Fic: Taking Direction
Title: Taking Direction
Characters: Artie/Rachel
Word Count: ~1300
Rating: R for sexual situations
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee all proceeds would go towards the Howard Bamboo Legal Defense Fund.
Spoilers/Content Advisory: None.
Summary: Rachel wants to get rid of her squeaky clean image by getting a little dirty and recruits Artie's help to make a sexy video.
A/N: Written for the "obedience" prompt for kink_bingo and inspired by a prompt at the glee_kink_meme. Thanks becca_radcgg for beta'ing and gleeful_beat for coming up with the title!
When she says "sextape," she doesn't mean it literally. She only wants to shake up her innocent image a little with something sexy, but not outright pornographic. She has a future career to consider, after all, and she doesn't want to risk ruining it before she even turns sixteen.
But she still has to shake things up, and her "Run Joey Run" music video doesn't work out quite as planned. She has to take it one step further, and so she goes back to Artie for help.
He meets her at her house on a Friday, and she takes him to the guest bedroom on the first floor. It's a little less Holly Hobby than her own room, but it has a similar four-poster bed and a window that softens the glow of the afternoon sun.
She's still dressed in what she wore for school - a blouse with a Peter Pan collar, buttoned all the way to the top, and a plaid schoolgirl skirt - as Artie prepares his camcorder and tripod.
"I would like this to be as titillating as possible while remaining classy. I won't do nudity but if perhaps instead we could -"
He raises his hand to interrupt. "Rachel," he says, "I know you're kind of a diva, but you asked for my help. I'm the director, and your constant commands are impinging on my artistic vision." He adjusts his glasses. "Do you need me to do this or not?"
At first she is indignant. She's Rachel Berry, for heaven's sake - she doesn't take directions, she gives them. It goes against her every instinct to let someone else take charge. She takes a deep breath to help clear her head, biting her lips and looking back towards Artie."You're right, of course," she tells him. "I'm sorry. What would you like me to do?"
He grabs the tripod. "I need you on the bed while I decide on the best angle for the light we have."
She kicks off her shoes and makes herself comfortable, wrinkling the covers and smoothing them out again with her palms. "I photograph best from my - " she starts, but Artie's quick to cut in.
"I'll be the judge of that," he says, wheeling to the opposite side of the bed and back again. "I think right... about.... here!" he says, and he plants the tripod in the chosen spot. Adeptly he turns the camera towards her and makes some adjustments.
"Are you ready yet?" Rachel asks, impatient to begin.
"You know, you talk entirely too much," Artie replies. "It's totally distracting." He lets his hands fall into his lap and his eyes meet Rachel's. His gaze is serious.
She's chastened. "I'll be quiet."
"Good," Artie says, smiling now that they're back to business. "We're going to lose the light, though, if we don't start now."
"Oka-"
"Shh!" Artie says sharply, raising a finger to his lips. "You should be perfectly silent right now."
Rachel closes her mouth obediently, but still she pouts. She looks down, blushing a bit from being told what to do.
"If you have something to say, you should say it with your eyes," Artie suggests.
If you want to be a star, she tells herself, you'd better learn to take direction. She lifts her head again, her lashes fluttering, and she parts her lips just slightly and runs the edge of her tongue against them.
She could swear she just saw Artie shudder.
"That's... that's really good," he says, recovering. "Now I want you to run your hand along the collar of your blouse."
She obliges. Her fingertips lightly graze the skin of her neck and play at the edge of the fabric.
"You know what? That shirt's gotta go," Artie tells her. His breath is ragged, but he swallows the lump in his throat and elaborates. "Slowly, though, Rachel - one button at a time."
She shifts her weight on the bed and brings both hands to the top button, and almost effortlessly it comes undone.
"Slowly, slowly!" Artie commands. "You're going too fast! Don't rip it off - peel it off."
Rachel nods, and her hands move to the next button. But she doesn't unfasten it right away - her fingers flicker across it instead, tempting, tantalizing. When she finally does unbutton it, she lets her head fall back and the fabric comes apart at the same time. She does it again, and again, and again, until the blouse is fully open and Artie can see every detail of her lace bra.
"Wow, Rachel, that's - that's - wow." He's beginning to lose control; it's unmistakable. His breathing speeds up, gets shallow, his hands are pressing into his lap with growing urgency.
Rachel leans forward. Artie's excitement is palpable, contagious. She can feel the heat, flushing from between her legs and emanating all through her veins. She breathes more quickly to match his rhythm, and locks her eyes on him, waiting for his next order.
"Your... uh... your hair is in your face," Artie says, struggling. "It's in the way. Can you brush it back behind your ear?"
She complies. Without being reminded, she does it with unnecessary leisure. It's like she wants him to know that she's paying attention, that she's learning, and he smacks his lip together and inwardly reminds himself to breathe.
"Excellent," he tells her. "Now I want you on your knees."
She shifts her weight again, holding onto the bedpost to keep her balance. Her free hand plays at the waistband of her skirt, playing at the buttons that hold it together.
"Don't - no, don't take the skirt off," Artie tells her. She immediately stops what she's doing. "Now slide your hand down the front of it."
She obeys, letting her hand go between the fabric of the skirt and the fabric of her panties. She's surprised at how wet she is, and she sighs a little when she presses her hand against it. The warmth, the pressure - it feels so good. Rachel closes her eyes and lets her head fall back again. She presses harder. She releases. She presses again. Her chest rises and falls more rapidly with each ragged breath.
She almost forgets that Artie's watching until he speaks again. "Rachel, not so fast. Take your time."
She straightens up and swallows back a moan, hoping Artie has more directions to give.
"Lick your lips a little," he tells her.
She lets her mouth fall open and runs her tongue against her bottom lip.
"Let go of the bedpost and run your hand through your hair again," he tells her.
She listens, and she obeys, but she's practically panting now. She's nearly there, but she looks to him again for instruction.
"Don't look at me," he tells her, but he's close too, and there's no conviction in his words. "Look at the camera."
But it's too late. They've locked eyes on one another; it's impossible to turn away. But still Artie cries out: "Don't look at me, look at the camera. Don't look at me, Rachel, look at the camera!"
He falls forward in his chair, his hands balled up into his lap. He's shuddering. Rachel falls backwards on the bed, limbs at awkward angles, and gasps for breath.
There are a few minutes of silence before they've recovered. Rachel gets up from the bed as Artie straightens his glasses and takes down the camcorder.
"I think that's all we're going to need," he tells her. "I'm going to take this home and edit it. I'll have it for you next week," he adds. "I promise."
Her legs are still weak, and she holds onto his chair to keep her balance as she leans in and kisses him on the temple. "Thanks, Artie," she says. "If you want, you can make a copy for yourself."
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Characters: Artie/Rachel
Word Count: ~1300
Rating: R for sexual situations
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee all proceeds would go towards the Howard Bamboo Legal Defense Fund.
Spoilers/Content Advisory: None.
Summary: Rachel wants to get rid of her squeaky clean image by getting a little dirty and recruits Artie's help to make a sexy video.
A/N: Written for the "obedience" prompt for kink_bingo and inspired by a prompt at the glee_kink_meme. Thanks becca_radcgg for beta'ing and gleeful_beat for coming up with the title!
When she says "sextape," she doesn't mean it literally. She only wants to shake up her innocent image a little with something sexy, but not outright pornographic. She has a future career to consider, after all, and she doesn't want to risk ruining it before she even turns sixteen.
But she still has to shake things up, and her "Run Joey Run" music video doesn't work out quite as planned. She has to take it one step further, and so she goes back to Artie for help.
He meets her at her house on a Friday, and she takes him to the guest bedroom on the first floor. It's a little less Holly Hobby than her own room, but it has a similar four-poster bed and a window that softens the glow of the afternoon sun.
She's still dressed in what she wore for school - a blouse with a Peter Pan collar, buttoned all the way to the top, and a plaid schoolgirl skirt - as Artie prepares his camcorder and tripod.
"I would like this to be as titillating as possible while remaining classy. I won't do nudity but if perhaps instead we could -"
He raises his hand to interrupt. "Rachel," he says, "I know you're kind of a diva, but you asked for my help. I'm the director, and your constant commands are impinging on my artistic vision." He adjusts his glasses. "Do you need me to do this or not?"
At first she is indignant. She's Rachel Berry, for heaven's sake - she doesn't take directions, she gives them. It goes against her every instinct to let someone else take charge. She takes a deep breath to help clear her head, biting her lips and looking back towards Artie."You're right, of course," she tells him. "I'm sorry. What would you like me to do?"
He grabs the tripod. "I need you on the bed while I decide on the best angle for the light we have."
She kicks off her shoes and makes herself comfortable, wrinkling the covers and smoothing them out again with her palms. "I photograph best from my - " she starts, but Artie's quick to cut in.
"I'll be the judge of that," he says, wheeling to the opposite side of the bed and back again. "I think right... about.... here!" he says, and he plants the tripod in the chosen spot. Adeptly he turns the camera towards her and makes some adjustments.
"Are you ready yet?" Rachel asks, impatient to begin.
"You know, you talk entirely too much," Artie replies. "It's totally distracting." He lets his hands fall into his lap and his eyes meet Rachel's. His gaze is serious.
She's chastened. "I'll be quiet."
"Good," Artie says, smiling now that they're back to business. "We're going to lose the light, though, if we don't start now."
"Oka-"
"Shh!" Artie says sharply, raising a finger to his lips. "You should be perfectly silent right now."
Rachel closes her mouth obediently, but still she pouts. She looks down, blushing a bit from being told what to do.
"If you have something to say, you should say it with your eyes," Artie suggests.
If you want to be a star, she tells herself, you'd better learn to take direction. She lifts her head again, her lashes fluttering, and she parts her lips just slightly and runs the edge of her tongue against them.
She could swear she just saw Artie shudder.
"That's... that's really good," he says, recovering. "Now I want you to run your hand along the collar of your blouse."
She obliges. Her fingertips lightly graze the skin of her neck and play at the edge of the fabric.
"You know what? That shirt's gotta go," Artie tells her. His breath is ragged, but he swallows the lump in his throat and elaborates. "Slowly, though, Rachel - one button at a time."
She shifts her weight on the bed and brings both hands to the top button, and almost effortlessly it comes undone.
"Slowly, slowly!" Artie commands. "You're going too fast! Don't rip it off - peel it off."
Rachel nods, and her hands move to the next button. But she doesn't unfasten it right away - her fingers flicker across it instead, tempting, tantalizing. When she finally does unbutton it, she lets her head fall back and the fabric comes apart at the same time. She does it again, and again, and again, until the blouse is fully open and Artie can see every detail of her lace bra.
"Wow, Rachel, that's - that's - wow." He's beginning to lose control; it's unmistakable. His breathing speeds up, gets shallow, his hands are pressing into his lap with growing urgency.
Rachel leans forward. Artie's excitement is palpable, contagious. She can feel the heat, flushing from between her legs and emanating all through her veins. She breathes more quickly to match his rhythm, and locks her eyes on him, waiting for his next order.
"Your... uh... your hair is in your face," Artie says, struggling. "It's in the way. Can you brush it back behind your ear?"
She complies. Without being reminded, she does it with unnecessary leisure. It's like she wants him to know that she's paying attention, that she's learning, and he smacks his lip together and inwardly reminds himself to breathe.
"Excellent," he tells her. "Now I want you on your knees."
She shifts her weight again, holding onto the bedpost to keep her balance. Her free hand plays at the waistband of her skirt, playing at the buttons that hold it together.
"Don't - no, don't take the skirt off," Artie tells her. She immediately stops what she's doing. "Now slide your hand down the front of it."
She obeys, letting her hand go between the fabric of the skirt and the fabric of her panties. She's surprised at how wet she is, and she sighs a little when she presses her hand against it. The warmth, the pressure - it feels so good. Rachel closes her eyes and lets her head fall back again. She presses harder. She releases. She presses again. Her chest rises and falls more rapidly with each ragged breath.
She almost forgets that Artie's watching until he speaks again. "Rachel, not so fast. Take your time."
She straightens up and swallows back a moan, hoping Artie has more directions to give.
"Lick your lips a little," he tells her.
She lets her mouth fall open and runs her tongue against her bottom lip.
"Let go of the bedpost and run your hand through your hair again," he tells her.
She listens, and she obeys, but she's practically panting now. She's nearly there, but she looks to him again for instruction.
"Don't look at me," he tells her, but he's close too, and there's no conviction in his words. "Look at the camera."
But it's too late. They've locked eyes on one another; it's impossible to turn away. But still Artie cries out: "Don't look at me, look at the camera. Don't look at me, Rachel, look at the camera!"
He falls forward in his chair, his hands balled up into his lap. He's shuddering. Rachel falls backwards on the bed, limbs at awkward angles, and gasps for breath.
There are a few minutes of silence before they've recovered. Rachel gets up from the bed as Artie straightens his glasses and takes down the camcorder.
"I think that's all we're going to need," he tells her. "I'm going to take this home and edit it. I'll have it for you next week," he adds. "I promise."
Her legs are still weak, and she holds onto his chair to keep her balance as she leans in and kisses him on the temple. "Thanks, Artie," she says. "If you want, you can make a copy for yourself."
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