Fic: Poker Face (Road Trip Drabbles 5/?)
Title: Poker Face
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17, for a bit of graphic smut.
Spoilers: Nope.
Warnings: Silliness.
Summary: Faberrittana + Strip Poker. I've been writing heavy, angsty stuff lately, so I wrote this to give myself a break from it! :)
Brittany and Rachel’s punishment was deferred, in the end, in favor of a game of strip poker. None of them could quite remember how that decision was made, but Quinn suspected Brittany - she was much more devious than she got credit for, and she had a habit of wriggling out of punishment when it was due. But honestly, none of them minded - they sat in a circle on the floor, surrounded by discarded clothes and half-empty bottles of various alcoholic beverages. They weren’t of legal age even in Canada, of course, but it was amazing what could be accomplished when Quinn leaned over the liquor store counter in a loose shirt and gave the middle-aged man a good view of her chest. And when that failed, he was eventually convinced when Santana offered to kiss Rachel in front of him.
Rachel cursed, throwing her cards away. “I hate this game.”
“Shirt off, Rach,” Santana crowed. She complied, revealing a gauzy green bra that left little to the imagination, her dusky nipples sticking out proudly against the fabric. She was wearing the least of all of them, now - Quinn was still fully dressed, Santana had discarded only her tights, and Brittany had lost her sweater but had been wearing a t-shirt underneath it.
Santana shuffled the cards, but stopped short of dealing. There was a wicked glint in her eye, one that Quinn knew all too well. “You know what?” Santana mused. “This is stupid. We’ve all seen each other naked. Let’s make this more interesting.”
“What are you proposing?” Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“Before each round, we all scribble something on a piece of paper. Whoever loses the round has to draw one of the pieces of paper and have whatever’s written on it done to them.”
“Any limits?” Quinn asked.
“Only your own pervy imagination, Q.”
“Score - I’m in.” Everyone agreed, and Santana passed around torn-up pieces of notepaper. Everyone threw their pieces in Brittany’s hat once they were written, and the cards were dealt.
Santana nearly groaned aloud at her hand. She had no chance of winning this hand, she knew, but she did her best to bluff Quinn. Quinn saw through her and called, and she cursed animatedly in Spanish.
“Draw, San!” Brittany passed her the hat, and she swirled her hand around inside before retrieving a piece of paper. She handed it to Brittany, who unfolded it and grinned. “Play the next round gagged,” she read aloud. Quinn hopped to her feet and rummaged in their suitcases, returning with one of her bras. She pulled it tightly between Santana’s teeth and knotted it behind her head, ignoring the glare she received in return.
“Boy, it’s quiet in here,” Quinn laughed as she dealt the cards. Santana flipped her off, and ended up having the last laugh anyway as Quinn lost the round. She spat out the gag and passed Quinn the hat, which had been filled with four more pieces of paper prior to the start of the round, leaving a total of seven inside. Quinn drew and passed her paper to Brittany.
“Be spanked twenty-five times by a girl of your choice,” Brittany grinned, a twinkle in her eye.
Quinn took a drink of vodka and 7-up, feeling it burn all the way down. “Santana,” she pointed. “It’s only fair.”
Santana beckoned her with a finger and she crawled across the pile of cards to her, draping herself across the Latina’s lap. Santana pulled her skirt up, and her panties down, and she gasped as the cool air met her warm center. “Count for me, B,” Santana said, bringing her hand down across Quinn’s ass - not too hard, she wasn’t hitting to hurt - and Quinn jumped. By the time Brittany had counted to twenty-five, her sex was dripping and she was moaning with each strike. She whimpered as she realised there was no more to come.
“You’re such a horn dog, Q,” Santana shook her head. “Brit, draw another paper for Quinn.”
“But she hasn’t lost yet.”
“Yes, she has,” Rachel’s voice was shaky, her eyes wide and pitch-dark with arousal. “Draw, Brittany.”
Brittany shrugged, pulling another paper from the hat and unfolding it. “Uh,” her voice hitched, and she stared jealously at Quinn, “get fucked with a strap-on by a girl of your choice.”
“Rachel,” Quinn panted. “Please.”
“Well, I’m not getting left out of this,” Santana warned. Come here, Britt,” she pushed Quinn off her lap. “Let’s get naked - I’ve got a plan.”
It was genius, even if Santana did say so herself. Rachel was behind Quinn, wearing a strap-on with an insert that would get her off as well. Quinn was on the hotel room floor on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. Her head was planted firmly between Brittany’s legs, as the blonde cheerleader was splayed out on her back. Santana straddled Brittany’s face. “Ready?” she asked the others. They responded in the affirmative. “Go!”
Rachel entered Quinn’s waiting sex, thrusting deeply into her. Quinn bucked and moaned loudly, the combination of her talented tongue and the moan making Brittany writhe with pleasure. Brittany’s tongue wasted no time plunging into Santana, who bit down hard on her hand to keep from screaming - this wasn’t a situation where they wanted to have to explain themselves to hotel security, she didn’t think.
It didn’t take long - Quinn began to pant, mumbling into Brittany’s sex. “Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come, holy fuck-”
Like a chain reaction, Quinn’s thunderous orgasm set the rest of them off one at a time, ending with Rachel, who finally pulled out and collapsed to the floor next to Quinn, her muscles still twitching in aftermath of her climax. The others crawled over and joined them, and exchanged fevered kisses and embraces before curling up to sleep in a tangle of limbs on the floor. Rachel was too worn out to even take the harness off first.
“You were right, San,” Quinn mumbled as she drifted off to sleep, “that was way better than strip poker.”
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17, for a bit of graphic smut.
Spoilers: Nope.
Warnings: Silliness.
Summary: Faberrittana + Strip Poker. I've been writing heavy, angsty stuff lately, so I wrote this to give myself a break from it! :)
Brittany and Rachel’s punishment was deferred, in the end, in favor of a game of strip poker. None of them could quite remember how that decision was made, but Quinn suspected Brittany - she was much more devious than she got credit for, and she had a habit of wriggling out of punishment when it was due. But honestly, none of them minded - they sat in a circle on the floor, surrounded by discarded clothes and half-empty bottles of various alcoholic beverages. They weren’t of legal age even in Canada, of course, but it was amazing what could be accomplished when Quinn leaned over the liquor store counter in a loose shirt and gave the middle-aged man a good view of her chest. And when that failed, he was eventually convinced when Santana offered to kiss Rachel in front of him.
Rachel cursed, throwing her cards away. “I hate this game.”
“Shirt off, Rach,” Santana crowed. She complied, revealing a gauzy green bra that left little to the imagination, her dusky nipples sticking out proudly against the fabric. She was wearing the least of all of them, now - Quinn was still fully dressed, Santana had discarded only her tights, and Brittany had lost her sweater but had been wearing a t-shirt underneath it.
Santana shuffled the cards, but stopped short of dealing. There was a wicked glint in her eye, one that Quinn knew all too well. “You know what?” Santana mused. “This is stupid. We’ve all seen each other naked. Let’s make this more interesting.”
“What are you proposing?” Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“Before each round, we all scribble something on a piece of paper. Whoever loses the round has to draw one of the pieces of paper and have whatever’s written on it done to them.”
“Any limits?” Quinn asked.
“Only your own pervy imagination, Q.”
“Score - I’m in.” Everyone agreed, and Santana passed around torn-up pieces of notepaper. Everyone threw their pieces in Brittany’s hat once they were written, and the cards were dealt.
Santana nearly groaned aloud at her hand. She had no chance of winning this hand, she knew, but she did her best to bluff Quinn. Quinn saw through her and called, and she cursed animatedly in Spanish.
“Draw, San!” Brittany passed her the hat, and she swirled her hand around inside before retrieving a piece of paper. She handed it to Brittany, who unfolded it and grinned. “Play the next round gagged,” she read aloud. Quinn hopped to her feet and rummaged in their suitcases, returning with one of her bras. She pulled it tightly between Santana’s teeth and knotted it behind her head, ignoring the glare she received in return.
“Boy, it’s quiet in here,” Quinn laughed as she dealt the cards. Santana flipped her off, and ended up having the last laugh anyway as Quinn lost the round. She spat out the gag and passed Quinn the hat, which had been filled with four more pieces of paper prior to the start of the round, leaving a total of seven inside. Quinn drew and passed her paper to Brittany.
“Be spanked twenty-five times by a girl of your choice,” Brittany grinned, a twinkle in her eye.
Quinn took a drink of vodka and 7-up, feeling it burn all the way down. “Santana,” she pointed. “It’s only fair.”
Santana beckoned her with a finger and she crawled across the pile of cards to her, draping herself across the Latina’s lap. Santana pulled her skirt up, and her panties down, and she gasped as the cool air met her warm center. “Count for me, B,” Santana said, bringing her hand down across Quinn’s ass - not too hard, she wasn’t hitting to hurt - and Quinn jumped. By the time Brittany had counted to twenty-five, her sex was dripping and she was moaning with each strike. She whimpered as she realised there was no more to come.
“You’re such a horn dog, Q,” Santana shook her head. “Brit, draw another paper for Quinn.”
“But she hasn’t lost yet.”
“Yes, she has,” Rachel’s voice was shaky, her eyes wide and pitch-dark with arousal. “Draw, Brittany.”
Brittany shrugged, pulling another paper from the hat and unfolding it. “Uh,” her voice hitched, and she stared jealously at Quinn, “get fucked with a strap-on by a girl of your choice.”
“Rachel,” Quinn panted. “Please.”
“Well, I’m not getting left out of this,” Santana warned. Come here, Britt,” she pushed Quinn off her lap. “Let’s get naked - I’ve got a plan.”
It was genius, even if Santana did say so herself. Rachel was behind Quinn, wearing a strap-on with an insert that would get her off as well. Quinn was on the hotel room floor on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. Her head was planted firmly between Brittany’s legs, as the blonde cheerleader was splayed out on her back. Santana straddled Brittany’s face. “Ready?” she asked the others. They responded in the affirmative. “Go!”
Rachel entered Quinn’s waiting sex, thrusting deeply into her. Quinn bucked and moaned loudly, the combination of her talented tongue and the moan making Brittany writhe with pleasure. Brittany’s tongue wasted no time plunging into Santana, who bit down hard on her hand to keep from screaming - this wasn’t a situation where they wanted to have to explain themselves to hotel security, she didn’t think.
It didn’t take long - Quinn began to pant, mumbling into Brittany’s sex. “Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come, holy fuck-”
Like a chain reaction, Quinn’s thunderous orgasm set the rest of them off one at a time, ending with Rachel, who finally pulled out and collapsed to the floor next to Quinn, her muscles still twitching in aftermath of her climax. The others crawled over and joined them, and exchanged fevered kisses and embraces before curling up to sleep in a tangle of limbs on the floor. Rachel was too worn out to even take the harness off first.
“You were right, San,” Quinn mumbled as she drifted off to sleep, “that was way better than strip poker.”