Hey, everyone! Dylan, here. So this story comes for a few reasons. 1. It was fun. 2. Pleasurechest drunkenly demanded it from me while I was also drunk and thus became a solid deal. (Don't drink, kids.) 3. People told me they would donate money to the Breast Cancer foundation if I wrote more Faberry smut. Pay up. 4. There were demands made for her for the type of sex, other things, but I won't spoil it by posting those. They are all met. ;)

Lastly, this story takes place after SHAfD and before SHAfD 2.0. And yes, the epilogue for SHAfD still exists in the universe. XO Enjoy.

Hey, Bee?


You get here in one day.

You ready for me?

I'm never ready for you. But I definitely miss your hands.

They miss you, too… ever since you stopped biting.

I could start again.

Please don't.

Maybe I want it rough.

Maybe I don't like being rough with you.

Maybe I don't care what you like.

Maybe I'm confused at all the maybes.

I can't wait to see you. Three weeks is too long.

I can't wait to love on you.

I'm so ready.

Are you?

Am I what?

See if you're ready for me.

I don't understand.






Check what?


Oh. Oh! Hold, please.

You're so annoying sometimes.

…And wet, too, apparently.

Gosh, I don't have words for how that text made me feel.


Check again.


Check harder.

Definitely drenched.

Check deeper, so so deep.

Oh, Barbra in heaven, Bee. I'm so tight.

How's that feel?

Fantaaassmic, but I miss your hands. I miss two hands on me. I miss your gloriously beautiful mouth on me. I miss your ungodly and should-be-illegal fucking hot body on me.

I love when you cuss with your big adverbs. It's like listening to Mother Mary throw a tantrum.

Don't compare me to the Virgin Mary while I'm three fingers deep in myself. That is highly inappropriate and your father would be ashamed.

Less talking, more touching.

Also, that mental image hurt me so good.

It's really unfortunate we weren't made with three arms. I need another. I need another so bad. I need it inside and outside and on my breasts. My hotel bed is so lonely. I'm spread and lonely and touching myself for you... What would you do to me? Can you tell me? God, I'm already begging.

And rambling.

Put me down. Just leave me open and use both hands.

Done. Destroy me, baby.

Remember our wedding night?

Yeah, you do. You just groaned and clenched at the thought, didn't you?

Remember being on your stomach in our new bed?

My body on top of yours.

Can you feel my lips and tongue and teeth on your back?

Roll over for me.

Face in the pillow, legs spread, ass in the air.

You remember now?

Remember how it felt to have me behind you?

It drove you nuts.

You were humping the mattress, spreading like you were in heat, just aching for something to hit your mark.

I remember licking the sweat off your back.

I remember you wanting anything you could get.

You hated the teasing.

You hated my nails down your back.

You hated my tongue on your spine and neck.

You hated my hands wrapping around to grabs those perfect girls of yours.

You hated me grinding on your ass from above.

You hated the buildup.

But god, you loved feeling me slip inside, didn't you?

What was it you moaned out?

"Fuck, I could do four. Add a fourth."

You were so wet. And even tight.


After all of our love-making.

You're always tight.

I love pushing inside you.

I love stretching you.

I remember your back arching. I remember beads of sweat rolling down your cheeks. I remember licking it up as I pushed deeper.

Feeling all of you.

Inside you.

Rubbing at you.

Just like you're rubbing at yourself right now, on your stomach, legs spread, hips rocking into the mattress. Probably biting that lip off. Wanting to close your eyes so you can imagine me behind you.

But not, so you can keep reading how I fucked you on our wedding night.

How I sloooowly swirled over that firework between your legs.

You loved feeling my fingers pull you apart.

You loved feeling my breasts drag down your back.

Teeth, too.

You loved biting that pillow when I went where we'd never gone before. You loved clenching the sheets just like your insides were clenching my fingers.

It drove you nuts, didn't it? Waiting for more to happen.

Waiting for me to finally give in and take you, not just tease you.

Didn't it? Feeling me all over you, everywhere, like it's always meant to be, yet nowhere and not enough and not in the places you wanted.

It drove you wild.

You were wild. You were gorgeous.

You were perfect.

And you were begging for me to make you come.

Just like I'm sure you're begging for it right now.

Eyes forced open to keep reading these.

Chin in the mattress.

Neck craned.

Hands between your raised hips… left inside and right spinning those circles you perfected beneath me when we were sixteen.

You always were a saucy little minx.

And boy do I love making you come.

So push deeper…

And faster…

And harder…

Fuck yourself silly, love.

Like you know I would.

Because I can't get enough of you.

I can't get enough of your body.

I can't get enough of how it feels to be deep inside you, writhing above you.

I can't get enough of that ass and your collar bone and when you pant my name and beg me for more and harder and faster.

Say my name.


Like I own you.

Beg me for it.

I love when you beg me.

I can't hear you. I want to hear California from NYC.

Beg me, Rachel!

God, I can hear it in my head and it's making me wet.

I love when you beg.

In fact, I love it more than anything.

So how about you stop.

And pull out.

Rachel, I said stop.


…how do you feel about the mental image of Finn kissing Sylvester? I think it would be so, so hot. What do you think, baby?


Did you stop?

How does one finish after THAT mental image? Dammit, Quinn!


PROBLEM? I was almost there! Why on earth would you do that to me?

I'm sure you were. But now you're wet, and stretched, and aching for me. Your body is ready, Short. Tomorrow. And all weekend.

I loathe you.

We spell that "love"… Loooove.

I can't wait to see you just so I can hit you.

There's my girl.

I love you. …Sometimes.

I love you all the time.

One more day?

Just one more day…

Goodnight. Ass.

'night, gorgeous.

(I'm sorry for this… but not really.)

Don't hate me.

I'm your wife, after all.

Shut up and go to sleep so it will be tomorrow already!


I love you, Short Stack.