Every logical bone in her body says that maybe they should go back to using condoms. His track record with fertility isn't great, no matter how long it's been and especially with Rachel's luck regarding winning streaks and how quickly they love to come to abrupt ends, she's thinking maybe, with everything being borderline fucking perfect for them, a baby is the perfect way for God to throw her that fuck you that she thinks she's way overdo for. But she's not worried about that. Not right now. Right now? They're getting married and she's going to be on Broadway and he not only graduated high school but he's one of New York's finest and all of her dreams are about to come true in the span of the next few days. Instead of waiting for everything to crumble, at least right now, she's going to enjoy it while it lasts.

She spreads her legs around him, knees bent over the hard muscle of his thighs. Everything feels so slow, suddenly, the deliberation of his movements betraying his earlier eagerness. He holds her tight, not enough to hurt (never enough to hurt) but the feeling of her wrist bones pressed tight to his palms makes her gasp. "I know." She breathes, rolling her hips up to meet his, her breath shallow, needy against his lips as they kiss and she tries to work herself down onto his cock the way they were both so desperate for a moment ago.