I didnt intend for this to be this long, but my seamstress heart was inspired. I got kind of carried away, and had to refocus, so I'm going to do another post soon with some advice and anecdotes for wrighting costumers.
For the last couple of months I have been absolutely Obsessed with @poindextears 's Crickets, her SMH post-Waffle Frog OCs, and I have had a lot of headcannons about Quinn Cooper: a theatre kid extrordanare and Hoh icon who talks like he's from 50s and is the boyfreind of Nando (Cricket dman) as we have quite a bit in common. All of Mel's fics are amazing, and I would highly recommend! Give them a read on tumblr or AO3
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I know Mel has said that Quinn's favorite place is Joanne's, which is completely understandable for someone who doesn't live near actual textile markets... but Joanne's (and similar chain craft/fiberarts supply stores) suck.
Like first of all, on a monetary level... I'm going to start with the assumption that high school Quinn didn't have a large project budget (reasoning: 1. his family is already tight with money, 2. I can't imagine his not-particularly-supportive guardians gave him lots of spending money (esp with theatre fees and materials) 3. I can't imagine he brought in tons of money on the side with a theatre schedule + grades good enough to go to med school + time with his old lady freind + time for sewing)
With that being said: Fabric is expensive. Way more expensive than people expect. Especially if you don't have expensive machinery (like overlock machines) that make cheap synthetic fabrics usable. Also I like to imagine Quinn is in the "fabrics made of plastic are itchy and bad for the enviornment" club like me.
All that is to say: Joanne's is absolutely the worst place that isn't actively upscale to buy fabric (or materials) on a budget.
- The shop's target demographic is stay-at-home white suburban moms who have the time to clip coupons, buy materials on a "when it's on sale" basis as opposed to a "my sister didn't notice the four seperate places I marked my shears 'fabric only' so now I physically cannot continue this project without buying new extra-sharp fabric scissors'" basis, and importantly: can stop by the store every day for a month because discounted items change on a day to day basis, all of which is not particularly conducive to someone a high school kids on a budget.
- Even with all the discounts in existance, the fabrics there are still super expensive and especially for the often lackluster quality (like... they are fine but if I'm paying literally $40/y for enough faux fur to make a big enough "mane" to cover the gap between the cowardly lion's padding and the actor's neck, we shouldnt have to sweep the fur bits off the stage at intermission)
- Additionally if you need a lot of fabric, say enough 7ft squares of heavy mustard yellow fabric for 30 lioness cape/pants? You might just need to run 4 seperate Joanne's out of two different fabrics that were close enough to each other to work
If you are putting in the time and effort to make something complicated,
- Also, and this is probably the most obvious: there just aren't that many options. If you want anything other than a cotton or fleece, than you better hope the single shade they have in the right color works
So I have established: Joanne's = Bad
So how does Quinn factor into all this?
Well first of all I would like to imagine that at some point Quinn helped out in SMH costuming, where they teach him the magic of using something that already exists. Samwell being as liberal as it is, I would like to think that the costuming people are aware of how awful the current state of fabric waste is, and, how his sewing skills are so much better used altering things at thrift shops beginning his journey twords my completeley basess headcannon that he one day adopts some vintage looks
While I think he would be down to adopt some of these practices in his costuming (a la my personal anectode below), I have a feeling that Quinn is one of those people who just likes to make things from scratch. (reasoning: 1 his general personality, but far more importantly, 2 THIS BOY WANTED TO MAKE EVAN HANSEN'S POLO BY HAND, WHY??? WHAT IS THE PURPOSE??? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TIME THAT TAKES???????? YOU ARE WILLING TO SPEND UPWORDS OF TEN HOURS OF YOUR LIFE ON A MODERN STYLE SHIRT THATS GOING TO BE SEEN 4 TIMES???)
I get it, especially for historical reconstructions, there are people who genuinely love sewing by hand, I love Bernadette Banner as much as the next seamstress, but I honestly don't know how they do it.
I like to think that Quinn would be wandering around some thrift store and out of the corner of his eye notice some curtains and have a vision of frolicking through a meadow like Julie Andrews in cloths made out of a curtain... metaphorically. But he def gets "Do a Dear" stuck in his head every time he wears it
Of course the SMH Costuming crew introduce him to some better places to at least get draping and mock up fabrics, but I think they would also introduce him to an actual fabric store.
Samwell is close enough to Boston that I'm sure there's an actual fabric warehouse within driving distance, so when Quinn can't find a suitable material at his beloved Joanne's, and is understandably skeptical about ordering fabric online, Ford is just like dude, go to the fabric warehouse, so he gives it a try.
Ok his fist thought when he gets there is omg everything is so big. Ok, that's his second thought, his first thought is ugh this smells like the SMH locker room, bc a giant block of concrete with no internal climate control in the New England humidity stuffed to the brim with moisture-holding fabric is def gonna make some kind of funk.
But after that like...
Ok, on the left is your average Joanne's while on the right is your average fabric warehouse
I can totally imagine him physically getting lost. He is tiny, and those places are total mazes, absolutely ginormus, they are all stacked literally 8 feet tall, and all the rows look the same.
Fabric in warehouses is stored for maximum capacity as opposed to places like Joanne's where it is purposely stored in ways that display the whole selection at once. Additionally, while hobbyist bolts face out as much as possible so you can see it at a glance, professional grade bolts face in for protection
...If it's on the shelves at all, the hallmark of a textile warehouse is just dozens of bolts leaning haphazardly in precarious places
This tiny boy is just absolutely surrounded by rows upon rows of fabric, stored in ways that are absolutely not conducive to being looked at easily, and is incredibly frusturated bc Aggghhh I can't look at any of this without moving all of it around, and I can't reach any of it!!!
BUT!
Guess what he has?
Nando to the rescue!
Quinn's big strong dman boyfriend is more than willing to move around and carry the bolts for him and when need be he'll just straight up plop Quinn on his shoulders so he can see the stuff at the top :)
Ok, that's the gist of what I had to say, some other little seamster!Quinn hcs:
his old lady friend taught him the absolute basics, and his wedding gift from her is her 70 year old sewing machine that he first learned to sew on and he treasures that thing FOREVER
bc of his apparent love of hand sewing he is one of those people that swears by genuine leather thimbles, idk why it just feels like him
whenever people compliment his outfit he is just casually like "Oh thanks, I made it" (bc non sewers are always astounded by that and we get to gloat) because I said so
fic: I’d marry you with paper rings (Nando/Quinn, NC-17)
Man, I don’t even know. I’m maybe writing a fic that’s forced slow burn, and I needed to write something light and easy. Mel’s Cricket Series has brought me so much joy and happiness during this weird and crappy spring, and when I read this post, I was like, yes, let’s write my obligatory crossdressing fic that i apparently write for every ship i ever write for, and this thing just ... happened.
@poindextears, thank you for letting me take your characters and have my wicked way with them. Also, I’m sorry.
Here’s this thing on ao3.
Nando would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit worried about the way Quinn has been behaving today. He’s not sure anyone else has picked up on it, but then again, no one else spends as much time as close to Quinn as Nando does. He doesn’t really know how to explain it, but if he had to, he thinks he’d describe Quinn as skittish today. He hasn’t shied away from Nando’s touch, really, but he has tensed up slightly every time Nando’s hand has reached below, like, shoulder level. It’s weird, Nando doesn’t like it.
Something about the check in at the hotel is taking longer than usual. Everyone else has already been sent off to their rooms, but Quinn is still talking with the guy behind the desk. He has to stand on his toes to properly reach up and it probably shouldn’t be as adorable as it is, but it’s not like Nando makes the rules. His boyfriend is adorable, that’s just the way it is. And, finally, his boyfriend is done being Team Manager. Nando sincerely hopes everyone will behave tonight, so he can have Quinn as his Boyfriend until they wake up tomorrow. He grabs their bags and starts heading along the corridor everyone else had gone into, but Quinn’s voice stops him.
“Sebastián. This way.” Nando turns around, and Quinn is standing by another corridor, reaching out a hand. Nando is confused, but where Quinn goes, he follows, so he walks over and takes his hand.
“Where are we going?” he asks as they head down the corridor towards an elevator.
“To our room, of course,” Quinn says, then starts humming a song Nando doesn’t recognize. Nando sighs, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. He’s learned a lot during his almost-four years at Samwell, and one of those things is when it’s just completely useless to try to get Quinn to talk when he doesn’t want to.
They take the elevator to the fourth floor, then Quinn leads them through corridors and around corners. There is no way Nando will be able to find his way out of here alone. He squeezes Quinn’s hand. Good thing he won’t have to.
Finally, Quinn stops in front of a door at the end of a hallway and taps the keycard against the lock. The door beeps, lets them in, and Nando barely has time to drop their bags on the floor before Quinn is on him, kissing him like they’ve been apart for weeks. Nando responds in kind, but he barely has time to put his hands on Quinn’s waist before Quinn pulls away.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. Nando looks at him, surprised. He doesn’t bother pointing out that it’s pretty useless to take a shower before they have sex, because Quinn knows that as well as he does. But, if Quinn is taking a shower now, that might mean he’s not up for sex, but that’s also weird, because between the two of them, Nando is usually the one who begs off. Not that it happens often (because hello), but when it does, it’s usually Nando.
That doesn’t mean he won’t respect Quinn’s wishes, though, of course he won’t try to talk Quinn into having sex with him. “Okay,” he says, and if he wasn’t already pressed against the door, he would take a step back. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. Quinn reaches up to press a kiss to his jaw, then grabs his bag and locks himself in the bathroom. Nando stands by the door for a few seconds, confused by what just happened, before he grabs his own bag and moves further into the room.
There’s a double bed, which is standard for the two of them nowadays (Nando loves that he’s dating the team manager), a desk, a tv. Standard room. He drops his bag and starts to pull off his clothes, preparing for bed. It’s quick work, then he grabs the tv remote from the desk and lies down on the bed. He kicks the bedspread down and then starts to channel surf, with the sound of Quinn’s shower in the background.
A few minutes later, he hears Quinn coming out of the bathroom. Nando moves to grab his toiletry bag, his attention mostly on the tv, but he flicks one glance at Quinn and freezes.
“Uhm,” Nando says, then swallows. Quinn, his outrageously hot boyfriend, the love of his life, is standing in front of him wearing nothing but a sweatshirt. Nando’s sweatshirt. It’s a navy blue soft-washed thing that Nando barely recognizes, he hasn’t used it in a long while, which means Quinn probably dug through his closet to get it. Nando doesn’t mind, especially when this is the result. The sweatshirt is too big on Quinn, it reaches halfway down his thighs and the arms have been folded up to show his hands. At the neck, the opening is wide and shows Quinn’s collar bone. His hair is ruffled in the way he only allows it to be immediately after a shower, and Nando is going to explode with how much he loves Quinn. Also, he’s going to have to jerk off in the bathroom, because Quinn looking like this does things to Nando.
He takes a breath to steady himself and then stands up. His erection is showing and he knows it, but at least he no longer feels guilty at being turned on by the sight of his boyfriend looking like a wet dream.
“Get back on the bed,” Quinn says in a no bullshit voice. Nando is used to it by now.
“Baby, I just need to—”
“Sebastián. Get back. On the bed,” Quinn repeats, much sharper, and Nando’s dick twitches. He gets back on the bed.
“Are we gonna have sex?” he asks, because he needs to know. Quinn kneels on the bed and stares at him.
“Of course we’re going to have sex,” he says. “Did you think we weren’t?”
Nando shrugs. “I mean ...” he waves a hand towards the bathroom. Quinn rolls his eyes and crawls towards him.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, but the tone of his voice makes it sound like I love you.
Nando settles back on the bed and drags Quinn towards him, onto his lap. “I’m your idiot, though,” he says, wrapping his arms around Quinn’s waist and pressing his face into the curve of Quinn’s neck. He smells like soap, and his skin is still slightly damp from the shower, and Nando loves him so much. “I love you,” he says, because he needs to. He doesn’t need to see Quinn’s face to know he’s smiling.
“I love you, too,” Quinn says, and then he grinds down on Nando’s lap, reminding him that while his boyfriend is the sweetest man he’s ever met, he’s also a sexual deviant who’s going to break Nando one of these days, honestly. “Not having sex,” Quinn continues under his breath as he settles into a much-too slow rhythm. “As if. I even flirted with the reception staff to get us a room without anyone next door.”
“Baby,” Nando groans, equal parts impressed and jealous. Given the chance, Quinn is loud during sex, and between the Haus and Quinn’s dorm, there aren’t many chances. They didn’t even realize just how much being loud was a thing until this past summer, when they’d spent hours in Nando’s childhood bed, both sisters and Mama out of the house. Nando’s dick twitches just at the thought of Quinn not having to hold back anything tonight. If he’d had any lingering tiredness in him after the game, it’s fully and thoroughly gone by now.
He slides his hands from Quinn’s waist, down under the sweatshirt to grab his ass, but stops when his fingers don’t meet the soft cotton or bare skin he’s expecting. He lifts the hem of the shirt to get a look and holy fucking fuck Nando is going to die, and when his Mama finds out the cause of death she’s going to revive him only to kill him again, but it will be worth it.
Quinn, his beautiful, sexy, adorable Quinn, is sitting on his lap, draped in Nando’s sweater, and lace panties. They’re a dark, rich purple, contrasting beautifully to Quinn’s winter pale skin, and Nando doesn’t know what to do. He wants to look at Quinn forever but he also wants to put his hands and his mouth all over him and worship him. Also fuck him.
“Is this—okay?” Quinn asks, suddenly unsure when Nando is having a minor breakdown. It makes Nando pull himself together, a little bit, enough to realize that there is no way he can let Quinn be even the tiniest bit unsure if Nando likes this or not. He moves his hands up to cup Quinn’s face and kisses him, trying to put everything into it. They usually discuss it at least twice before they bring anything new into bed, but Quinn hasn’t said a word about this, so Nando gets why he’s worried, but Nando also has absolutely no complaints whatsoever. And it’s not like it’s a completely new thing, Nando hasn’t exactly been discreet when they prep for Rhodey’s shows, but they still haven’t discussed it, not in this context. So yeah, Nando gets why Quinn might be worried, so he really, really tries to convey with his kiss how much he absolutely doesn’t mind, how much he loves it, how turned on he is just by the short glimpse he caught. Which—Nando should do something about that. He needs to see.
“Wha—Sebastián!” Quinn yelps as Nando grabs him at the waist again and flips him over, onto his back. He straddles Quinn’s thighs and pushes the sweatshirt halfway up his stomach, and then he just—looks. It’s maybe the best thing Nando has seen in his entire life. Quinn is hard, and some part of Nando will probably never get over the fact that he brings out this reaction in Quinn.
Nando drags a hand down Quinn’s stomach, lets his fingers ghost feather light over Quinn’s cock, over the lace.
“Say something,” Quinn says finally, and Nando realizes that he hasn’t, in fact, said anything for several minutes.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, stroking his palm over Quinn’s cock, feeling it twitch against him. “Quinn, baby, you—you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Nando says, and Quinn blushes. “I love you so much,” he says, again, because he has to. He rubs harder against Quinn, and Quinn responds by arching up against his hand and letting his head fall back, exposing his neck. Nando leans forward and presses a kiss against the flushed skin, then opens his mouth and sucks a mark there. It’s winter, Quinn wears scarfs all the time anyway. Quinn moans, and Nando can’t help but preen a little. He is the cause of that moan.
Nando’s own dick is rock hard in his boxers, and he groans when his hips jerk down on their own accord, making him grind against Quinn’s thigh.
“What do you want, baby?” he asks, because seriously, Nando wants everything right now, he can’t decide, Quinn’s going to have to call the shots here. Quinn’s hands clench where he’s gripping Nando’s sides, and he draws in a sharp breath.
“You—your mouth, please,” Quinn says, almost whines.
“Yeah?” Nando works his way up Quinn’s neck with kisses, then finally reaches his mouth and kisses him properly. “You want me to suck you off?”
“Yes, fuck,” Quinn breathes out against Nando’s mouth, and okay, if Quinn’s already cursing, this won’t take long.
Well. It won’t take long the first time.
Nando kisses Quinn for another couple of seconds before he tears himself away and crawls down the bed again. Quinn is still wearing the sweatshirt, and Nando is in no hurry to take it off him, he loves seeing Quinn in his clothes.
He also loves seeing Quinn in lace panties, which was not something Nando expected to learn about himself, but he’s not sorry at all about that revelation. Quinn’s cock is straining against the purple lace, and it must be a boy model, because there seems to be more room for that than what Nando would’ve expected. He wonders if Quinn bought them the last time he was in Boston, or if he ordered them online, if he has more, and which colors, and—God, Nando is about to die.
He knows they will talk about this, later, so for now, he just bends down and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Quinn’s cock. Quinn draws a sharp breath, and when Nando glances to the side, he sees that his hands are gripping the sheets. Nando would absolutely love to drag this out for hours, but he’s too turned on, Quinn is too turned on, they actually need to sleep at some point, so in what should be considered an act of mercy, Nando pulls the front of the panties down enough to get Quinn’s cock out, then takes half of it in his mouth in one go.
“Fuck,” Quinn shouts, as if it’s been punched out of him. This is why they take advantage of hotel rooms.
Nando smiles, sinks further down, takes more of him in his mouth. After three years, he likes to consider himself an expert on sucking (Quinn’s) cock, and he really, really likes doing it. He loves the feeling of Quinn’s cock in his mouth, loves that he can render Quinn into this whimpering mess with just his mouth, loves that he can glance up and watch his reaction, loves when Quinn sometimes tangles his fingers in Nando’s curls and presses him down, never forcefully, but enough that Nando gets the hint. He even likes the taste, which wasn’t something he expected, but sure does make things a lot easier.
He likes it even more when Quinn is not fresh from the shower, like when they meet up after Quinn has had an intensive dance rehearsal. He hasn’t dared to say that out loud yet, though.
When Nando pulls off to breathe, Quinn whines. It’s such a difference from his normal, composed self, and Nando feels privileged that he gets to see it, gets to draw it out of him. He has to reach down and stroke himself a couple of times, just to take the worst of the edge off, and for the briefest of moments, he’s tempted to just kneel and jerk off until he comes all over Quinn. It passes when he takes Quinn’s cock back in his mouth. He swallows around him, takes more of him, and Quinn groans.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Quinn pants, and Nando smiles around him. He slides his hands down Quinn’s thighs, grabs him behind the knees and pulls his legs up to rest on Nando’s shoulders. It gives him better access to grab Quinn’s ass, to run his palms over the lace there, and Quinn moans, jerks his hips up to fuck into Nando’s mouth.
It takes just another few seconds of enthusiastic sucking from Nando before Quinn’s hand settles on his neck, a sure sign that he’s close. Nando sucks harder, runs his tongue up the length, squeezes Quinn’s ass again, and that’s enough. Quinn grabs his neck harder, a warning, and Nando has no plans to pull off but appreciates it anyway, swallows easily as Quinn comes in his mouth, all while Quinn keeps up a steady stream of fuck and oh god.
He pulls off when Quinn tugs at the curls at the back of his neck and looks up to grin at him. He presses a kiss to the inside of Quinn’s thigh before he crawls up again, hovering over Quinn, covering him, as he bends down to kiss him.
Quinn kisses him back lazily, licks into his mouth, licks the taste of himself out of Nando’s mouth, and it probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
They stay like that for a while, but despite Nando’s fairly rigorous training routine, he still can’t hold himself up on his arms like this for long. He swings one leg over Quinn so he can kneel beside him, kisses Quinn one more time, then gets off the bed to grab the lube.
During their first spring together, when they started getting intimate, they’d gone to the student health center for STI testing. They’d both been clean, not that Nando hadn’t expected anything else, but his Mama didn’t raise no fool. They still use condoms sometimes, because cleanup is easier, but after some experimenting, they’d found they both enjoy the sloppy, filthy part of it. So Nando grabs the lube, no condom, and gets back on the bed.
“Flip over,” he says and takes off his underwear, Quinn doesn’t obey, instead he kneels on the bed and brings his arms up around Nando’s neck and angles his face up to kiss him. Nando wraps his arms around him and drags him closer, settles one hand on his ass and cups Quinn’s head with the other.
Quinn’s crotch rubs against Nando’s thigh, and his dick is still hanging out. It looks a tiny bit silly, but feels incredibly sexy, and Nando is so, so glad that multiple orgasms come easy for his boyfriend. It allows for situations like these, where he can suck him off and then fuck him, and it’s—amazing.
Nando moves his hand a little, puts his fingers against the crack of Quinn’s ass, presses gently against the lace, and—He draws a sharp breath and looks down at Quinn.
“Baby,” he says, unsure, and Quinn’s shy smile is answer enough. Nando is going to die. “Did you—Have you—All day?” Nando asks, incapable of complete sentences. Quinn nods. Him shying away from Nando’s touches all day suddenly makes sense. Nando quickly thinks through what they’ve been doing today and groans, then presses harder against the base of the plug that Quinn has had in his ass all fucking day. Through breakfast, the bus ride, the game, everything.
“How are you even real?” Nando asks and moves his hands so they’re inside the panties instead. He doesn’t allow Quinn to answer, kisses him instead, grabs the base of the plug and twists it.
Nando is ... well equipped. Quinn loves it, so it’s not an issue or anything, but it does require some preparation. Butt plugs aren’t a new thing for them, and Quinn has worn them for a longer period before, but during those times, they’ve both been in on it, and it’s been low-stakes situations like just hanging around campus or maybe during a home game. He’s never had one in for this long, in secret, while just going around his business.
“Okay, baby,” Nando murmurs, pressing another kiss to his lips before looking over Quinn’s shoulder, down his back, to where his hands are straining against the lace, pressed against Quinn’s ass. “God,” Nando breathes. He pulls down the waistband of the panties, settling it just below the curve of Quinn’s ass. When Quinn makes a motion as if to pull them off, Nando grips his ass harder. “No,” he says. “Leave them on.”
Quinn gives him a dirty smile, as if he isn’t the one wearing lingerie. Nando smacks his ass, once, and Quinn gasps and goes absolutely still. They rarely do that, because Nando isn’t really a fan, but Quinn loves it. Nando takes advantage of Quinn’s stillness to reach for the lube, then sucks another mark on his neck as he gives him another smack.
“Fuck,” Quinn moans, pressing against him, trying to get impossibly closer. “Baby, please.”
Nando presses soothing kisses against the mark he just made, simultaneously uncapping the lube and coating the fingers on one hand. With the other, he gently drags the plug out of Quinn’s ass. Quinn moans, and Nando kisses him, swallows the sound, even though he doesn’t really have to, here, in this room. He presses two fingers in, easily thanks to the plug, and god, Nando hopes he never gets used to this, never takes this for granted.
He adds another finger, and it’s only thanks to the fact that he’s so much bigger than Quinn that this position is even possible. He can’t actually fuck him in this position, though. Nando pushes Quinn away, gently, but can’t decide which way he wants him. Quinn on his back means he can keep the panties on, but Nando sort of wants to see his face.
Quinn, as always, seems to read the dilemma on his face. “I can wear them again,” he says, gently, as if that statement doesn’t break Nando’s brain. At least it helps him make up his mind.
“On your back,” he says, and Quinn grins at him as he obeys. He finally gets to take his underwear off, throws them carelessly onto the floor, spreads his legs.
Nando grabs the bottle of lube and moves to kneel between Quinn’s legs, again. It’s definitely one of his favorite places in the world. He lubes his dick, quickly, adds more lube to his fingers to press into Quinn with a couple of fast pumps. Lining up his cock with Quinn’s hole, he meets Quinn’s gaze, raises an eyebrow in silent question and gets a nod in return. Nando starts to push in, slowly. This part is always the hardest (hah), because there’s no getting around that Nando is big and Quinn is small and no matter how many times they do this, it’s not like his ass will stretch. Not that Nando would want it to, because this feels so good, but it wouldn’t exactly hurt if they could do it a little bit faster sometimes.
A minute later, Nando is fully inside of Quinn, and leans down to kiss him. He pauses there, waits patiently until Quinn moves his hips a little, fucking himself onto Nando’s cock. That’s when Nando moves back to kneeling between his legs, carefully pulling out almost all the way before pushing in again.
Quinn is still wearing the fucking sweatshirt, and if Nando’s brain wasn’t already broken, it would definitely break at the sight of him like this, with his head thrown back, throat exposed, one hand around his cock and the other clenched in the sheets until Nando reaches for it and tangles their fingers together. It’s such a soft gesture, feels at odds with what they’re currently doing, but it also feels right.
Little by little, Nando increases his pace, until he has to let go of Quinn’s hand and grab his hips to keep them steady. Quinn has his legs wrapped around Nando’s waist, his heels digging into Nando’s ass, and it’s—perfect. It’s perfect, perfect, perfect, Nando is so happy, lucky, turned on, in love, he’s going to explode.
He slips during a thrust, just a little, but enough to change the angle, and Quinn’s responding moan is obscenely loud.
“Fuck, oh my god, honey, god, keep—there, please,” he moans, begs, and Nando does his best to keep fucking him from the slightly different angle. He’s close, he has been close since Quinn got out of the bathroom dressed like that, and it’s not going to take a lot more for him to—
“Quinn, baby, I’m—,” he stutters, past being able to make sense, but Quinn gets it, of course he gets it. He clenches around Nando’s cock, jerks himself faster, brings his other hand down to stroke his balls. His fingertips brush against Nando’s dick and it’s like his fingers are made of electricity, the tiny touch sparks something deep inside of Nando and he just, it feels like he just combusts from within.
Nando is pretty sure his brain leaves him for a moment, because when he comes back to himself, he’s laying on top of Quinn, his face pressed against Quinn’s neck, his cock still inside him, and his breaths coming in heaving gasps. “Fucking hell,” he pants, and feels more than hears Quinn’s responding weak chuckle. He feels Quinn’s heavy breaths, feels his come sticking to his stomach and seeping into the sweater, feels the satisfaction that settles on both of them.
Quinn drags his hands out from between them and settles them on Nando’s back instead, and Nando doesn’t care that they’re sticky, he needs a shower anyway. Quinn does, too.
“I love you,” Nando says, turning his head to kiss Quinn, slow and indulgent, before he kneels up again to pull out.
“I, ah, I love you, too,” Quinn replies, grimacing a little.
“Sorry,” Nando whispers, but Quinn just smiles back at him. It’s par for the course, and it’s worth it.
Nando lies down beside Quinn and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. “Thank you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s mouth, then another.
“For what?”
Nando shrugs. “For getting us this room. For being awesome. For ...” He trails off, glances quickly towards where Quinn threw the panties earlier, and Quinn grins, understanding.
“I take it you like them?” he says, aiming for innocence and failing completely.
“I love them. I love you,” Nando says, and he doesn’t even know how many times he’s said it tonight, but it can’t be too many because there’s no such thing. He grabs Quinn and rearranges them until Quinn is laying on top of him. Nando strokes his back through the sweater, slowly moves his hand further down until he’s cupping Quinn’s ass. He presses his fingers gently against Quinn’s hole, sticky with lube and Nando’s come, and can’t help but smile when Quinn hisses.
“Sebastián. I’m too tired,” he says, and Nando kisses the part of him closest to his mouth, which happens to be the top of Quinn’s ear.
“I know,” he says. He isn’t aiming for a third round, he just can never help himself with this, dreams of a day when he gets to just lay Quinn out on a bed and see how many orgasms he can give him, what Quinn will sound like at the end, how he will look, and okay, Nando needs to stop right now before he does want a third round. “I can’t wait until we get to do this every day,” he says, a smile on his face like there always is when he thinks about them living together.
“Every day?” Quinn replies, and Nando hears his smirk. “Sounds optimistic.”
“Oh shut up,” Nando says, pressing two fingers inside of Quinn just to spite him. “You know it will happen, at least in the beginning.”
“True,” Quinn concedes, obviously torn between tearing himself away from Nando’s teasing and just giving into it. Nando makes the decision for him, because they do really have to sleep. He drags his fingers out, wipes them on the sweater and then gently pushes Quinn off of him.
“I need to shower,” he says, stepping down onto the floor and holding out a hand to Quinn. “Wanna join?”
“Why yes, Mr Hernandez,” Quinn says, taking his hand. “I’d love to.”
They become the B-est of BFFs and open a quaint little cafe together after the war. Hondo uses it as a front for a money-laundering scam; Quinlan uses it as a way to pick up new romantic conquests. Obi-Wan claims to hate it there but he’s their best customer.
Quinn peers out the window of the car for a moment more, after getting his boyfriend’s attention, watching the world outside as he finishes his thought. “You’re… going the wrong way.”
“No, I’m not.” Sebastián’s reply is so confident and quick that it’s enough for Quinn to look away from the street and toward the driver’s side. When he does, he finds Sebastián smiling, and he looks Quinn’s way long enough to give him a smile that’s both sincere and sweet. Which just confuses Quinn all the more, because his response doesn’t make any sense.
“Yes, you are,” he argues, and looks out his window again. The streets of downtown Kiersey are gray and snowy, and the sky, by the looks of it, might have more snow left to give. Sunset is coming, but it’s not quite here; the streetlamps haven’t turned on yet. “You just missed the turn,” Quinn explains, and points backwards, toward the street they were supposed to turn right onto, for emphasis. “The church is down that way.”
Sebastián, when he consults him again, is still smiling. This time, he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. All he offers as an explanation is a brief, cheerful, “I know.”
Got to bed at 2am for no reason. Woke up at 7. Finished a new fic. Posted it. I think I’ll go back to sleep now, but here’s an AO3 link.......
Quinn supposes that it isn’t exactly all college parties that are overwhelming. It’s hockey parties. Jock parties. House parties. He knows this, and has learned it well.
Which is why he entirely blames himself for what happens when he drags Cole out to one.
or: Cole gets drunk, and accidentally tells Quinn that he has feelings for Ben.
