#who doesn't love a lil summer loving quinny huh

[capquinn]

A Closeness | Q. Hughes

summary: the lake house has never felt smaller. moments alone become something of the past. but after longing touches here and gentle caresses there, quinn seizes an opportunity. pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes content: fluff, mild smut (v vanilla…….seriously) word count: 3k note: the smut is for sure tame but it still had me blushing lmao enjoy!!! ↪ masterlist

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The off-season had finally arrived and so had summer in Michigan.

Days spent on the water with rosy sunburnt cheeks and friends turned into nights in the garden basking in the glow of a deep orange sunset and warm flickering shadows of the bonfire. Drinks poured and secrets spilled under starry skies that echo with celebrations of the hockey season and despondent mumblings of what it could have been. The conversations oscillate between just the two for the first three nights and then on the fourth night, there is a sense of normalcy. Just a bunch of friends engaged in animated conversations about some silly gossip, voices rising and falling like the rhythm of waves lapping at the shore by the pier. Hockey long forgotten. At least for a little while. 

But even in the midst of his friends, Quinn’s attention is mostly on you. 

So when your laughter punctuates the night air, Quinn turns his head, distracted from his own conversation. You’re standing with Jack by the cooler, nursing the same glass of wine that he had poured you an hour ago, and sharing an inside joke. 

A small smile plays on his lips, and a warm feeling washes over him. You fit into his life seamlessly, and every once in a while, the universe conspires to remind him of just that. 

He excuses himself and falls in place next to you, hand naturally slipping to lay rested on your waist. You lean into him without letting it disrupt the flow of conversation except only when Quinn leans down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. You pause briefly, glancing up to meet his eyes. Love you too. And then you’re bouncing back into conversation, enjoying the way he traces soothing circles onto bare skin under the hem of your t-shirt. 

That’s how the evening continued. The moments ebb and flow, never going far at all. Returning with small touches here and tender caresses there that nobody seemed to notice… all whispering that he just wanted you near.

That’s when you finally retreat to the edge of the gathering to share a single deck chair. Nestled on his lap, head resting on his shoulder, finding solace in the quiet spaces between words. Fingers trace idle shapes down his arm, and he responds with a kiss to your shoulder. The world fades away around you both; you’re existing within your own reverie. 

But after a while, your glass of something sweet and bubbly now empty, you let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll be back,” you whisper, untangling yourself from his body, clasping an empty wineglass. 

As your feet meet the grass, Quinn is grasping at your free hand to keep you close. 

“Baby,” he whines quietly in a way he only does when he’s buzzed. It’s still early in the evening and you are halfway there yourself. “Where are you going now?” 

“Need more wine,” you giggle quietly, sinking back into him, wrapping an arm around his neck. 

He shakes his head, disapproving of your answer. “Stay with me,” he tells you, arm snaking back around your waist and hand laying firm against your stomach. “It’s the first time they’ve left us alone,” he states, nodding his head towards your guests.

Hosting your friends had been a great idea. And it still is. Sort of. But with so many of them all here at once, you were both already exhausted. Quinn misses the silence and having his own space. Not used to sharing living quarters with fifteen other people after living in an apartment with just you for the last two years. Because with every turn, there’s another familiar face trying to get a piece of you both. To ask how to use the dishwasher or how to use the washing machine. Where’s the TV remote? To chat and hang out during every awake moment of the day. And the damn teasing that never stopped. Small comments here and shared jokes there whenever Quinn tried to show any form of fondness towards you. Friends unused to seeing their buddy engage in public displays of affection. He’s an easy target so he’s the master of his own undoing, really. Blushing and rolling his eyes, and then snapping back with a witty remark in response that did a poor job of hiding his slight embarrassment over being the centre of attention. A man but with all the awkward boyish charm that made his friends howl with laughter every time. Regardless, never did Quinn imagine that you would both be surrounded by this many people at all times. 

A moment passes and then there is a soft murmur, lips brushing against your ear. “Love you so much.”

You turn your head slightly to look at him. Firelight dances in those green eyes, shimmering and intoxicating. And you forget to breathe, enraptured. It doesn’t help matters when he licks his pillowy pink lips. He’s practically begging you to kiss him boldly right here in front of all his friends. But you don’t and instead, the years are thrown back and suddenly you’re both twenty-one again, listening to him confess that he loves you for the very first time right here on this very lawn with those very same loving eyes. 

It had been a lazy summer evening and the house was brimming with the energy of family and fiends, but you had both slipped away to the quiet of the lawn. Sprawled out over a faded plaid picnic rug with the golden glow of a setting sun reflecting over the water. Air warm, filled with the distant chirping of crickets. You had been lying side by side, staring up at emerging stars in silence. Quinn had turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes tender. And then you felt the change in the night air, the way his gaze made your heart start to race. 

He cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now.”

Curiosity piqued, a small smile played on your lips. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

He had taken a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours and the lake as if searching for a bout of courage in the still waters. “I… uh, well, I love you.” The words tumbled out in a rush, awkward and unpolished, and he immediately bit his lip, cheeks reddened. 

You’re snapped back to reality as Quinn lolls his head to the side with a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his sun kissed cheeks. An amused twinkle in his eyes, noting your obvious lovesick gaze. But he can hardly blame you. He often found himself staring at you like you had hung all the stars in the sky. 

There is a soft chuckle and then he’s reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, sending shivers right down your spine. And finally, he’s kissing you. Paying no attention to whether or not his friends are watching, and frankly, at this point, he really doesn’t care if they are. 

“Wanna get out of here?” He mumbles against the corner of your mouth, glancing around to see if you were able to sneak off without anyone noticing. 

It seems likely. Jack is yapping on the other side of the fire, animatedly recounting a story with just enough drama that it’s keeping most of the group entertained, and off to your side, a seperate group of friends are bickering competitively over a card game. 

In silent understanding, you untangle yourselves and discard the empty beverages on the grass beside the deck chair, and with practiced ease, you slip away from the group. Departure unnoticed. 

Thank God, Quinn thinks to himself, intertwining your hands as you cross the lawn towards the lake house looming ahead. He’s not sure how much longer he could have feigned interest in the party. He loves his buddies, don’t get him wrong, but at this point, he’d do anything for just five minutes alone. 

When the sounds of the party fade and your giggles mingle with the chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves in trees, it becomes Quinn’s very own private symphony. He can’t resist pulling you close, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

“Been waiting to get you alone all night,” he says, voice low and husky, velvety against your skin.

You smile against his lips. “I thought we were just getting away from the mosquitoes,” you tease. 

“Well, that too,” he grins. Quinn pecks a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “But mostly ‘cause I’m sick of sharing you with everyone else.”

All week long every corner of this house has been occupied. Every room, every spare sofa. The deck chairs during the morning, and the sun loungers on the pier during the afternoon. The kitchen brimmed with life at all hours of the day with friends cooking, eating and talking late into the night, and it was becoming a battle for bathroom privileges, too. Even his favourite spot in the hammock was taken up by somebody new at every sunset. 

The house has never felt smaller. 

And then you’re stumbling down the hallway in that very same house, kisses growing more urgent and heated in a way that makes it difficult to move forward.

Hands roaming over each other’s bodies like you’re mapping territory. And there’s strength in Quinn’s embrace. The controlled power that made you feel safe and cherished all the same. 

You barely make it through the bedroom door, lips never parting. His fingers fumble with the lock before you’re even inside and then it’s swinging shut behind you with a thud.

“Finally,” Quinn mutters against your skin.

“We’ve got to be quick, okay?” You tell him. It wouldn’t be long until the fire turns to hot coals and your friends decide to call it a night. He only hums in response. “Quinn, I’m serious.”

He grins into the kiss. “Okay. I promise.”

You tug Quinn’s tee over his head and press palms against his back, feeling every dip and curve of his roping muscles. You lean in closer, chest flush with his. 

Quinn slowly moves his mouth across your cheek…along your jaw…moving lower, grazing against sensitive skin right over your pulse point. 

“Oh,” you gasp, melting into his body, and hands finding their way into his hair.

Fingers drop down your sides, gripping greedily at the material of your sweater and he pushes it up enough so he can make a start on unbuttoning your shorts. Before he even has a chance to remove the garment himself, you’re clutching hastily at the sweater, which is really just Quinn’s that he had given up trying to get back, and pull it from your frame. 

He stands back for a brief moment once you’re almost undressed, taking you all in. He thinks you’re so… so…

“So pretty,” he murmurs, pulling you in to meet your lips again. 

He steps back, dragging you with him, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he’s sinking down into the softness. You’re standing between his knees, clutching onto him for dear life. Afraid you’ll topple over if he ever lets you go. Dizzy with anticipation.

He presses an open mouth kiss to your sternum…a few more around your belly… and then he’s making his way back up to your chest to give the swell of your breasts some attention. 

Your arms wrap around Quinn’s neck, head lolling back as the goose bumps raise across your skin.

“Your shorts…” you choke out, trying to hurry things along despite every fibre of your being eager to keep this going deep into the night. 

He drops his hands to the waistband of his shorts and peels it from his skin, and then he starts tugging at the waistband of your panties, dropping spongy kisses to your waist as the cotton slackens and falls to the floor. 

And when they do, you’re rushing to fill the space between you and straddle his hips. Lips meet in soft collision; slow and deliberate, but it’s desperate all the same. Warm hands trace the curve of your back, coaxing quiet moans to fall from your lips when your hips start rocking into him. Quinn relaxes into the mattress some more and in quick succession, you’re suddenly on your back and he’s between your thighs, mouth pressed against yours, hot and frantic. Chest to chest. Hips moving in long, drawn out strokes.

And then your lips are parting slightly, long enough for him to say, “fuck, I’ve missed this,” each second stretching to an eternity.

You pat his back when he starts to scatter kisses below your ear, thrusts slowing to a halt, trying to hurry him along. There is nothing you want less than to face your friends in the morning if they happen to hear any of this. “Quinn,” you whisper, a plea and reprimand all in one. “They’ll be back soon.”

Lips travel along your jaw and down your neck again, and your hands tangle through his hair, pulling him closer even as you try to remind him of reality. But reality feels far away. Banished by the heat that is building in this moonlit bedroom. 

Hands run down your side and dig into your waist before hitching one of your legs over his hip, and he rolls into your body deliberately slow. Again and again. Eliciting sweet sound after sweet sound from your pretty little mouth, hot breath against his neck, and it’s driving him wild. 

He shivers. The feeling of you beneath him, body arching into his touch. It’s intoxicating. He just wants to lose himself in this moment and forget everything else. To etch it into memory. Every second, every heartbeat. Warm skin and quiet moans. The smell of your shampoo with his face tucked into the crook of your neck. It fuses together into a heady mix which makes it hard to think or care about anything else.

But you won’t let him forget where you are.

You push his hair out of his eyes and caress his cheek, bringing his face up from your neck, eyes locking for a heartbeat before you kiss him. “I really hate to rush this but—” you start to say, lips lingering over his.

“Then don’t,” he mutters, cutting you short. He runs a hand up and down your torso before pinning your body to the mattress with a hand on your waist. He grinds into you again, still deliciously slow. Savouring it. And if you didn’t know any better, he’s teasing you.

And then he sits up so he’s kneeling between your thighs, and your legs fall around him. He rubs his shoulder with his chin, trying to hide a smirk but it’s there despite his efforts. “Why are you thinking about them anyway? Should be thinking about me,” he tells you, hips grinding into yours, abs clenching. 

You bite back a grin, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip. “Trust me, I am thinking about you. But if our friends come back and hear us, I’ll be thinking about murder.”

A chuckle vibrates through Quinn’s chest. “Fair point,” he concedes, leaning over you so your chests are flush. Lips finds yours again, demanding your attention.

With the snapping of his hips, rhythm quickening, you give it to him. Stars blurring your vision. Hands roaming fevered skin, tracing the contours of his body with a reverence of desperation. Ache bubbling under your skin. Breaths coming out in ragged gasps. 

“Quinn,” you say through gritted teeth between a moan, nails scraping down his back, overcome with a storm of sensations. The friction. The pressure. It’s all too much. 

It spurs him on. Driving him to the edge of sanity and back again, chasing the elusive promise of release. And you’re no different. Clasping at the sheets, struggling to hold on. His movements grow more frantic with each passing second. The short, sharp whimpers you’re letting fall from your lips push him back to the precipice. 

He shifts slightly, adjusting his angle, and suddenly hits a spot so divine that you’re unable to spare a word. The stars behind your eyes becoming more vivid as you surrender to the ecstasy that pulses between you both, a tempest that rages unchecked in the darkness. Through the haze, you hear the telltale sound of heavy footsteps on the patio, signalling the return of your friends.

“We’re gonna get caught,” you gasp, very much aware that you’re stating the obvious, panicked. Nails dig crescent moons into his shoulders, urging him on even as you try to anchor him to reality. 

Quinn's breath hitches, a low, guttural moan escaping as he teeters on the brink. "Baby, I'm—," his voice breaks. Deep and throaty moans reverberate through you, skin to skin, chest to chest. A plea for something that hovers just out of reach. “Almost there. Just a little more,” he whispers into your ear, voice a low and soothing murmur despite the urgency in his tone. 

The world around you blurs. 

Quinn’s breathing hitches again and he shudders, thrusts stuttering, and it’s the final push you need. His pleasure your catalyst. And with one last final desperate roll into your body, the coil of tension snaps and a wave of ecstasy washes over you both. 

Starlight swapping for solar flares. 

“Baby,” he whines and you wonder if he knows that he’s only making it harder for you to stay quiet.

The room spins. Eyes stinging. Mind blanking. Toes curling. Your fingers grasp at his hair, knuckles white. His head tucked into the crook of your neck, mouth pressed against your skin. Trying your damn hardest to keep your voices low but it’s hard. It’s raw. His teeth scrape over your throat as he grinds his jaw, groaning deeply. The waves keep crashing until it dissolves into nothing but heaving chests. His breath, your exhale. 

There’s low murmurs in the hallway on the other side of the bedroom door. Footsteps shuffle on hardwood floors and then there are more heavy footsteps as whoever it is begins climbing the stairs.

“You promised we’d be quick,” you remind him, touching lips to the corner of his parted mouth.

Quinn chuckles softly, a playful glint in his eyes. He kisses you breathlessly, and then rolls off of you, crashing into the pillows. “That was quick,” he defends, feigning innocence.