A/N: This was prompted to me on Tumblr. I really REALLY like Mike Chang, and I found rather quickly that this is an easy couple to ship. Smutty, angsty, hurt/comfort. Enjoy.
She had the aluminum wrapper in her teeth before he could protest.
"Quinn, are you su-"
"Shut the fuck up, Chang," she hissed, spitting the torn corner onto the floor of his backseat and pulling the condom from the package. "I asked you for one thing. Do you remember what that was?"
He nodded sullenly, his bare chest heaving. "Silence."
She gave a sharp bob of her head, putting her palm flat against his immaculate abs, and pushing him onto his back in the benched seats. "Right. And this? The talking? The questions? That's not silence."
Mike wasn't sure how he'd found himself there; laying in the backseat of his car underneath a very angry Quinn Fabray in nothing but his boxer briefs. What made even less sense was the fact that she was equally undressed, her pale thighs straddling his hips and pinning him down while she hovered over him, her pert nipples erect in the chill of the early spring evening. But, for better or worse, that was where he was, and he'd made her a promise.
He would fuck her senseless, and he would remain quiet while doing so, no matter what she said.
Her hand pushed down the elastic band of the tight boxer briefs, and he watched as she gave a noticeable gulp. He would only be the second person she'd ever slept with. She didn't talk about the first. Ever. So this? Her hands slowly bringing his length to life in unsteady but confident strokes? This was a big fucking deal, and he wanted her to know that.
Her fingers left his skin at his words and he immediately shut his mouth.
"That's two strikes," she warned, her voice eerily quiet with a sense of knowing calm. "Keep it up. I'll take this elsewhere, and you can suffer the loss of your beloved Tina alone."
It was his turn to gulp, which he did, and loudly. He knew she wanted control. He knew why she wanted it, too. Quinn was the kind of girl that had so much going for her. But her world revolved around the fact that everything was planned in advance. She had familial responsibilities to see to. Alma maters to attend. Sororities to legacy with. She'd messed it up for herself once, and she wasn't about to let it happen again.
So this thing they were doing in his car? This was her taking control of the one thing she knew was hers: her body. He wasn't complaining. She'd chosen him for his discretion. The fact that Tina had broken up with him had certainly helped Quinn's argument for their little tryst, but it was by no means the sole reason for it.
To be honest, Mike liked Quinn. A lot. Maybe not in the same way that he liked Tina, but she needed him, if only for the night. And Mike liked being needed. So he told her he'd help her.
Maybe he did know how he'd gotten into this situation.
So there they were. Her on top, the condom in her hand, waiting for him reassure her that he would follow her rules. He nodded his acquiescence and laid back down, letting her resume. The tentative hand once again took him, fisting his length to bring him to full hardness while he focused on his breathing and paced himself internally. Even her inexperienced hand was better than his own, and he caught himself before groaning when she slipped them condom on, and pressed him against her core.
His hands found her waist and he silently – just as she'd ordered – worshiped her body. The baby had changed her. She was a little softer around the edges, despite her regimented training sessions with Coach Sylvester. He ran dusky fingers across the small pooch in her stomach, admiring it, wishing she wouldn't flinch so when he touched her there. Her breasts had certainly grown. He might not have seen them quite so clearly before the thing with Puck, but he was a guy, after all. He noticed. And it seemed here, too, she was self conscious. His palms, gentle on the sensitive skin along the sides, caused her to tense and she waited until he had lowered them back grip her thighs before adjusting her hips, and pushing him inside of her.
He bit his tongue to keep from moaning, but she didn't hold back. The whimper than escaped her throat turned his spine to jelly, and the hands on her thighs held on with brute force as he began to thrust, just as she'd told him to, hard and fast. Her body hovered above his, her weight on her shins as she crouched. It gave him just enough room to lift his pelvis and connect it with hers. She moaned, her hands finding their way to his chest, where she leaned on him to hold herself up.
"Harder," she murmured through clenched teeth. He obliged once, twice, three times with sharper, deeper thrusts, until the hitch in her breathing gave him pause.
"I said, 'harder'," she repeated, digging those cat-like nails into his skin. He winced, but then again, so did she, with each motion of his hips into hers.
No, he thought. She's in pain.
But he didn't stop. She'd told him not to. Unless the word "stop" left her mouth, she'd instructed him, he was to keep going. But Mike Chang was not an idiot. If it looks like it hurts, and it sounds like it hurts…
"Goddamn it, Mike," Quinn chastised, pulling his attention fully back to her. "Harder!"
He looked up at her, blonde hair fallen loose from the trap of a ponytail she'd been confined to during her time on the Cheerios. He slowed, but didn't stop entirely. Instead he put steady hands on her waist and pulled her closer to him, so her breasts fell flush with his strong chest, and her head rested comfortably beneath his chin. She fought him, pulling back and spitting out words that almost didn't sound like English, until he pressed his index finger to her lips. She fell quiet, neither of them moving, until he once again pulled her to him and she found their breathing sync together.
"Stop it," she hissed into his pulse point, sending shivers down his spine that radiated out to the tips of his fingers. "Stop trying to be nice to me."
She'd asked for silence, so he said nothing. Instead he laid underneath her, still buried deeply inside, and breathed. He put one hand on the small of her back, and the other in her hair, knotting his fingers through it and just holding her. She whimpered louder at that than any movement he'd previously made. As though his acts of comfort were more painful that the quick, heated thrusts of his cock inside her inexperienced body. He understood that, though. She'd been given the short end of a lot of things, and had so much taken from her. Kindness wasn't something she was shown very often. So he figured, if he could do anything for her, it was that.
"Don't," she pleaded as his hand ran soothingly up and down her back. "Just give me what I need, please. Don't make this about anything other than sex."
He pulled gently on the hair at the nape of her neck, and she lifted her head in response. He looked into her eyes, searching them while she braced herself against his chest. He said nothing, but did his best to convey a look that told her exactly what he was thinking, and what he wanted to her.
You're beautiful. You're worth more than this. It's okay, I'm here.
She choked on a sob and he leaned up, pressing his lips firmly against her closed right eye, then her left, kissing away any tears before they were allowed to fall. Then, with salt still on his tongue, he kissed her.
And she kissed back.
"Please," she begged. "I need you."
He nodded, feeling her relax against him, and began to work his hips once more against hers. She moaned, her mouth on his and incapable of separating. His hands ran down the length of her torso, one hand pushing down as his pelvis came up, rocking her into him and the other sliding its way into hers. He laced their fingers together, and she clung to him desperately as she rode him.
"Mike…" she moaned into his mouth, and he bucked, his hand pushing her against him as he thrust one final time before groaning, and emptying himself. He didn't pull out, knowing that she hadn't arrived like he had. So that hand between them shifted her upright, sitting on his hips as he felt his cock respond within her, twitching. The other hand found her swollen clit and he pressed his thumb there, using her own slickness to rub gently. He watched as she threw her head back, cried out, and clamped her muscles down on his length. He might as well have climaxed a second time, and he grunted at the sensation of her tightness clenching him.
Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty before she finally relaxed, falling forward and resting her head on his chest. He wrapped both arms around her, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head as they panted in unison.
"Thank you," she mumbled, her mouth muffled by the flesh at his collarbone. "For this."
"Am I allowed to speak again?" he asked, readjusting his legs as he pulled out of her gently. She groaned, but nodded.
"Well, then," he continued, a smile crossing his face. "You're welcome."