Awake | Blainchel | 1,054 words

He jolts awake when he feels small kisses peppered against the back of his neck, feather light touches on his collar bones and small hands running down his arms. He sighs, blinks the sleep from his eyes and squints at the clock across the room. Five am. He fell asleep again; god damnit.

"I'm awake." He mutters, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You were dead asleep." She counters, still rubbing his arms.

He hums, doesn't commit to words because he can't find them, his mouth is dry like chalk dust is clogging his throat, making his tongue stick to the roof and his brain is fuzzy from not getting enough sleep.

"I was going to let you sleep but you're in a terrible position." She rubs the back of his neck now; soothing circles that make him want to close his eyes again. "And my morning regiment starts promptly at five-thirty and I can't do calisthenics in the living room if you're snoozing at your desk."

"M'almost done." He sits up in his chair, his back cracks; he runs his fingers through his messy curls before turning his head to look at her.

Rachel sighs, knowingly; he hates how she does that. "You said that four hours ago…and two days ago…and a week before that." Alright, maybe he sort of loves how she does that too.

He shrugs, giving her a crooked smile that he doesn't feel. "At least I'm consistent."

"You're exhausted, Blaine," She rounds to the front of him, leans against the desk and cups his face, running her thumbs along the dark purple bags under his eyes. "You're living on a caffeine liquid diet."

Blaine's eyes tick to the half finished cup of coffee on his desk, surrounded by papers, open books and highlighters. The liquid is cold now, the milk congealing in the cup, making his nose crinkle in distaste.

"Wanna get me a new cup?"

"Want a whole nother reason to feel aggravated, Anderson?"

He frowns. "No thank you."

Term papers are the worst. No one talks about these things before sending you off to college; they don't mention the long hours, the no sleep, the caffeine addictions, the concerned girlfriends or the fact that college professors liked to torture you with constant term papers with the same guidelines and the only difference a variety of topics. He's pretty sure no one would choose to suffer through this if they knew. At least, he's almost certain.

"Swear, just…" He sits up further in his seat and clicks some keys on his laptop, waking the screen up. He knows it's the lack of sleep when he starts to feel bad for the inanimate object that he had to wake it up to get back to work too. "Some editing and a few more paragraphs and I'll sleep."

She shakes her head and moves his chair back a little, straddles his lap, demands to be his center of attention. He's too tired for this but rubs her thighs anyways, contemplates resting his head on her chest and closing his eyes.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" He sighs and bites back a yawn.

"Distracting you."

He narrows his eyes. "And this is supposed to make me want to sleep?" He hisses when she grinds down on his lap, his fingers tightening on her thighs.

She smirks and leans forward; her eyelashes brushing against her pretty pink cheeks, no makeup, no artificial blush, genuine beauty—just how he likes her, natural, gorgeous, his. "I guess you'll just have to wait," He bites back another sound as she grinds down again, her inner thighs waking part of him up. "and see."

He nips kisses along her jaw, his stomach fluttering. "You play dirty."

Blaine knows exactly where this is heading and exactly what she's doing—the consequences of this are only going to make him more tired…but he's not exactly going to stop her either. Really. The backlash of him pushing Rachel of his lap would extend for fucking weeks; he'd never hear the end of it.

She drags her hips back as she slides her hand inside his boxer shorts, grabbing at his length, squealing a little as his hips buck her into her chest when she flicks her thumb over his head.

Rachel grins against his lips. "Thought you liked it when I played dirty. Usually ends up with a pretty happy finish for you."

Blaine kisses her hard then, silencing her, tongue diving into her mouth to taste her with a fever that he didn't possess before, strength and determination suddenly reawakened at her touch. He keeps his hands on her hips so that when he rocks forward into her quickening wrist that he doesn't knock her off his lap, noises filtering out of his mouth and into her neck when the kiss breaks. He pants, her thumb lacing pre-cum over his head, guiding smoothly along the vein pulsing in beat with his heart along his length. She wastes no time in letting him cum, which he's thankful for—he's pretty sure he'd die of exhaustion if he was forced to edge. Not that he minds teasing; that's what ninety-five of their relationship is based off of, but he's glad for the sweet release tonight. The intimacy of it. The closeness of her body; he can feel her breathing against his chest, rapidly, her rib cage digging into his, the slight sway of her hips, the slowing of her hand, the gentle pants of her breath ricocheting off his mouth.

Rachel swallows, slowly extracts her hand from his pants, kissing him gently around his mouth and lingering at the corners where a soft smile is pulling. "Go," She reaches behind her and easily closes the lid of the laptop. "To bed."

He smirks and shakes his head; literally the worst. "Only if you join me." In one fluid motion he picks her up, hauling her over his shoulder and chuckling at her squeals.

"Blaine Anderson, put me down!"

He doesn't abide to her wishes until he's in the bedroom, dropping her gracefully onto the bed after he closes the door with his food.

It's needless to say that Rachel's morning routine and his term paper were forgotten about; disappearing easily in hushed whispers, deep kisses and throaty moans.