Fic: I'll Have What She's Having
Title: I'll Have What She's Having
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Prompt(s): Quinn/Rachel, repression (yep a porn battle prompt. someone should use them)
Summary: Who knew repression could be so sexy?
Disclaimer: haha...please. If I owned them, they'd so do it every chance they got.
A/N: I've been trying, quite unsuccessfully, to write fic for the past few days. This is the best I could come up with. Written for both an_an0maly who was having a shitty day a few days ago and reluctantly requested this prompt and anomalousalanna who's feeling under the weather and has a term paper to write instead of fic. I hope you enjoy this. Also this is unbeta'd because I've been really bad about that lately. So all mistakes are mine, but don't hold it against me, please?
Quinn has this thing about sex in public places that Rachel just doesn't understand. Though she doesn't know why she's even surprised. Their first time was under the bleachers during a football game. Still, she constantly finds herself a little embarrassed and incredibly turned on when Quinn gets that look in her eyes. And suddenly they're in a coat closet or the practice room or, on one very memorable occasion, up in the choir loft of Quinn's family's church while they were supposed to be helping clean. Rachel's particularly disturbed by that last one and grateful she doesn't believe in Jesus, because she knows Hebrew G-d would not approve and she's sure Jesus wouldn't either. At first she thought it was the pregnancy, but it's still too early in Quinn's pregnancy for those. She guess it has to do with all that repression Quinn's suffered from. She just needs to get it out of her system. Soon, because now every time they go to church, Rachel's sure that the pastor is glaring at her. And Quinn's been hinting at getting a little alone time in at the Berry's synagogue and Rachel wouldn't ever be able to look her rabbi in the face ever again if that happened. Still Rachel is willing to indulge this little fetish of Quinn's, after all who wouldn't? It's Quinn Fabray.
They're out to dinner with Kurt and Brittany when it happens. They've gotten together to discuss costumes and dance moves for Nationals. Things like this definitely cannot be left up to Mr. Schue, who looks like he shops at Ross Dress for Less and learned his dance moves from his Grandpa Theodore. Rachel feels fingers moving up her inner thigh, drawing lazy circles, and she nearly chokes on her drink.
"Um are you okay?" Kurt asks, stopping his rant on how the school should let them do a fundraiser to acquire new Marc Jacobs attire.
Rachel clears her throat and nods. "Sorry, it just went down the wrong pipe." Brittany and Kurt seem to buy the explanation and continue their conversation while Rachel's eyes slide over to Quinn's. The blonde meets her gaze head on, grinning as her fingers inch higher and the hazel pools darken.
She can't believe that Quinn started this right now. She's usually paranoid about everyone at school finding out. So, Rachel takes deep breaths, trying to calm her breathing and not squirm in her seat as she feels herself growing damp. She needs to think of an excuse for both of them to leave the table without it seeming to suspicious or leaving it open ended for someone else to want to come along. She's learned her lessons about choosing her words carefully. "Actually, I brought some sheet music to songs I'd like to try, but they're stuck in the back of Quinn's trunk. I have short arms, so, Quinn could you help me?" Okay that wasn't smoothest explanation, but it's the best she could come up with. Kurt and Brittany look over at her for a moment in confusion.
Quinn smiles sweetly. "Rachel, I'm sure that we don't even need that music. What we have right now is fine."
Dark eyes settle on the blonde suspiciously. There was no way she was reading Quinn wrong. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes. By now, Rachel usually had her skirt bunched up around her waist in the backseat of the car. She decides to relax for a bit, crossing her legs to suppress the dull ache that's beginning between her thighs, but a firm hand stops her, pushing her leg so that both are spread wider apart.
Delicate fingers slip under her skirt, pushing aside the soaked cotton and lace panties, slipping into warm heat and Rachel's legs clenched together as her eyes snapped back to Quinn's face. She wanted to do this...NOW?! Right in front of Kurt and Brittany? There was no way. Rachel cleared her throat and shook her head discreetly. Quinn grinned wickedly and wiggled her hand until the heel of her palm pressed perfectly against Rachel's clit. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering and glared at the blonde.
To her dismay, the other three occupants of the table were absorbed in a debate over fabrics. Quinn's hand worked it's magic under the table until Rachel reluctantly loosened her thighs, giving the blonde room to move. There was no way she'd be able to stop Quinn without calling attention to what was going on. So, she let Quinn's fingers roam free, hoping Quinn would just put her out of her delicious misery soon.
That was not to be the case, Quinn fingers slipped and moved and teased until Rachel's hands were shaking. She tried to focus on keeping her breathing calm and low, but she forced to cover her tiny gasps and whimpers with well placed coughs and even one time a phony yawn.
Then Quinn's fingers slipped deep inside of her and she slapped the table with her palms, pitching forward.
"Rachel, you don't look so good," Brittany said, seriously. She reached out and held her hand to Rachel's forehead and frowned. "Your face is all red and splotchy and you're burning up."
"Brittany's right, you don't look so good, Rach, and it has nothing to do with that hideous ensemble you're wearing," Kurt added, but Rachel was too preoccupied to be insulted by the jab.
"Are you all right? Would you like me to drive you home?" Quinn asks in faux concern. They've been friends for a while now and no one questions her goodwill any longer.
"No," Rachel says through gritted teeth as Quinn's fingers move faster, stroking in and out of her in a way that makes her want to buck her hips. "We're almost done here," she replies as she looks over at the blonde pointedly, wanting to kill her as she watches mirth fill the otherwise dark, hazel eyes. "I'm sure I'll be fine." The last word comes out a little strangled as Quinn chooses that exact moment to curl her fingers ruthlessly. Rachel clears her throat. "I'm fine."
Kurt and Brittany don't look sold, but they don't press further either. Instead Kurt pulls out his iPhone and shows Brittany a video on YouTube, asking her if she can copy the moves. It's just as well because Quinn's fingers stroke deep and hard into her three more times and then Rachel's coming with a shuddering breath. Luckily the two of them remain oblivious. Quinn's fingers disappear as quickly as they appear, giving Rachel very little time to adjust to their loss and sends aftershocks racing through her core, made even more intense by the sight of Quinn discretely licking her fingers clean.
Rachel straightens her back, wincing a little at the wet, cold fabric between her legs. "I think I would like to go home now," she says hoarsely.
"But what about dessert?" Kurt protests.
Pulling out her wallet, Rachel pulls out a few bills and tosses them on the table. "It's on me. There's plenty of sweet things for me to eat at home," she finishes before pulling Quinn behind her.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Prompt(s): Quinn/Rachel, repression (yep a porn battle prompt. someone should use them)
Summary: Who knew repression could be so sexy?
Disclaimer: haha...please. If I owned them, they'd so do it every chance they got.
A/N: I've been trying, quite unsuccessfully, to write fic for the past few days. This is the best I could come up with. Written for both an_an0maly who was having a shitty day a few days ago and reluctantly requested this prompt and anomalousalanna who's feeling under the weather and has a term paper to write instead of fic. I hope you enjoy this. Also this is unbeta'd because I've been really bad about that lately. So all mistakes are mine, but don't hold it against me, please?
Quinn has this thing about sex in public places that Rachel just doesn't understand. Though she doesn't know why she's even surprised. Their first time was under the bleachers during a football game. Still, she constantly finds herself a little embarrassed and incredibly turned on when Quinn gets that look in her eyes. And suddenly they're in a coat closet or the practice room or, on one very memorable occasion, up in the choir loft of Quinn's family's church while they were supposed to be helping clean. Rachel's particularly disturbed by that last one and grateful she doesn't believe in Jesus, because she knows Hebrew G-d would not approve and she's sure Jesus wouldn't either. At first she thought it was the pregnancy, but it's still too early in Quinn's pregnancy for those. She guess it has to do with all that repression Quinn's suffered from. She just needs to get it out of her system. Soon, because now every time they go to church, Rachel's sure that the pastor is glaring at her. And Quinn's been hinting at getting a little alone time in at the Berry's synagogue and Rachel wouldn't ever be able to look her rabbi in the face ever again if that happened. Still Rachel is willing to indulge this little fetish of Quinn's, after all who wouldn't? It's Quinn Fabray.
They're out to dinner with Kurt and Brittany when it happens. They've gotten together to discuss costumes and dance moves for Nationals. Things like this definitely cannot be left up to Mr. Schue, who looks like he shops at Ross Dress for Less and learned his dance moves from his Grandpa Theodore. Rachel feels fingers moving up her inner thigh, drawing lazy circles, and she nearly chokes on her drink.
"Um are you okay?" Kurt asks, stopping his rant on how the school should let them do a fundraiser to acquire new Marc Jacobs attire.
Rachel clears her throat and nods. "Sorry, it just went down the wrong pipe." Brittany and Kurt seem to buy the explanation and continue their conversation while Rachel's eyes slide over to Quinn's. The blonde meets her gaze head on, grinning as her fingers inch higher and the hazel pools darken.
She can't believe that Quinn started this right now. She's usually paranoid about everyone at school finding out. So, Rachel takes deep breaths, trying to calm her breathing and not squirm in her seat as she feels herself growing damp. She needs to think of an excuse for both of them to leave the table without it seeming to suspicious or leaving it open ended for someone else to want to come along. She's learned her lessons about choosing her words carefully. "Actually, I brought some sheet music to songs I'd like to try, but they're stuck in the back of Quinn's trunk. I have short arms, so, Quinn could you help me?" Okay that wasn't smoothest explanation, but it's the best she could come up with. Kurt and Brittany look over at her for a moment in confusion.
Quinn smiles sweetly. "Rachel, I'm sure that we don't even need that music. What we have right now is fine."
Dark eyes settle on the blonde suspiciously. There was no way she was reading Quinn wrong. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes. By now, Rachel usually had her skirt bunched up around her waist in the backseat of the car. She decides to relax for a bit, crossing her legs to suppress the dull ache that's beginning between her thighs, but a firm hand stops her, pushing her leg so that both are spread wider apart.
Delicate fingers slip under her skirt, pushing aside the soaked cotton and lace panties, slipping into warm heat and Rachel's legs clenched together as her eyes snapped back to Quinn's face. She wanted to do this...NOW?! Right in front of Kurt and Brittany? There was no way. Rachel cleared her throat and shook her head discreetly. Quinn grinned wickedly and wiggled her hand until the heel of her palm pressed perfectly against Rachel's clit. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering and glared at the blonde.
To her dismay, the other three occupants of the table were absorbed in a debate over fabrics. Quinn's hand worked it's magic under the table until Rachel reluctantly loosened her thighs, giving the blonde room to move. There was no way she'd be able to stop Quinn without calling attention to what was going on. So, she let Quinn's fingers roam free, hoping Quinn would just put her out of her delicious misery soon.
That was not to be the case, Quinn fingers slipped and moved and teased until Rachel's hands were shaking. She tried to focus on keeping her breathing calm and low, but she forced to cover her tiny gasps and whimpers with well placed coughs and even one time a phony yawn.
Then Quinn's fingers slipped deep inside of her and she slapped the table with her palms, pitching forward.
"Rachel, you don't look so good," Brittany said, seriously. She reached out and held her hand to Rachel's forehead and frowned. "Your face is all red and splotchy and you're burning up."
"Brittany's right, you don't look so good, Rach, and it has nothing to do with that hideous ensemble you're wearing," Kurt added, but Rachel was too preoccupied to be insulted by the jab.
"Are you all right? Would you like me to drive you home?" Quinn asks in faux concern. They've been friends for a while now and no one questions her goodwill any longer.
"No," Rachel says through gritted teeth as Quinn's fingers move faster, stroking in and out of her in a way that makes her want to buck her hips. "We're almost done here," she replies as she looks over at the blonde pointedly, wanting to kill her as she watches mirth fill the otherwise dark, hazel eyes. "I'm sure I'll be fine." The last word comes out a little strangled as Quinn chooses that exact moment to curl her fingers ruthlessly. Rachel clears her throat. "I'm fine."
Kurt and Brittany don't look sold, but they don't press further either. Instead Kurt pulls out his iPhone and shows Brittany a video on YouTube, asking her if she can copy the moves. It's just as well because Quinn's fingers stroke deep and hard into her three more times and then Rachel's coming with a shuddering breath. Luckily the two of them remain oblivious. Quinn's fingers disappear as quickly as they appear, giving Rachel very little time to adjust to their loss and sends aftershocks racing through her core, made even more intense by the sight of Quinn discretely licking her fingers clean.
Rachel straightens her back, wincing a little at the wet, cold fabric between her legs. "I think I would like to go home now," she says hoarsely.
"But what about dessert?" Kurt protests.
Pulling out her wallet, Rachel pulls out a few bills and tosses them on the table. "It's on me. There's plenty of sweet things for me to eat at home," she finishes before pulling Quinn behind her.