Put Your Hands On Me

They're laying there, the sun streaking down at them, in a comfortable silence. Her tanned toned legs sprayed out on the blanket and his long limbs shadows hers, her head on his chest. She's not said a word since they go here. He's looking at the clear blue sky, hazel eyes brightening at the light on his face. It's been almost 6 months since they'd been nothing but friends, like a puzzle broken in pieces waiting to be glued back in place so everything made sense, so everything looked in place. Not much of his life has been logical since Quinn and Puck and Santana and the rest. He forces himself to shut the thoughts out, silence them and the air between them grows thicker. Her chocolate brown eyes have avoided contact with his since he brought her here, her delicate hands resting on the flat panel of her creamy stomach. He wants to touch her, to hold her, just to make sure she won't let go of his grip. He just wishes he could say something to make this all better. But as you know it, Finn Hudson is not one for words. His girlfriend Rachel was the talker. Until now. When thinks got more complicated, with the lies and the cheating, the denial and he screwed it all up again. She'd make one mistake which she wanted to rectify; he went on with old habits. Where would he be without her? Wandering around in circles, not knowing any direction. He groans. This sucks. This time last year, it was her and him, carefree and happy. Finally, they'd got their acts together. Now, it seemed like it was all too late to fix all that he'd broken. He'd broken her, he lied to her, he betrayed her. What was he thinking? Quinn? It just felt familiar and it was what he knew, so he settled and it appeared Rachel got sick of pining, moving on too. The truth was everything he'd lay on the bed making out with her, his eyes made a mockery of his vision, turning the gold locks into chestnut silk and the milky skin to honey. He missed her. So much.

When she sang at Regionals again, her own words, her own soul and heart glistening through the harmony of each word uttered from her perfect crimson lips, he couldn't forget the melody. It echoed in him like a siren and he realised, things couldn't be more fucked up. No thanks to him, of course. Finn Hudson is the screw up. He's the one who never gets it right. He had her and he took her for granted. So here they were, still and silent in the spring grass of her lawn. Her curls edged around her tiny neck as she dozed away, dreaming of something. Her dreams were always bigger than his. As far as his plans went, he just wanted an easy life, somewhere in the future he would be in a job making money and getting by, as long as the vocation wasn't so mundane, he figured that would do. He wasn't a demanding guy. Finn was simple. Rachel, on the other hand, had her life figured out. She was going to be a star and glow amidst the dark clouds this town has created; she would leave it all behind. She would him back. He just knew it. So he let her go. 6 agonising months without her lips, her legs, her hands, the gentle bounce of her soft brown curls around his big fingers. Would he miss him? She'd got into a program in New York with Jesse St Jackass. He should have he'd have something to do with it. They hadn't exchanged so many words since the last competition and the bomb dropped, shattering everything around him. A summer without her would be like a desert without rain. He'd said nothing. He was happy for her. She had a future. Hell, she was better than anyone in this cow town and he knew the first second her laid eyes on her. Her little dainty hands grasp his, bringing it to her lips to summon a quick kiss. The contact breaks him away from his thoughts and he realises she's awake, alert, her big brown eyes looking at him expectantly.

'Put your hands on me,' she whispers.

His heart aches. In the same she told him about the summer theatre program, she always confessed to being touched by him. St Jackass. Losing her to him. He guessed he deserved that. The words echoed in the breeze. Rachel was t-shirt clad with those cute little denim shorts; he'd never seen her look so casual, so relaxed, so wanting. Her lips curve into a smile, her eyes shining. He wants her.

His blank stare must have made her think otherwise cos she looks away shyly. He thinks he's dreaming. Had she really said those words? His fingers linger on her rose lips, plump and yearning for his brush against hers. His hands clasps her jaw as he brings her closer to him, attacking her lips with his, her tongue dancing with his while her hands grip his russet hair, letting out a low moan. God. He loves her. Like nobody else could. Sure Jesse knows theatre and music; all those fancy words and have a future as bright as her. Her talent is like a bright shining star, he decides, which one day will blind him. Finn Hudson would never be worthy of Rachel Berry, she was too extraordinary and he wasn't even worthy of being classed ordinary. He knew that. That's why he's kept his distance.

It was too late now, to mend the broken bridges he'd burnt down. He feels his body burn up from her touch as his mouth explores hers hungrily. She tastes of berries, sweet and sumptuous and he can't get enough. Holding her face with his large hands and rubbing his thumb against her cheek lovingly, he smiles. She's breathing out, trying to get herself together from the smouldering kiss he's just given her. His hands make their way to her petite waist; under her thin cotton shirt as hers roam his hair. She says it again. He feels his jeans tighten as she scratches the back of his flannel.

Her lips mark his jaw, his neck and her nails dig into the thick skin of his back as he groans. Her body flush against his now as continue kissing, his tongue brushing against her perfect teeth, his hands running through her curls as he tastes her again. His hands work their way under her shirt finding her ribcage, to his surprise she's not wearing a bra today and he delves into her breasts, her nipples hardening under his fingers as he rolls them. She moans. God her sounds. He could listen to her all day, he thinks. He whispers against her ear, 'I love you, Rachel Barbra Berry.' She stops brushing her hands against his toned chiselled chest, now bare for her dough eyes to see. Don't stop, please don't, he chants. Her body shifts upwards and her face turns to meet his, questioning him.

There's an awkward silence as neither speak, wary of changing the tension they've just broken. The gaze softens and her hands frame his face, he breathes. His heart is beating a mile a minute. It's over. There's no going back. They're not 15 or 16. It's junior year and she's in. She's going soon. And she won't miss him with Jackass as assistant coach, her birth mother wanting her back in her life for good. He's just a dumb jock she met in high school and pined after for a year only to find she deserves better. So much better. Suddenly her lips are on his as he bites back, bruising her roughly. Her hands find the buckle of his jeans and soon enough they're loosened to let his straining bulge free.

'You really did miss me,' she says, her hands digging inside as she strokes his length. He moans. Rachel Berry will be the death of him and she knows it, she smiles knowingly. His declaration forgotten as they drink each other, he pushes her against the blanket, lifting her thin top so she's topless against his, their chests creating friction as he rubs against her. He kisses every inch of her creamy skin. It tastes like honey. His tongue finds her belly button and his fingers clutch the ends of her underwear, slowly mercilessly teasing her, as she bites into his shoulders releasing a moan as his erection brushes against her clit.

'Finn...'

He pushes inside her without warning and she yelps. Her tanned legs envelope his waist, her hips rolling as he thrusts into her. He wonders if Jackass got to make her scream like he did just now. Her hands bring his face down as she kisses him again. He pinches her clit, still riding her as she moans in his mouth. It's not long before he's there, she follows in ecstasy. His lips murmur her name.

'Rachel...I meant it.' She just nods, cupping his face and smiles again. 'I love you too.' She says it like she knows this is their last time, last day, as if it's goodbye. Maybe it is. His sweaty back hits the blanket, bringing her to him, tucking her heads under his chin, holding her again, not letting go.