Fic: In The Darkness 2/2
Title: In The Darkness 2/2
Pairing: Rachel/(Brittany, Quinn, Santana)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 850
Summary: Who was it, in the darkness, and what were they thinking? Three takes on the previous scene.
Warnings: Sex
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, blah blah woof woof.
A/N 1: These three parts are intended to stand alone, as alternate companion pieces to Rachel's POV in In The Darkness. You can read all three, or just your favorite, but they're not intended to be one long narrative. Just making sure you all aren't disappointed lol.
A/N 2: I have posted them in alphabetical order, they're not in this order for any other reason.
Brittany
Brittany wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. Sure, there'd been a slushy attack on Rachel again which made two today, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. And then Quinn and Santana had said some mean things about her, but again, that wasn't anything that didn't happen every day of the week. Brittany wasn't entirely sure what was different about today, but she was sure that Rachel was upset, and that made Brittany feel bad. So she followed her.
The auditorium was dark and a little bit scary, but Brittany could hear Rachel crying, mostly because Rachel wasn't exactly being quiet about it. It made Brittany feel bad, and she wanted to make Rachel feel better. She thought hard about what Santana did when she, Brittany, was sad - but Brittany couldn't go out and punch the person who had made Rachel cry, because she wasn't going to punch Santana. So really the only other thing she could think of was snuggles. Brittany knew she wasn't smart in the traditional sense, but she was smart with her body.
It was easy to creep up on Rachel and run a finger from between her shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone, testing to see if Rachel could be made to feel better this way, and Rachel froze and got all tense. So Brittany used her hand, moving up and down Rachel's back and sides.
“Ssh,” she whispered. “It's okay. Don't turn around.” Because if Rachel turned around now and saw who she was, then she'd probably tell everyone, and then Santana would be mad that Brittany was being nice to Rachel. It was just not worth fighting over. She could hear Rachel getting ready to say something, but Brittany usually didn't understand half the words Rachel used.
“Who's there?” Rachel asked, and Brittany sighed in relief. Sure, she couldn't answer, but at least she'd understood the question. She distracted Rachel awesomely by kissing her neck, sucking a little bit the way she liked Santana to do, and judging by Rachel's reaction, she really liked it too. Her hands were reaching out, trying to catch hold of something, and Brittany felt them run over her sides and hair and smiled. Rachel's hands weren't manly at all, not really. They were sort of little and cute and delicate, from the feel of them.
She sucked harder, realizing too late that she was going to leave a mark, but figuring it would be okay since Rachel didn't know it was her. And Rachel was relaxing against her, and she was soft and warm and felt almost as good as Santana did, so Brittany took things further, without really thinking about it.
Slowly she lifted Rachel's sweater up and over her head, worked her buttons open, pushed her blouse apart and felt the line of Rachel's breasts, covered as they were by her bra. Santana's boobs were nice but Rachel's were fuller, rounder, and as Brittany reached around to unclasp Rachel's bra she felt Rachel shiver, almost as if she knew what Brittany was going to do next, even before Brittany herself did. Well, Rachel did say she was a little bit psychic...
“So beautiful,” she couldn't help whispering. She knew Rachel put up with a lot, had put up with a lot from Brittany herself, and she figured it was time someone cut the crap and let Rachel know how good looking she really was. Someone who wasn't Puck, because his way of letting people know he found them attractive, was to leer at them in that gross way he had. Brittany bowed her head and took Rachel's nipple between her lips, startled at the noise Rachel made but not stopping what she was doing.
Caught up in the moment it didn't seem like a bad idea to push Rachel back onto the stage, and Brittany only remembered at the last moment how cold it would be since she'd taken all of Rachel's clothes off. She didn't, couldn't care about that now, because somehow this had started as a mercy mission but turned into something altogether more urgent without Brittany noticing. It didn't feel like this with Santana. Santana was so much strong her than she would ever be. With Rachel it genuinely felt like Brittany was needed, if only to finish what she'd started. Before long she wasn't able to stop herself from biting down on Rachel's nipple, because if simple sucking could get those noises out of her, Brittany wanted to see what else she could do. She wasn't disappointed. “Let it out,” she encouraged, finding Rachel's pleasure made her happy. “Be loud. Don't hold back.” Loud was what Rachel was, and Brittany was tired of people making Rachel feel like she couldn't be herself.
She unzipped Rachel's skirt, pulled her socks and her panties off, her hands moving faster and faster now because she could feel Rachel trying to sit up, trying to stop her, and Brittany didn't want that. She wanted to finish what she started, because she thought that to leave Rachel hanging now would be the worst torture of all. With a hand flat on Rachel's stomach she gave Rachel a reason to relax again, feeling the tips of her fingers brushing against soft dark curls.
She kissed her.
Rachel's mouth tasted as good as her skin - not like berries, but like softness and warmth and hunger. Brittany let her hands roam all over Rachel, looking for the places that made her gasp, made her breath hitch her in throat, made her cry out. It was a bit like playing a musical instrument, finding all the different noises it could make when you did different things, and Brittany thought Rachel would probably quite being described like that.
She heard Rachel's head thump against the stage and felt a little bit bad, but her hands were so close to the heat between Rachel's legs and all it took was a couple of inches before her fingers were dabbling in hot wetness.
“You're so wet,” she said happily, because if Rachel was wet that meant she was turned on, and if she was turned on then Brittany had done her job. And the truth was, Rachel was more than wet. Brittany wanted to taste her, the way she did with Santana that one time, but she was scared that if she gave in to that desire then that really would make her gay, like Santana said. And Brittany wasn't gay, she was just nice. She liked everyone.
Brittany pushed a finger inside Rachel, finding it hard to believe how tight she was - clearly Rachel was a virgin, and Brittany knew what that was like, remembered how it had felt to have Santana's finger inside her for the first time. Slow was good, because it hurt a little, she remembered. She went super slow, pushing past the barrier she felt until her finger was all the way inside Rachel, then she bit her lip. After this she was going to have to go someplace by herself and calm herself down a little.
There was one thing Brittany knew that always made Santana scream, even though she did her best to be quiet most of the time, so she knew it felt really, really good. She curled her finger, searching for just the right spot, and she knew she'd found it when Rachel cried out, the loudest sound she'd made yet. Brittany grinned triumphantly. She kept going, slow and deliberate and with just enough force to keep driving Rachel higher, ever closer to the peak. Before long, though, Brittany couldn't resist sliding a second finger in, going faster and a little it harder and she felt it, felt Rachel clenching around her fingers as she came.
It was a weird feeling, like winning the lottery and eating ice cream for the first time in months, to know she'd made someone else feel like that. She felt like that with Santana, but she'd had plenty of practice. To know she'd made Rachel feel like this, first time, no warmups, made her feel super powerful. She could tell Rachel wanted to kiss her by the way she was moving, and she leaned in, letting their lips crash together, even as her fingers kept moving and Rachel came again. The second time it sounded like she was crying again, but good tears this time.
Brittany pulled her fingers out and casually sat licking her fingers like a lollipop while Rachel scrambled around getting dressed. She didn't know what Rachel was thinking and she didn't try to figure it out. She just moved on instinct, the way she'd done everything else. Tracing her tongue around Rachel's ear, she smiled when Rachel gasped. “I don't hate you,” she admitted, and it was true. Brittany didn't hate anyone. She just went with the flow. “I'm sorry,” she finished, knowing that one apology from her couldn't make up for the years that the other kids had been mean to Rachel. But she kind of thought that one apology and two orgasms might be a start.
She kissed Rachel's neck again, that spot that made Rachel moan, and bit her gently because she figured Rachel liked it. Then she slipped away, her tennis shoes making no noise in the darkness.
Quinn
Quinn made no secret of the fact that she was following Rachel - she didn't have to. She was Quinn Fabray, she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, and no one ever asked her to. She knew just where Rachel would go, too. The auditorium was deserted, it was pitch black and provided just the right amount of drama that Quinn knew Rachel would be looking for.
Quinn had been waiting for a chance like this for a long time.
Creeping up behind Rachel, which wasn't hard given the amount of noise she was making, Quinn trailed a finger from between the brunette's shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone, and felt Rachel freeze. It sent a sort of shiver up Quinn's back, too, that she was finally being bold enough to let her true feelings for Rachel show, even if it was under the cover of darkness and anonymity.
One finger became a hand and Quinn couldn't stop herself now if she tried, becoming intoxicated just by the feeling of Rachel's fully clothed body under her hands. So warm, so yielding... she let her fingers graze Rachel's breasts on each up stroke and sighed.
“Ssh,” she whispered finally. “It's okay. Don't turn around.” Quinn might have come a long way toward confessing her feelings, but she wasn't ready to show her face just yet. She knew, before Rachel even took a breath, that the diva was going to attempt to say something, and she couldn't let that happen, she just couldn't.
“Who's there?” was all Rachel managed before Quinn leaned in and attached her lips to Rachel's neck, suckling lightly, enjoying the fact that her lips had effectively shut Rachel up. The whimper coming from Rachel's throat did interesting things to Quinn's ego, and when she hit a certain spot and Rachel jerked against her, Quinn grinned. She knew Rachel's hands were trying to figure out who she was - she could feel them on her body, in her hair, and knew Rachel must have at least figured out she was a girl, and hadn't stopped her.
If that was the case, then suddenly one huge obstacle between her and telling Rachel how she really felt, was gone. Feeling lighter than she had in days Quinn sucked harder, knowing she was leaving a mark and not caring. She idly thought it might be a little bit like Cinderella and the glass slipper, like maybe tomorrow she'd go up to Rachel in the halls and show her just how perfectly Quinn Fabray's lips matched the hickey on her throat. Like Santana's would be too thin, and Brittany's would be too wide, but Quinn's would be just right.
Rachel was putty in her hands and Quinn pressed the advantage, undressing her top half quickly and letting herself feel Rachel's soft curves. Her heart in her throat, she unclasped Rachel's bra and surveyed the expanse of skin as best she could in the darkness, while Rachel shivered in her arms.
“So beautiful,” she couldn't help herself whispering, and as if in a dream she leaned forward and took Rachel's nipple in her mouth, spurred on to suck gently as Rachel gasped and clutched at her hair.
She laid Rachel back on the stage, smirking to herself at how Rachel must be feeling, to be being deflowered in this setting, and something inside her snapped a little. She bared her teeth, nipped sharply at Rachel's nipple, wanting more and more of Rachel's noises. “Let it out,” she encouraged over the sound of Rachel's breathy cries. “Be loud. Don't hold back.”
Faster and more insistent now, Quinn stripped Rachel of her skirt, her socks, her panties, and for a single, heart breaking moment she felt Rachel try to sit up, to stop her, so she quickly places her hand on Rachel's stomach, low enough that her fingertips were brushing soft dark curls. Rachel relaxed again and Quinn heaved an inaudible sigh of relief.
Barely able to believe she'd gone this long without kissing Rachel, Quinn brought their lips together and it was all she could do to keep herself from moaning and giving herself away. She'd wanted this for so long, had kicked herself so many times for being the little boy on the playground who tugged the little girl's pigtails because he liked her. Quinn's hands were roaming, touching every piece of Rachel's skin she could find, it was like a drug. Ultimately her fingers dipped between Rachel's legs, and her breath caught a little.
“You're so wet,” she exclaimed softly. Tentatively Quinn explored further, coating her fingers in Rachel's wetness and stroking up and down her inner folds. She pushed a finger inside Rachel, being as careful as she knew how, pushed past Rachel's barrier (oh God, she'd just taken Rachel's virginity, that was an insane turn on) and quickly curved her finger the way she'd heard Santana discussing with Puck that one time. That got Rachel to cry out, loud, throaty and so fucking gorgeous Quinn nearly came in her underwear.
Keeping the pace gradual and slow, Quinn made sure she hit the spot every time she moved, slightly in awe of how wet Rachel was. She gave in to the urge to add another finger, loving the way Rachel felt around her fingers, so hot and wet and tight. Her movements were faster now, less gentle, and Rachel was getting louder and louder with every thrust.
Quinn knew the moment Rachel crashed over the edge because suddenly her fingers were encased in a vice grip, Rachel's inner muscles contracting over and over again and Quinn squeezed her thighs together in the hopes of getting some sort of temporary relief. She leaned down and caught Rachel's questing lips in an open mouthed kiss that masked Quinn's gasp and Rachel's scream when Rachel came again.
Slightly dazed, Quinn listened to Rachel scrambling around and redressing. It couldn't be over, Quinn didn't want it to be over, she wanted to do it again and again, in the light, in a bed, to look Rachel in the eye as she tumbled over the edge. She traced her tongue around Rachel's ear, willing the girl to figure out who she was, to save Quinn the embarrassment of approaching Rachel with her heart on her sleeve. “I don't hate you,” she admitted, wishing she had the courage just to say that she had feelings for Rachel, instead of hiding behind this. “I'm sorry.” She was sorry, sorry for not being stronger.
She kissed Rachel's neck one last time, grazing it with her teeth to leave her mark, and left. And who knew? Maybe tomorrow she'd have the courage to have her own Cinderella moment, to say to the world that Quinn Fabray had made that mark on Rachel's neck.
And maybe tomorrow would be like every other day, and she'd stand and pine for Rachel from afar, feeling a twinge of regret and longing every time she caught sight of that mark on Rachel's neck.
Santana
Santana was many things, not the least of which was brutally self aware. She knew exactly what she did, and exactly why she did it. She knew that the only entity she had any respect for whatsoever (outside of Brittany, of course) was that creature known as high school hierarchy, and she knew she'd do anything to maintain her place safely at the top of it.
Today she knew she'd gone too far.
It was second nature for her to tear Berry down - hell, everyone was doing it. Part of what made her such an acceptable target was the fact that she never seemed to show any reaction to the constant bullying. Santana reasoned that this made it almost sort of okay, like if they were horrible to her, who didn't care, then maybe it stopped them from being equally horrible to someone who would take it more to heart and possibly become a teen statistic. They had enough of those as it was.
It was after the second successfully executed slushy attack of the day that Santana realized how wrong she was. Walking past the dark, empty auditorium, she heard the sound of Berry crying.
Santana was many things, but touchy feely and emotional wasn't one of them. She wasn't the type of person to hear someone crying and immediately want to make them feel better. She didn't show her soft underbelly to anyone (outside of Brittany, of course). But today something made her stop. Was it guilt? Was it the fact that up until now, she had convinced herself that Rachel Berry didn't have feelings, that Rachel Berry didn't cry? She didn't know. She stepped inside the auditorium slowly, silently.
It seemed like Berry cried the way she did everything else - loudly. The sheer volume of her anguish allowed Santana to walk right up behind her in the dark, close enough to touch. There was an ache in the pit of her stomach, a need to make Berry shut the hell up so she could go back to thinking that Berry was a mutant with no feelings, an acceptable target. But Santana wasn't any good at that emotional crap. What she was good at, was getting people off.
Experimentally she reached out and dragged a fingertip from between Berry's shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone. Berry froze, and Santana thought for a second she was busted, that Berry was going to whip out that rape whistle she talked about so much. Before Berry could make a sound, Santana used her whole hand, caressing up and down Berry's back and sides, daring to graze Berry's breasts on each up stroke.
“Ssh,” she whispered. “It's okay. Don't turn around.” Because the last thing she needed was for Berry to know it was her. She'd spent far too long on her bad ass reputation to toss it away on a moment of misplaced tenderness. And she felt it, felt the moment when Berry faltered. Sure, she put up a protest, and Santana had been expecting it, but it was so pathetic that Santana just ignored it.
“Who's there?” Berry asked, but Santana cut her off with her lips on Berry's neck. She'd never have guessed it, but Berry tasted... sort of good. Not as good as Brittany, obviously, but good enough that Santana didn't feel like tasting her would necessitate washing her mouth out with acid, like she and Quinn had discussed one afternoon not long ago when they were sure Berry was within earshot.
It was clear to Santana from the beginning that Berry's neck was sensitive, and like any good lover would, Santana exploited that fact by sucking gently. She felt Berry reaching out and let herself be felt - she could tell it was more of an exploratory thing than Berry trying to return the favor. Santana inwardly scoffed at the idea that Berry could attempt to return a favor of this magnitude.
To distract Berry (and totally not because she was enjoying herself), Santana began to suckle harder, and she knew damn well she was leaving a mark, but the idea appealed to her, the thought of Berry being marked as hers without even knowing who she belonged to. Wait, what?
She had to get her head back in the game. She grabbed the hem of Berry's sweater and pulled it off, undid her blouse and dumped that with the sweater - Santana tried to maintain as little contact with Berry's hideous fashion no's as possible, concentrating on getting them off and continuing on to her ultimate goal - to make Berry feel better. She ran a finger along the line of Berry's bra, raising an eyebrow at what Berry had been hiding under those vomit inducing sweater vests. It was time to get rid of the bra, and Santana did so with no small measure of expertise.
“So beautiful,” she couldn't help whispering. Berry's - Rachel's - breasts were bigger than Brittany's, bigger than her own, not by much but enough that Santana couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She leaned down and took one of Rachel's nipples in her mouth and the sounds Rachel was making shouldn't have surprised her, but they did. Rachel's hands were clutching at her hair and it pulled a little and Santana had to bite back a shiver of her own. She always did like it rough.
Whatever this was, was getting a little too insane for Santana to get her head around and she knew she had to take charge again, so she pushed Rachel back, lying her down on the stage and closing her eyes. Without conscious thought she grazed the nipple in her mouth with her teeth and the sound of Rachel's cry affected her more than she thought it would. Santana squirmed uncomfortably, wishing she had the guts to shove her hand down her spankies and make this a little more two sided. “Let it out,” she whispered, suddenly eager to hear more of Rachel's noises while she drove her higher. “Be loud. Don't hold back.”
The skirt, the knee socks, the panties all had to go and Santana's hands made quick work of them in the darkness. She felt Rachel try to sit up, probably to put a stop to this, and for some reason she couldn't quite explain to herself, Santana really didn't want that to happen. She laid her hand on Rachel's stomach, nice and low, her fingertips brushing soft dark curls and she felt Rachel relax back into her touch.
With a feeling akin to triumph Santana kissed her, letting her hands wander all over Rachel's body. It had been so long since she'd had a chance to really explore another person - she'd been with Brittany so long that Brittany's body was almost as familiar as her own, and Puck was more of the wham bam variety than anything else - and Santana was making the most of this, learning what made Rachel sigh, what made her moan, and most importantly what made her cry out in that way that was making Santana so wet. Finally she let her hands drift in between Rachel's legs, and couldn't help the little gasp.
“You're so wet,” she exclaimed softly, her fingers tracing Rachel's dripping pussy incredulously. She'd had no idea she could have this much of an effect on Rachel by barely doing anything at all. Idly she told herself it was probably the situation more than anything else, especially seeing as Rachel had no idea who was doing this to her. She could feel Rachel tensing and whimpering underneath her, and decided to put the girl out of her misery.
Santana pushed a finger inside Rachel, gently, gently, and was half shocked to find that Rachel was a virgin. She was many things, Santana was, but she was a woman first and foremost, and she never would have forgiven herself if she'd taken this girl's virginity in any way but the right way. There was a line, and as cruel as Santana knew she could be, she couldn't be that cruel.
She could tell Rachel was holding back, trying not to be too loud, and it sort of annoyed her, but she kept her finger pressing in, pushing through the barrier and quickly curving to find that spot that always made Brittany even more incoherent than she usually was. Rachel got really loud then, and Santana squirmed again, this time giving in to the urge to touch herself with her free hand. She slid her hand up her thigh, pushing her spankies aside and entered herself with two fingers, a little surprised at how wet she'd got just from getting Rachel all worked up.
She knew it wouldn't take much - for either of them - so she kept up her steady pace with her finger, pushing on Rachel's sweet spot with every motion, and before she knew what she was doing she had two fingers working the singer over, faster and harder and she was losing control and oh God, she was coming, she was totally getting off on what she was doing to Rachel. She bit her lip hard as she came, not wanting to give herself away, but she couldn't stop the tremors that racked her body, making her toes curl and her eyelids flutter.
Rachel was right behind her, screaming as her orgasm took over her body and clenching around Santana's fingers and Santana couldn't help being a little embarrassed that she'd lost control of herself when this was supposed to have been about Rachel. She let herself be wrapped in Rachel's arms as the girl sobbed in pleasure, her hips moving to meet Santana's fingers, and just for good measure she kissed Rachel hard, hot, wet and open mouthed, as she drove the singer over the edge a second time.
It took Santana a second to recover her breath and she could hear Rachel scurrying around, putting her (hideous) clothes back on. She leaned in close again, traced her tongue around Rachel's ear and squirmed at Rachel's gasp. She could so totally go again.
“I don't hate you,” she admitted, and it was true. There was no true malice in her for Rachel, just a knowledge that without a clearly defined bottom of the hierarchy, there could be no top. “I'm sorry.” Unable to resist she kissed Rachel's neck, mostly just to hear the moan, and nipped her just a little. Then she slipped away before Rachel could discover who she was.
She blinked as she stepped out of the auditorium into the light, her eyes having acclimatized themselves to the dark. Spying Brittany, Santana grabbed her and dragged her into the bathroom, needing a release that only someone's else's hands could provide.
Pairing: Rachel/(Brittany, Quinn, Santana)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 850
Summary: Who was it, in the darkness, and what were they thinking? Three takes on the previous scene.
Warnings: Sex
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, blah blah woof woof.
A/N 1: These three parts are intended to stand alone, as alternate companion pieces to Rachel's POV in In The Darkness. You can read all three, or just your favorite, but they're not intended to be one long narrative. Just making sure you all aren't disappointed lol.
A/N 2: I have posted them in alphabetical order, they're not in this order for any other reason.
Brittany
Brittany wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. Sure, there'd been a slushy attack on Rachel again which made two today, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. And then Quinn and Santana had said some mean things about her, but again, that wasn't anything that didn't happen every day of the week. Brittany wasn't entirely sure what was different about today, but she was sure that Rachel was upset, and that made Brittany feel bad. So she followed her.
The auditorium was dark and a little bit scary, but Brittany could hear Rachel crying, mostly because Rachel wasn't exactly being quiet about it. It made Brittany feel bad, and she wanted to make Rachel feel better. She thought hard about what Santana did when she, Brittany, was sad - but Brittany couldn't go out and punch the person who had made Rachel cry, because she wasn't going to punch Santana. So really the only other thing she could think of was snuggles. Brittany knew she wasn't smart in the traditional sense, but she was smart with her body.
It was easy to creep up on Rachel and run a finger from between her shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone, testing to see if Rachel could be made to feel better this way, and Rachel froze and got all tense. So Brittany used her hand, moving up and down Rachel's back and sides.
“Ssh,” she whispered. “It's okay. Don't turn around.” Because if Rachel turned around now and saw who she was, then she'd probably tell everyone, and then Santana would be mad that Brittany was being nice to Rachel. It was just not worth fighting over. She could hear Rachel getting ready to say something, but Brittany usually didn't understand half the words Rachel used.
“Who's there?” Rachel asked, and Brittany sighed in relief. Sure, she couldn't answer, but at least she'd understood the question. She distracted Rachel awesomely by kissing her neck, sucking a little bit the way she liked Santana to do, and judging by Rachel's reaction, she really liked it too. Her hands were reaching out, trying to catch hold of something, and Brittany felt them run over her sides and hair and smiled. Rachel's hands weren't manly at all, not really. They were sort of little and cute and delicate, from the feel of them.
She sucked harder, realizing too late that she was going to leave a mark, but figuring it would be okay since Rachel didn't know it was her. And Rachel was relaxing against her, and she was soft and warm and felt almost as good as Santana did, so Brittany took things further, without really thinking about it.
Slowly she lifted Rachel's sweater up and over her head, worked her buttons open, pushed her blouse apart and felt the line of Rachel's breasts, covered as they were by her bra. Santana's boobs were nice but Rachel's were fuller, rounder, and as Brittany reached around to unclasp Rachel's bra she felt Rachel shiver, almost as if she knew what Brittany was going to do next, even before Brittany herself did. Well, Rachel did say she was a little bit psychic...
“So beautiful,” she couldn't help whispering. She knew Rachel put up with a lot, had put up with a lot from Brittany herself, and she figured it was time someone cut the crap and let Rachel know how good looking she really was. Someone who wasn't Puck, because his way of letting people know he found them attractive, was to leer at them in that gross way he had. Brittany bowed her head and took Rachel's nipple between her lips, startled at the noise Rachel made but not stopping what she was doing.
Caught up in the moment it didn't seem like a bad idea to push Rachel back onto the stage, and Brittany only remembered at the last moment how cold it would be since she'd taken all of Rachel's clothes off. She didn't, couldn't care about that now, because somehow this had started as a mercy mission but turned into something altogether more urgent without Brittany noticing. It didn't feel like this with Santana. Santana was so much strong her than she would ever be. With Rachel it genuinely felt like Brittany was needed, if only to finish what she'd started. Before long she wasn't able to stop herself from biting down on Rachel's nipple, because if simple sucking could get those noises out of her, Brittany wanted to see what else she could do. She wasn't disappointed. “Let it out,” she encouraged, finding Rachel's pleasure made her happy. “Be loud. Don't hold back.” Loud was what Rachel was, and Brittany was tired of people making Rachel feel like she couldn't be herself.
She unzipped Rachel's skirt, pulled her socks and her panties off, her hands moving faster and faster now because she could feel Rachel trying to sit up, trying to stop her, and Brittany didn't want that. She wanted to finish what she started, because she thought that to leave Rachel hanging now would be the worst torture of all. With a hand flat on Rachel's stomach she gave Rachel a reason to relax again, feeling the tips of her fingers brushing against soft dark curls.
She kissed her.
Rachel's mouth tasted as good as her skin - not like berries, but like softness and warmth and hunger. Brittany let her hands roam all over Rachel, looking for the places that made her gasp, made her breath hitch her in throat, made her cry out. It was a bit like playing a musical instrument, finding all the different noises it could make when you did different things, and Brittany thought Rachel would probably quite being described like that.
She heard Rachel's head thump against the stage and felt a little bit bad, but her hands were so close to the heat between Rachel's legs and all it took was a couple of inches before her fingers were dabbling in hot wetness.
“You're so wet,” she said happily, because if Rachel was wet that meant she was turned on, and if she was turned on then Brittany had done her job. And the truth was, Rachel was more than wet. Brittany wanted to taste her, the way she did with Santana that one time, but she was scared that if she gave in to that desire then that really would make her gay, like Santana said. And Brittany wasn't gay, she was just nice. She liked everyone.
Brittany pushed a finger inside Rachel, finding it hard to believe how tight she was - clearly Rachel was a virgin, and Brittany knew what that was like, remembered how it had felt to have Santana's finger inside her for the first time. Slow was good, because it hurt a little, she remembered. She went super slow, pushing past the barrier she felt until her finger was all the way inside Rachel, then she bit her lip. After this she was going to have to go someplace by herself and calm herself down a little.
There was one thing Brittany knew that always made Santana scream, even though she did her best to be quiet most of the time, so she knew it felt really, really good. She curled her finger, searching for just the right spot, and she knew she'd found it when Rachel cried out, the loudest sound she'd made yet. Brittany grinned triumphantly. She kept going, slow and deliberate and with just enough force to keep driving Rachel higher, ever closer to the peak. Before long, though, Brittany couldn't resist sliding a second finger in, going faster and a little it harder and she felt it, felt Rachel clenching around her fingers as she came.
It was a weird feeling, like winning the lottery and eating ice cream for the first time in months, to know she'd made someone else feel like that. She felt like that with Santana, but she'd had plenty of practice. To know she'd made Rachel feel like this, first time, no warmups, made her feel super powerful. She could tell Rachel wanted to kiss her by the way she was moving, and she leaned in, letting their lips crash together, even as her fingers kept moving and Rachel came again. The second time it sounded like she was crying again, but good tears this time.
Brittany pulled her fingers out and casually sat licking her fingers like a lollipop while Rachel scrambled around getting dressed. She didn't know what Rachel was thinking and she didn't try to figure it out. She just moved on instinct, the way she'd done everything else. Tracing her tongue around Rachel's ear, she smiled when Rachel gasped. “I don't hate you,” she admitted, and it was true. Brittany didn't hate anyone. She just went with the flow. “I'm sorry,” she finished, knowing that one apology from her couldn't make up for the years that the other kids had been mean to Rachel. But she kind of thought that one apology and two orgasms might be a start.
She kissed Rachel's neck again, that spot that made Rachel moan, and bit her gently because she figured Rachel liked it. Then she slipped away, her tennis shoes making no noise in the darkness.
Quinn
Quinn made no secret of the fact that she was following Rachel - she didn't have to. She was Quinn Fabray, she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, and no one ever asked her to. She knew just where Rachel would go, too. The auditorium was deserted, it was pitch black and provided just the right amount of drama that Quinn knew Rachel would be looking for.
Quinn had been waiting for a chance like this for a long time.
Creeping up behind Rachel, which wasn't hard given the amount of noise she was making, Quinn trailed a finger from between the brunette's shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone, and felt Rachel freeze. It sent a sort of shiver up Quinn's back, too, that she was finally being bold enough to let her true feelings for Rachel show, even if it was under the cover of darkness and anonymity.
One finger became a hand and Quinn couldn't stop herself now if she tried, becoming intoxicated just by the feeling of Rachel's fully clothed body under her hands. So warm, so yielding... she let her fingers graze Rachel's breasts on each up stroke and sighed.
“Ssh,” she whispered finally. “It's okay. Don't turn around.” Quinn might have come a long way toward confessing her feelings, but she wasn't ready to show her face just yet. She knew, before Rachel even took a breath, that the diva was going to attempt to say something, and she couldn't let that happen, she just couldn't.
“Who's there?” was all Rachel managed before Quinn leaned in and attached her lips to Rachel's neck, suckling lightly, enjoying the fact that her lips had effectively shut Rachel up. The whimper coming from Rachel's throat did interesting things to Quinn's ego, and when she hit a certain spot and Rachel jerked against her, Quinn grinned. She knew Rachel's hands were trying to figure out who she was - she could feel them on her body, in her hair, and knew Rachel must have at least figured out she was a girl, and hadn't stopped her.
If that was the case, then suddenly one huge obstacle between her and telling Rachel how she really felt, was gone. Feeling lighter than she had in days Quinn sucked harder, knowing she was leaving a mark and not caring. She idly thought it might be a little bit like Cinderella and the glass slipper, like maybe tomorrow she'd go up to Rachel in the halls and show her just how perfectly Quinn Fabray's lips matched the hickey on her throat. Like Santana's would be too thin, and Brittany's would be too wide, but Quinn's would be just right.
Rachel was putty in her hands and Quinn pressed the advantage, undressing her top half quickly and letting herself feel Rachel's soft curves. Her heart in her throat, she unclasped Rachel's bra and surveyed the expanse of skin as best she could in the darkness, while Rachel shivered in her arms.
“So beautiful,” she couldn't help herself whispering, and as if in a dream she leaned forward and took Rachel's nipple in her mouth, spurred on to suck gently as Rachel gasped and clutched at her hair.
She laid Rachel back on the stage, smirking to herself at how Rachel must be feeling, to be being deflowered in this setting, and something inside her snapped a little. She bared her teeth, nipped sharply at Rachel's nipple, wanting more and more of Rachel's noises. “Let it out,” she encouraged over the sound of Rachel's breathy cries. “Be loud. Don't hold back.”
Faster and more insistent now, Quinn stripped Rachel of her skirt, her socks, her panties, and for a single, heart breaking moment she felt Rachel try to sit up, to stop her, so she quickly places her hand on Rachel's stomach, low enough that her fingertips were brushing soft dark curls. Rachel relaxed again and Quinn heaved an inaudible sigh of relief.
Barely able to believe she'd gone this long without kissing Rachel, Quinn brought their lips together and it was all she could do to keep herself from moaning and giving herself away. She'd wanted this for so long, had kicked herself so many times for being the little boy on the playground who tugged the little girl's pigtails because he liked her. Quinn's hands were roaming, touching every piece of Rachel's skin she could find, it was like a drug. Ultimately her fingers dipped between Rachel's legs, and her breath caught a little.
“You're so wet,” she exclaimed softly. Tentatively Quinn explored further, coating her fingers in Rachel's wetness and stroking up and down her inner folds. She pushed a finger inside Rachel, being as careful as she knew how, pushed past Rachel's barrier (oh God, she'd just taken Rachel's virginity, that was an insane turn on) and quickly curved her finger the way she'd heard Santana discussing with Puck that one time. That got Rachel to cry out, loud, throaty and so fucking gorgeous Quinn nearly came in her underwear.
Keeping the pace gradual and slow, Quinn made sure she hit the spot every time she moved, slightly in awe of how wet Rachel was. She gave in to the urge to add another finger, loving the way Rachel felt around her fingers, so hot and wet and tight. Her movements were faster now, less gentle, and Rachel was getting louder and louder with every thrust.
Quinn knew the moment Rachel crashed over the edge because suddenly her fingers were encased in a vice grip, Rachel's inner muscles contracting over and over again and Quinn squeezed her thighs together in the hopes of getting some sort of temporary relief. She leaned down and caught Rachel's questing lips in an open mouthed kiss that masked Quinn's gasp and Rachel's scream when Rachel came again.
Slightly dazed, Quinn listened to Rachel scrambling around and redressing. It couldn't be over, Quinn didn't want it to be over, she wanted to do it again and again, in the light, in a bed, to look Rachel in the eye as she tumbled over the edge. She traced her tongue around Rachel's ear, willing the girl to figure out who she was, to save Quinn the embarrassment of approaching Rachel with her heart on her sleeve. “I don't hate you,” she admitted, wishing she had the courage just to say that she had feelings for Rachel, instead of hiding behind this. “I'm sorry.” She was sorry, sorry for not being stronger.
She kissed Rachel's neck one last time, grazing it with her teeth to leave her mark, and left. And who knew? Maybe tomorrow she'd have the courage to have her own Cinderella moment, to say to the world that Quinn Fabray had made that mark on Rachel's neck.
And maybe tomorrow would be like every other day, and she'd stand and pine for Rachel from afar, feeling a twinge of regret and longing every time she caught sight of that mark on Rachel's neck.
Santana
Santana was many things, not the least of which was brutally self aware. She knew exactly what she did, and exactly why she did it. She knew that the only entity she had any respect for whatsoever (outside of Brittany, of course) was that creature known as high school hierarchy, and she knew she'd do anything to maintain her place safely at the top of it.
Today she knew she'd gone too far.
It was second nature for her to tear Berry down - hell, everyone was doing it. Part of what made her such an acceptable target was the fact that she never seemed to show any reaction to the constant bullying. Santana reasoned that this made it almost sort of okay, like if they were horrible to her, who didn't care, then maybe it stopped them from being equally horrible to someone who would take it more to heart and possibly become a teen statistic. They had enough of those as it was.
It was after the second successfully executed slushy attack of the day that Santana realized how wrong she was. Walking past the dark, empty auditorium, she heard the sound of Berry crying.
Santana was many things, but touchy feely and emotional wasn't one of them. She wasn't the type of person to hear someone crying and immediately want to make them feel better. She didn't show her soft underbelly to anyone (outside of Brittany, of course). But today something made her stop. Was it guilt? Was it the fact that up until now, she had convinced herself that Rachel Berry didn't have feelings, that Rachel Berry didn't cry? She didn't know. She stepped inside the auditorium slowly, silently.
It seemed like Berry cried the way she did everything else - loudly. The sheer volume of her anguish allowed Santana to walk right up behind her in the dark, close enough to touch. There was an ache in the pit of her stomach, a need to make Berry shut the hell up so she could go back to thinking that Berry was a mutant with no feelings, an acceptable target. But Santana wasn't any good at that emotional crap. What she was good at, was getting people off.
Experimentally she reached out and dragged a fingertip from between Berry's shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone. Berry froze, and Santana thought for a second she was busted, that Berry was going to whip out that rape whistle she talked about so much. Before Berry could make a sound, Santana used her whole hand, caressing up and down Berry's back and sides, daring to graze Berry's breasts on each up stroke.
“Ssh,” she whispered. “It's okay. Don't turn around.” Because the last thing she needed was for Berry to know it was her. She'd spent far too long on her bad ass reputation to toss it away on a moment of misplaced tenderness. And she felt it, felt the moment when Berry faltered. Sure, she put up a protest, and Santana had been expecting it, but it was so pathetic that Santana just ignored it.
“Who's there?” Berry asked, but Santana cut her off with her lips on Berry's neck. She'd never have guessed it, but Berry tasted... sort of good. Not as good as Brittany, obviously, but good enough that Santana didn't feel like tasting her would necessitate washing her mouth out with acid, like she and Quinn had discussed one afternoon not long ago when they were sure Berry was within earshot.
It was clear to Santana from the beginning that Berry's neck was sensitive, and like any good lover would, Santana exploited that fact by sucking gently. She felt Berry reaching out and let herself be felt - she could tell it was more of an exploratory thing than Berry trying to return the favor. Santana inwardly scoffed at the idea that Berry could attempt to return a favor of this magnitude.
To distract Berry (and totally not because she was enjoying herself), Santana began to suckle harder, and she knew damn well she was leaving a mark, but the idea appealed to her, the thought of Berry being marked as hers without even knowing who she belonged to. Wait, what?
She had to get her head back in the game. She grabbed the hem of Berry's sweater and pulled it off, undid her blouse and dumped that with the sweater - Santana tried to maintain as little contact with Berry's hideous fashion no's as possible, concentrating on getting them off and continuing on to her ultimate goal - to make Berry feel better. She ran a finger along the line of Berry's bra, raising an eyebrow at what Berry had been hiding under those vomit inducing sweater vests. It was time to get rid of the bra, and Santana did so with no small measure of expertise.
“So beautiful,” she couldn't help whispering. Berry's - Rachel's - breasts were bigger than Brittany's, bigger than her own, not by much but enough that Santana couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She leaned down and took one of Rachel's nipples in her mouth and the sounds Rachel was making shouldn't have surprised her, but they did. Rachel's hands were clutching at her hair and it pulled a little and Santana had to bite back a shiver of her own. She always did like it rough.
Whatever this was, was getting a little too insane for Santana to get her head around and she knew she had to take charge again, so she pushed Rachel back, lying her down on the stage and closing her eyes. Without conscious thought she grazed the nipple in her mouth with her teeth and the sound of Rachel's cry affected her more than she thought it would. Santana squirmed uncomfortably, wishing she had the guts to shove her hand down her spankies and make this a little more two sided. “Let it out,” she whispered, suddenly eager to hear more of Rachel's noises while she drove her higher. “Be loud. Don't hold back.”
The skirt, the knee socks, the panties all had to go and Santana's hands made quick work of them in the darkness. She felt Rachel try to sit up, probably to put a stop to this, and for some reason she couldn't quite explain to herself, Santana really didn't want that to happen. She laid her hand on Rachel's stomach, nice and low, her fingertips brushing soft dark curls and she felt Rachel relax back into her touch.
With a feeling akin to triumph Santana kissed her, letting her hands wander all over Rachel's body. It had been so long since she'd had a chance to really explore another person - she'd been with Brittany so long that Brittany's body was almost as familiar as her own, and Puck was more of the wham bam variety than anything else - and Santana was making the most of this, learning what made Rachel sigh, what made her moan, and most importantly what made her cry out in that way that was making Santana so wet. Finally she let her hands drift in between Rachel's legs, and couldn't help the little gasp.
“You're so wet,” she exclaimed softly, her fingers tracing Rachel's dripping pussy incredulously. She'd had no idea she could have this much of an effect on Rachel by barely doing anything at all. Idly she told herself it was probably the situation more than anything else, especially seeing as Rachel had no idea who was doing this to her. She could feel Rachel tensing and whimpering underneath her, and decided to put the girl out of her misery.
Santana pushed a finger inside Rachel, gently, gently, and was half shocked to find that Rachel was a virgin. She was many things, Santana was, but she was a woman first and foremost, and she never would have forgiven herself if she'd taken this girl's virginity in any way but the right way. There was a line, and as cruel as Santana knew she could be, she couldn't be that cruel.
She could tell Rachel was holding back, trying not to be too loud, and it sort of annoyed her, but she kept her finger pressing in, pushing through the barrier and quickly curving to find that spot that always made Brittany even more incoherent than she usually was. Rachel got really loud then, and Santana squirmed again, this time giving in to the urge to touch herself with her free hand. She slid her hand up her thigh, pushing her spankies aside and entered herself with two fingers, a little surprised at how wet she'd got just from getting Rachel all worked up.
She knew it wouldn't take much - for either of them - so she kept up her steady pace with her finger, pushing on Rachel's sweet spot with every motion, and before she knew what she was doing she had two fingers working the singer over, faster and harder and she was losing control and oh God, she was coming, she was totally getting off on what she was doing to Rachel. She bit her lip hard as she came, not wanting to give herself away, but she couldn't stop the tremors that racked her body, making her toes curl and her eyelids flutter.
Rachel was right behind her, screaming as her orgasm took over her body and clenching around Santana's fingers and Santana couldn't help being a little embarrassed that she'd lost control of herself when this was supposed to have been about Rachel. She let herself be wrapped in Rachel's arms as the girl sobbed in pleasure, her hips moving to meet Santana's fingers, and just for good measure she kissed Rachel hard, hot, wet and open mouthed, as she drove the singer over the edge a second time.
It took Santana a second to recover her breath and she could hear Rachel scurrying around, putting her (hideous) clothes back on. She leaned in close again, traced her tongue around Rachel's ear and squirmed at Rachel's gasp. She could so totally go again.
“I don't hate you,” she admitted, and it was true. There was no true malice in her for Rachel, just a knowledge that without a clearly defined bottom of the hierarchy, there could be no top. “I'm sorry.” Unable to resist she kissed Rachel's neck, mostly just to hear the moan, and nipped her just a little. Then she slipped away before Rachel could discover who she was.
She blinked as she stepped out of the auditorium into the light, her eyes having acclimatized themselves to the dark. Spying Brittany, Santana grabbed her and dragged her into the bathroom, needing a release that only someone's else's hands could provide.