Rachel is what you'd call a controllist.

If Rachel thinks that she looks a mess, all he sees when he fucking looks at her is perfection. She's five feet two inches of hot Jewish perfection, and he wants to fuck that perfection until she screams his name. The fact that she still wears his jersey makes him feel partially like she's his, because she's got that big white #20 on her chest as she experiments with different bounces and shifts to see what works the best for herself or for both of them [there are definitely a couple of moments when he moans, arching his back and grinding closer to her, his hands reaching up blindly for her breasts. "Waaaant." She's a fucking virgin and she's trying to explain it to him. It makes him grin faintly before grabbing her hips and yanking her harder against his body until his jaw drops and his head falls back. That figure-eight thing? He's done it before. He loves. "More," he nearly growls, his hands rising.