Work Text:
TITLE: To Mark Its Territory
Author: Ladyfun9
Fill for the glee kink meme: Quinn/Rachel Insecurity, Jealousy, Rough Possessive Sex (Anonymous)2012-10-18 04:11 pm (UTC). When Quinn first visits Rachel she meets Brody. At first she feels completely out of her league cause he looks like a fucking model, but that soon turns to a deep jealousy and when she finally gets some alone time she can't help but mark what's hers. Cue, completely consensual, rough possessive sex (maybe with a strap-on) Characters: Quinn, Rachel (Damn it, I caved to the requests…yes. Faberry. Make no mistake, I still loves me some Pezberry)
Rating: M, NC-17
Kinks: Rough sex, bad language
Perfunctory Disclaimer: I don't own glee, not one damn bit of it. Don't own the characters or even peeing on a tree or the Pug who did it…but I wish I did!
CHAPTER 1. New Beginnings
To mark its territory (exp.) About an animal, action consistent of placing a recognizable sign to indicate the ownership of an area.
XOXOXO
Quinn could feel the nervous energy bubbling up, boring a hole through her gastric lining, she was sure. She mused on the probability she would perforate her bowel before arriving to New York…
Shaking her head, she thought , Morbid Quinn, yet again. You clearly need your Rachel infusion…you're becoming too pessimistic again.
And just like that, she felt a warm feeling drizzle over her, coating that feeling of angst and fear. Rachel….and then she stopped. Recognizing she had been going to that place again, it immediately triggered nervous thoughts…thoughts she didn't want to muster…
Dr. F always says, behind every act of anger is the feeling of fear or hurt. All those years you tortured her..which was it? Fear? Hurt? Both…probably. You were probably afraid once you declared how you really felt, she would reject you immediately.
And then again the fear…what if she didn't like you back? Worse, what if she DID?
Quinn swallowed the dry lump in her throat as the train shuttled to its stop with an abrupt prostration. In the most metaphoric of senses, the train lurched her forward- and forward she went, knocking accidently into the wall in front of her.
She had arrived.
New York City.
Rachel Berry.
Ready or not, here I come… Quinn Fabry gathered herself, and her face a mask of confidence, walked out onto the platform with a confidence that belied her age and the emotions of uncertainty and excitement bubbling underneath. She glanced around at the passerby’s; even in New York, Quinn could still turn heads.
XOXOXO
"Oh, God…damn….God damn it! Brody…"
Tan shapely legs were wrapped around the muscled physique of one Mr. Brody Weston, wiggling as though the sheer act of pumping her legs could somehow get the boy's member deeper inside her…
"Ughhh…god. God! Fuck me. Just fuck me, harder!"
Brody grunted, his stamina challenged yet again. He tried to meet her need to have a forceful pounding, putting all his body weight of his chiseled torso into her. "Oohf" he grunted.
"God damn it, I said, FUCK ME! Fuck me harder! Fuck your cock into me, harder …now!" Rachel was swinging her pelvis up to meet his downward thrust, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and a lot of sex wafted through the air…
…to fill Quinn's nostrils, as she silently let herself into the small apartment with the key that Rachel had given Quinn at graduation in the hopes of them actually becoming pals and needing copies of keys, and the like, someday.
Quinn dropped said key on the floor when her eyes beheld the sight in front of her. Two sets of very startled eyes looked up towards the noise.
Rachel gasped.
"Quinn?" She said, weakly.
There was a deafening pause. Finally, someone broke the silence.
"Quinn? THE Quinn? Quinn Fabry from your high school?" Brody stated, to a suddenly mute Rachel.
Coolly, Quinn replied. "Yep. That's me. THE Quinn Fabry, from Lima Central, Ohio."
She narrowed her eyes. "And just who exactly…are you?"
CHAPTER 2. Meetings.
Quinn felt her jaw set while she awaited the answer.
"I'm Brody."
There was another deafening pause as Quinn's steely laser like gaze was boring a hole through his forehead.
Rachel, rather awkwardly, pulled her intertwined parts away from the embarrassed junior. The sloshing noise that resulted made Quinn's stomach turn. She deliberately did not look while Rachel pulled the sheet hastily to cover them.
"So... we've established that I'm "THE" Quinn Fabry, YOU are the Neanderthal named Brody, and I guess my next question is," Quinn meaningfully cast her steely gaze towards Rachel, "..who the fuck are you?"
Rachel turned scarlet.
The usually eloquent diva stammered an incoherent ramble. Quinn ignored her, focusing on…him.
Brody.
God damned Brody.
Perfect, god-damned, Neanderthal Brody with the six pack abs, devoid of stretch marks and cellulite, and certainly, without her freshman ten.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. Was he shaking?
"Well,“ he stammered nerviously, while getting up from the bed, "I can see you two have a lot of catching up to do! I'll just let you guys catch up on your girl-talk."
"Brody, wait-"
"No, he's right," Quinn said coolly. "I think we do have a little…catching up…to do."
She looked at him dismissively, as he scurried to put on his previously discarded clothes. He was out the door in record time. Quinn turned on her heels to face Rachel, directly.
"Well?"
"Well, what? Well, what Quinn?" Rachel was beginning to get angry. "I don't hear anything from you for three months…and then ….then…you barge in to my room unannounced, and …"
Quinn crossed the room quickly and grabbed Rachel firmly with both arms, shaking her once.
Rachel looked at her, afraid, not knowing if Quinn was going to slap her, eat her, kill her, or… …kiss her... Quinn was kissing her.
Quinn was pressing her lips, hard, against the swollen, ruby lips of Rachel….who gasped. As she opened her mouth to make that small utterance, Quinn forced her tongue in-between her lips, swirling it around, establishing her ownership, demanding Rachel respond…willing it, almost subconsciously.
Rachel did.
She felt her nipples harden, and her center moisten…and she let out a small moan.
As Rachel let out that moan, she felt a sharp CRACK!…and then, a burning sting radiated across her right cheek.
"Don't you ever…ever…let me catch you with someone else…again." Quinn's face was a fury of emotions.
She had slapped her…and looked like she wanted to, again! She watched Quinn take a deep breath, and collect herself. Rachel, slightly afraid, decided to point out the obvious anyway.
"Quinn….we're not together. You and I?...we're not…we're not …a couple. You've never even…kissed me …before."
"Well… now I have."
CHAPTER 3. Six Months Prior…
Quinn and Rachel lazily looked up at the sky, lying side by side. Their hands were loosely interlocked, fingers intertwined.
Quinn was chewing on a blade of grass.
"Oooh…fluffy dog!"pointed Rachel, at a low hanging cloud formation above them.
"…with a pile of poop, next to it!"
"Ohmigod, Quinn…that does look like a pile of poop!" Rachel giggled.
They snickered together, stopping, then re-starting. Then, instinctively, both girls began scanning the blue sky above them, redirecting their competitive focus. As though trying out for a spot in collegiate skywatching, they methodically reviewed each potential mass above them.
"A ferret."
"Mr. Shuster’s chin."
"Finn's boobs."
"….your magnificent boobs."
Rachel snapped her head to the left, looking at Quinn in disbelief. Before Rachel could assess Quinn's odd statement, a mask slid across Quinn's face. Quinn had long since mastered the fine art of "guarding oneself" in her years of combat in the Fabray Manor. Never show your weaknesses…
"Magnificent, Quinn?"
Quinn was silent.
Rachel cleared her throat.
"Actually, I prefer legendary. 'Magnificent' simply does not do them justice."
Quinn laughed, deeply, and ripped a handful of grass, and threw it at Rachel. Rachel composed her face in mock horror.
"How dare you! The grass defense? Oh, no she didn't!" Rachel said, while simultaneously grabbing two fistfuls of grass and rolling on top of Quinn.
She looked down menacingly at Quinn, locked and loaded with the two fistfuls.
"You wouldn't…"
Rachel cocked her right eyebrow, mocking Quinn's own patented HBIC-eyebrow maneuver.
"No!" Quinn said, before spluttering out a mouthful of grass Rachel stuffed in her open orifice.
Rachel squealed, as Quinn grabbed her, barreling her full weight into her side, rolling her back over. She had the panicked-albeit giggling- diva pinned underneath her.
She regarded the lithe woman pressed below her.
My god, she feels so good. Her body feels…so good, Quinn thought. This feels…right.
Quinn pushed those thoughts away. She cocked her eyebrow, while regarding the woman underneath her, to demonstrate how the master did it….immediately prior to tickling her without mercy.
"Gahh-h- ha! Stop! Quinn! Stop! Hee hee! OMG I'm going to puke!" screamed Rachel.
Quinn became more determined. She went for the sides…the armpits…the back of her knees. Rachel, in a futile attempt at self defense, pulled Quinn tightly into herself, clinging to her. She wrapped her shapely legs around Quinn's trunk and locked them into place, clasping her arms around Quinn, effectively binding Quinn's arms to her sides.
Quinn felt a familiar pit in her stomach, wondering how something so damn small could be so strong…and the moisture pooling between her legs was a harbinger of her escalating desire...A need... her need to take that girls' lips to hers…and press them together as hard as she could…
"Quinn…" Rachel husked, her voice dropping almost an octave. Her eyes were dark.
Quinn licked her lips, regarding the woman below her. Want her…want those lips…want to slip my tongue between those lips…
Rachel unlocked her entwined legs from around Quinn's torso and slid them adjacently to Quinn's flanking sides. Quinn was painfully aware she was now laying between Rachel's legs, with Rachel's gorgeous legs straddling her. A passerby might even think they were having "clothes-on" sex…
She felt Rachel tighten her arms around her lower back.
"Quinn…" she said again, quietly.
Quinn looked down imploringly at Rachel, who was laying so trustingly below her… just so earnest in her…want.
Her desire.
How did they get here? Mused Quinn.
XOXOXOXO
It was the end of the summer of their senior year…a time she should be mindlessly enjoying her friends … saying goodbyes … having meaningless sex and getting drunk… and hanging with her besties, Santana and B…and Sam.
Instead, she had gravitated inexplicitly towards the diva.
Before she knew it, Quinn was spending every waking minute with Rachel. The more time she spent, the more she craved. She learned that the driven woman who had seemed so open and free, was actually really not that different from the "untouchable" Quinn Fabray…and the ways in which they were different were oddly compatible.
Quinn would rather do nothing with Rachel, than something with anyone else.
Rachel, too, pondered it occasionally, when her friends made disgruntled commentary about her constant unavailability. Rarely did they actually overtly say something, but on one occasion, Kurt sniped, "She's gone gay for Quinn Fabray…great."
Rachel laughed it off, until the next week when she and Quinn drove to a revival showing of "Rent" in Columbus.
The usher, while reseating the bladder-challenged Quinn, motioned to Rachel saying "Your partner is waiting for you there!" While reseating her, he added, "you two are so cute together."
Quinn, oddly comfortable, carried it off with aplomb, hamming it up. She was holding Rachel's hand, draping her arm around her, pulling her closer, and thanked the usher at the end, with a wink.
Rachel didn't think about why it felt so good to be claimed by Quinn. Quinn, conversely, didn't think about how good it felt to claim Rachel as hers.
Until that late summer evening on the hill, that is.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
"Quinn, we have to talk about this…"
"No."
"…about us."
"No." Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out light…sound…Rachel's words.
The words that would unleash the dogs and put them in a category they could never delicately laugh away, and be able to deftly retreat from... while maintaining their friendship.
Rachel pushed Quinn off of her, and dropped her handful of grass.
"Really? You're going to sit here and deny this…us…what's happening between us…?"
"Rachel! STOP! Why do you have to ruin … everything?" Quinn's face scrunched up in to an indecipherable mask of conflicting emotions, mostly all painful.
After a moment of anguish, Quinn stormed off, leaving Rachel on the hill.
It was the last time Rachel would talk to Quinn -in person—for many long months.
CHAPTER 4. 3 Months Prior...
Rachel and Quinn had rebooted, of sorts.
It had started with a tentative message from Rachel, to Quinn, saying as feared, Destiny was interviewing at NYADA.
Quinn texted back "Rip her eyeballs out!"
A few more pithy texts, a few giggles here, there, and it just happened. They fell back into their old ways, catching up on everything they should have known…but missed out on each others' lives because of their weirdness. A particularly catty exchange about Destiny's callback merited an interruption from Santana.
MMS: "I'm just sayin' –right now, up front…"-Santana
MMS: "What?" –Quinn
MMS: "U bitches keep goin at it with bullshit subtext about "Destiny" n don't clean your own house…"-Santana
MMS: "Eloquent as always, Santana Lopez." –Rachel B. Berry
MSS: "no shit its RBB. Who else texts in full sentences?" –Santana Fucking Lopez
MMS: "Get your caffeine on, SFL. U testy." –Lucy Quinn Fabray
MMS: "I am so fucking over this. U 2 drive me fucking crazy. I am just doing preventative medicine for ME, SFL, and I refuse to be shoulders for both of your breakdowns AGAIN when you fuck this up once again as you tragedy of human beings ultimately will. SFL out."
MMS: "What?" –Quinn
MMS: "…"
MMS: "I think she hung up Quinn."-RBB
MMS: "You don't hang up on texts, Rach."-Quinn
MMS: "I know that."-RBB
MMS: "Really? It didn't seem that way" –Quinn
MMS: "What are you implying, Quinn? That I'm technologically challenged? Well for your information, at least I know how to use a PHONE, Quinn. A bit of technology that seems to have escaped your repertoire."
MMS: "WHAT?" –Quinn
MMS: "Since you haven't called me in oh, THREE MONTHS."-RBB
MMS: "SEE? THIS IS THE SHIT I'M TALKING ABOUT. GOD DAMN IT." –Santana Fucking Lopez.
MMS: "Go get your coffee, San." –Quinn
MMS: "No. I'm LEAVING THIS IGNORANCE. Lopez, OUT."
MMS: "How can we miss you if you won't go away, Santana?" –RBB
MMS: "Ha ha. Fucking funny, Midget." –SFL
MMS: "Hi guys! I mean, gals. Its B here."
MMS: "B? How'd you get on this?" –Quinn
MMS: "I set a feature to blind cc me on all Sanny's multimedia messages. She tends to get hostile and I help her…hmm… filter. So she doesn't piss off any future medical schools off."
MMS: "You're so smart, Brittany!" –RBB
MMS: "Don't suck up now, Berry. ;) Just kidding. Anyway, Sanny's always saying you two need to unpress some lemons,, so why don't you two just Skype so you can watch each other do it?"
MMS: "Do what?" –Quinn
MMS: "Unpress your lemons, silly! Skype. Now. San is really getting off now and will stop lurking." -B
MMS: "I'm not LURKING, B." -SFL
MMS: "Yes you are. Now get off so they can Skype."
Santana did as she was told, and got off. Quinn and Rachel did as well...and the elation and confidence that Quinn felt in anticipation of seeing her Rachel would quickly come crashing down around her. With sweaty palms, she logged on and waited….then…
There she was.
So beautiful.
She had thrived, in the three months at NYADA.
What was I thinking? Of course Rachel thrived! Quinn grimaced. She finally got away from Lima, and away from assholes like Lopez and myself and our many doppelgangers, who made her life a living hell…
"Well, hell-Ooooo thair, Quinn Fabry!" Rachel said, smiling brightly.
Quinn couldn't pull herself out of the darkness, metaphorically speaking. Looking at that beautiful, innocent face….with the slight tinges of pain etched around the corners of her eyes…that I undoubtedly put there, thought Quinn.
Quinn released a wan smile. "Hi, back, Superstar."
She doesn't deserve this…she doesn't deserve someone so fucked up as me. I don't know who I am, I don't know what I want…
"I prefer 'Hello Gorgeous.'"
Quinn snorted. "I think that line was taken, like, centuries ago."
"Blasphemy! I hope for your sake, the ears of Barbara Streisand did not pick that up!"
That's bullshit, Lucy Quinn Fabray. You know exactly what you want. You want…her. You want her naked body pressed underneath you…you want to hear the sound of her voice when she comes, from your fingers in her, and your tongue ON her…you want to feel that need. You want it all.
"Well if she does have super-powered hearing, I hope she's using it for something other than eavesdropping on freshman girls' boring conversations."
You want it so much it's kept you up at night since June of this year. You want it so much you imagine everyone you touch is her, to make it bearable. You want it…because you love her. You've always loved her.
"Well, I imagine it gets tiring to be so fabulous all the time, one does need distraction. Even the fabulous YOU, Quinn Fabray, watched 'Real Housewives,' did you not?" Rachel teased.
No. I watched you.
"Er, um. I guess so.."
I watched you … and wanted to feel you underneath me. Wanted to rake your canals with my fingers until you clenched around me. I wanted you so wet that I could slide in, and out-
Quinn scrunched her face up, squeezing out tears. She should not cry. Trying to sound 'in control,' and not heartbroken, she said, "I need to go now, Rachel. It's been fun catching up. Good luck with your studies…"
And just as abruptly, Quinn disappeared in a little blip of screen.
Rachel sighed. Somehow, she knew it wouldn't be anytime soon that she would hear back from Quinn Fabray.
CHAPTER 5. The Party from Hell
Rachel felt like it was déjà vu all over again, to quote Yogi.
She was on the phone with her dad, Leroy, sharing her "bleakness," about Quinn. She was smart not to confide in Hiram; he never had truly come around regarding Quinn, but Leroy? He loved her. Love. Love. LOVED her.
He sounded oddly grim in Rachel's recounting. "Honey bear? May I point out something?"
"Well, of course, Daddy. I believe that is the purpose of my parental consultation."
"First, you've talked for a half an hour regarding every iteration of what could be going on with Quinn. What she's thinking…why she could possibly be ignoring you…yada yada...You have spent 2 minutes – or less- discussing your self- proclaimed "very serious" boyfriend."
"Well…um. Hm. Well, he's very straightforward."
"Riiiiight. Okay. Secondly, I would like you to consider what she grew up in…Quinn, I mean. God, that had to have been grueling for a young girl to navigate her way…to have lived in the house when… Russell was there."
He practically spat out the last three words.
"That's hardly a news flash,Dad."
"I mean, he's a really, really bad man."
"Got it."
"Soooo..." he paused. "I ...invitedQuinnoverforThanksgiving."
"WHHHAT? At the same time Brody is coming?"
"That's not going to be a problem, is it?" He chuckled, as though he damn well knew it would be.
"She…she …well. She won't come, Dad."The smallness in her voice almost broke him.
"Riiiiight. We'll see."
XOXOXOXO
Quinn once again was gathering up her small purse, regretting her decision to come. She was just about to high tail it out, when the door opened, almost magically.
There, before her, stood "Black Berry", or "BB" as Quinn had inappropriately dubbed him.
Of course, Leroy loved it.
"Quinn Baby!"
"BB!"
He swept her up in his arms, and she accepted. She felt warmth spread all over her. She loved him, more than she had loved any father figure. It was one of the things she missed most about being on the "outs" with Rachel…almost.
XOXOXOX
Quinn was in her own personal hell. This fucking chiseled piece of mam meat whom she was sure was airbrushed in real life, (because NO ONE is that perfect), was recounting his sabbatical in Israel. Of course he was Jewish! Quinn thought, glumly.
"Quinn!" Bellowed Leroy, breaking her out of her sullenness.
"BB!" Quinn bellowed back, stationary.
He launched through the kitchen doors. "Lucy Quinn Fabray, get your skilled white ass in here and carve the ham for me while I do the Turkey, and they do the…whatever it is …with their tofurkey."
"I believe it involves a butter knife." They snorted.
"I can help, Dr. Berry!" Said Brody, a tad enthusiastically.
Both Quinn's and BB's head whirled on a pivot, incredulously, looking as astonished as if he said he gave birth to twin penguins.
"Uhh…well, son, I've been brinining this ham for, oh, three days…"
"So, its dry? No prob, do you have an electric knife?"
"Electric knife?" Dr. Berry and HBIC Fabray gasped in unison. Brody blanched slightly.
"Yeah, like a Black and Decker? Should be able to cut through-
"Brody, um, stop, they, uh…" Rachel tried to intercede weakly.
Dr. BB and Quinn arched eyebrows in tandem as though they had been rehearsing for weeks. Rachel withheld a giggle somehow. This wasn't going to be pretty.
"Quinn? I'm without…I'm verklepmpt. Can you…?"
"Oh yeah, I've got this, BB." Quinn turned around, with a sickly smile on her face.
Brody once again felt as though he might pee his pants. Ha-matzav khara…
She spoke, with the precision of a sniper. "An electric knife is something you should never say in the presence of a ham, again. Ever. To carve a bone-in ham, one needs an long enough blade to slice thinly and evenly in one easy glide; with enough sturdiness to ensure a straight cutting path; and a rounded tip with a granton edge is preferred for tapering. However, for ideal precision, control, and responsiveness necessary to meet the needs for carving a ham, all of the top knives –manual only, of course- taper significantly and will have the unusual feature of having some flexibility. Which is why most knives of any substance will have a dedicated knife called a 'ham slicer' that does only that. It carves nothing else-ever. "
Rachel looked at her father incredulously as she could have almost sworn she saw tears welling up in his eyes.
"Quinnie… German or Japanese?" Said BB, almost reverently.
She gave him a genuine smile. "This is the only time I make an exception to my rigid rule…"
"So, German." They said simultaneously.
"We have two to choose from—"
Hiram snorted. "Because we eat so much pork and ham in this, the house that Jews built."
Quinn kept her solitary focus on BB.
"I hope you don't mind, sir, but when you called me to come over for enjoyment of your famous ham, I took the liberty of…."
She shyly withdrew her crown jewel, encased…
Leroy let out a small whistle. "Woah. Is that… a Wüsthof?"
Quinn beamed. "None other. The Classic 10-Inch Ham Slicer, limited edition. It was my sweet sixteenth birthday present." Leroy turned to the pale boy in front of him.
Speaking more charitably this time, he said, "Thanks, kid. I think we've got it in here. Can you handle the Tofurkey, though? That would be lovely."
"Sure," he grumbled.
Meanwhile, BB wrapped his arm around Quinn, leading her proudly into the promised land of the kitchen.
XOXOXOXO
Ten minutes had passed, and Rachel was dying to know what the hell was going on in the kitchen. Suddenly, the reality of what was going on in the living room didn't seem quite so interesting. She had no idea what was getting ready to befall her…
XOXOXOXOXO
Quinn finished her perfect slices in record time. Once BB was sure she was done enough, and wouldn't slice off her finger in shock, he spoke quietly.
"We need to get this all plated rather quickly. Your mother will be here in 10 minutes."
Quinn chocked. "My…what?"
She looked at him, stunned. "Why?"
"Because Jude's bringing over the alcohol."
"Oh, naturally. Sure… WHAT?"
"Because the rest of the guests will be here in 20 minutes."
This time Quinn did choke on her spit.
"Quinn, let's just say… you move with the speed of molasses in winter. Jude and I had to call in the troops to help with "Operation: Eradicate Mt. Metrosexual", because, Sweet Moses, if we waited for you, we'd be stuffing velum into envelopes for Rachels' wedding to someone else, waiting for your first move. So I called in reinforcements."
"Such as?"
"Oh, I don't know…Kurt. That lovely Santana Lopez woman….your old cheerleading coach. Usual suspects."
Quinn was agog.
"And since when is my mom 'Jude'?"
"Since junior year at Ohio State."
"Oh."
"Quinn, sit down. Let me tell you a story…quickly. Then, we plate."
XOXOXOXOX
"What the hell is going on?"Hissed Hiram into Rachel's ear. "That Fabray girl is ruining everything!"
"Oh Really? Well, I think it's a tossup between YOUR husband and MY girl-" Rachel paused.
She had almost said girlfriend! Holy shit. Holy shit!
And damn it all to hell, there were Hiram's eyes in front of her, sizing her up.
"Rachel, care to tell me anything?"
She gulped.
XOXXOOX
"So, I played a little basketball in high school, here." He said, modestly.
As if there was anyone who didn't know about the 3 state championships he led McKinley to, back in the day.
"I continued as a point guard at Ohio State. Life was great, I was BMOC, and then... damn if this short, obnoxious, opinionated white Jew didn't come barreling into my life, almost daring me to fall in love, to challenge everything I'd ever known about myself and my entire world."
Quinn laughed nervously. I know this story, she thought.
"Well, you know this story…I did love him. Completely. I had no choice. But... I was stupid, and I had gay panic. And Jew panic – especially as I was raised in a very traditional Southern Revivalist household. Oh... and cracker panic."
Quinn laughed.
"I couldn't lose everything, despite the fact that my charade was costing me... my sanity. So, what did I do?"
"Um, therapy? Black panthers?"
"Fabray, it was the early eighties, not the sixties, thank you very much. Nice math. Anyway, I did what people like you and I do. I ran."
Now it was Quinn's turn to blush furiously.
"I ran far away from Hiram Berry, and straight into the arms of the most womanly woman of women I could find at Ohio State. Sorority president, Future Homemakers of America, Daughter of the American Revolution, and the Miss Junior Ohio seven years prior…"
"OMG," Quinn gasped. "My MOM?"
"...the one and only! And I was a total ass. She fell in love. She put up with the slings and arrows of her subtly bigoted family, who kept telling themselves 'if they squinted, they could convince themselves I was Italian'…please."
Quinn laughed. "Oh, that sounds about right."
"..then, Hiram got up in my face one rainy night in the library, and I was just too tired to run anymore. I relented. And I never looked back. I chose med school over the NBA, hoping medicine would be more accepting of my lifestyle, and unfortunately, I broke the heart of someone not deserving of it. She was reeling…and fell straight into the arms of-"
"-Russell Fabray." Quinn finished.
"Yep."
A brief, uncomfortable silence passed.
"I hope you'll forgive me someday, Quinn. She has. It was a different time then…"
Quinn waved him off. "I got it. It's not my place. Why don't you FF to present day, because, like, WTF?"
"Well, I…I always vowed someday to make it right to her. I always knew that guy was an ass, I had no idea what you two lived through."
Quinn, stone faced, remained silent.
"…and I had that chance, finally, when you were gone at your first semester at Yale."
They exchanged a look.
"Judy and I re-negotiated a tentative friendship, as you know, when you and Rachel became close this summer. And it was nice. And I apologize to you for not sharing our past with you OR Rachel, but she made me swear…so I kept mum. As the days passed, I realized she was a hollow shell of the woman she once was. She was…haunted. And it didn't take me long to realize what she was, was … afraid."
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, tightly. She was trying to shut out the past ghosts…the screaming…and worse.
BB hugged her tightly, and said softly, "I'm so sorry, Quinn. None of this was your fault. None of this was her fault, either. Desperate people in desperate situations simply do desperate things. But it doesn't have to be their destiny…"
He patted her on her back, pulling away to finish, but not before one meaningful look.
"I doesn't have to define them, Quinn."
Quinn looked down. BB sighed.
"So, I thought, 'what's the problem? She has a restraining order!' But a little poking around unearthed the fact that the police chief AND the district attorney happen to be lodge buddies of one Mr. Russell Fabray. And it seems like a LOT of people owe him a lot of favors."
Quinn nodded grimly. Extortion, bribery, fear…it was the Fabray way.
"One night, Hiram and I received a panicked call. He was beating in the door with a crowbar, and she was too afraid to call the police, of course. Hiram screamed at me 'not to take weapons and not to shoot him'. Of course, I didn't bother to remind him as I ran out the door that neither of us have a gun license, or guns."
They both laughed at the histrionic gene that obviously ran on the OTHER branch of the family.
"But," he continued, "I took something much better. .."
A devilish grin crept up on his face. "…I took my first responder bag."
Realization was starting to creep over Quinn's face.
"He was drunk as shit. It wasn't hard to subdue him. After a 25 nanosecond scuffle, I shot him with a mild tranquilizer. Then… a paralytic." He grinned, pleased with himself.
"Then, I kicked him in the nuts. After that, I was at an impasse. What to do? Calling the police WAS worthless. And as soon as he came to, he would now bring a rain of pain on Hiram and I. And his bad behavior would most certainly escalate towards your mom."
"So what did you do?"
"I figured out the only way to get him to leave us alone … for good. I used a page out of his playbook." He grinned, evily.
"When Asswipe Fabray awoke, imagine his surprise to see he was tied to the bed, bondage style, getting fellato from three buxom tranny friends of mine from the block…wearing nothing but your red cheerio bra, which you may want to burn, now." Quinn's stomach lurched.
"Judy and I were on media support. She filmed over the next two hours, I took still photography. And like Voldemort with his horcruxes, we sent three prints to reliable associates who have express orders to publish them if anything happens to her, you, Hiram and I, or Rachel…or Beth. I don't know who her three are, she doesn't know who my three are."
Quinn arrainged the horseradish.
"A list of ultimatums, with guidelines for expected behavior, were delivered to him. He has followed them to the letter, to this day. And that is the reason Judy Mason Fabray has returned to Jude Mason, the belle of the ball."
"…who would like to see your fine black ass do a little more prep work and a little less gay melodrama , please, as the Marines are expected to assault in 7 minutes. You know what's on the line, here, Lee."
"Hi, Mom." Quinn grinned.
"Don't 'Hi Mom,' me, sweetie. If you weren't such a frigid mess and completely unable to express your feelings appropriately to Rachel, Leroy and I, here"-she gesticulated furiously between Leroy and she-"..wouldn't be under the very clear and present danger of owing one Ms. Santana Lopez a month of Breadstix for her agreed upon commission fee for consultative work done here."
"What 'work'?"
"Commander-In-Chief,"Operation: Eradicate Mt. Metrosexual", of course."
Quinn's jaw dropped. They actually named this shit?
"She's expensive, baby girl. Especially because she has a large staff… Kurt, Puck, Artie, Tina, Mercedes, that boy who looks like Mercedes, 5 cheerios, Sue Sylvester, someone named 'Honey Badger,' an associate of hers on parole, a undercover detective-female, of course; Jay-Z's bouncer-"
"I got it, mom. I've known San for quite awhile…Leroy, let's plate. "
They worked furiously. When it looked like there would be enough to throw a respectable party, Quinn spoke.
"So, any marching orders that I need to know about for myself for tonight?" She said, teasingly.
"Yeah..don't fuck it up with Rachel." Leroy and Judy replied in unison.
CHAPTER 6. I’M HOLDIN’ OUT FOR A HERO
Rachel was now sure – she had been a really, really bad person in another life, and this was karmic payback. What else could be the explanation of at least forty- seven unbelievable events in a row that all illustrating Brody had the spine of a jellyfish, the I.Q. Of a salamander, the manliness of a French manicure, and at one point, she was convinced (until Santana told her she was 'only kidding') the fidelity of Finn.
Finn….holy shit.
Finn.
Brody was Finn.
A nicely packaged, but nonetheless, eerily reminiscent, next generation version of …Finn.
Finn, 2.0… Gawd, she groaned. How could she have been so blind? She was sure people were going to be laughing at her soon…as Brody continued to look like a cowardly lion with the depth perception of a toddler, and it was going to reflect on her. Hopefully, she wouldnt have to put up with this for much longer...hopefully this charade would end soon. She was humiliated. And she was angry, with herself. The only reason she made it this far, oddly enough, without running to some analogous form of the McKinley bathroom stall, oddly enough, was … Quinn.
Odd because she had been the direct cause of her fleeing to actual stalls in the past - many a time.
Quinn seemed to know when to "appear" to tell her a joke, or give her a comforting and knowing squeeze, or magically appear with water and some carbohydrates to sop up the alcohol before she got too far ahead of herself. Who knew?
Quinn Fabray, my savior? Mused Rachel. I think…I think I must have always been waiting for Quinn to come 'round…to "save" me. So, then, what the hell was Finn? And Finn 2.0? Surely not just something to be "saved" from…. isn't that ridiculous? Isn't it…?
She sat there caught up in her thoughts, in a small huddle in the adjacent kitchen foyer with Santana, Mercedes, and Brit-Brit. "Penny for your thoughts?" Mercedes said.
"Overpayment, at the moment." Rachel responded, as she took another swig of her dirty Margareta.
C'mon, willed Santana silently, casting an impatient look towards the connecting foyer door. Like clockwork, she heard some male voices filter through the room.
"So, didja tap that Rachel shit, yet?"
"I, uh…"
"Hey, Brody, dude…you're not , like, a fag, are you?" Said another unfamiliar voice.
"Hell, no! No, I mean, of course I tapped that ass."
Rachel was stunned. She listened to the appreciative murmurs of the unfamiliar voices. "I promise you…she spreads those legs like a pair of scissors."
"She's got good legs for a Jew." Concurred the first voice.
"Yeah, no shit! And when she locks them around my head and begs me to…"
The voices muffled out the end of that sentence, mercifully. Everyone in the pantry was looking at Rachel, sympathetically. Rachel spoke, breaking the silence.
"Nice to know I'm worth selling out to a bunch of random strangers, isn't it?" She said, grimly, while emptying her last shot with determination. "A real 'feel-good' moment."
"Baby girl…" Mercedes said, looking at Santana meaningfully.
Rachel missed the exchange.
Come the FUCK on, Quinn! Santana willed silently.
"Berry. Want me to ends him and his pretty little face?" Santana asked.
"No," She sighed. "That's going to be MY—
A loud Wham! interrupted the forlorn diva's vow, followed by an unmistakable tinkling of shattered glass, and a dull thud of what sounded like a body hitting the ground.
"What the fuck?" Brody's voice was clearly startled, and possibly frightened.
Oh, thank God… Noah, Sam, and Mike are thankfully intervening to put me out of this personal hell! Rachel thought, exhaling with relief.
Until a voice that was clearly NOT Noah, or Sam, or Mike, spoke with distinction.
"You need to get the FUCK out of this house, RIGHT NOW, that's 'what the fuck''. I don't give two shits if you have to march barefoot to Jerusalem, but your ass better be anywhere but HERE in five minutes flat."
"You ...you can't order me around! This isn't your house!"
Whack!
"God damn it! You fucking cunt.... I think you broke my nose!"
"Awwww. Shoot. I was trying to break your whole face. My velocity has slowed down in my old age. Now, stop bleeding on the Berry's carpet!"
There was a pause. "And, prickface, you now have four minutes left."
"You're just a pathetic, fucking closet case who will never, ever have Rachel!"
"Woah! Pot, meet kettle. And I'm glad to see you're calling her 'Rachel' again, instead of the following…"
An audio tape replayed some of the choice adjectives Brody had used to describe her in his freshman-esque attempt to regain some footing with 'the crowd' a few moments ago…
"Hey! That's illegal!"
"I don't plan on using it in court, asswipe. I plan on using it to help initiate Black Berry's rage, so that he can apply his amazing medical knowledge to make you disappear down to the level of your DNA."
"Quinn…" he gurgled, weakly.
"Excuse me? When did I say you could address me by my name? Oh, and by the way…three minutes."
Santana feebly attempted to stifle a guffaw. That's why she took so long; she was taping the foot in his mouth monologue…or was it his ass in his mouth?
It made Santana all warm inside to hear her beloved Quinn Head Bitch In Charge Fabray FINALLY resurface and come roaring back with all the fury of a Sue Sylvester inspired hellstorm.
She heard a rapid shuffling of noise, and Quinn broke the silence.
"Don't bother getting your things, Stud. I'll have White Berry send them to you. I'll pass your regrets along to Rachel. Going forward, don't you ever, EVER call her, look at her, or even THINK about her… or I will bring down a whole profound mess of pain you didn't know could exist in the human condition. "
Sounds of him start to walk towards the door were heard. "Oh…hey, y'know. I believe forgot to mention… did I ever share with you that I am the only daughter of...a gentleman named ... Russell Fabray?" You could hear his audible gasp as he sprinted out of the room. The sound of feet scurring down the hall and a door slam was heard distantly.
The troupe emerged, with Berry in tow. Quinn, after giving what was a Masterpiece theatre worthy performance, genuinely looked annoyed.
"What the fuck? Have you been eavesdropping this whole time?"
"Of course."Santana and Mercedes replied in unison.
"Some help would have been nice." Well! Perhaps she was actually genuinely annoyed…
"Help… for Whom? For you? With him? What on earth for? On Lord Tubbington's liver, you crushed him, Quinnie!" Brittany giggled.
Quinn looked up sheepishly at Rachel, who wasn't looking at her. Instead, her eyes were following the color of the carpet dotted with spots of blood trailing out the door.
"I…I …I have to go. Now." Rachel stated simply as she darted out of the room.
"What? What-to-the-actual- fuck was that?" Santana said, bluntly.
"I got this, San. Don't worry. I got it." Quinn reassured, as she followed suit, trailing behind Berry.
She prayed that she did, in fact, 'have' it….
XOXOXOX
Rachel had finally slowed down to a walking pace, outside. The air burned her lungs. Her reality burned even more.
I'm humiliated! She thought. Although, her specific exact concern was still eluding her… God, was this worth it? Was it worth it? Why did I listen to them?
A sharp pull on her inside elbow spun her around.
"Rachel! I've been calling you for twenty minutes!" Quinn stated briskly, slightly without breath.
"I lost my phone." The woman said, blankly.
Quinn paused.
Knowing Rachel like she did, this was going to take something beyond kid gloves to maneuver. She licked her lips, and took a deep breath, running through various scenarios and probable outcomes in her head. Finally, she spoke.
"Well, Rachel…here's how I see it: you could leave, and sort this out, but not alone. You don't need to brood, or feel alone. It wouldn't be good for you, I suspect. However, if you go back, well, let me just put it like this…"
She paused for effect. "…on my way out, I saw something that burned my retinas off from the inside out, never to recover."
Quinn took a deep, dramatic breath.
"I saw…my mother…being sandwiched between Hiram and Dr. Leroy Berry, all named parties wasted, making a life altering and instant you tube hit for their attempt at doing the Electric Slide."
Rachel burst out in laughter.
"Made worse by the fact the music playing was 'The Chicken Dance.' I CANNOT make this shit up, Rachel." Quinn shook her head with mock graveness.
She peeked up. She was still smiling. Good sign.
"Well. Whom do you propose… should serve as the aforementioned praetorian escort?"
Quinn shook her head in disbelief. "Only you, Rachel Barbara Berry…even in the moment of your greatest despair, could find 57 syllables to say something requiring only 4."
"Oh, I assure you…this was not my moment of greatest despair." She looked Quinn directly in the eye.
Quinn shivered. She said nothing.
After an awkward moment, Rachel said, "Well, then. If what you say is true, it sounds like your house is and will be empty for a bit. Let's go there."
Quinn nodded, and they headed to Quinn's car in silence.
XOXOXOXO
Despite the calm ride over to the Fabray Manor, Quinn had to admit the adrenaline was still coursing through her veins more than she acknowledged. She worked so hard at distancing herself from any potential 'Russell-like' behaviors in fluxing into her personality, it resulted in her instead becoming a frozen replica of what a "feeling" Quinn could be. She still didn't know what to think, or do, even in justified moments. Not expressing herself had become her Sine qua non. The frightening loss of her self- control that she experienced earlier (while she was schooling that clusterfuckery of a boyfriend of Rachel's), well, it was enthralling….
She liked losing control. It felt good.
She felt alive.
Rachel made her feel alive.
And what she was feeling now, as the blood pounded through her veins, was Addiction to a Fabray.
She felt so disturbingly good, in fact, that Rachel felt a little scared. Quinn licked her lips, calmly. Her voice dripped with the passive-aggressive venom that had been bubbling underneath for so long…
"How…how could you let… him touch you, Rachel?"
"Really? Point out any viable alternate suitors willing to engage in an honest-to-god physical relationship, Quinn."
The jab was not lost on the blonde. Quinn crossed the room, angrily coming within menacing proximity... grabbing fistfuls of thick, dark hair into her grip, she pulled back the diva's head by her hair, and placed her mouth in close proximity to Rachel's ear.
"Oh, I see…" Quinn hissed."…so it's my fault that that dipshit cocksucker pissed all over your house tonight?" Quinn's voice had dropped almost an octave, and her voice, despite its controlled lilt, was unmistakably…savage.
Rachel's eyes darkened, as though to warn of an equally feral loss of control. It seemed to only to enrage Quinn more, Rachel's bowing up and/or lack of backing down…
"…And I suppose it's MY fault," continued Quinn, "that I walked in on you…you spreading your legs as wide as you possibly could, to beg for his pathetic little dick?" She spat.
Rachel met her gaze evenly. Fiercely.
"At least he wasn't too much of a chicken shit to try…" Rachel bit back the last of her words.
That pushed Quinn over the brink. With the palm of her hand, she pushed Rachel backward, causing her to trip and stumble backwards onto Quinn's bed. Quinn immediately pounced on her, pinning her down. Quinn slammed her inflamed throbbing pelvis down, hard, wedging between Rachel's legs.
"Is THIS what you want? You just want me to...no…you need me to give you a good, hard fuck, Rachel?"
Quinn smashed her lips against those of the thrashing woman pressed underneath her. Using her elbow to keep her pinned down, she mobilized her left hand to roughly palm Rachel's breast, corkscrewing and gripping it roughly. She took the mauled breast fully in her palm, and while kneading it upwards, she used her thumb and forefinger to pinch Rachel's nipple, hard. The sudden, rough gesture elicited both a simultaneous gasp from pain and a jolt of electricity to the core between her legs, instantly drenching her panties. As before, the gasp allowed Quinn to force her tongue into Rachel's mouth, this time not even bothering with finesse. It was rougher, if possible, than that dominating first kiss she and Rachel shared roughly three months ago. That kiss at least has some quality to it that was at least human. This kiss? It was hard, and feral; it was nothing but the most base of gestures.
Quinn started to rock her pelvis down instinctively into the warm core of Rachel's heat underneath her, grinding against the brunette's clitoris with fury and deliberateness. Rachel's heart was pounding, and her breath hitched, in spite of what her brain was screaming at her to the contrary. Quinn yanked Rachel's top away from her body, with a clattering as at least two buttons went shooting across the floor. Rachel was pawing at Quinn's top as well, and then they both wrestled each other's bra, removing them to expose bare torsos that immediately came into contact with the other. "Hoch…fucks. Fuckkkk!" Rachel hissed, as she felt Quinn scrape HER hard nipples across Rachel's taut rose colored buds, buckling and pebbling underneath Quinn's rough ministrations. Quinn was yanking down Rachel's skirt, with her arousal quickly intensifying, if possible. Quinn moaned, as she ripped the pink laced panties from her delicious midsection.
Finally, fucking finally. I am going to fuck the living shit out of Rachel Berry, Quinn thought.
She gasped when she smelt the odor of Rachel's arousal. The scent filled her nostrils, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the heavenly scent. Then, as if awakening from a dream, Quinn sat up, abruptly. Instantly, tears started flowing down her face.
Despite her attempts at self-control, she felt her body shake with uncontrollable sobs. Weeping, Quinn covered her face with shame. "No...no...NO! Dear God, no. ...This wasn't how it was supposed to be...this wasn't...I -I didn't want it to ...you...you're the love of my life, Rachel! And this...this is how-
Quinn felt the swift and unmistakably sharp sting of pain burning her cheek.
Holy fuck! Rachel had just slapped the hell out of her! What?!
"Spare me, Quinn! Just fucking… spare me."
Quinn looked up at her, with her red, bleary eyes, in time to see Rachel's two fists come graveling down, pounding her on her pecs and causing her to careen backwards, knocking the back of her head against the headboard. Her faint utterance of pain would soon be drowned out by the anguished cry of Rachel, shortly before a sudden head butt made contact with thickness of her shoulder of her right clavicle. The blunt pain was quickly overshadowed by the sudden and very jarring reality of a piercing pain above her right clavicle... Where Rachel had bit her. Quinn grimaced. If she wasn't bleeding, she sure as shit was going to bruise hellalot in that spot. She looked incredulously at Rachel. She pushed her off.
"STOP, Rach!" Quinn started to put on her clothes.
"Oh, no you don't, Quinn Fabray, no you don't!" Rachel was furious beyond words.
"No fucking way, Quinn! You don't get to play 'how is this my life?' Worse, you don't get to compound my insecure but likely factual realization that I will never, ever be enough for you to love...to love enough to get through your gay panic. It's tragic, that you are so insecure, so pathetic, that your love for me will, as usual, be overshadowed by you- and your need to … constantly loathe and hate yourself."
Quinn's jaw dropped open. It stayed agape for a good three long minutes.
"Really Quinn? Close your mouth. Honest to God, how did you edge me out for valedictorian?"
CHAPTER 7. The High Road Is Overrated
She wasn't thinking.
She was just…feeling.
And right now, Quinn was now officially "feeling" enraged. Or bipolar. Or a smidge of both.
Mostly, however, she felt charged with an arousal that she thought was going to suffocate her …perhaps fatally.
She wanted so much in this moment. She hated her right now. She loved her right now. She wanted to…love her…touch her…and right now, definitely, fuck her. Maybe kill her…?
Quinn didn't know yet which it would be.
How DARE she. How fucking DARE she!…Quinn thought. I was trying to be…gallant. I'm NOT a coward, not really; I wasn't I was withholding for my own protection…I was for RACHEL's protection.
Quinn thought of her callous accusation, and how little Rachel must think of her. It pissed her off to no end.
Fine. The gloves are off.
Quinn set her jaw, and slapped Rachel right back across the face, but harder.
Rachel looked shocked, but only for a moment. Like a flash of lightening, she barreled into Quinn, dropping her right shoulder to plow into her, nearly knocking her off the bed. Rachel, despite her years of ballet, however, was no match for the pure athleticism and cortisol burst that is Quinn Fabray, when she's off the chain. Quinn quickly shifted, pinning Rachel face down on the foot of her bed, obviously startled at this turn of events. Quinn gripped her neck, thrusting her head down into the mattress. Rachel's struggle was futile. Quinn, with her set jaw, and blazing hot hazel eyes, was using her unencumbered hand to feel Rachel up roughly, underneath her skirt, that remained on. She thought she heard Rachel's voice hitch when her hand crossed the hemline of the bottom of her skirt.. "No fucking panties, Rachel?" Quinn hissed. Rachel's response was lost as a mumbled jumble, as her face was forced down harder via face planting the mattress. Quinn tugged the re-dressed skirt itself down off the diva' midsection, and with deft skill, ripped it all the way off the length of her body. Quinn quickly dispatched her offending hot pants and boy shorts, without a thought, until she realized that …they were…. Bare.
Oh Goddddd….her ass.
She's so. Fucking. Beautiful.
Quinn stopped her thoughts from running away and getting off the topic at hand: fucking Rachel Berry and teaching the pipsqueak some social etiquette.
If Rachel thinks so little of me, well, then, I can certainly deliver. Fuck trying to protect her.
Quinn leaned into her arm across Broadway's shoulders while reaching her hand underneath her hip, yanking her pelvis upward. She was finally going to get what she wanted. She would fuck her. Fuck Rachel. Fuck that Little histrionic bitch…I wasn't self-protecting! I was protecting her. … that ungrateful piece of work…ugh! She flung her own top off , then set about removing Rachel's halter. Rachel feebly struggled, and Quinn – with lightening quick speed – had a circumferential hold of both wrists of Rachel Berry, in her death grip. She bore her weight down when she felt Rachel squirm.
"Oh no, you don't…" Quinn pinned both arms over Rachel's head, and contained them with one hand.
Pressing down, she felt the tips of her nipples graze across Rachel's bare back. They both gasped.
Without thinking, without feeling, in almost a fugue like state, Quinn started grinding her body down on Rachels' backside. She wasn't in control…she was just…doing.
She felt herself getting wet…so wet.
Oh, god. She could feel Rachel…her wetness…down her leg as she was grinding across her. Quinn's clit hardened. Her mouth went dry. Putting all her weight on Rachel, she grabbed the diva's asscheeks and spread them… holding them apart. Rachel gasped. Quinn looked at the little pink forchette below her, the perfect pucker of Rachel Berry…and she wanted it.
She wanted it all.
Quinn teased her own nub, coaxing it out of its hardened shell..further exposing her own swollen clit, and rested it in between Rachel's cheeks. She groaned as she felt the skin-to-skin, and the, as she ground down hard, on Rachel's ass, the delicious friction made her start to come undone.
She'd wanted that ass for soooo long .
Quinn watched what her pelvis was doing, with fascination, realizing that she was grinding her hips and her clit was dragging between Rachel's' ass cheeks; the friction sent a jolt of electricity from her clit to her pelvis to her brain; and just like that, she was hooked. She worked her pelvis harder… frantically… grinding against the petite woman below. So good. So soft…and hard. And as she drug her pelvis across Rachel's needy backside, she felt the beginning vestiges of something warm fill her insides. She felt her pussy tingle, as her clit continued to drag across Rachel's backside. She started grinding down, harder. She pumped her pelvis into the diva more forcefully, never breaking surface contact between her clit and Rachel's ass… Her breathing sped up. And just like that, she clenched her lower lip, and set her jaw as a small explosion of electricity wracked across her midsection…
"Oh! Fucking God. Ohhhh." Quinn exhaled.
Rachel let out a small squeak, and Quinn grabbed a hold of her shoulders , pumping her clit furiously into Rachel's ass, and grinding hard and rubbing wildily. Quinn moaned in finality, and then collapsed, and laid her entire weight on RB beneath her. Quinn was momentarily still. And then, it happened.
Rachel Berry turned her head around. The subtle motion , detected immediately by the always hyperaware Quinn Fabry, caused Quinn to jut upwards to look up, in that moment as well.. There, she saw them. Those eyes. Those soulful, full brown eyes, filled with..what? So much…pain? Longing? Quinn swallowed hard. She felt like an awful person, like she almost always did around the brunette for one reason or another. At this particular moment, it was for taking something from Rachel, possibly without her full consent. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping that image of those eyes would evaporate.
"I….um. I …" Quinn stammered, shakily. "Um. Just a minute, Berry."
She pushed off the bed, off the beautifully toned woman underneath her, and rocketed into the bathroom. She was nearly hyperventilating. Despite her guilt that was gnawing at her from the inside out, it took every fiber of her being to walk away. To be good. Because she wanted something radically different, despite her guilt, than that. She wanted more than to grind against Rachel, to come like a 7th grade boy. She wanted to feel her, to be inside her. She wanted to commit lavicious acts…crimes against nature…she wanted to be bad, so, so bad… She wanted that with Rachel. Rachel did those things to her, tore her up almost daily. But this was simply without mercy, the overwhelming feeling of needing to commit sin that she had for Rachel Berry. She had stepped away from the bed, and was in the bathroom splashing water on her face, and yet, it had done anything BUT clear her mind. She disjointedly felt her phone buzzing at her, and she glanced at the text.
Well, WTF? Did you find Smurfette? Please say you did. There's been no sighting.-Santana
The Eagle Has Landed. –LQF
Again, WTF?-SFL
Quinn looked at herself in the reflection in the mirror. What did she want, anyway? What did Lucy Quinn Fabray actually want in this moment? NOT what Russell and the old Judy had ingrained into her, not what the school expected of her, and not what her church mandated one should want….what did SHE, Quinn Fabry, actually want in this moment in time?
Resolutely, she looked at her phone again and tapped in a response to her best friend.
Meaning….LQF
She paused. Her eyes, had anyone been there to see, had a very far away look to them. Quinn, she thought to herself, Meaning what?
Determined, Quinn finished. …
Meaning I'm going to FUCK her so hard that she won't remember what her name is, or anyone else's for that matter, beginning roughly 5 minutes from now. I'm going to fuck her senseless, pound her body, and fuck her, hard…in my bed , at my home, right now. Ergo, don't call or text anymore. If you want to bring her an ice pack for her nether regions for in the morning and drive her home since youre so concerned, I'm sure you can stop by then. I'm sure she won't be walking well. Otherwise, don't fucking bother me anymore. Tonight, anyway. Night Night. I'm off to do some damage–LQF
Santana let out a low whistle, shaking her head, slightly. That visual was almost too much for even her! Almost. When Brit-Brit cocked her head quizzically, Santana mused,
"I actually feel sorry for Rachel Berry for the first time in my life."
"Oh wow."
"Yep."
"Wow."
CHAPTER 8. SEX, SEX, AND ROCK AND ROLL…
When Quinn came out of the bathroom she looked past Rachel, almost around her. It was as though if she met those brown eyes, she would be derailed from her mission, her divine vocation, that she and only she, Quinn Fabray, was entrusted to complete. She would not let minute details detract her from her steely determination.
Like guilt.
Or fear.
And if she could just avoid looking directly in those eyes, of which the analogous effect of Medusa’s transpired with Quinn, well then, alrighty! She’d be just fine.
She could vaguely tell, using just her most distant peripheral vision, that Rachel was on her back, propped up on her elbows, with a definite ’come hither’ look. But…it could possibly be the ‘I hate you’ look, so she wasn’t chancing it. No looking. She plowed ahead, grabbing Rachel by the back of the neck. Okay, Rachel Berry, let’s see what you’re made of, thought Quinn, smugly. Her lips locked onto Rachels’ with an overwhelming feeling of possession, an ownership of something with which it was never given or received…it just was.
Rachel tore away. “Quinn…” she said, quietly.
No, no, no…fucking NO. Did you not get the memo, Rachel?? No talky talk!
After a moment, Rachel said it again, this time a bit louder. “Quinn.”
“Ugh! What?”
“Excuse me, at the risk of actually being aloud to make an observational statement that will inevitably be the cause of your disappearance for another 3 months, let me say: for someone who wants to dip into my nether regions, less exasperation would be warranted!”
Quinn bit her tongue suppressing the comment about Brody’s “exasperation” levels. Instead, she settled for something more neutral.
“Nether regions? Where the hell is that? Finland?” They looked at each other blankly.
Then they laughed.
And laughed.
And suddenly, Rachel forgot what she was so affronted with, and Quinn forgot what she was trying to remember to forget. Instead, they were two girls- mostly naked- fully looking at each other, for what seemed like the first time.
Rachel’s eyes were dark with desire. Her lips looked…fuller, if that’s possible, mused Quinn. I want to kiss them….
“I want to kiss them…” she said, aloud.
“Who is ‘them’?” Rachel asked, confused.
“Them! Those! Your, you know…your lips.”
And then, not waiting for Rachel to finish the impossible task of mindreading Quinn Fabray, she rolled over on top of Rachel.
She brought their bodies together, touching, grazing against each other. Making their nipples harder, their breathing faster… “Ohhh, God. Rachel….”
“Yes, Quinn?”
“You feel so good…underneath me. Its so right, so fucking right…
Rachel spread her legs, so Quinn dropped between her legs. The sudden motion caused their centers to connect, and Rachel almost jumped off the bed with the sudden jolt. Her nipples pebbled further and Quinn could not take her eyes off of them.
“Rachel. Uhhh..Rachel. So beautiful,” she said, absently, as she stretched forward to bring her lips to the tip of her left nipple.
The light friction that that simple motion caused set Rachel on fire. She wanted her, so much, and when she… Ohhh, fuck! Quinn is sucking my nipple! Oh…she’s sucking me, hard! thought Rachel. With a total loss of conscious control, her pelvis bucked up, and the encouragement caused Quinn to redouble harder, on the other side, sucking and licking…
She slid her hand up to grab the now unattended breast left behind, to massage it, and knead it, and finally, to leave a hard squeeze that made Rachel mewl like a cat in heat. Quinn, for her part, was being driven abso-fucking-loutely crazy by the small bucking motions Rachel was doing with her pelvis. She was bringing her core up closer to her…to Quinn…and she could feel her clit touch…and separate…then touch…
it was as though she was using her own clit to penetrate the woman above her. Quinn thought abstractly. “I’m the one doing the penetrating, here.”
“Mmmmf. What did you say, Quinn?”
“Nothing” She looked down at the petite woman underneath her whom she wanted to devour like a steak.. “Actually, what I meant to say, was, spread your legs, Rachel.”
Quinn bucked into her, hard. Rachel gasped.
“And when I said, spread them, I mean, spread them.” Quinn was forcing Rachel into an almost back lying split.
Rachel was beginning to look almost concerned. Quinn reached across her torso to grab her purse, and pulled out a new bottle of Astroglide. “What’s that?”Rachel asked, nervously. “It’s called the last ‘freebee’ I’m going to give you, Rachel Berry. No more running away. No more. Rather, I suggest,” she said meaningfully, as she lathed on the goopy substance across her knuckles, “I take what’s mine, and it such a way that you’ll be ruined for anyone…anyone who comes after me.”
Rachel frowned as she felt Quinn patting the outside of her entrance. “Now what are you, the pussy whisperer?”
“Nope.” Quinn said, matter of factly. "I’m actually just wiping off the excess, so I can do this-“ Quinn coiled four fingers into Rachel in one swift scooping motion, rocking her hand left to right, rotating it until she could push…just that little extra bit..
“OH! God, Fuck! What are you doing to me, Quinn?”
Quinn continued to twist her full hand in and out of Rachel’s sopping wet pussy. Rachel was convulsing with the sudden jolt of electricity that was caused by each rotation of her hand at her opening.
And then, she forced the hand in, and curled her fingers….closed.
“Ohhhhh, my Goddd. Quinn!” Rachel screamed.
Quinn Fabray had worked her entire fist into Rachel. As soon as Rachel felt it, the fullness, the mindblowing fullness, Quinn was twisting out… Rachel looked at her, almost betrayed, until Quinn promptly slammed back into her.
“Fucking, God, don’t stop …THAT, Quinn. Don’t you fucking stop that!” Hissed Rachel. Which she did. She corkscrewed out, and immediately twisted back in.
“Oh, that feels so GOOD, Quinn. YOU feel so goooood…..”
As though possessed, Quinn quickly pulled out, and jammed back in. Out, twist in. Rachel’s pelvis was arching, rolling….her body was not in her control. “Fuck me, fuck me…oh, please, fuck me.”
“I will.” She leaned over the top of Rachel, as she continued to pound her with her fist, mercilessly coming in and out of her. She could feel Rachel’s folds and peaks and valleys; she could feel that … From her same bag, she reached over, and grabbed a cylindrical purple object.
“Here, Rachel.” She said, breathlessly.
“What?”
“put this on your clit.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m busy pounding your wet, slutty, wide open hole…and I want you to finish coming before we drown in your fluids here.”
Rachel blushed.
“I love it, Rachel,” Quinn said emphatically, as she continued to piston into her hole.” I can't wait to drink that up someday soon. I want all of you in my mouth..but first, lets finish the job at hand,” with a flourish she did a reverse, pointing her fist downward to touch Rachel’s swollen inner cervix.
Rachel turned on the vibrator and listened to it hum. Quinn leaned down lower, and whispered into Rachel’s ear.
“You feel ripe, Rachel. Are you fertile? Are you wishing you could get some of my seed in you?”
The idea oddly aroused Rachel. She let out a low moan.
“I bet that IS what you want. You want to have my seed in you…you want me to get you pregnant…have a little bit of Quinn growing inside you that you can keep for always….”
Rachel was getting unbelievably turned on. The husky narrative that Quinn was choosing to breathe in her ear was doing bad things to her…
“Turn it on, higher, Rachel.” Rachel did.
The high buzzing noise of the vibrater quickly filled the air in the eerily quiet house. That’s when Rachel realized..
“…there’s no music, Quinn.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?” She said quizzically, as she let out a slow gasp with the hard turn of Quinn’s fist inside her.
“Because I want to hear all the noises you make when I fuck you. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Ohhhhh. Okay….” Rachel moaned.
Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hand, holding the vibrator, and forced the tip on top of the already sensitive nub.
“OHHhhh…! Quinn, I , oh God! Woahah…” Rachel pulled it off her.
Quinn frowned. “Keep it on there, damn it, Rachel! Fucking put it…” Quinn grabbed it forcefully from her hand and fixed it on top of Rachel’s hood, holding it down, hard. “…Here. Put it HERE. And keep it HERE.”
Rachel was bucking like a bronco. It was all too much. Quinn’s fullness inside of her, Quinn’s twisting inside of her, Quinn’s active widening of her hole…truthfully, she was ruining her for anyone to follow, because she felt so so damn good.
She wanted to open wider…for Quinn. To be so open for Quinn…she was so turned on… And she was tightening in her belly. She squeezed her eyes closed, the little waves of ecstasy coming. She knew this was going to be the big one, and she knew it was going to be overwhelming..
“OH, FUCKING God! Fuck me, Quinn! Ohhhh…..oh! Fucking fuck me, Quinn. Deeeep. Deep. I want you so deep in me…”
She rode out the waves of the gigantic orgasm from Quinn Fabray fisting her without mercy. Quite honestly, Quinn had never once thought about fisting …ever. EVER. But she knew it was something she wanted to do to Berry..she wanted to have her like that… She pulled out, and a gush of fluids came sloshing from Rachels’ hole.
Quinn leaned down, flicking her tongue on the outer margins of the wasted diva’s hole.
“Don’t forget, Rachel. You promised me. One night, I get a whole night of doing nothing but licking your pussy….”
“Ngingh…okay.”Rachel said, dazed, right before she fell instantly asleep.
Quinn looked at her, amazed at her beauty…just breathtaking.
She then looked at her fist with amazement. She did it.
She finally had Rachel Berry.
After all this time, she finally had Rachel Berry!
And it was so much better than she imagined….
THE END
XOXOXOXO
EPILOUGE. How this Shit Breaks Down-
“Yes, yes, I will. I told you I will.” Rachel whispered into the phone.
The mysterious caller seemed very persuasive.
Quinn , laying in bed, playing possum, cocked her eyebrow. Who is she talking to? She wondered.
Rachel was getting annoyed. “Must you always be so crude? Yes, I will make good on the payment.” Rachel signed in exasperation at whatever was transpiring on the other end. “Now? I have to say that to you…now? She’s laying in the other room, in bed!”
Oh, fuck to the no, this was a definite NO-GO! Quinn thought.
She swung her legs off the bed, deftly and silently with the stealth of a cat. She wrapped a throw around her and tiptoed closer to the door. She didn’t like what she heard…not at all.
“Yes, you are the ‘Pussy Master’. Fine! I said it. Are you happy now? What? What else do you want me to – oh, for Barbara’s sake, now that’s ridiculous. I’m already buying you dinner as it is….yes, dinners. Dinners. My mistake.” Rachel was being berated by some obvious taunting on the other side, peppered with nasty words thrown in, because Rachel let out a very prim sounding gasp.
“I KNOW I agreed to this, but really? Right now? Quinn is In the other room..oh, fine. You are the mistress craftsman of she who can unpress all lemons. Citron. …what? Oh…medica,.. Citron… Zitrone… Limone… Tsitrin.” Rachel giggled.
Quinn was pissed.
“No, silly. That last one is Yiddish.” She giggled some more.
“Well, at least I picked something that made sense. I picked “Embrocate”. You picked “Emulsify”! I just wanted to finally get it on and fuck her, not liquefy her—“
Quinn stormed in and ripped the phone out of Rachel’s hand, who quickly protested.
“No! Quinn! It’s not what you think!”
“Shut it!” Hissed Quinn. Putting the phone to her ear, she said, “And who the fuck am I speaking to?”
“Who the actual fuck wants to know?” Responded the voice on the other end.
“Santana?”Quinn said, confused.
“Hello, Quinnie.” There was a sigh on the other end.
“Look, Fabray. I’ve known you, what…two decades? Listen, I know that repressed shit of yours goes back ..way back. Like, generations! Like, your relatives probably worked the inquisition—for fun.”
Quinn snorted. They probably did.
“So, me –n-Blueberry, as I started calling her, because you were leaving her so high and dry she was getting Blue Balls….”
Quinn glared at Rachel. Rachel raised her eyebrows insolently.
“…well, me and Blueberry hatched a lil plan…”
“Let me guess. Something about pressed lemons, or unpressing them…or some shit of that ilk.”Quinn growled.
She looked up at Rachel, who appeared to be stifling a laugh, and Quinn motioned for her to sit down. Quinn sat as well and put Santana on speaker. Santana’s distinct voice rang out. “You’re getting’ there, HBIC.” “We all know what would have happened if you continued to move at your glacier speed of self-discovery. BlueBerry’s berry would have sealed over, and fossilized-“
“Ew, Santana, must you be so crude?” Rachel interjected.
“Yes,” She said matter of factely. “Its my calling. So yes. Anyhoo…we realized for this thing to happen before the NEXT ice age, we would need to inject a little entropy into the system.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana was enjoying this, no doubt. Perhaps she found her calling, if there was a profession in puppetering actual human beings. “Thus, ‘Operation: Eridicate Mt. Metrosexual’ was born.”Concluded Santana, supremely happy with herself.
“Have me walk in on the girl of my dreams fucking some chilzled lug nut? What a good idea, Santana! Slightly better about an idea to throw Brit-Brit out of a plane…”
“Ow..”Interrupted a voice. “No way. I can’t fly…anymore. Not since I lost my wings.”
“Hi Brit!” Rachel and Quinn said in unison.
“For Petey’s sake, Sanny. You take forever and a day to tell this story.”
“Well, I don’t get to rub it in Quinn’s face that often, babe.” Whined Santana.
“Not a good reason.” Scolded Brittany. “Let me finish. So, you take the first letters of the plan…”
“O.E.M.M.” Said Quinn “And you put in the REAL name.”
“Which is?” Brittany giggled. “I dunno. Some dumb long name Rachel and Santana came up with after tequila to disguise it from being ‘Operation: Unpress the Lemons’. Ask them.” The sound of Brittany walking away was heard.
“San?”
“BlueBer?”
“I got it from here, okay?”
“Ugh. I’ve heard THAT before. Good luck. Come over if she’s going to choke you.”
“Okay, bye. Love you.”
“-you too. Don’t forget dinner. Every Monday for two months.”
“Extortionist.”
“That’s what SHE said…”
Then Santana was gone. A dial tone filled the silence in the room.
Rachel quietly got a pad of paper and wrote the initials: O E M M
“Any ideas, valedictorian?”
“Um. No.”
“Again, I say, HOW did you edge my clearly superior intellect out?” Rachel neatly filled in the words:
‘Operation: Embrocate My Medica’
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, “embrocate” is to make VERY wet…I assume you know a working definition for the words, “operation” and ‘My”..”
Quinn threw a couch pillow at her.
Rachel smiled. “But the coup d’etat, of course, was ‘Medica’. It is the Latin for …
“…the species of a lemon tree.” Said Quinn, with a slow realization dawning in her eyes. Rachel clapped, excitedly. Quinn continued. “You and Santana knew…you knew you would have to make me so jealous, so aroused…that I would…I would-”
“-Take action.” Finished Rachel, nodding. “You little she-devil!” Quinn chortled, as she ran over, tackling and pinning Rachel underneath her.
“Hey look…Santana wanted to ‘emulsify’ you…that seemed painful! At least I spared you that!” Rachel said, with mock sincerity.
“But really, Rachel….Brody? Ugh!” Quinn squnched up her face.
“Look…I know. But Santana’s not far off the mark…. You DID give me testicular torsion, there, Quinn…PLANTS were starting to look good.” Quinn wrestled her a little more, laughing. “I viewed it as a necessary evil. No more, no less.”
“But how did you get our parents in on this?” Asked Quinn, genuinely curious.
"Oh, God!” Rachel rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t! Santana is a natural born extortionist. She went to them and got them thinking it was their idea, and somehow got a lifetime of Breadstix coupons out of them. Don’t ask me!” Quinn leaned down, hovering above Rachel’s lips.
“I guess I’m lucky that I have a gal who has such a good command of the English language then, don’t I?” Her voice had become husky.
“Mmmm. I guess so. But one can never underestimate the use of a powerful phase with a subject, a predicate, and a very explicit meaning…” “Such as?” Rachel looked deeply into the hazel eyes above her. She smiled. “Like, “Get. In. Me.’ Like that.” “Oh, I like that one!” “Thought you would.” Quinn leaned down, into the lips of the beautiful girl below her…
FIN.