Fic: happy hour
Title: happy hour
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Betas: Lindsay (rowofstars), Julia (oddood)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 2,405
Characters: Will, Quinn (Will/Quinn; very brief mention of Tina/Mike)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: The last person she expects to see when she comes in for her usual Friday night post-work drink is him.
A/N: The very beginning of this fic was written for the three line fic meme (though it was longer than three lines, obvs), for a prompt given to me by rowofstars (Will/Quinn; disappointment), and I decided to expand it into a proper fic; takes place 10 years after Quinn graduates high school. Enjoy, bbs XD
The last person she expects to see when she comes in for her usual Friday night post-work drink is him. Her first thought as she approaches him is that he's older, and then she reminds herself that of course he is; it's been ten years, and she's older too. He's the first person she's seen from McKinley since she ran into Tina and Mike just over a year ago (of all the glee club couples she thought would last beyond high school, they were at the very bottom of the list, but there they were, emerging from a movie theater in downtown Columbus, hands joined between them and a little dark-haired girl riding on Mike's shoulders).
He's sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, and she separates herself from the group of girls from work, making her way over to him and settling on the stool beside him, laughing at his surprise when he realizes who she is.
He's still teaching at McKinley and is in Columbus for a conference; she's working for a marketing firm and he once again registers his surprise, admitting it's the last thing he expected her to do. It's the last thing she expected to do too; she certainly didn't expect to love it as much as she does.
Somehow the conversation shifts to relationships. She hasn't had a boyfriend in three years, and he's single too. She doesn't ask about his ex-wife or Ms. Pillsbury, just as he doesn't ask about Puck or Finn.
Maybe it's the beer or the darkness of the bar, but she finds herself looking at him with more than a little interest, and unless she's very much mistaken he seems to be eyeing her with a heightened level of interest as well.
She's not sure when it happens but they're suddenly very close. His hand is on her knee and his face is mere inches from hers and she wants so badly for him to bridge the distance. He shifts closer, his breath warm on her mouth, and her eyes flutter closed, waiting, waiting, and then she feels him move away. She opens her eyes and he shakes his head, pushing off his stool, I can't, and she watches him walk away, disappointment like a lead weight in her stomach.
Five minutes later he comes back and she discovers just how soft his lips are, and what his fingers feel like tangled in her hair.
He breaks the kiss and starts to move away but she grabs the front of his shirt and tugs him to her again, one hand rising to the back of his neck as she pulls him down. Her lips crash against his and her tongue slips into his mouth as her legs spread to allow him to move closer, her other hand clutching his side as her hips roll in his direction.
His hand drops to her leg and there's a fluttering in her stomach as he slowly slides it up under her skirt, fingers skittering along her stockings until he reaches the elastic band at her thigh. She shivers when he touches her bare skin, his touch light as he travels to her inner thigh.
Her fingers slide into his hair as his hand continues to move and he feels her twitch when he brushes the elastic of her panties, pressing lightly against her clit through the wet fabric.
She gasps into his mouth, the kiss breaking as she moves back a little, and he pulls his hand from her skirt, his brow furrowed as he looks down at her. He feels a moment of worry, wondering if he went too far, if he misread the signals.
He stammers an apology and she quickly shakes her head, raising her fingers to his lips before she slides off the stool.
She kisses him again, pressing against him as her hand travels down his arm to lock their fingers together.
"Come on," she says softly and starts towards the door, pulling him along behind her. She meets the gaze of one of her friends from work and smirks when the other woman raises an eyebrow at her, a grin spreading over her face. She knows she'll catch hell on Monday, but all she can think about right now is him and the way his hand felt between her legs, and how badly she wants more.
A short while later she pushes open the door to her apartment, dropping her keys into her purse as she steps inside. He follows her in, carefully closing the door behind him and locking it when she gestures for him to do so.
He stares around her apartment, taking in its neat, tidy appearance. He remembers how she always seemed so neat and pulled together when he knew her before, even when her life was falling apart all around her. She seems to be doing rather well for herself now, judging from the neighborhood and the quiet sense of luxury that her apartment exudes; it's not ostentatious but she clearly lives quite comfortably, and he feels a small surge of pride.
He watches her bend slightly to drop her purse on the coffee table and admires the line of her legs, encased in black nylon. He follows them up to her backside, stretching the black fabric of her skirt taut, and traces the shape of her hips with his eyes, a sharp feeling of lust piercing through him. He would be lying if he said he never admired this particular view when she was at McKinley, especially in that damn Cheerios uniform, and though he knew his thoughts were inappropriate at the time, he also knew he would never act on them, so he allowed himself a little guilty pleasure. Now there's no guilt, just pleasure, and he smiles slightly as he looks at her.
His smile widens when she straightens and turns to face him, and he stands still, waiting for some kind of signal from her. She smiles back at him, smoothing her skirt over her hips and giving him the tiniest nod, and he steps forward, into her personal space.
His hand rises to her face and his kiss is soft, his thumb sweeping across her cheek. He pulls back slightly, his nose brushing hers as he stares at her, his eyes intense, still waiting for her to stop him, waiting for any kind of indication that she's changed her mind.
Her lips curve upward and she pulls him to her again, kissing him like she did in the bar, her tongue fighting his for dominance.
His hands drop to her hips, bunching the fabric of her skirt a little, and she grips the front of his shirt, pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.
Part of her wonders if this is wrong, sleeping with a guy she picked up in a bar, but she reminds herself that he's not just some stranger; he's not like the guy she slept with last year, who hung around for a few dates before she never heard from him again.
This is Mr. Schue - Will, she forcefully tells herself - someone she knows. Sure she hasn't seen him in years, and sure he used to be her teacher, but the key phrase was used to be. He's not her teacher anymore, and while she has to admit that she never in a million years saw herself in this position with him, it's definitely not something she's opposed to. Though it was something she would have died before admitting out loud, she fantasized about him every so often when she was still in school, usually on those days when he would teach them new dances and would help her with some of the moves, standing behind her with his hands hovering over her hips. She would lie in bed later that night, her fingers buried between her legs as she imagined his voice low in her ear, saying her name. She definitely thought he was attractive back then, and he's still attractive now, and as her fingers tug his shirt from his pants, slipping under and brushing against his toned stomach, she can tell he hasn't given in to age.
The door to her bedroom swings open as they stumble inside, his hands still on her hips as he steers her towards the bed.
His fingers find the zipper to her skirt and he tugs it down, nudging gently until the skirt skims down her legs to pool around her feet. She steps out of it and kicks it aside, discarding her shoes a heartbeat later.
Her lips travel to the hollow at the base of his throat as her fingers work the buttons on his shirt and she kisses a slow path down as she pops each one before pushing it from his shoulders, letting it whisper to the floor.
His fingers thread in her hair again as he kisses her, and she wonders momentarily if this is strange for him, though if it is, he's certainly not letting it show.
She unbuttons and yanks off her shirt, dropping it to the floor and adding her bra a moment later.
Almost as if he'd been waiting for it, his hand moves to her breast, cupping it in his palm and passing his thumb over her nipple, sending a shiver down her spine. Her hips move against him and she can feel his erection; her desire increases sharply and she fumbles with his belt, the buckle ratting as she pulls it apart before tugging it from his waist with a muted zipping sound.
He pushes her down onto the bed and she peels the stockings from her legs, feeling his eyes on her as he unfastens his pants.
She looks up at him as she drops the stockings to the floor and he bends to kiss her, pushing her back and following her progress up the bed.
His lips move to her neck and down her chest, flicking his tongue over the ridge of her collar bone before moving to her breasts. He rolls one in his hand as his mouth works the other, taking the nipple gently between his teeth and making her gasp, her back arching slightly.
He continues down until he reaches her panties and hooks his fingers over the sides, tugging them slowly down her legs before dropping them to the floor and adding his boxers.
She reaches blindly for her bedside table, yanking open the drawer and rummaging until she finally finds what she wants, her eyelashes fluttering as he kisses his way up her legs, his lips light on the sensitive skin of her thighs.
When his face is level with hers again she holds up the condom between her fingers. She's on birth control, but she's not taking any chances; the last thing she needs is a repeat of high school.
He takes it without hesitation and she waits for him to slip it on, trying to hold back her impatience, though the burning ache between her legs is almost unbearable.
A moment later his hand drops to her thigh and he pushes her legs further apart as he slides easily between her folds.
Her mouth falls open slightly when he's fully inside of her and they're still a moment before he begins to move, pulling out almost all the way before pushing deep.
He's always had rhythm, she thinks to herself and then has to stifle the wild giggle that threatens to bubble up from within her. It's easy enough to do when she tilts her pelvis slightly, her mouth dropping open even more as he pushes deeper, hitting that perfect spot.
"Mr. - Will," she whispers, catching herself and wondering if he noticed her near slip.
He groans and lowers his mouth to her neck, nipping a small trail along her flesh and making her gasp.
"Say it, Quinn," he whispers, his lips brushing her ear as he thrusts harder, and she shivers, her mouth falling open.
"Mr. - Mr. Schue," she murmurs, and he moans, jerking his hips upward in another hard thrust.
A small whimper escapes her lips as she pulls her knees higher against his sides, and her heels dig into his back, urging him on.
He begins to move faster and her head falls against her pillows, her nails digging into his arms as he leans down to kiss her neck. He whispers her name against her skin and a thrill passes through her as her legs tighten around him.
She can feel her orgasm building and wants so badly to come, wants a release like she hasn't felt in ages. She moves with him, encouraging him with quiet utterances of his name, interspersed with gasps and moans.
Finally the dam breaks and she tightens around him, a loud cry escaping her lips as her toes curl and her head tilts back. The fingers of one hand press into his arm while her other hand rises beside her head, tightly clutching the pillow as her hips continue to move against him.
She's still shuddering underneath him when his own release arrives and he groans, burying his face in her neck as he slumps down on top of her.
He slips out of her, moving to lie beside her, and she hears the sound of a tissue being plucked from the box on her nightstand. She can feel him moving and though she doesn't look, she knows what he's doing and a small smile touches her lips. After a moment he settles and they lay quietly for a couple minutes.
She looks over at him just as he looks at her and he smiles as he raises a hand to brush her hair from her sweaty forehead. His hand lingers on her cheek and she stares at him.
She's not quite sure what she wants to happen next, but she doesn't want him to leave and she asks quietly if he can stay.
He nods and she smiles, finding his hand between them and squeezing his fingers before turning towards him.
She slips her arm around his waist as his curls around her shoulders and she settles contentedly against his side, closing her eyes as she rests her head on his chest.
His fingers are in her hair, gently combing through the long strands, and a smile curves her lips as she drifts off to sleep.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Betas: Lindsay (rowofstars), Julia (oddood)
Rating: Adult
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 2,405
Characters: Will, Quinn (Will/Quinn; very brief mention of Tina/Mike)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: The last person she expects to see when she comes in for her usual Friday night post-work drink is him.
A/N: The very beginning of this fic was written for the three line fic meme (though it was longer than three lines, obvs), for a prompt given to me by rowofstars (Will/Quinn; disappointment), and I decided to expand it into a proper fic; takes place 10 years after Quinn graduates high school. Enjoy, bbs XD
The last person she expects to see when she comes in for her usual Friday night post-work drink is him. Her first thought as she approaches him is that he's older, and then she reminds herself that of course he is; it's been ten years, and she's older too. He's the first person she's seen from McKinley since she ran into Tina and Mike just over a year ago (of all the glee club couples she thought would last beyond high school, they were at the very bottom of the list, but there they were, emerging from a movie theater in downtown Columbus, hands joined between them and a little dark-haired girl riding on Mike's shoulders).
He's sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, and she separates herself from the group of girls from work, making her way over to him and settling on the stool beside him, laughing at his surprise when he realizes who she is.
He's still teaching at McKinley and is in Columbus for a conference; she's working for a marketing firm and he once again registers his surprise, admitting it's the last thing he expected her to do. It's the last thing she expected to do too; she certainly didn't expect to love it as much as she does.
Somehow the conversation shifts to relationships. She hasn't had a boyfriend in three years, and he's single too. She doesn't ask about his ex-wife or Ms. Pillsbury, just as he doesn't ask about Puck or Finn.
Maybe it's the beer or the darkness of the bar, but she finds herself looking at him with more than a little interest, and unless she's very much mistaken he seems to be eyeing her with a heightened level of interest as well.
She's not sure when it happens but they're suddenly very close. His hand is on her knee and his face is mere inches from hers and she wants so badly for him to bridge the distance. He shifts closer, his breath warm on her mouth, and her eyes flutter closed, waiting, waiting, and then she feels him move away. She opens her eyes and he shakes his head, pushing off his stool, I can't, and she watches him walk away, disappointment like a lead weight in her stomach.
Five minutes later he comes back and she discovers just how soft his lips are, and what his fingers feel like tangled in her hair.
He breaks the kiss and starts to move away but she grabs the front of his shirt and tugs him to her again, one hand rising to the back of his neck as she pulls him down. Her lips crash against his and her tongue slips into his mouth as her legs spread to allow him to move closer, her other hand clutching his side as her hips roll in his direction.
His hand drops to her leg and there's a fluttering in her stomach as he slowly slides it up under her skirt, fingers skittering along her stockings until he reaches the elastic band at her thigh. She shivers when he touches her bare skin, his touch light as he travels to her inner thigh.
Her fingers slide into his hair as his hand continues to move and he feels her twitch when he brushes the elastic of her panties, pressing lightly against her clit through the wet fabric.
She gasps into his mouth, the kiss breaking as she moves back a little, and he pulls his hand from her skirt, his brow furrowed as he looks down at her. He feels a moment of worry, wondering if he went too far, if he misread the signals.
He stammers an apology and she quickly shakes her head, raising her fingers to his lips before she slides off the stool.
She kisses him again, pressing against him as her hand travels down his arm to lock their fingers together.
"Come on," she says softly and starts towards the door, pulling him along behind her. She meets the gaze of one of her friends from work and smirks when the other woman raises an eyebrow at her, a grin spreading over her face. She knows she'll catch hell on Monday, but all she can think about right now is him and the way his hand felt between her legs, and how badly she wants more.
A short while later she pushes open the door to her apartment, dropping her keys into her purse as she steps inside. He follows her in, carefully closing the door behind him and locking it when she gestures for him to do so.
He stares around her apartment, taking in its neat, tidy appearance. He remembers how she always seemed so neat and pulled together when he knew her before, even when her life was falling apart all around her. She seems to be doing rather well for herself now, judging from the neighborhood and the quiet sense of luxury that her apartment exudes; it's not ostentatious but she clearly lives quite comfortably, and he feels a small surge of pride.
He watches her bend slightly to drop her purse on the coffee table and admires the line of her legs, encased in black nylon. He follows them up to her backside, stretching the black fabric of her skirt taut, and traces the shape of her hips with his eyes, a sharp feeling of lust piercing through him. He would be lying if he said he never admired this particular view when she was at McKinley, especially in that damn Cheerios uniform, and though he knew his thoughts were inappropriate at the time, he also knew he would never act on them, so he allowed himself a little guilty pleasure. Now there's no guilt, just pleasure, and he smiles slightly as he looks at her.
His smile widens when she straightens and turns to face him, and he stands still, waiting for some kind of signal from her. She smiles back at him, smoothing her skirt over her hips and giving him the tiniest nod, and he steps forward, into her personal space.
His hand rises to her face and his kiss is soft, his thumb sweeping across her cheek. He pulls back slightly, his nose brushing hers as he stares at her, his eyes intense, still waiting for her to stop him, waiting for any kind of indication that she's changed her mind.
Her lips curve upward and she pulls him to her again, kissing him like she did in the bar, her tongue fighting his for dominance.
His hands drop to her hips, bunching the fabric of her skirt a little, and she grips the front of his shirt, pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.
Part of her wonders if this is wrong, sleeping with a guy she picked up in a bar, but she reminds herself that he's not just some stranger; he's not like the guy she slept with last year, who hung around for a few dates before she never heard from him again.
This is Mr. Schue - Will, she forcefully tells herself - someone she knows. Sure she hasn't seen him in years, and sure he used to be her teacher, but the key phrase was used to be. He's not her teacher anymore, and while she has to admit that she never in a million years saw herself in this position with him, it's definitely not something she's opposed to. Though it was something she would have died before admitting out loud, she fantasized about him every so often when she was still in school, usually on those days when he would teach them new dances and would help her with some of the moves, standing behind her with his hands hovering over her hips. She would lie in bed later that night, her fingers buried between her legs as she imagined his voice low in her ear, saying her name. She definitely thought he was attractive back then, and he's still attractive now, and as her fingers tug his shirt from his pants, slipping under and brushing against his toned stomach, she can tell he hasn't given in to age.
The door to her bedroom swings open as they stumble inside, his hands still on her hips as he steers her towards the bed.
His fingers find the zipper to her skirt and he tugs it down, nudging gently until the skirt skims down her legs to pool around her feet. She steps out of it and kicks it aside, discarding her shoes a heartbeat later.
Her lips travel to the hollow at the base of his throat as her fingers work the buttons on his shirt and she kisses a slow path down as she pops each one before pushing it from his shoulders, letting it whisper to the floor.
His fingers thread in her hair again as he kisses her, and she wonders momentarily if this is strange for him, though if it is, he's certainly not letting it show.
She unbuttons and yanks off her shirt, dropping it to the floor and adding her bra a moment later.
Almost as if he'd been waiting for it, his hand moves to her breast, cupping it in his palm and passing his thumb over her nipple, sending a shiver down her spine. Her hips move against him and she can feel his erection; her desire increases sharply and she fumbles with his belt, the buckle ratting as she pulls it apart before tugging it from his waist with a muted zipping sound.
He pushes her down onto the bed and she peels the stockings from her legs, feeling his eyes on her as he unfastens his pants.
She looks up at him as she drops the stockings to the floor and he bends to kiss her, pushing her back and following her progress up the bed.
His lips move to her neck and down her chest, flicking his tongue over the ridge of her collar bone before moving to her breasts. He rolls one in his hand as his mouth works the other, taking the nipple gently between his teeth and making her gasp, her back arching slightly.
He continues down until he reaches her panties and hooks his fingers over the sides, tugging them slowly down her legs before dropping them to the floor and adding his boxers.
She reaches blindly for her bedside table, yanking open the drawer and rummaging until she finally finds what she wants, her eyelashes fluttering as he kisses his way up her legs, his lips light on the sensitive skin of her thighs.
When his face is level with hers again she holds up the condom between her fingers. She's on birth control, but she's not taking any chances; the last thing she needs is a repeat of high school.
He takes it without hesitation and she waits for him to slip it on, trying to hold back her impatience, though the burning ache between her legs is almost unbearable.
A moment later his hand drops to her thigh and he pushes her legs further apart as he slides easily between her folds.
Her mouth falls open slightly when he's fully inside of her and they're still a moment before he begins to move, pulling out almost all the way before pushing deep.
He's always had rhythm, she thinks to herself and then has to stifle the wild giggle that threatens to bubble up from within her. It's easy enough to do when she tilts her pelvis slightly, her mouth dropping open even more as he pushes deeper, hitting that perfect spot.
"Mr. - Will," she whispers, catching herself and wondering if he noticed her near slip.
He groans and lowers his mouth to her neck, nipping a small trail along her flesh and making her gasp.
"Say it, Quinn," he whispers, his lips brushing her ear as he thrusts harder, and she shivers, her mouth falling open.
"Mr. - Mr. Schue," she murmurs, and he moans, jerking his hips upward in another hard thrust.
A small whimper escapes her lips as she pulls her knees higher against his sides, and her heels dig into his back, urging him on.
He begins to move faster and her head falls against her pillows, her nails digging into his arms as he leans down to kiss her neck. He whispers her name against her skin and a thrill passes through her as her legs tighten around him.
She can feel her orgasm building and wants so badly to come, wants a release like she hasn't felt in ages. She moves with him, encouraging him with quiet utterances of his name, interspersed with gasps and moans.
Finally the dam breaks and she tightens around him, a loud cry escaping her lips as her toes curl and her head tilts back. The fingers of one hand press into his arm while her other hand rises beside her head, tightly clutching the pillow as her hips continue to move against him.
She's still shuddering underneath him when his own release arrives and he groans, burying his face in her neck as he slumps down on top of her.
He slips out of her, moving to lie beside her, and she hears the sound of a tissue being plucked from the box on her nightstand. She can feel him moving and though she doesn't look, she knows what he's doing and a small smile touches her lips. After a moment he settles and they lay quietly for a couple minutes.
She looks over at him just as he looks at her and he smiles as he raises a hand to brush her hair from her sweaty forehead. His hand lingers on her cheek and she stares at him.
She's not quite sure what she wants to happen next, but she doesn't want him to leave and she asks quietly if he can stay.
He nods and she smiles, finding his hand between them and squeezing his fingers before turning towards him.
She slips her arm around his waist as his curls around her shoulders and she settles contentedly against his side, closing her eyes as she rests her head on his chest.
His fingers are in her hair, gently combing through the long strands, and a smile curves her lips as she drifts off to sleep.