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puck-luck · 6 days ago

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Note: welcome to beaquinn hammock hookup! I'm formatting this on my phone bc I already put my computer in my bag, so I apologize if it looks wonky :)

Warnings: fingering, public & outdoor sex, handjob

WC: 2225

SMUT UNDER THE CUT! (I don't have my normal graphic for that since, yet again, I'm on my phone.) Minors, do NOT interact. Thanks!

Bea feels remarkably like a cat who is napping in a sunlit window. The moonlight doesn’t actually warm her all that much, but the red wine in her stomach and Quinn’s body heat does. They’re stargazing, but Bea has curled up into Quinn’s side and started to breathe him in. It would probably be expensive and unrealistic– try impossible– to bottle him up like a perfume, but with her nose pressed into the side of his chest, she would like nothing more.

Not only is he keeping her warm and smelling good, but he’s also so fun to touch. Quinn’s bicep is acting like a pillow for Bea, her knee is thrown over his leg, and her hand is on his stomach. Bea could fall asleep right here, on the ground, so long as Quinn is touching her.

Her fingers are a little bit cold, though. It’s the middle of summer, but since the sun has set, there’s a slight chill in the air. She’s already wearing Quinn’s Palm Angels Creative Services sweatshirt, which is big on Quinn and massive on Bea, but she’s cold.

There is a solution– the human hand-warmer beside her.

Just as Bea is snaking her hand under Quinn’s t-shirt and flattening her palm over his happy trail, she’s wrenched out of the moment by Honey’s cross voice.

“Stop that,” Honey chides.

She’s probably talking to Jack or Cole, or even Trevor, so Bea doesn’t pay her any mind. She continues her motion, finding the slight dip of Quinn’s v-line and tracing it.

“Seriously, Bea, stop it or go,” Honey adds, indignant.

Now it’s clear that she’s directing her complaints at Bea. Ugh. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t have Quinn underneath her, with these lovehandles that she just wants to bite and pinch and love on.

Quinn shifts underneath her and catches Bea’s hand, halting her movements. “We’ll go to bed,” Quinn decides for them, holding Bea’s hand and dragging her up to a seated position. “C’mon, Bea.”

Bea groans, scrunching up her face. Moving is so hard. She raises her arms petulantly and blinks up at Quinn, doe-eyed.

He chuckles and shakes his head at Bea, smiling down and gathering her up in his arms. “Needy girl, did all that wine stop your legs from working?” He teases good-naturedly.

Bea’s stomach flutters. “I would just rather cuddle you,” Bea replies. She snuggles closer to Quinn and buries her nose in his chest, inhaling deeply and obviously and making Quinn laugh.

“Seemed like you wanted more than a cuddle, baby,” Quinn says knowingly. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling like I want my boyfriend to touch me,” Bea sings, flattening her palms on Quinn’s chest and dragging them down his torso seductively once he sets her down, her feet against the ground so she's standing, but there's still very little space between them. His nostrils flare a little bit at his title, which is still fresh enough that it evokes a reaction from Quinn.

Jack and Honey can share looks all they want, but Bea and Quinn should be allowed to soak up the honeymoon phase as long as they’d like. It’ll all end at the end of August anyway, so what’s a month of mushy, over-the-top PDA?

“Oh, yeah?” Quinn asks. “What should your boyfriend do to you? He’s not going to fuck you in the hammock, F-Y-I.”

Bea frowns and digs her fingers into Quinn’s waistband, inching them down. “Why not?”

Quinn looks at her, unimpressed. “Because the hammock will flip over and we’ll fall out if I fuck you the way I want to fuck you.”

Bea hums. That sounds enticing. “Maybe we should sneak into Honey’s room,” Bea jokes. She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs. “You can fuck me to your heart’s content.”

Quinn looks off to the side, back toward the group, chuckling with Bea. “I think if we fuck in Honey’s bed, then she and Trevor will fuck in our bed.”

“Hm, good point,” Bea says. “We don’t want that. Not Trevor, at least.”

“Exactly.” Quinn pecks her forehead. “But, the sooner you get in the hammock, the sooner I can make you come on my fingers. Does that sound okay?”

“Better than okay,” Bea agrees. She hops into the hammock and tries to keep the swinging fabric steady for Quinn. Once he collapses on top of Bea’s body, she kisses his temple. “Once you make me come, I’ll get my hand on you, too.”

“So generous,” Quinn murmurs. He seals his mouth over hers and coats her tongue with his taste.

He tastes just the same as she does, probably. Her tastebuds are coated with red wine and Quinn’s kisses are slow, tinged with sensuality. Bea could kiss him all day and all night, if she’s being honest. Given how little time they have, she never wants to part from Quinn.

The pads of his fingers inch between her legs, rubbing Bea’s core over her shorts. “You wanna take these off?” He asks.

Bea nods. “Mhm,” she agrees. “I kind of like the idea of being exposed like this.”

Quinn groans, swooping in to kiss her again. “Fuck, I love you,” he tells Bea.

He’s been saying that a lot lately. It’s not like she told him to stop, but she also hasn’t said it back. It makes her… anxious, maybe, to hear Quinn say that he loves her? Not always in a bad way– in moments like this, it makes her giggle and remember that they’re a great match, but other times it just reminds her that things are going to be really difficult at the end of August. The real reason that Bea doesn’t stop Quinn from saying he loves her, though, is because he always says it so earnestly. He truly means it and she doesn’t want to stop him from saying what he means. She doesn’t want to silence him.

Luckily, he’s kissing her again, so she doesn’t have to reply. He usually does that. He’ll smother her lips before she can think of a response to his statement. Bea suspects that he knows that she’s not quite there yet and that’s why he doesn’t give her a chance to hesitate.

He’s so… good. If Bea was to make him in the Sims, she’d almost certainly put “Good” as one of his three personality traits.

She loses her shorts and Quinn shifts her panties to the side, baring Bea’s pussy to the summer air. He intertwines their legs, able to press his rapidly fattening length against the top part of her thigh. As one of his hands slips between her folds, prodding at her entrance, his other cups the back of her neck and keeps their lips slotted together.

His tongue fills her mouth again as two of his fingers bluntly push into her heat. He’s only just started to thrust them in and out when–

“Hey,” Honey’s soft voice hisses, sounding like she’s already grinding her teeth together and grimacing at the idea of interrupting.

Bea barely holds back a snort when Quinn flinches away from her. This isn’t the first time Honey has interrupted her in the middle of something– after all, they did live together for a year. There were only so many times that Honey was willing to be sexiled from the house that she was paying to own.

Quinn’s face goes from a ‘deer-in-headlights” expression to one that is more calm. He turns back to Bea, looking down at her. “Do you want a blanket?”

Bea sits up, leaning on her elbows to do so. She looks over the edge of the hammock at Honey. “You can just drop it there,” she says. Then, she grins, seeking to make Honey just a bit more uncomfortable with her next words. She always makes the funniest face when she doesn’t want to hear something about Bea’s sex life. “Quinn’ll come get it in a second. His hands are a little busy right now.” For good measure, she clenches down on his fingers, which surprises Quinn and makes him blush.

The blanket hits the ground with a muted thump. “I didn’t need to know that.” Honey deadpans before turning on her heel and walking away. “Have a good night!” She wishes in false cheer.

Bea thinks quick on her feet. “Just trying to cross something off my Rice Purity Test,” she calls after Honey, laughing to herself. Honey flips her off without looking back, which effectively ends their conversation. Bea lifts her arms and curls them around Quinn’s neck, bringing him back down to kiss her lips.

“Are you actually?” Quinn asks between kisses. “For the Rice Purity Test?”

“Nah,” Bea says. “I think my score is low enough. Plus, I’ve had sex outside before. It just wasn’t quite like this.” She tilts her head up and pecks his lips again. “But, I have crossed a few items off because of you. Kissing for more than two hours consecutively? That was all you, Q.”

“What’s your score?” Quinn inquires, sounding interested.

“Uh, 40, last I checked,” Bea says. “Definitely not too shabby, but not too slutty.”

Quinn has begun moving his fingers again, bringing waves of pleasure with his movements. “Definitely not slutty.”

“What’s yours?” Bea asks.

“42, but I guess I’m knocking off ‘public sex’ and ‘outdoor sex’ right now,” Quinn teases. “So we’re the same. Not slutty at all.”

Bea giggles. “Hmm, if you’re good, I’ll give you the $5 bill in my wallet and we can both get down to 39?”

Quinn snorts out a laugh into her mouth and brings his thumb to her clit. “Quiet, you. You get to come free of charge today.”

“Oh, thank you, Quinn Hughes,” Bea simpers before locking lips with Quinn and keeping him close.

Their kisses are as sloppy as his crude thrusts, sounding similar as well. Their lips smack quietly as they come together and part, breathing into each others’ mouths before diving in for another round. Quinn’s fingers move in and out of Bea at a leisurely pace, savoring her slick and working in tandem with his circling thumb.

It’s only once Bea shoves her hand into Quinn’s shorts that he starts to speed up. It’s a race against each other, with Bea stripping Quinn’s cock until his hips are twisting away from her grip and Quinn pulsing his fingertips against Bea’s g-spot in a way that has her whimpering against his tongue.

Quinn pushes a third finger past Bea’s entrance, doing everything he can to bring her to the peak before he comes in her hand. His effort is for naught– when Bea twists her fingers in his hair and tugs slightly, causing that burning ache in Quinn’s scalp that he likes so much while he eats her out, he shudders on top of her and begins to spill in her hand.

Bea catches what she can, doing her best to make sure there will be no cumstain on Quinn’s shorts when they rise and greet the others in the morning.

When he finishes quivering under her touch, Bea draws her hand from his shorts and brings her hand to her mouth.

Quinn draws back and, eyes hooded, watches her lick his cum from her palm and fingers. He looks slightly more drunk than he was originally, intoxicated by the view in front of him.

Bea smirks as she sucks, taking her time with Quinn’s cum.

Quinn grips the back of her neck and draws Bea forward, trapping her hand between their bodies and crashing his lips against her own. He’s greedy and insatiable, pressing his hips and softening cock against her thigh as he thrusts his fingers inside of her.

“Wish I could get my mouth on you,” Quinn tells her quietly, but rushed like the world will end if he doesn’t say it. “I’d suck your clit ‘til you’re coming all over my face, baby. Nothing in the world tastes better than you.”

“Shit,” Bea replies, blinking hard at his words. Her hips jump under his touch, thighs shaking with his insistent bullying of her inner walls. “Y’re gonna make me come, Q.”

“The whole point,” Quinn says with a little laugh. “I want you to. Come on my fingers, Sweet Bea. Make a mess for me, give me something to lick up just like you did.”

Bea moans into his mouth when he kisses her a final time, the seal inside of Bea snapping and allowing endless shocks to overtake her body. He fingers her through her climax, laying kiss after kiss on her lips.

When she comes down, he withdraws his fingers and makes good on his promise. Quinn overexaggerates his satisfied hums and even rubs his stomach like her cum is the tastiest thing in the world, which has Bea throwing her head back in laughter and popping him good-naturedly on the head. She also tells him that he’s acting weird, which is when he chills out a bit.

Bea smiles fondly at Quinn as he cleans his fingers, fisting his t-shirt and pulling him closer, although her tugging really only results in rocking the hammock. They’re quick to fall asleep, with Quinn replacing Bea’s shorts and venturing out to get the blanket Honey left them. It keeps them nice and warm, legs still intertwined, for the entire night.

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puck-luck · 1 month ago

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this was born out of a text exchange between me and cappy where i rewatched the "coming home" youtube video and quinn had the audacity to bend over the edge of the table like a SLUT. my message about that moment was "I HATE him for putting his leg up on the edge like this (and you know what? Bea would fuck him on the pool table fs)". Cappy replied: "also - circling back to the fucking on the pool table. yes i do think that should be included in bea’s book. love that both girls fuck their men on the pool table". then I discussed how Bea is going to ask how it was for Honey because position-wise, she wasn't super comfy "And then honey’s going to be like “bruh” and then bea will be like “aw that’s so cute of us, we fucked our guys in the same place 😊 we’re basically semen sisters” and honey is going to be so affronted". So that's what inspired this. I started having visions when I was supposed to work on my grad school essay, so I needed to write it down to get it out of my mind.

HERE! is the beaquinn pool table sex. if you want to know what's happening with honeytrev at the same time as this, you can reread days 30-33 in Chapter 5 of stg. LOVE YOU! say it back. ENJOY!

[5.1K WORDS]

Bea almost doesn’t want to leave Quinn’s bed when she hears the front door creak open, signaling the brothers’s return from Las Vegas. It’s warm in here and the pillow smells like Quinn. Her t-shirt will have to do. It’s Quinn’s old yellow Michigan t-shirt, which falls big on her but not big enough to cover her behind. The hardwood floor is cold as she makes her way out of bed and throws the sheets back into place, tiptoeing down the hall and the stairs without making the floor creak too much. Bea undoes the messy braid on the back of her head, knowing how Quinn likes it when her hair is loose for him to play with. She shakes out her hair as she creeps down the stairs, the whispers of the brothers getting louder with each step.

“Jack, the door–” Luke hisses just before the front door bangs shut.

Bea stifles a giggle by pressing her fingers over her lips, still hiding in the shadows of the staircase.

The boys stand in almost identical poses, shoulders tense and heads ducked. They’re waiting for one of their housemates to wake up and get mad at them for making so much noise. They’re lucky– Cole’s been dead to the world since about 10:30 and Trevor went to bed around 11 after he talked with Honey. Bea doesn’t know exactly what happened, since Honey is still so unsure about this Trevor thing, with good reason, but she knows that Honey had to remind him to think before he speaks. Bea is so glad she doesn’t have that problem– Quinn loves to think before he speaks. The other boys are less thoughtful, but she’s never had to chew them out for saying something stupid.

“Close one, eh?” Jack whispers, although he’s bad at whispering, so his voice just seems softer than normal.

Bea steps out of the shadows, staying close to the wall like it’ll camouflage her bright yellow shirt.

“Bea,” Quinn breathes out, noticing her immediately. He sets his suitcase down next to him, a smile growing on his face when he recognizes her outfit.

“You’re late,” Bea whispers, matching his grin. “You said 1:30.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, but he doesn’t seem all that sorry.

“There was a crash on 77,” Luke adds. “Pretty bad. Probably better that it happened in the middle of the night, since there weren’t as many cars on the road.”

Bea hums. “That’s sad.”

“Have you been up this whole time?” Jack asks. “It’s late.”

Bea shakes her head. “Slept a little bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack grins. “Whose bed?”

Stupid. Bea snorts, taking a few more steps until she’s in front of him. She lifts her hand and squishes his cheeks between her fingers. “Not yours,” she says. “G’night, Jacky.”

He makes a kissing noise at her, then steps back and bumps into the table in the hall. “Oops,” he mumbles. “Night, Bea.”

Luke echoes a goodnight and pats Bea on the back, holding both his and Quinn’s suitcases in his hands. The brothers squeeze past her, leaving Quinn and Bea in the dark alone.

She grins at him, bouncing a little bit on her tiptoes out of excitement. She’s missed him. Quinn smiles back, his eyes glinting in the darkness. He’s the first to step forward, sweeping her up into his arms in a tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, letting his arms push her shirt up so that he can touch the smooth expanse of her back. Bea wraps her arms over his shoulders and plays with his hair, breathing him in. He smells a little bit like airport, but the scent of his sandalwood shampoo is stronger than ever.

“You shower this morning?” Bea asks, pinching the close-cut strands on the back of his head between her fingers.

“God, I knew you were going to comment on that,” Quinn groans, pulling away from her. His hands rest on Bea’s waist, pinkies brushing the band of her cheeky underwear. “I was on a plane for like five hours, babe.”

Bea’s stomach twists at the pet name, her cheeks turning a little red and her mouth widening somehow further. She admires Quinn for a moment, eyes cataloging how his face looks sharper with his stubble only just growing back. Her eyes pass over the scar on his cheek. Honey only just noticed it the other night. It’s one of Bea’s favorite things about his face– tied for first with, well, everything else.

She realizes that she’s gone too long without replying, mostly because the edges of Quinn’s lips are tilting upward in an amused way.

“Hey, winner,” Bea greets, tilting her head to kiss him hello. “Missed you.”

Quinn breathes out a tiny laugh, kissing her again like a reply. “I missed you, too. Was thinking about you the whole time.”

Bea faux-gasps. “You were thinking about me, but you didn’t even thank me in your speech?”

Quinn chuckles, a little louder this time. His thumb runs along her hip, petting the skin there. It makes Bea’s sides feel warm, like the friction is sending shocks through her body. “Oh, come on. How would that have sounded?”

“‘And thank you to Bea McLean, the best person I’ve ever met’...?” Bea teases, blinking at Quinn. “Obviously. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Quinn shakes his head, still smiling fondly. He rolls his eyes a little bit, but he concedes. “I’ll work it in next time.”

“I’m expecting it. First back-to-back Norris winner since Nicklas Lindstrom, yeah?”

“Lidstrom, baby,” Quinn corrects. He pulls Bea close again, hugging her for the second time. His hands rub up and down her back again and Bea swears that she can feel his fingerprints as he moves. “You tired?”

“I slept a little. Are you tired?”

“Had a coffee at the airport ‘cause I’m stupid,” Quinn replies. His voice turns sarcastic, overly dramatic and trying to get her sympathy. “And the boys were draining me, they’re so annoying.”

Bea pats his chest. “You love them,” she reminds him.

Quinn’s easy to break. “Yeah,” he agrees. “They’re pretty great.” He pauses, eyes flickering over her face akin to how she surveyed him earlier. “Wanna go watch a movie?”

“Movie will put me to sleep. We can play a round of pool, if you want. Keep your winning streak going,” Bea teases.

“You just want to bend over in front of me,” Quinn bites back, laughing. His hands go to her behind, covering Bea’s cheeks with his palms. “Distract me with your panties.”

“It would be more distracting if I wasn’t wearing them,” Bea points out, wiggling back into Quinn’s touch.

“I think you’re already distracting enough in my Michigan shirt,” Quinn says. “C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You can fill me in on the past couple days while you lose.”

He’s got that playful tone in his voice again, the one that Bea loves. It’s so domestic, the way that she and Quinn talk to each other. They’ve got a vibe about them, something that fits like a puzzle piece, but Bea is getting too far ahead of herself. It’s not even July. They’re just having fun, by her own design. So what if he calls her ‘baby’ and it makes her stomach flip-flop every time?

They’re still trying to be quiet as they head down to the basement, making sure to close the door behind them. Quinn racks the balls and Bea chooses her usual stick– she only knows which one it is because it’s got a chip about ⅓ of the way down the shaft– and starts to tell him what he missed.

“Honey tried to ban Trevor from the store because he’s bad at being a person,” Bea starts. “I don’t know the drama, but apparently he doesn’t think.”

“Have they fucked yet?” Quinn asks, rounding the table and stationing himself to break the rack. Bea never breaks when they play. She’s not very good at hitting one ball, much less strategically breaking up a group of fifteen. “Or are they still stuck on him fingering her in the back room?”

“They’re still stuck. She likes him so much, though, she just won’t admit it,” Bea continues. She looks at the table. Quinn made one of the stripes in off of his break– 14 maybe– so he’s trying to pick his second ball now.

“She’ll get there. It’s kind of like a tree falling, isn’t it,” Quinn says. He lines up the 11-ball with the pocket and knocks it in, then purposefully bumps off the wall in a meaningless shot so that Bea has a chance. “Takes a while, but once she’s down, she’s down.”

Hmm. “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Bea tells him. “That’s smart, Q. You’re right.” She eyes the 5-ball, since it’s kind of in the way of all of the ones she wants to get to. Might as well move it. Bea crosses the table and shoots it off to the other side of the table. A problem for later.

“You can’t try to lose on purpose,” Quinn chides.

“I’m not trying to lose on purpose, I just wanted to get that one out of the way,” Bea argues back.

Quinn rolls his eyes and sighs. “You should’ve shot at the 7.”

Bea side eyes him. “Don’t tell me what I should’ve done. Mansplainer.”

Quinn shrugs. “Just trying to help.” He focuses on his next shot. “What’d you do after we left?”

“Worked. I dragged Honey here to watch the Awards, we played Uno– I won, by the way, and I’ll school you next time we play–” Quinn interrupts her with a laugh, narrowly missing a pocket when the ball bounces off the corner edge. “I called you after you won, and then we broke out the hot tub earlier today.”

That catches Quinn’s interest. “Oh, yeah?” He asks. “You took a dip? Did Cole try anything stupid?”

Bea hears the insinuation immediately. “No, Cole and I didn’t hook up while you were gone,” she says with a tinge of fake exasperation in her voice. “I told you over the phone on Thursday, I only have sex with men who have won the James Norris trophy.”

Quinn laughs aloud, throwing his head back. “How long is that going to last?” He teases. “Just so I can know when I’m back to graciously sharing you with the other boys.”

Bea groans. When they’re alone, Quinn always flaunts how he was the first and how he’s her favorite. He gets a kick out of acting like he’s special and Bea pretends to hate it. He is special, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I can still go up to Jack’s bed now, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Bea leans over to shoot at one of her solids. It bounces off a wall and changes directions. “That’s all that happened this weekend, really. Tell me about Vegas. Lose any money?”

“Tons,” Quinn confirms, but the cheeky grin on his face tells her that he’s stretching the truth. He starts to talk about how he and his brothers snuck Luke into the casino with a well-placed bribe to the doorman and autographs for his kids. The stories from the weekend pile up as Quinn and Bea mill around the table, taking shots and sinking them in Quinn’s case, missing them in Bea’s. He tells her about the people he saw, the things he did, the interviews he had, that he got an offer to be on the cover of NHL 25 but he’s going to hold out until they let him bring Jack and Luke with him, and that he’s happy he got to see his mom and dad. He officially tells Bea that they’re coming for Fourth of July, although that surprise had already been spoiled by Trevor on Thursday.

Quinn wins– of course. Bea wasn’t going to win this game unless he intentionally threw it, like her first time playing him. They’re past the intentional throws now. Bea goes to update the board– honor code is highly valued in this house– and Quinn pockets the rest of the balls so that everything is nice and clean for tomorrow. There’s no sense in leaving them out. She can hear Quinn sneaking up behind her.

“You look good in my shirt, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing Bea’s shoulder. “I gotta get you in Michigan gear more often.”

“You know, if they ever play Carolina again, you’ll have to pry my UNC gear from my cold, dead body,” Bea says, reaching a hand around and threading her fingers through Quinn’s hair again.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I pried the clothes off this body,” Quinn says, self-satisfied smirk evident in his voice. He turns Bea in his grip so that she’s facing him. He kisses her, more than a greeting peck this time. “You tired yet?”

Once again, Bea can see right through his question. “Not a chance. I’ve been waiting for my winner to get home.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Quinn praises, voice low. He captures Bea’s lips again, moving against her in the comfortable way that they’ve adopted in the weeks since they’ve been seeing each other.

Bea lets Quinn lead this time, his hands guiding her closer. He’s got a palm under her shirt, resting on the small of her back, and the other cradles her face gently, like something precious. Bea knows that it’s a casual thing, but she likes to lose herself in moments like this. Quinn is just so… all-consuming. He’s like a really loud and unexpected clap of thunder, one that rumbles on for longer than you expect. His touch makes Bea jump, sometimes.

Her hands explore him a bit, like she doesn’t get to touch him all the time. The difference is that Bea finds something new every time and she never tires of getting her hands on Quinn. She knows that he tends to be insecure when it comes to his build, which comes from years of being an awkward teen with a nose that seemed too big for his face and acne that riddled his forehead, but Bea can’t imagine Quinn as anything other than perfect.

He’d be slightly more perfect if he had a bedroom to himself.

“I feel bad kicking Luke out,” Bea whispers to Quinn when they break for air. “You guys got in so late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn replies. He brings his hands to the backs of Bea’s thighs and lifts her up, guiding her legs around his waist. “We don’t need a bed.”

Bea makes a face. “We stay fuckin’ in the bed, Q.” Lord knows she’s not against having sex in an odd place– the back of Griffin’s patrol car, for one– but she and Quinn haven’t really branched out yet. “I didn’t know you were so adventurous.”

“What can I say,” Quinn teases. “You bring something out in me. Let’s try something new.” He nips at her bottom lip, then drags his tongue against the area he bit. “It’ll be fun.”

Bea giggles. He gets so flirty and touchy, sometimes. “What are you thinking, Crazy?” She teases him right back with the nickname, bringing her index finger to the curve of his nose. It really is the perfect size and shape– so appealing.

She’s distracted by a memory, from the second time they hooked up. Quinn had told her that he didn’t get to do everything he wanted the first time, and when she asked what he meant, he’d licked his first two fingers and slid the wet digits against the fabric of her underwear. She’d gotten much more wet when he made his way between her legs with his mouth, kissing and licking over her folds and entrance as the fabric molded to her anatomy. It was only then that he’d removed the panties and gotten his mouth on her properly– the vision often comes to her when she’s trying to sleep at home, alone. His nose had been so nice then, bumping against her clit as he’d ravished her.

Bea’s stomach grows a little warmer at the reminder.

“I want you right here,” Quinn says, breaking her from the spell. He sits Bea down on the edge of the pool table, the cool wood of the edges pressing against her thighs while the felt of the table scrapes against the hem of her shirt. He stands between her legs and places a hand behind her head, kissing her and leaning forward so that she’ll lay back. Once Bea is laying down, flat underneath Quinn, he pushes her shirt up and takes it off.

The felt of the table feels weird under her bare skin, but it’s not bad. The bite of the ridge of the table is worse against her thighs, but Bea doesn’t speak up about it because Quinn’s removing his shirt.

The moonlight from outside makes him seem paler than he is, but it creates a beautiful series of shadows across his body that emphasize his muscles. His arms seem like they’re bulging more, his chest has more definition, and his jawline– oh, his jawline. Bea didn’t realize just how much his long hair hid that from her.

“I like your haircut,” Bea says, not realizing how silly and belated it sounds when she’s almost entirely naked on the pool table below him.

Quinn chuckles, smiling at her. One side of his lips lifts higher than the other, which is how she knows that he’s blushing, even when the moonlight hides it. “Thanks, baby,” he says softly, leaning down again to find her lips. His cock, still trapped by his pants, fits perfectly against the place where she wants him most.

She grinds up against him, drawing a low moan from the back of Quinn’s throat. He placates her with kiss after kiss down her neck and between her tits, as far down as he can go while he keeps his pelvis in line with her own. He’s fiddling with his zipper with one hand, kneading Bea’s right breast with his left hand. The skin of his fingertips is a little dry, but his thumb catches her nipple just right and Bea keens, her vision getting a little darker.

“Missed me that much, hm?” Quinn teases in his low voice. “Two days I’m gone, baby, and you’re this needy? What am I going to do with you when I’m gone for a week, or two?”

Bea reaches to his hair and brings his lips to hers, to silence him. She’s beyond talking and beyond teasing. She wants him inside, like, yesterday.

“Relax, I’m coming,” Quinn assures Bea, mumbling his words against her lips. He finally takes his hand from her breast to shove his pants and underwear down, stepping out of them so he can move better. He drags his tip through her folds, her wetness gathering along his skin. “Did you mean it?” He asks. “What you said on the phone?”

Bea pauses, wracking her brain. She said a lot of things on the phone to Quinn. She meant them all. She’s about to say yes, just so he can get on with it, but then she spots the way he’s biting his lower lip and his eyes have turned hungry. They’re trained on the place where he’s nudging his tip against her clit, slit bubbling out precum and dripping on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“What part?” Bea asks, captivated by the look on Quinn’s face.

His eyes rise to hers and he looks positively intoxicated by whatever he’s thinking. Bea’s skin crawls a little, but not in a bad way. In an excited way– whatever Quinn’s referring to, he wants badly. Bea wants to see him give into that.

“That you’d reward me for winning,” he prompts, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips, which have parted in recognition. “By letting me fuck you bare.” His jaw clenches a bit once he says it, but Bea reads him. He’s not sure what she’ll say and he seems cautious to show his deeper thoughts on that, but his caution is betraying him anyway. Bea knows Quinn. She speaks his language, reads his tics, and understands him. He wants this.

“Norris winners get to come inside me,” Bea says, repeating the exact words that she whispered into the speaker while he stroked himself in the Las Vegas hotel bathroom. It was his tipping point, and now she understands why. “Since you won, you get to feel all of me.” Her throat seems drier than before when she swallows. Bea’s never had that before– she’s thought about it, hence why she brought it up to Quinn in the first place. It’s why she gets the shot every three months instead of relying on condoms– in case, one day, there was a man that she wanted in the most intimate way. That day is today. “Fuck me, Quinn.”

His mouth is insistent when it joins hers, tongue dragging over her own and filling the space between her lips. “Baby,” Quinn groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Preferably not right now,” Bea jokes, lifting her hips to remind him of the task at hand.

Quinn laughs at the joke, smiling into his next kiss. “You’re so perfect,” he says. “Can’t believe I met you.”

Bea feels his words on her heart like a prick of a rose’s thorn. A little bit of herself seeps out, flooding her chest and making her eyebrows furrow with the sudden rush of emotion. “Quinn,” Bea says, feeling like she’s whining a little bit.

“Okay, okay, I won’t say it anymore,” he says, returning his focus to the space between her legs. He wastes another few seconds, entranced by his tip going through her folds, before he lines himself up and starts to shift forward. He moans quietly at the feeling, just expelling the breath from his lungs.

Bea’s surprised by the feeling too– at least, she thinks Quinn’s feeling some sort of surprise. He’s certainly relishing in the experience, trying to catalog how she feels around him with the way his eyes have drifted shut and his mouth has fallen open. She closes her eyes to do the same– and finds that it’s not that different, all in all. She just feels closer to him.

“Please, move,” Bea whispers, resting her hand on Quinn’s bicep, giving it a squeeze to prompt him. Well, that, and she wanted to feel the muscle beneath it. The moonlight had her wondering if it was really that much more defined.

“Gimme a sec,” Quinn grits out, taking a breath. “You just feel so–” He exhales a sharp breath. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Another thorn to the chest– Bea has to breathe in deep to steel herself. This doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore.

She’s able to put that aside when Quinn starts to drag himself out of her heat, then push back in. His hair is tickling her nose with the way that his head has fallen forward in pleasure, so Bea pushes it out of the way with her palm. Quinn’s forehead has started to bead with sweat, but only barely. His eyes catch hers.

His eye contact has always made the hair on her arms stand up, increasing her pleasure tenfold. He’s so attentive to her needs, crowding into her space and touching her tits and sides in the way that makes her feel like a lighting rod gearing up for a strike.

Quinn breaks first. “Bea,” he murmurs, dipping his head to mouth against her neck. He leaves a wet spot there, which dries in the cool, early morning air. His hand moves from her side to her thigh, spreading her legs further so that he can inch closer. He seems determined to be as close to her as he can, touching her in every way.

“I know,” Bea replies. “Harder, Quinn. Take it. Make me come. Need you to feel my pussy when it comes on your bare cock.”

His moan is choked but loud when she says that. Quinn’s hips start to move the way she’s used to– harder, faster, determined. He’s louder like this, or maybe it’s the silence of the basement and the night that surrounds them playing tricks on Bea’s mind. It’s just– his breath is warmer and she feels like she can feel him moving in her bones. This is more.

Quinn brings his thumb to her mouth, which Bea takes greedily. She knows his moves– he wants her to get him all wet so that he can touch her somewhere she needs. She swirls her tongue around the digit, leaving as much saliva as she can on his thumb before he pulls it from her mouth with a pop.

His hand drifts to her boobs again, finding one of her nipples and pinching it with his slick finger. He tugs a little, which prompts Bea’s spine to arch like her body is begging him to do it again. Quinn does, but he switches nipples, wiggling his hand between their bodies and taking hold of her. He kisses her again, distracting her from the mixture of pain and pleasure. All the while, he’s bucking into her desperately, displacing her on the pool table.

Her thigh starts to spasm under his hand, twitching because she’s close. Bea wraps her arms around Quinn’s shoulders, a mirror image of the hug she gave him at the beginning of their night. He’s not the only one who wants to be close.

“Fuck, Quinn, keep going,” Bea pleads, shifting as best she can to remove the pressure of the edge of the pool table from her body. It’s a dull ache, distracting her from Quinn’s cock and the way it moves in her cunt. His tip meets the cartilage of her cervix relentlessly, turning her vision spotty with the sensation. It feels so wet with him unprotected inside of her, leaking and mixing with her own slick.

He shifts so that he’s hovering just a few inches above her body, hands going from her thigh and her breast to both of her hips. He grips her skin, biting his lower lip to stifle his grunts. His eyes have grown focused, narrowing the way they do when he evaluates a shot on this very table or when he tries to dance between the boys on the hockey rink outside to score. He pulls her back into him, all while thrusting his hips forward, and Bea’s falling into an unfamiliar space where only Quinn has ever placed her.

“Fuck,” Bea whines, reaching for Quinn and coming up with nothing, so she clutches at the pocket of the pool table instead. She holds the wood between her fingers, sure that she’ll either warp the table or break her fingers from the force of her grip. “‘M coming, Q.”

“Good girl,” Quinn says through his teeth, his voice gravelly. “Let me feel it.”

Bea lets out a short cry, legs still shaking beneath Quinn. The bruising pain of the edge of the table is nothing now, not when there’s a chill making its way from the depths of her stomach to the tight coil in her stomach.

“So perfect,” Quinn says again, praising Bea as she starts to come undone on his cock.

“You,” Bea corrects, breathless and reaching for Quinn again. She finds his forearm this time, circling her fingers around his wrist. She squeezes, trying to get her point across. He can say it all he wants, but she’s going to make sure she says it back, because he is.

Her touch sends Quinn over the edge, which only intensifies the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Bea keens lowly in the back of her throat as Quinn’s jaw drops once again, eyes falling shut as his seed flows from his cock and paints her walls. The sensation surprises Bea, much like her original reaction to his raw form, and she constricts against him by accident. That spurs Quinn on, making him choke and plaster himself against her body as his cock releases the last of his cum.

His hips twitch inside of her after he’s done and Quinn has to clear his throat and shake his head to come back to himself. Bea pets his hair through it, focused on the feeling of his freshly cut ends between her fingers.

“You should know that I really liked that,” Quinn says first.

Bea giggles, tugging his hair. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Quinn bites the side of Bea’s neck to chastise her for teasing him. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I’m about to leak all over the pool table in your rented house if you don’t get me to a bathroom soon,” Bea replies. “Chop chop, babydoll.”

Quinn groans with the effort, but he lifts Bea from the pool table and awkwardly walks toward the basement’s bathroom, settling her on the already-lifted toilet seat– perks of living with a bunch of fucking boys, Bea thinks– and then he starts to wash his hands.

“Tired yet?” Quinn asks for a third time, looking over at Bea and grinning as he continues to rub the suds all over his hands and wrists. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Bea makes a face. “Are you trying to wash me off or something? Damn, Q, it’s been twenty seconds,” she replies instead, pretending to be offended and hurt. She doesn’t actually want to start watching a movie at 3 a.m. and Quinn should feel similarly. She wants to go to bed with him.

Quinn looks down at her vagina, very obviously, and quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I just came in you, so I feel like that’s hard to wash away.” He rinses his hands and towels them off. “So no movie?”

“Oh my God, get out of the bathroom so I can pee,” Bea exclaims, starting to laugh a bit. “You’re so weird. No movie.”

“Episode of Love Island?” Quinn asks. “Any drama I missed between Leah and Rob?”

Bea points an accusing finger at him. “I knew you enjoyed my trashy shows,” she says. “And all this time you’ve been grumbling about them.”

Quinn shrugs. “No one will believe you,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Bea purses her lips at him. “Well, good, because that’s my thing with Cole.” Quinn acts like he’s wounded, so Bea sticks her tongue out at him. “Not everything can be about you, Q.”

“I’ll get over it,” Quinn says. “You still like me best.”

Bea matches his previous whisper. “And no one will ever believe you.”

Quinn leaves the bathroom laughing. Bea hopes he goes upstairs to get one of the good blankets for them to share when they inevitably fall asleep on the couch after Quinn turns on a movie that Bea does not see the point in watching.

The background noise does help her sleep, though, and she thinks Quinn knows that.

sigh i love beaquinn they're so dreamy best couple ever can't believe they break up at the end of the summer OOPS SORRY SPOILERS (y'all already know that, i haven't been keeping that under wraps)

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #beaquinn!!#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x oc #qh43 #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl fic #hockey smut #hockey romance

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