Drabble: Can't Walk Away From You, Baby, If I Tried
Title: Can't Walk Away From You, Baby, If I Tried
Author: needsmoregreen
Rating: R for smut and language? (I don't understand MPAA ratings).
Word Count: 1.3k +
Spoilers: Fuinn relationship through to 2.19
Pairings: Fuinn
Warnings: There is wall sex and everything is pretty fucked up.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just playing in RIB's lovely sandbox here (as much as I'd love to own Scary Quinn).
Summary: "It hasn't escaped Quinn's notice that the sex is only really good when they're angry at each other."
Author Notes: So I don't usually write smut. And then I did. Oops. And then it ends up all fucked up like this.
Title is from "Oh Daddy" by Fleetwood Mac. I wanted a Rumours song and The Chain was way too easy, and this one kind of fits perfectly. Enjoy?
***
It hasn't escaped Quinn's notice that the sex is only really good when they're angry at each other.
At first it was always really good, but that was because it was all new and secret and Sam didn't know that the reason she was still holding out on him was just a little bit because she was afraid of saying the wrong name. It was great because it wasn't meant to be happening.
And then, when suddenly it wasn't so wrong or bad anymore, they realised that it actually wasn't that amazing, and that maybe the drama of not having sex last year was more exciting then the actually having sex. Because once it wasn't wrong for them to be doing it, it was just, well, sex.
That's when she really started throwing herself into the celibacy club thing. Because they had to be breaking the rules somehow for it to be that good again. And it worked for a while, but soon even that wasn't enough, and that's when the hate sex thing started happening.
And it isn't that the sex is ever bad, because it's not, and clearly Finn learnt a lot from Santana last year because there's no way he would've been able to do half the things he does now if he hadn't. (That thought makes Quinn feel just a little bit sick).
It isn't that it's never good, it's just that it's only ever really good because.
Quinn's starting think she will never have sex that's just good, never have a relationship that's just good. It almost was with Sam, but as always she had to go and ruin it like she does every-fucking-thing in her life, just because she can, not even because she means to. She just does. She's starting to think she does it on purpose, tears things down because they're just not perfect yet, and she can't stand to have things in her life that aren't. She's perfect, she looks perfect, her boyfriend is the perfect alpha-male of McKinley and they're perfectly in true-fucking-love.
Except that he's not, and they don't love each other perfectly, and that's when the destroying started. And now that everyone knows just how imperfect she uses to be everything is just worse, so much worse, so bad that she feels just a little sick allthe time now because there's no way she can be perfect until all of that just goes away, and it's so, so terrifying.
So until she's perfect, sex will never be just good, and there will always be a because.
Right now it's great because after Quinn stormed out of glee they didn't speak all day, and she knew Kurt was going over to Dalton then taking Blaine to meet Sam, and that Burt and Carole always have pilates class every Wednesday afternoon, and she's just been so angry and she had to do something about it. Finn seems to get it too, as soon as he opened the door and she pushed him inside, fisting her hands in his shirt and pushing him towards the wall as she kissed him fiercely, because as soon as he caught on he was unbuttoning her shirt and nothing hotly at her neck, growling somewhere deep down within him. He didn't even bother to drag her to his bedroom this time, pushed her hard against the wall instead and panted hard into her mouth instead as fingers fumbled with clothes and shoes and she wrapped her legs around his waist. (They didn't have a condom, but she was always on the pill now, after last year).
It was scary and wrong and so, so right.
"Why do you--fuck--always have to--to try and make it like you own me?" Finn grounds out as he thrusts into her, harder and harder, his head buried in her chest.
Because I do own you, she thinks. I've always owned you and I always will and it's never going to change. I'm always going to be the one controlling you because you don't know how to control yourself, you don't know what you want and you need me to tell you.
I hate it, I hate it so much. But, fuck, I really want it.
She scrapes her fingernails down his back. He gasps, in a good way, groans into her neck, and she wonders when the hell Finn became such a masochist. But as he mouths at her breast, breath hot and teeth scraping, as her back slams against the wall again and again and she cries out, she knows she's just the same as him.
"Why do you have to fucking do this, why--oh, fuck--do you get off on this?"
Yes, she thinks. But she can't say anything, all she can do is choke out a moan and pull at his hair and bite at his neck, because this she knows how to do. She knows how to tear and ruin and hurt.
And she knows Finn likes it.
It has to hurt. Because if it hurts, it doesn't ever have to be perfect. If they make it wrong, Quinn never has to try to make it right again.
Quinn doesn't have perfect relationships, good ones. But this, right now, is perfect for all the wrong reasons.
Finn is shuddering and shouting and cursing inside her, and Quinn bites her lip, hard, so she doesn't say his name as she comes.
***
Finn always falls asleep after sex. It doesn't matter how many times they do it, how good he gets, he apparently always manages to orgasm so hard he just rolls over and falls asleep for at least 20 minutes, usually pulling her into his arms right before he shuts down.
They weren't on the bed this time, though, so he leads her wordlessly by the hand to his bed, silently picking up their clothes on the way, and curls up on top of the duvet with her in his arms, surprisingly gentle given what just happened with the wall.
It doesn't matter if they've been fighting, doesn't matter how deeply they hate each other right now. It's a ritual.
Quinn can never fall asleep that quickly (sometimes at night she'll lie there for hours before her brain can be quiet long enough to let her sleep), so mostly she watches him until he wakes up. It amazes her that someone who can do those things and growl that deep within him can look so young and peaceful. Any evidence of their fight is smoothed from his face and his cuddles her closer to his chest, locking her in his arms.
She doesn't feel trapped though. She feels comfortable.
As she watches him now, sweat still drying on his brow, she realises that this will probably always be what it's like. It will always be this, the sweetness and the pain, the kissing and the biting, the love and the sex. They're trapped like this, they're drawn to each other by some inexplicable need to be unhappy, but at the same time, not. It's not going to matter if they break up a hundred times, they will always end up back here, with her cuddled up in Finn's arms after they've just tried to kill each other.
She'll always love Finn, just... not in a way that's healthy. She doesn't want it to be healthy. It's that perfect thing again: as long as she can have something that's not perfect, that doesn't have to be, then the rest of the things she has to seem perfect at will be just that little bit easier and she'll feel just that little bit less sick.
It's some comfort to Quinn that when she's still here in twenty, thirty years, when she's bored out of her fucking brain with real estate and having a family and the damn white picket fence, that she'll always have this to come back to. That there will always be something unpredictable, something that changes, something that's dirty and painful and real.
That it'll always come back around to that same question: "Can we be in love again?"
And the answer will always be yes, at least for a while.
And honestly, that makes Quinn happier than anything has in a long time.
She enjoys that thought for a moment, and finally relaxes herself against Finn's chest, smiling, and sleeps easily for the first time in months.
***
Author: needsmoregreen
Rating: R for smut and language? (I don't understand MPAA ratings).
Word Count: 1.3k +
Spoilers: Fuinn relationship through to 2.19
Pairings: Fuinn
Warnings: There is wall sex and everything is pretty fucked up.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just playing in RIB's lovely sandbox here (as much as I'd love to own Scary Quinn).
Summary: "It hasn't escaped Quinn's notice that the sex is only really good when they're angry at each other."
Author Notes: So I don't usually write smut. And then I did. Oops. And then it ends up all fucked up like this.
Title is from "Oh Daddy" by Fleetwood Mac. I wanted a Rumours song and The Chain was way too easy, and this one kind of fits perfectly. Enjoy?
***
It hasn't escaped Quinn's notice that the sex is only really good when they're angry at each other.
At first it was always really good, but that was because it was all new and secret and Sam didn't know that the reason she was still holding out on him was just a little bit because she was afraid of saying the wrong name. It was great because it wasn't meant to be happening.
And then, when suddenly it wasn't so wrong or bad anymore, they realised that it actually wasn't that amazing, and that maybe the drama of not having sex last year was more exciting then the actually having sex. Because once it wasn't wrong for them to be doing it, it was just, well, sex.
That's when she really started throwing herself into the celibacy club thing. Because they had to be breaking the rules somehow for it to be that good again. And it worked for a while, but soon even that wasn't enough, and that's when the hate sex thing started happening.
And it isn't that the sex is ever bad, because it's not, and clearly Finn learnt a lot from Santana last year because there's no way he would've been able to do half the things he does now if he hadn't. (That thought makes Quinn feel just a little bit sick).
It isn't that it's never good, it's just that it's only ever really good because.
Quinn's starting think she will never have sex that's just good, never have a relationship that's just good. It almost was with Sam, but as always she had to go and ruin it like she does every-fucking-thing in her life, just because she can, not even because she means to. She just does. She's starting to think she does it on purpose, tears things down because they're just not perfect yet, and she can't stand to have things in her life that aren't. She's perfect, she looks perfect, her boyfriend is the perfect alpha-male of McKinley and they're perfectly in true-fucking-love.
Except that he's not, and they don't love each other perfectly, and that's when the destroying started. And now that everyone knows just how imperfect she uses to be everything is just worse, so much worse, so bad that she feels just a little sick allthe time now because there's no way she can be perfect until all of that just goes away, and it's so, so terrifying.
So until she's perfect, sex will never be just good, and there will always be a because.
Right now it's great because after Quinn stormed out of glee they didn't speak all day, and she knew Kurt was going over to Dalton then taking Blaine to meet Sam, and that Burt and Carole always have pilates class every Wednesday afternoon, and she's just been so angry and she had to do something about it. Finn seems to get it too, as soon as he opened the door and she pushed him inside, fisting her hands in his shirt and pushing him towards the wall as she kissed him fiercely, because as soon as he caught on he was unbuttoning her shirt and nothing hotly at her neck, growling somewhere deep down within him. He didn't even bother to drag her to his bedroom this time, pushed her hard against the wall instead and panted hard into her mouth instead as fingers fumbled with clothes and shoes and she wrapped her legs around his waist. (They didn't have a condom, but she was always on the pill now, after last year).
It was scary and wrong and so, so right.
"Why do you--fuck--always have to--to try and make it like you own me?" Finn grounds out as he thrusts into her, harder and harder, his head buried in her chest.
Because I do own you, she thinks. I've always owned you and I always will and it's never going to change. I'm always going to be the one controlling you because you don't know how to control yourself, you don't know what you want and you need me to tell you.
I hate it, I hate it so much. But, fuck, I really want it.
She scrapes her fingernails down his back. He gasps, in a good way, groans into her neck, and she wonders when the hell Finn became such a masochist. But as he mouths at her breast, breath hot and teeth scraping, as her back slams against the wall again and again and she cries out, she knows she's just the same as him.
"Why do you have to fucking do this, why--oh, fuck--do you get off on this?"
Yes, she thinks. But she can't say anything, all she can do is choke out a moan and pull at his hair and bite at his neck, because this she knows how to do. She knows how to tear and ruin and hurt.
And she knows Finn likes it.
It has to hurt. Because if it hurts, it doesn't ever have to be perfect. If they make it wrong, Quinn never has to try to make it right again.
Quinn doesn't have perfect relationships, good ones. But this, right now, is perfect for all the wrong reasons.
Finn is shuddering and shouting and cursing inside her, and Quinn bites her lip, hard, so she doesn't say his name as she comes.
***
Finn always falls asleep after sex. It doesn't matter how many times they do it, how good he gets, he apparently always manages to orgasm so hard he just rolls over and falls asleep for at least 20 minutes, usually pulling her into his arms right before he shuts down.
They weren't on the bed this time, though, so he leads her wordlessly by the hand to his bed, silently picking up their clothes on the way, and curls up on top of the duvet with her in his arms, surprisingly gentle given what just happened with the wall.
It doesn't matter if they've been fighting, doesn't matter how deeply they hate each other right now. It's a ritual.
Quinn can never fall asleep that quickly (sometimes at night she'll lie there for hours before her brain can be quiet long enough to let her sleep), so mostly she watches him until he wakes up. It amazes her that someone who can do those things and growl that deep within him can look so young and peaceful. Any evidence of their fight is smoothed from his face and his cuddles her closer to his chest, locking her in his arms.
She doesn't feel trapped though. She feels comfortable.
As she watches him now, sweat still drying on his brow, she realises that this will probably always be what it's like. It will always be this, the sweetness and the pain, the kissing and the biting, the love and the sex. They're trapped like this, they're drawn to each other by some inexplicable need to be unhappy, but at the same time, not. It's not going to matter if they break up a hundred times, they will always end up back here, with her cuddled up in Finn's arms after they've just tried to kill each other.
She'll always love Finn, just... not in a way that's healthy. She doesn't want it to be healthy. It's that perfect thing again: as long as she can have something that's not perfect, that doesn't have to be, then the rest of the things she has to seem perfect at will be just that little bit easier and she'll feel just that little bit less sick.
It's some comfort to Quinn that when she's still here in twenty, thirty years, when she's bored out of her fucking brain with real estate and having a family and the damn white picket fence, that she'll always have this to come back to. That there will always be something unpredictable, something that changes, something that's dirty and painful and real.
That it'll always come back around to that same question: "Can we be in love again?"
And the answer will always be yes, at least for a while.
And honestly, that makes Quinn happier than anything has in a long time.
She enjoys that thought for a moment, and finally relaxes herself against Finn's chest, smiling, and sleeps easily for the first time in months.
***