ms_becca

Title: Love, the kind that you just want to give away
Author: Becca
Word Count: 6406
Rating: R, probably closer to PG for most of it.
Disclaimer: Do not own them. Only borrowing.
Summary: A series of Finn/Rachel firsts.
AN: For my darlingest andbless_mybaby , happy birthday, sweetie. Don’t worry, it’s not so bad being old! I’ll always be older! AN2: Thanks to Carrie Underwood for being amazing, unequivocally for giving me the jumping off point originally, and ohladybegood for the beta. Anyone else who read this and told me it wasn’t crap (earlier) thank you very much, too. You know who you are!

It takes Finn a while to ask Rachel out (he’s just had his heart majorly crushed by his girlfriend and his best friend at once). His confidence level is low. Yeah, sure he doesn’t have the greatest confidence to begin with – he’s always been concerned with what others think of him, his friends, the football team, hell, even Glee Club – but he’s working on that. Besides, he’s a little bit scared of her. More than a little, a lot scared of tiny, little Rachel Berry and her intense ways.

It’s not that he doesn’t like her. He really, really likes her (maybe too much). It’s just...

------

His first relationship starts like this. He asks the head cheerleader out, partly because it’s expected, partly because he wants to get into her pants (he’s a teenage boy), and partly because she’s really pretty and kind of nice to him. They date for a while. She hits him with the whole “celibacy” thing, which is cool ‘cause you know he’s kind of a girl about this stuff. And he knows that he’s going to have to put effort into getting Quinn to take off her clothes. But he kind of expects that with any girl.

Anyway, so they date.

Eventually, after many months of trying, he makes it all the way to second (which he thought was pretty cool, even if it was over the shirt). Her boobs were like soft and kind of squishy, but in a really cool way, under the cotton blend of her Cheerios uniform.

Then there’s the whole hot tub thing, and yeah, he comes clean about his problem, because there was really no way to hide it from her. So, yeah.

Then there’s Rachel and the kissing. And damn. That’s kind of like cheating, isn’t it? He’d never really thought of it that way before, but it totally is. He’s a cheater. Wow. That kind of sucks.

Still, the day Quinn comes to school telling him that he’s going to be a father, everything stops.

And that’s really... He can’t even think about it now. Can’t think about what he’s lost.

But she fucking lied.

And he’s not going to be a father.

And even before they’d made out and he’d had his little episode in the hot tub she’d fucked his best friend. He doesn’t care why, or how, or really even when. She’d done more than just kiss a person three times. She’d let him...

She lied. And he lied.

------

To be perfectly honest, Finn does not want to go through that again. Not that Rachel would do that to him, she wouldn’t, he’s absolutely certain. But he’s just afraid of taking the chance and then having her find out that Puck is a better lay or something, not that he’s thinking about Rachel having sex with him, or anyone. Hell they’re not even dating.

Fuck.

He doesn’t want to lose another one.

Besides, it’s not like Rachel has asked him out either. She’s a take charge kind of girl. Look at the evidence:

1. Rachel staring at him during the early Glee rehearsals.

2. Pairing herself up with him during the “Push It” dance.

3. Joining “celibacy club” and her speech

4. The kisses.

5. Her being all angry after the kisses

6. Bowling

7. The next kiss.

8. The slap, which really hurt actually.

But then everything kind of stopped.

She dated Puck for a while. And yeah, she was still around and stuff, but she never really looked at him the same way.

She stopped helping him after school with his singing. She stopped following him in the hallways.

And somehow they became friends.

------

Maybe he’s not ready to risk that either.

Maybe he knows (really there’s no maybe about it) that she needs a friend and he wants to be that for her.

So he didn’t ask Rachel out any time during that period for all of those reasons. That, and she’s like super intense. Too intense sometimes, but whatever. She’s still super cool.

Besides it’s only been three months since Sectionals and Regionals are coming up and he’s nervous about all that because he really does want a scholarship to go to a good college and he’s got a better chance of that with singing then he does with football considering how fucking awful their team is.

And he’s got basketball, and friends, and homework (which he’s recently taken up again), and school, and his X-Box, and he doesn’t really need a girlfriend to add to all that pressure. Because it’s not like he’s been having these crazy sex-dreams about Rachel and those knee socks, or her elliptical machine, or her shower. And he sure hasn’t been staring at her in class or Glee or whatever. He totally hasn’t.

------

“Dude, stop being a fucking pussy and ask her out already.” Puck slams his gym locker shut. They haven’t spoken since Sectionals. They haven’t needed to. Puck knows that he’s not forgiven. He broke the fucking guy CODE! The CODE! Not even like the bros before hos RULE. It’s guy CODE (like pirates have) that you do not fuck your best friend’s girl. Not while they’re together, not while they’re apart. NOT EVER!

But it’s just the two of them in the locker room so Puck must be trying to talk to him.

“I’m sick and tired of watching you and Berry dance around each other like you’re in a fucking homo ballet. Man-the-fuck-up!”

Maybe he doesn’t want to listen to Puck. Maybe they’re team mates, but they’re sure as shit not friends anymore. Maybe he wants Puck’s advice to be crap.

(He knows it’s not.)

Puck leaves without another word.

Aw. Shit.

------

Her body is smokin’. And she never makes him feel stupid. She listens to him and helps him and... He sure doesn’t want anyone else to have access to those Angelina-style lips.

So he drives to her house. Knocks on the door which she opens wearing some kind of yoga gear or something, stretchy pants and a baggy t-shirt, not something that she’d wear to school. She’s got her hair in a messy ponytail with a headband holding back the loose pieces.

“Finn, what are you doing here?” She says.

He pauses. No time to chicken out now. Just do it. Man-the-fuck-up.

“Umm... I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go bowling or something?”

“Uh, sure. Is something wrong? I remember you saying that you always went bowling when you were stressed or upset or something.”

“No. No. Nothing’s wrong. Uh, I was actually just wondering if, you know, it could be a real... date.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t jump up and down. She doesn’t throw her arms around him. She doesn’t make the crazy stalker-eyes at him. She doesn’t cry hysterically or throw things at him.

She just says, “Sure.”

Awesome.

“I’ll come and get you at seven, okay?” He feels excited and nervous. And hell, he’s already kissed her, so it’s not like he needs to worry about that as an obstacle.

“I’ll be ready then. Can I use the pink ball, again?”

He nods and smiles at her before saying that he’ll see her in a few hours and turning back to his car.

He already knows that she’s a little bit crazy. But he likes her. Maybe too much, but it’s just a start. And that’s all he can ask for.

------

So their first date begins exactly as he plans it. He picks her up in his mom’s sedan at exactly seven. Her dads aren’t home, which he kind of loves because he’s so not ready for that yet, even if he gives good parent.

They bowl and eat pizza and drink soda and it’s just like before. But he doesn’t have Quinn or the baby or Glee or the scholarship hanging over his head. And when they talk, they’re talking about things that matter to them because they can, not because he needs to.

She doesn’t score a strike but she does knock down all the pins a few times. She high-fives him instead of jumping into his arms and he almost misses that. Like now that they’re on a “real date” there’s this extra pressure or something so she can’t react like she normally would and what’s up with that anyway? People should be themselves all the time. Why wouldn’t they be?

At the end of the night he walks her to her door and waits for the sign. The neon flashing sign that Rachel is bound to hold over her head saying “Kiss Me.” It never shows up. She says a polite ‘thank you for a lovely evening,’ hugs him close and goes inside.

He stands on her front step wondering what the hell just happened.

------

He sees her at school the next day. She smiles at him from her locker and he can’t help but pull her into the empty choir room.

“Finn?” She looks at him like he’s crazy or something (and maybe he is. Who the hell isn’t sometimes?). “I have to get ready for class.”

She just looks so cute in her little dress and sweater set. No knee socks today, just some brightly coloured leg things. But this isn’t about her clothes at all. He’s been thinking about kissing her all night (he’s a guy), okay, maybe it’s more like eight months (since the last time they kissed and he felt really bad about it after because it was like leading her on and he’s a good guy and good guys don’t do that and Rachel deserves more than that).

“Okay,” he starts. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about something for a while, like, all night... and maybe a couple months before that... but... Can I just...” He puts a hand on either side of her face and hears her breath (and maybe his, too) hitch. She turns her face up and he leans down.

As completely cheesebucket as it is, when his lips close over hers he sees those shiny gold stars she always sticks behind her name (once she called it a mesa-four or something, he can’t really remember anymore), but it’s blinding and addictive.

So he does it again, worrying her top lip with his teeth, scraping and soothing and scraping some more. And – holy fuck – her tongue slips along his bottom lip and Finn Jr. is about to make an extremely embarrassing appearance so he pulls away, breathing hard, concentrating on dead kittens (yuck), the image of his mom naked (so wrong), and finally the damn mailman (who now works a completely different route). And yep, he’s good.

“Wow,” she says, her eyes glazed, kind of like the doughnut he wanted for breakfast.

“Yeah. We’re going to have to be careful with how much of that we do at school.” He smiles down at her and damned if Finn Jr. doesn’t pop back up a little bit just looking at her with her lips puffy from his and her eyes with that watery look to them. Her fingers grip his and she leads him back out into the hallway.

“Come on,” she says. “I’ll walk you to class.”

------

He drives her home from school later that week. He carries her bag to the car and even opens the door for her (because if there’s one thing he’s learned from his mom, it’s how to treat a lady, and Rachel is definitely a lady).

She talks about her day on the ride. About how this totally douchy guy in her history class made some “asinine comment” (what the hell does asinine mean? Is that bad? He thinks it’s bad) about her skirt and how she should bend over to give the world a good view. In his head he wants to find out who the douchebag is so that he can beat the shit out of him, because no one talks to his girlfriend like that.

Shit.

Maybe Rachel doesn’t know that she’s his girlfriend.

Oh, God.

What if she thinks it’s okay for her to see other people? What if she thinks that he won’t defend her? To be fair, he hasn’t really given her a lot of reason to believe in him, what with the whole cheating on Quinn thing, the going back to Quinn thing, the using her to get a scholarship thing, the bailing on her in the Glee photo thing, the bailing on Glee thing when she’d told him the truth about the baby.

Yeah, he understand why she might think that he’s not... but he is! He’s her boyfriend. Damn. Maybe he should say that.

“Do you want me to beat him up,” he says as he pulls out of the lot. “’Cause that’s what boyfriends do. We, like, defend our girlfriends from creeps like that.”

He can feel her smiling at him and he’s glad. Maybe he’s done something right!

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says after a moment of silence.

When they make it to her house, she asks him if he wants to come in.

They make-out on the sofa in her living room, laughing, kissing, joking, sharing and smiling in equal parts.

------

He meets her dads on a rainy Saturday.

The date and time have been pre-arranged by Rachel, thank God she’s good at organizing and planning because he sucks at it. They’re going to have lunch together at the house. Finn brings a brick of cheese, partly because he knows it’s rude to show up to someone’s house without an offering and partly because who doesn’t like cheese?

The Mr Berrys are actually quite nice. As they make up a series of sandwiches, spreading mayo on bread, cutting up lettuce leaves and tomatoes, they hold a polite conversation. They ask him about basketball and the team. About Glee and his studies. He’s nervous, sure, but Rach is at his side, holding his hand and helping him out when he doesn’t understand a comment or a word, by whispering a Finn-lation (a Finn translation), into his ear.

They don’t really give him the evil eye at all, well, not much of one. There is a time when the first Mr. Berry (the one with the glasses) looks him up and down and it kind of reminds him of when Kurt used to stare at him in the locker room and he thinks he blushes a little bit. That is maybe the most intimidating part of the afternoon.

After they’ve talked about the plans Finn and Rachel have made for the rest of the afternoon, Finn offers to do the dishes. The Mr Berrys insist that they’ll take care of it, but just as he’s pulling his coat out of their front hall closet the second Mr Berry comes over to him. He whispers carefully into Finn’s ear.

“We own a shotgun. You break her heart, we will find you.”

When he pulls back, Finn knows his eyes are wide and maybe a little while cause he’s way too young to die and he would never hurt Rachel intentionally now. When he’s with someone, he always gives all of himself.

But the second Mr. Berry just smiles and waves at him, and he finally returns to his car.

------

He can’t touch Rachel for the rest of the day, out of fear of shotgun pellets.

-------

It’s one of the days he drives her home from school that Finn Jr.’s little problem comes up. They’re kissing on the sofa again, quite haveily petting through their clothes (and at this point they’ve been dating for almost a month). Her lips trail down his neck and his hands move down her back to press her closer to him. And everything is going well, really well (honestly, after most of their make-out sessions he goes home and rubs one out because he’s a healthy teenage boy and it’s just not normal to live in that state of excitement for any length of time), until her body shifts and her legs sink into the sofa on either side of his and she starts to grind her hips into him and –

Oh fuck.

Shit.

Mother of God.

Mailman, mailman, mailman.

Her lips pull away as his entire body fights against Finn Jr.’s reaction.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Finn?” She must be looking down on him but he can’t tell because his eyes are closed so tightly mostly because he’s embarrassed. And he still feels like he’s right on the edge of a slippery slope that would be SO EASY to slide down.

“Yes,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” She sounds so unsure of herself, he knows that it’s time to tell her the truth, no matter how horrible that truth might be.

He opens his eyes and looks at her and yeah, he’s still hard, but he’s not going to blow his load right this second, as long as she doesn’t touch him.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed? You know, before?”

Her face gets a little hard to read and he knows that she’s remembering it.

“And you remember how I kissed you twice then got up super fast? Like roadrunner fast?”

Her eyebrows are pressed together in concentration trying to put all of the puzzle piece together (to a really super hard human puzzle of words and actions and stuff, so it’s not much like a puzzle at all, more like a maze with clues and she has to get to the end of the maze where she’ll find the prize, except it’s not much of a prize and damn, he’s blushing again).

“Well, the reason I had to leave suddenly was this.” He grabs her hand from where it hangs beside her body and puts it on the bulge of his jeans. A weird breathy sound leaves his body and her hand brushes along him. “Stop,” he pleads with her. “Sometimes I get a little too excited, too quickly. Understand?”

“Oh,” she says quietly. Then, “Oh!” The lightbulb flickers or whatever. “You know it’s perfectly natural. Many sexually inexperienced males experience premature ejaculation. In fact there are many different methods for confronting this issue. Toys that we can use and strategies we can put into practice. I haven’t researched it extensively at all, but I do have some reading material on the subject. Most importantly, you need to know that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She pulls a few tissues from the box on the coffee table and shifts his shirt up slightly. She unfolds the tissue and places it on his stomach, which tenses. She unbuttons his jeans and reaches for the zipper and smiles.

“I thought you didn’t like kissing me. I thought I’d done something wrong.” She reaches into his boxers and pulls him out. And fuck, it’s amazing. No one else has... He can’t.... Oh, fuck. Is this...

When she grips him a bit too softly he moves his hand over hers showing her the amount of pressure to use. They find a rhythm together and it’s more – intense, amazing, inspiring, scary – than anything that’s come before.

He comes on the tissues and her hand (with a bit of a gasp from Rachel) before she cleans him off and tucks him back into his pants. She wipes her hand on a tissue, too before leaning forward to kiss him on the mouth again. “Thank you for trusting me.”

------

She doesn’t want to come to the basketball party after the game. Something about how the Cheerios will be there and she doesn’t really feel the need to be ridiculed to her face (which he doesn’t really get, but whatever, he doesn’t understand half of what she says sometimes). He and Puck have finally started talking to each other again, nothing intense yet, but it’ll come and with the beer that Puck has been refilling for him all night, Finn’s feeling pretty good.

So good in fact that he’s drunk dialing his girlfriend to come and pick him up because he’s seeing two of everything.

“Rach, will you come and get me? I don’t think I can drive. Puck, man, do you need a ride?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says in the background.

He’s pretty sure Rachel says that she’ll be right there. He’s pretty sure. Wait a second, whose hands are on his ass? He didn’t give permission for anyone to touch his ass.

“Get off,” he says as he pushes at the evil grabby hands quickly and walks out to the front yard of Brittany’s house. Brittany always throws the best party and ever since that one time where they were in the hot tub and wait a second... he’s not supposed to be thinking those things.

When Rachel finally shows up in her little Prius, he stumbles over to the door and pulls it open.

“Hey, baby, thanksforcomingtogetme. DoesitsoundlikeI’mslurring? IfeelkindalikeI’mslurring!”

“Get in.” She sounds kind of angry. He likes her when she’s angry, except for that one time when she was angry with him, he really hated that part. And the part where she wouldn’t let him touch her, cause he really wanted to touch her, he always wants to touch her. It’s cause she’s so pretty. And by pretty he means hot. “Please don’t vomit in my car.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not drunk!” He hiccups.

The car is silent the entire ride over to his house. He only sort of notices because he’s pretty sure he’s drifting in and out of sleep, or passing out or whatever. Because it feels like the ride is super fast and Rachel never drives over the speed limit. She’s a very responsible kind of driver.

“I don’t understand why you do this, Finn.”

“Do what?”

“Go to these parties with these people who talk about us behind our backs and gossip. Infantile people who abuse alcohol egregiously and without care for their bodies.

“Hey, those are my friends you’re talking about.” Suddenly he doesn’t feel so drunk anymore. Just a little annoyed.

“Finn, those cads are not your friends. You care too much about what those parsimonious, egocentric adolescents think. You’re better than that!” He knows that she means it, but why can’t she understand what it’s like to be him. His confidence is all fragile and stuff. And yeah, his popularity matters. And sure, he cares what his friends think of him, even if those were the same friends who threw slushees at him last year.

“What if I don’t want to be better than them? What if I’m just like them? What the hell are you even doing with me, Rachel?” He stares at her then, and yeah, maybe he’s a bit angry. Even if he doesn’t understand everything she says all the time, he’s pretty good at picking up on when someone’s being insulting and she doesn’t have a right to be that way.

She stops and her hand drops off his arm.

“Sleep it off, Finn.”

She doesn’t smile at him, or move to kiss him goodnight. And he thinks for a second maybe he’s really fucked things up this time.

It’s only when her car is gone that he realizes his anger is gone, too, and all that’s left is a black emptiness.

------

The next day he goes to her house and throws rocks at her window until she opens it and lets him in.

"If you're trying to break my window, you should know that it's enforced to withstand hurricanes," she tells him with a little frown, and he knows that she's upset by the blazing, determined way she meets his eyes.

"Oh," he says, "that's, uh. Good. It's always good to be prepared."

He mentally prepares what he wants to say in his head as he follows her up the stairs to her room. It never comes out quite the way it sounds in his mind.

He tells her that he was stupid (but at least he didn’t drive home drunk). Says that the party wouldn’t have been half as lame if she had been with him (in a way that totally doesn’t make her feel like it’s her fault that they had that stupid fight). He tells her that he knows that he cares too much about other people’s opinions and it’s something he’s working on.

She doesn’t really smile at him, but she doesn’t kick him out either.

They sit and watch “Funny Girl,” which truthfully isn’t funny at all.

------

They’ve been dating for two months the first time she brings up sex.

His face stays red for two solid weeks whenever she walks by.

-----

They’re making out on her sofa again, after school again, but there’s really no ‘again’ about it because things are hotter than they’ve ever been before. And yes, he and Rachel went to the drug store to buy condoms together (because Rachel said that if they couldn’t buy the condoms together they obviously weren’t ready to have sex, so they went on a Tuesday night and he blushed the entire time and almost rushed out without getting his change from the cashier).

His hands are reaching under her shirt, sliding underneath her bra, cupping the soft skin there. His lips are on hers, his tongue slipping against hers insistently.

“Maybe,” she mumbles across his mouth, “we should move this upstairs.”

He can’t even say ‘yes, please’ because his mouth is dry and he’s way too afraid to say anything and break the spell if this means he and Rachel are actually going to have sex, which is kind of a huge deal now that he’s thinking about it.

When they make it to her bedroom, she locks the door (because her parents trust her enough to install a lock, which is like fifteen different kinds of awesome).

“I just want you to know that this is not a decision I make lightly. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time and I’m ready, and I hope that you are, too. If not, there are always other things we can do, like –“

“Rach, I’m so ready.”

He watches her cheeks flush just a bit, something that doesn’t happen often.

“Can we.... Can we go slow?” And it’s so not like his girl to use single syllables or to be nervous about things, but she is, and he totally recognizes it.

“Sure.” He sits down on her bed and waits until she sits beside him.

“I’ve imagined this and I was never so nervous in my mind. Why am I so nervous?” She’s wringing her hands together, pressing her knees close.

He grabs one of her hands, rubbing calming circles on her palm with his thumb. “You’ve imagined this, huh?” He knows he sounds a bit cocky, but he can’t help it. In his own mind, he’s taken her a million ways in a million different places. This is only one of them.

She smiles and a laugh slips through her lips as her free hand hits him on the shoulder.

“I have, too,” he whispers into her hair before slipping his lips over hers again. She’s so unbelievably sweet, he obsesses about her taste sometimes.

And suddenly his body is flush against her bed and his head is pressing into her pillow and Rachel’s body is on top of his, and Rachel’s lips are on his, and Rachel’s hand is undoing his pants, and holy Fuck, this is actually happening and Finn Jr. is just a little too close to “Cinco de Mayo” for Finn Sr.’s comfort, and she hasn’t even fucking touched him yet.

So when she does, when her fingers peel his jeans away from him, and sneak into his boxers he makes a huge fucking mess on her hand and inside his shorts.

“Fuck! Rachel, I’m... there’s... I....” He can’t even look at her. They’ve been working so hard on his issue, to have it blow up like this is more than embarrassing. “I’m so sorry.”

She pulls her hand away, wiping it on one of the Kleenex she always keeps by her bed. She’s smiling and he thinks maybe he still has a shot.

“How are you going to make it up to me?” She lays down beside him, her head still facing him, her eyes sending him all kinds of questions he’s totally ready to answer.

He rolls himself over, kicking off his jeans because they’re only going to get messy if he keeps them on. He pulls at her shirt until it’s over her head and her pretty white bra is visible.

“I didn’t really have any fancy lingerie,” she says to him.

“This is beautiful,” he responds and he means it. It’s made out of soft, soft cotton, with no fanciness, no bows or lace or anything. He traces along her skin where the cup ends and she shivers. Then he follows his fingers with his lips, tasting the salty skin there until her tense body starts to relax. “Do you want to leave it on?” he asks after a while.

She shakes her head no, before reaching around her back and undoing the clasp herself. He stops her from removing it altogether, until she lets him move the straps down her arms inch by inch, fingers sliding warm over sensitive skin until skin is all he sees to her waist.

She has tan lines, along her shoulders, two delicate strips of white coming down around her boobs (which are totally perfect, not too big, not too small – and he thinks briefly that those sweaters she always wears are deceptive). And he can’t help himself, he needs to kiss them, so he does. He knows that it’s a total obsession, but boobs have totally been his thing until Rachel (who doesn’t really have any to speak of), but he loves hers just the same. Feeling her nipple harden as his tongue brushes over it, and her fingers pull at his hair, is awesome. Really, really awesome. So he pulls on it, just to see what will happen and the noise he gets from her is it’s own kind of reward. A fucking insane moan, that might have woken her parents if they were home (which thank God, they’re not).

“Shit, Rachel,” he mouths against her and moves to the other nipple to give it similar treatment. She does it again.

And he’s fucking hard again. Geez. He better not blow it this time.

His hands move down to her skirt, pulling at it, tugging because a skirt should not be this fucking hard to take off. And why the fuck can’t he figure it out. Cause this is going to be their first time and she’s sure as shit not going to wear her skirt through it because he can’t even figure out how to get it undone.

Her hands find his, leading over the side of the material where a tiny little silver zipper is hidden in the fabric. He smiles and unzips, kissing her, scraping his teeth against her lip until she opens again and his tongue runs along hers.

She bends her knees to help him take the skirt off now that it’s loose and he throws it on her floor somewhere without ever breaking his lips from hers. Her hands move to the bottom of his shirt, which has managed to stay on, he’s not really clear on how, but whatever. It’s totally going on the floor now. He has to break their mouths apart to toss it aside, too, but it’s worth it.

He tries to take care of his body, too, and her eyes raking over him makes him smile. She pulls at his arms until he settles in between her legs. “Are you really sure about this?”

“Yes,” she says.

His palm slides down her side to trace the waist band of her soft cotton panties and her stomach clenches, she breathes in sharply and it wavers before releasing.

“You’re beautiful, Finn.” Her eyes are wide and on him.

He feels the heat rush to his cheeks, because isn’t that supposed to be his line? Maybe there are no lines. Maybe that’s what this is all about. It’s sure more than anything his friends have told him about.

His fingers hook in the elastic waist of her panties before rolling to sit on his knees and pulling the fabric down her legs, and he’s kind of glad that she forgot the knee socks today. He pushes his own boxers down until he can lean back into her (skin sliding on skin is fucking amazing, he’s barely holding it together), and kick until they’re off. He knows that she can feel him pressing hard into her leg, but still, she opens her legs for him, and lets him settle in between them. Her hands run along his back and his fingers slide inside her, she’s impossibly wet and tight (maybe too tight). So he uses his fingers (two working in and out, circling her clit, moving in and out over and over, until her back arches).

And when she’s fluid he adds a third, sliding it carefully up, in, twisting, scissoring.

She reaches with one hand, eyes closed, into the drawer in her bedside table and pulls out a condom. She tries to open it with her fingers but they’re slick with sweat and other things and can’t get a good grip, so he pulls it from her with his free hand and uses his teeth. He pulls a bit too hard and the latex lands on her nipple with a bit of a snapping sound.

“Holy shit. Are you okay?” He hopes this hasn’t ruined the whole thing.

She laughs at him and his fingers feel amazing inside her because he feels the laughter through her entire body, muscles contracting in ways they didn’t before. And now he’s imagining what it would feel like to have Finn Jr. inside of her while she’s laughing (probably instant orgasm for him, which is a bit selfish). She hands him the condom and he removes his fingers from her to roll it down properly (they are SO not taking any chances. 18 and pregnant is not on their list of things to do).

He positions himself at her entrance and looks at her hard (some would call it hesitating, but he thinks it’s more than that). He wants to remember this moment, with her eyes and mouth both smiling at him, her muscles relaxed and ready for him.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to push Finn Jr. inside there at some point, you know?” Her hair is spread out on the pink pillow and her one hand is tracing his face, and the other is moving down to grip his hip and like he knows what she’s about to do, he pushes in hard and fast (as her hips push back).

Oh.

Fuck.

So not going to last at all.

She’s tense beneath him again. The smile has fallen from her lips just a bit because he prepared her the best he could, but... Well, they’d talked about this once before. Just like they’d talked about the fact that some women couldn’t have vaginal orgasms (that was the day she’d let him go down on her to learn about clitoral orgasms which according to Rachel were much more common – he doesn’t know how he remembers this shit, but not his own class schedule sometimes). And the fact that she’s in pain actually helps take the edge off his on-coming orgasm.

He’s careful not to move too much, as his mouth comes down to brush hers, an I’m sorry breathed against her lips. And he stays like that kissing her softly, or deeply, or just barely until he feels her hands move to cup her own boobs (what, he’s still a bit obsessed!) and she releases a sort of cat-like purr. He moves his finger down to her clit and presses around it a few times until she’s restlessly moving her hips, trying to push up, where his body keeps her grounded on the bed.

Finally he rolls his hips sliding an inch out of her, then back home, then again, a bit further out this time. On the third try she moans and arches to meet him as he slips back into her. He continues to rub soft circles around her clit until his hips move faster and faster and her moans become a strange hooked breathing sound. And she’s so hot and tight and wet and close, that he pushes hard inside her and moves his fingers frantically, passing over her clit until she’s crying out, her muscles shaking and vibrating around him and he’s finally able to let go, exploding into the condom.

Minutes later when he realizes that he must be crushing her (cause dude, he’s like a foot taller than her and a bit wider if you hadn’t noticed) he holds the condom carefully, cause yeah, he and Puck had the sex talk and Puck’s been super careful since the whole babygate thingy, and pulls out of her. He pulls the latex off and ties it carefully before putting it in the garbage. Then he rolls back over to hold her (which is almost as awesome as the actual sex and the lead up to the actual sex which was hot, too).

“Hey Rach?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is sleepy and happy.

“I think I could get used to that.”

She laughs again, and he pulls the blankets out from under her and over their bodies. He flexes his hand on her stomach and curls her body into his even more, until she relaxes and her breathing deepens.

“I love you,” he whispers into her shoulder, kissing it, before finally giving in to the pull of sleep.