects on the floor as he rushes to his door, pulling it open and making down the hall. He takes a breath, smooths his hand over his shirt and curls his hand around the doorknob, pulling it open.
The sight literally takes his breath away.
She looks as nervous as he feels, which is kind of relief. She’s holding her purse, and is wearing the prettiest dress he’s ever seen her wear (and that’s saying something). She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and steps forward, placing her hand on his chest as she leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek.
Her hand stills as he places his on top of hers. It’s shaking a little, and he squeezes it a little tighter, tugging her inside slightly. The house is empty (he still isn’t quite sure how they got so lucky with timing) and she clears her throat a little as he turns in the living room to face her, his hands still holding hers.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says softly, and her eyes light up. He gestures with his head towards his room and she walks around him, pulling him inside as she took the lead.
She opens his door and there’s a moment when he thinks that this is the worst surprise ever. That she’s going to hate it, and that it’s corny and cheesy and he’s going to ruin it, but her eyes settle on the ground and he hears her intake a sharp breath.
“Finn…” she says, turning slightly to look at him, and he sees her eyes a little glassy. Definitely a winner, then.
She walks around the picnic rug, and places her bag on his bed, pulling off her coat. She toes off her shoes, grins up at him and sits down gently, biting her lip. He does the same, being careful not to knock over the flask of drink, or the basket of food, and he swallows as she smiles at him again and bites her lip. Yeah, he’s nervous again.
Getting the picnic rug, one that looked identical was hard. But he found it at a swift shop downtown. The food was easy, the recipe for virgin cosmos just that little bit harder to find and assemble. He tried about four times before he got it right. She leans over and opens up the flask, pouring them drinks. She giggles, and he grins because damn he loves to hear her laugh. He’s nervous because he wants to make this perfect for her, for them and he loves her so damn much that he feels like his heart is about to explode. She takes a sip of the drink, and he does too and it takes a total of ten seconds of silence before she leans over and presses her lips against his.
“You taste like cosmo,” she whispers against his lips as she pulls away, still just inches away from his mouth. He grins as she takes his cup out of his still shaking hands and places both his and her own cup on his bedside table.
It’s his turn to kiss her now. He cradles her cheek in his hand, the other moving along her hip as he brushes his lips against hers, slowly, thoughtfully. She pushes herself a little closer, opening her mouth and running her tongue along the bottom of his lip as she tugs on his shirt a little. He grins against her lips and kisses her deeper, his hands going through her hair.
She breaks off, her lips bruised and her face flushed. He worries instantly that he’s done something wrong, but she kisses him softly, quickly before looking behind her, at the carefully placed pillows and blanket. Her neck flushes again.
“We should - um, lie down,” she says, a little quieter than usual, and her voice a little shaky, but certain. He nods, his eyes never leaving hers as his arm curls around her waist, lifting her up a little and lying her down on the pillows behind her slowly. The food and drink forgotten, she stares at him and tugs at his blue collar shirt a little, implying him to take it off. He obliges. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, in time with his as she watches him. She bites her lip as she shifts slightly, her hand moving to the side of her dress. She watches him as her fingers find the zipper to the side; as she pulls it down slowly and carefully; as she slides down the straps past her shoulders. He thinks his heart stops beating when she gently pulls the dress down her stomach, over her hips, and to her ankles. She looks amazing, more beautiful than anything that he’s ever seen, so he kisses her, his hand grazing her jaw.
He pulls up the blanket, as not to make her completely uncomfortable, and she turns on her side to face him, her hand resting on his chest.
“I’m nervous,” she says, so quietly, and she watches him for a response.
“Me too,” he replies, curling her hand in his on his chest. She smiles at that, and he grins at her in return.
She leans over and presses her lips against his, their hands still entwined on his chest. Her breasts, still covered were pressed against the side of his chest and he breathes because he still can’t quite believe this is happening. She kisses him deeper, deeper than before, and arches into him slightly, causing a small moan to escape his lips. She giggles against his lips, but he kisses her again, turning her over so that she was on her back.
He hovers above her, his fingers trailing from her cheek down to her neck, along her collarbone and down her chest. His breath catches in his throat when he reaches her breasts and she arches into him as he runs his hand along the hem of the lace. He thinks he’s in awe, a little bit, but she kisses him urgently, urging him to continue. He runs his finger alone the line of her bra to the back, where he settles on the clasp. She nods against his forehead and he twists his fingers until the clasp opens, falling to the side. He pulls it off, gently, and swallows as he casts it aside.
“Rachel…” There’s too many things he wants to tell her, too many things swirling in his head, but she kisses him, nudges her nose against his and covers his hand with hers, moving it to her breast. His fingers brush against her nipple and she moans into his mouth, arching into his hand, and he takes a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as he flicks it with his thumb, over and over, feeling her.
“Finn…”she whispers against his cheek, her breath hot against his skin. “Finn … please touch me.”
He swallows and nods, brushing his hand along the skin of her stomach, her hipbone, before grazing against the hem of her underwear. She lifts her hips a little, and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of her underwear, tugging them down her legs. He can already feel the warmth coming from her and she presses her forehead into the nook of his neck as his hand moves down, lower and lower, before he reaches the inside of her thigh.
She feels amazing, more amazing that he would have ever imagined, and he has to remind himself to actually breathe as he brushes his finger against her wetness. She whimpers against his neck, her hand grasping his t-shirt as he runs his finger in a circular motion around her clit, over and over, faster and faster. He dips his finger in her, slowly, and she tenses a little, grasping onto him a little tighter. He does it again, and again, and she arches herself into him, small breathy whimpers escaping her lips. He flicks his thumb, and she moans, so he does it again, over and over, until her whole body tenses and she grips his shirt as she releases.
The whole room is spinning, for him, because she’s against his chest, still gripping him tightly, her chest covered in a light sweat. She’s still breathing deeply, and he shifts a little, pressing his lips against the top of her head. His pants are painfully tight, and it’s almost uncanny that she chooses that exact moment to brush her hand against the front of his pants, pressing slightly. He moans, loudly, and she smiles against his chest, moving her hand up to the hem of his shirt and tugging upwards. He pulls it off, as she unbuttons his jeans, even slight push causing him to jump a little. She’s flushed, lying back on the pillows completely naked, and he pulls off his pants before hovering above her.
“Are you okay? I mean are you-“
She smiles. “I’m perfect.”
He smiles and leans down, brushing his lips against hers softly. She whispers “I love you” against his lips and he rests his forehead against hers, “I love you, so, so much” falling from his lips.
She takes a breath as he pulls a condom out of his jeans pocket, pushing it on quickly. She’s still holding her breath as he positions himself over her, his hands hovering over either side of her. He whispers breathe against her lips and she does before he pushes inside of her slowly, gently. She intakes a sharp, sharp breath, and her eyes glass over with tears instantly, so he pauses, stilling himself. She blinks and he leans over, kissing her over and over and over before she nods against his lips and he pushes into her deeper. She still tenses a little, but not as bad as before, so he continues, slowly. He pushes into her again and a soft moan escapes her lips, different to before. He waits for her to tell him to continue but she leans up, arching against him and crushes her lips on his. He isn’t going to last long, he knows it, but fuck - did that actually slip out? She groans after he swears and he’d be confused except for the fact that he can’t think of anything other than her right now, and this, and feeling every part of her. He thrusts one more time, his lips against hers, and he comes, holding her hips against his.
It takes a minute before he pulls out, pulling off his waste and throwing it in the trash. She lies against the pillows, her face flushed and sweaty and he moves back next to her, his fingers grazing her cheek.
She cringes slightly as she turns over to face him. He immediately panics. “Are you - I mean, did I-“
She smiles at his panic and shushes him, placing her hand on his chest. “I’m fine. It was expected I’d be a little sore.”
He nods, watching her. “Was it - I mean…”
“Perfect,” she whispers, brushing her fingers against his lips. “It was perfect, Finn.”
Nothing can stop the smile that appears on his lips, and he leans over her, pulling over the basket of food.
“Hungry?”
She giggles and nods. He kisses her shoulder.
They spend the night on that floor.