The Taste I'm Touching, Part A
Title: The Taste I'm Touching
Author: poetzproblem
Fandom: Glee
Characters: Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray
Word Count: ~9,000
Rating: MA
Summary: It makes her feel powerful, having Quinn Fabray kneeling at her feet. If someone had told her fifteen year-old self that this day would come, Rachel would have hyperventilated from laughter. Seventh in the Don't Blink series.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.
The Taste I'm Touching
Exploring
The taste I'm touching
You're watching
I'm watching you, yeah
~Tell Me, Billie Myers
Girls want sex just as much as guys do. Rachel can still remember her fifteen year-old self recite those words, full of confidence and arrogance-and, frankly, ignorance. Her intent had been more provocation than the expression of any real personal desire for sex that she'd felt at the time. She'd wanted to capture Finn Hudson's attention, and yes-she can admit it now-she'd also wanted to rile up Quinn Fabray.
She still wants to rile up Quinn, but in a decidedly less antagonistic way. Rachel wants to fluster her, and tempt her, and arouse her to the point that she stops being so honorable-because twenty-two year-old Rachel really (really, really) wants sex more than she ever has in the past. No, that's not quite right-she wants to make love. There's a difference. She's always known that, but it's never been as clearly defined in her mind as it is right now.
It's been three weeks since she and Quinn had shared their first kiss. In that time, Rachel has experienced a myriad of new firsts in her life. Her first loss of a Tony Award (to freaking Kristin Chenoweth!) The first time (but certainly not the last) that she's had to explain to someone that,no, she isn't a lesbian now, but yes, she is in love with a woman. And the first time (and she certainly hopes it's the last) that one of her costars has told her intimate details about Santana Lopez's sexual prowess. What Rachel has yet to experience for the first time, much to her increasing frustration, is making love to her beautiful, extraordinary girlfriend.
Of course, they haven't just been sitting on their hands and casting shy, longing glances at one another across the table, either. In fact, if Rachel didn't know better, she'd think that Quinn is on a mission to prove the effectiveness of her old high school motto, because Rachel has been plenty teased in the last three weeks. She only wishes that the pleasing portion would be a little more…naked.
To be fair, Rachel hadn't been ready to jump straight into bed with Quinn, no matter how quickly the woman can arouse her with a single kiss. She certainly isn't a virgin anymore, but in a strange way, it's almost like she is again. Rachel has learned how to touch a man, (and in her experience, they aren't very picky in that regard) but being with a woman is something completely new, and she's so nervous that she's going to disappoint Quinn.
Allowing their physical relationship to progress slowly had seemed to be a perfectly rational plan at first, but Rachel has always been an exceptionally fast learner. She's ready now, and she suspects that Quinn is more than ready, but Quinn wants their first time together to be perfect.
Rachel understands. Quinn has been waiting to be with her for a long time-longer than Rachel can fully allow herself to believe. She doesn't want some frantic, heated coupling in Rachel's dressing room, or a few hours squeezed into conflicting schedules when one of them would inevitably have to leave the other alone in bed instead of being able to wake up wrapped in each other's arms. She wants to savor-to rejoice-to map and memorize-to tattoo the experience across both of their bodies and their hearts. Rachel wants (needs) to make it perfect for Quinn.
So she fusses with the gardenias in the vase on her table, and she straightens the silverware and the plates, and hops into the kitchen to check that their late lunch is being kept adequately warm. She wishes that she could claim that she's cooked it herself, but it isn't a skill that she's particularly adept at, so she's sacrificed home-cooked for edible in order to create a memorable moment. In any case, it's Quinn's favorite entrée from one her favorite restaurants-the one that happens to have plenty of vegan options for Rachel to choose from, as well. It's nearly one o'clock (and it's Thursday, of course) and Quinn sounded so excited this morning on the phone, because she's managed to get a whole afternoon off from work.
Rachel suspects that Quinn is expecting a nice lunch before they head out to the Guggenheim to see the new modernist exhibit, and then maybe a quick stroll through the park before they retire back to Rachel's apartment for a little more teasing and almost pleasing. And if that's what Quinn really wants to do this afternoon, then Rachel will happily hold her hand and stand in front of every painting and watch her expression morph from interest to disdain to amusement and back again. She's just hoping to entice Quinn into an alternate activity.
She skips into her bedroom and looks herself over in the full-length mirror one more time, running her hands over the front of her blue, sleeveless dress. The waist is cinched in, and the skirt is short, falling above mid-thigh. She's noticed that Quinn has a thing for her legs, and Rachel has no qualms about taking advantage of that weakness whenever possible. She's even chosen a pair of heels to accentuate her calves, which are, quite frankly, ridiculous to wear in the middle of the afternoon when-if Rachel has any say in the matter-they won't even being stepping out of her apartment.
With a final quick fluff of her hair, she nods in satisfaction and turns to the bed, grinning as she smoothes an errant wrinkle from the top sheet. A quick glance around the rest of the room satisfies her that everything is immaculate and in its proper place. The only thing missing is a sexy blonde spread naked across her mattress-and sweet Barbra, now that the image is there, Rachel can hardly breathe for the want of it.
The sound of the buzzer pulls her from her lust-fueled thoughts, and she nearly trips over her own feet in her haste to get to the door. She doesn't bother with the intercom, knowing in her soul that it's Quinn, and presses the button to let her into the building. She lifts her iPod from the docking station, scrolling through her playlists until she finds the one that she's prepared as a romantic soundtrack to their relationship, and she starts the music, leaving the volume turned down low.
Quinn's knock sounds, offbeat of the soft percussion, and Rachel feels the fizz of anticipation in her belly as she opens the door. Her breath catches (every single time) at the sight of the gorgeous, smiling woman in front of her. Quinn must have come straight from her office, because she's wearing a gray skirt that falls just above her knees, topped with a matching, fitted short-sleeved jacket, and the messenger-style bag that she uses as a briefcase is still slung over her shoulder. Rachel always has found Quinn's professional look to be unexpectedly sexy, and she unconsciously moistens her lips. She honestly would be hard pressed to choose between Quinn in a business suit, and Quinn in a formfitting, little black dress, because both are lethal combinations to a person's peace of mind.
Rachel feels the caress of Quinn's appreciative gaze as it travels over her body, and she mentally congratulates herself on her appropriate wardrobe choices. "Hi," she whispers softly, reaching out to dance her fingers down over Quinn's bare arm until they curl inside a warm, open palm and find their home.
"Hi," Quinn breathes, allowing Rachel to pull her in closer, and taking the silent invitation to dip her head and meet Rachel's lips in a soft kiss. It only lasts a few seconds, but when they part, Quinn's eyes are significantly darker. "You look amazing," she murmurs sincerely.
Rachel grins and ushers her the rest of the way inside, gently closing the door behind them. "You don't look so bad yourself," she teases. "How was your morning?" she asks conversationally, slipping her fingers beneath the straps of Quinn's bag to slide it down her arm and deposit it on the nearby table.
"Extremely busy," Quinn answers as she pops open the buttons of her jacket to reveal a silky white camisole underneath. "I'm so glad to have a break this afternoon."
Rachel is momentarily struck by the sheer domesticity of their exchange, and it sends tingles through her bloodstream. She can so easily envision doing this-welcoming Quinn home with a kiss and asking her how her day was-for years to come. "How did you manage to sneak out so early?"
Quinn ducks her head a little, and grins sheepishly, "Technically, I'm supposed to be working from home."
"Oh, if you need to do that," Rachel begins with a frown, only to have Quinn's arms slip around her shoulders, and her body pulled up against the enticing heat that's radiating from Quinn.
"Don't worry about it, Rach," she's quick to assure. "I only have some copy-editing to finish up for my boss, and it won't take more than an hour or so. I can do it later tonight. I just want to enjoy the rest of the day with you."
Rachel melts into Quinn's body, flattening her hands over a muscled back. "I'd like that," she purrs, rocking up on her toes to chastely brush their lips together. Quinn hums contentedly and chases Rachel's mouth when she tries to pull away, capturing her lower lip and teasing her with a series of short, sensual kisses. It's sinful, really, how good Quinn is at this-the kissing and the teasing.
Rachel's hands dip down, gliding over the curve of Quinn's tempting backside and molding to the firm flesh beneath her palms. It's shameful how easily Quinn can reduce her to her most basic, wanton urges. She feels Quinn smile against her mouth in the moment before she ends her assault on Rachel's senses, lifting her head and gazing down at Rachel with a pleased, little grin. Thankfully, Rachel manages to bite back the embarrassing whimper that is tickling in her throat. She takes a modicum of comfort in the fact that Quinn's pupils are completely blown, and her breathing is noticeably uneven, but then Quinn does what she's still so frustratingly good at doing, and composes herself right before Rachel's eyes.
Her body relaxes, and her smile grows sweeter, and she drops her arms from Rachel's shoulders, running her hands down along Rachel's arms until she's gently removing the hands from her backside and placing a small physical distance between them. Rachel smothers the uncharitable notion that Quinn does this on purpose-taking a bit too much pleasure in working her up before she stops them-because she knows that the years of suppressing both her emotional and physical responses to Rachel have made it second nature. Quinn is trying to be honorable, but Rachel just wants to rip her clothes off and take her right here on the floor.
"Mmm…something smells amazing," Quinn casually comments as she shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. Rachel's eyes rake over her torso, lovingly encased in the sleeveless camisole that's now exposed, and she bites into her lip. Quinn's skin is flushed pink, and her bra is doing a very poor job of disguising the stiff buds of her nipples. She probably shouldn't feel quite so proud of herself at the sight, but it certainly doesn't hurt her ego to know that even Quinn can't totally conceal the way her body reacts to Rachel.
Quinn takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lunch wafting through the apartment, and her eyes widen. "Is that what I think it is?" she asks delightedly.
Rachel lets her sexual frustration slip away, lost to Quinn's adorableness. "If you think it's the grilled Scottish salmon from Josie's, then yes."
"Oh, my gosh, you are the best girlfriend," Quinn gushes, dropping a quick peck to Rachel's lips, and practically drags her into the kitchen. "I'm starving," she admits, letting go of Rachel's hand, and after a quick survey of the area, grabs the potholder and opens the oven.
Rachel crosses her arms, leans her hip against the counter, and smiles as she watches Quinn putter around in her kitchen. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last. Rachel is an expert at keeping takeout warm and heating up frozen meals, but Quinn actually cooks, and she's commandeered the food preparation on multiple occasions during their friendship. She doesn't have much to do today, just remove the container from the oven, take off the lid, and transfer the food to the plate already on the table, but Rachel still finds it cute that Quinn feels the need take over.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asks, pushing away from the counter and moving to the refrigerator.
Quinn purses her lips and tilts her head in contemplation. "Vitamin water is fine," she ultimately decides. "It's still a little early in the day for me."
Rachel nods and reaches for two bottles of water. Quinn's been careful about alcohol since high school, partly because of her own experiences with it, but mostly because her mother still fights the battle to stay on the wagon daily, and Quinn doesn't want to be like her. She doesn't need to worry. Quinn is nothing like Judy Fabray.
They settle down at the table with their meals-Rachel's opted for the Asian-marinated organic tofu salad-and Quinn smiles softly as her eyes dance over the gardenias. It's kind of their thing now. When Quinn first found out about junior prom, she'd laughed sadly and said, 'it figures.'It's only been very recently that she'd admitted, 'I should have known it was you all along, and I'm so glad it was, because that was the best part of that whole night-and you made it happen for me. All the best things in my life always come back to you, Rachel.'
Rachel sighs happily, so grateful that they're finally on the same page-that she's finally reading the right book. A small part of her wishes that she would have realized back in high school just how important Quinn would eventually be to her, but the bigger part of her knows that she wouldn't have been ready for this relationship back then. They'd both needed to grow up and experience life before they could fully appreciate what they could have together. Still, some part of Rachel's soul must have recognized Quinn as its mate-maybe it's her sixth sense-because she's always wanted (needed) to fit Quinn into her life in one way or another.
"I've been craving this so much," Quinn comments, lifting her fork and taking the first bite of her food. She closes her eyes in pleasure as she savors the flavor, humming in approval, and Rachel watches her mouth, the way her throat moves as she swallows, and her tongue as it peeks out to lick her lips. Somehow, Quinn can even make the simple, necessary act of consuming food into a vision of sensuality. Rachel has never, ever, found any of her boyfriends' eating habits particularly attractive, and most certainly not arousing, but with Quinn, she's actually imagining what it might be like to sweep their dinnerware onto the floor, drag her across the table, and have her for lunch.
In fact, she's so fixated on the fantasy that it takes her a moment to register that Quinn has stopped eating and is staring at her quizzically. "Are you not hungry?"
Rachel briefly glances down at her plate where she's been mindlessly pushing her salad around. She feels her lips curl into suggestive smirk. "Not for food," she says, looking at Quinn from under her lashes.
Quinn's eyes flash, and she draws in a breath as she carefully places her fork on the table. Her darkening gaze moves down to her plate, then to the gardenias, and then to Rachel in her too-sexy-for-one-o'clock-in-the-afternoon dress. "Is this a seduction, Rachel?" she asks, voice husky…and possibly a little bit amused.
Rachel contemplates whether to be direct, or play coy. "It's…setting a mood," she confesses, deciding to split the difference. Quinn doesn't say anything, but continues to study her with serious hazel eyes, and Rachel reaches over to take her hand and draw soft circles against the skin with her thumb. "I really want to make love with you tonight," she finally admits, switching to the direct approach.
A slow smile blooms over Quinn's lips, encompassing her entire face and lighting her eyes from within. She lifts their joined hands and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Rachel's fingers before she lets go, and-picks her fork back up? "Eat your lunch, Rachel," Quinn instructs calmly before her grin widens, and she purrs, "You're going to need the extra calories."
Rachel's body reacts immediately to the promise, sending shivers of excitement racing over and through every inch of her. The steady hum of arousal that's been teasing her since Quinn arrived spikes into a crescendo, and she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Quinn, seemingly unaffected, returns her attention to eating, taking extra care to slide her fork between her lips with measured deliberation. The glint in her eyes and her faint smirk is proof that she knows exactly what she's doing to Rachel.
The rest of the meal is more of the same, interspersed with Quinn randomly chatting about her morning, but Rachel does manage to eat most of her salad and by the time they finish, she's even willed her body into submission. At least until Quinn offers to help clear the table, purposely brushing against her at every opportunity. She follows Rachel into the kitchen, and stands behind her as she places her plate into the sink, reaching around and pressing the length of her body along Rachel's back. She ghosts a kiss across her cheek. "Lunch was delicious," she whispers, trailing her left hand across Rachel's hip and her right along Rachel's arm until long, elegant fingers are tucking strands of thick, dark hair behind her ear.
"W-well, I can't exactly, hmmm," she moans when Quinn's lips dance along the underside of her jaw, and she tips her head back, leaning into Quinn, "t-t-take c-credit."
Quinn's arms circle her waist, fitting her more snugly into the body behind her, and Rachel covers them instinctively with her own, holding on for dear life while a talented mouth plays over the sensitive skin of her throat. The effect it has on her is visceral, and she wants to reach back and tangle her fingers into silky hair to encourage Quinn to mark her, but she doesn't think that Laura (who does the makeup for her show) will appreciate having the extra work of covering it up tomorrow night. Quinn knows this, and she's careful not to bruise Rachel, never applying too much pressure or staying in one spot for too long. Instead, she alternates tiny nips with tickling laps of her tongue and puffs of hot breath against moistened skin. The combination is maddening.
Rachel squeezes her legs together, biting into her lower lip on a moan. She drops her left hand and reaches around to grip Quinn's thigh, and Quinn presses forward, letting out a little hiss that almost sounds like yes, but not quite as eloquent. The arms at her waist tighten, just for a second, and then Rachel feels that mouth curve against her skin. "We're not doing this here," Quinn murmurs shakily.
"As long as we're doing it somewhere," Rachel grumbles, curling her fingers into the firm flesh beneath them. Quinn's quiet laughter vibrates against Rachel's cheek, and then she is letting her arms slacken and gently removing Rachel's hand from its enviable position. "Quinn," she whines petulantly, annoyed that she's been expertly worked up, only to be denied. Again.
"Rachel," she echoes in amusement, gently spinning her around until they're face to face. An adoring smile greets Rachel, and she's pulled back into a loose embrace. "I love you," Quinn says simply. The words come easily enough, but the full weight and meaning of them is screaming from green-tinted eyes.
Rachel melts. She just…melts…right into Quinn, looping her arms around her girlfriend's neck, and taking that smiling, pink mouth with her own. She doesn't even care that Quinn still tastes faintly of the salmon she'd eaten for lunch. Rachel is only thinking of how very lucky she is to have been given the precious gift of Quinn Fabray's heart, and how she will spend the rest of her life cherishing and protecting that gift.
Quinn eventually tears her mouth away on a stifled groan. "We're really not doing this here, Rachel," she repeats. "I have plans for you," she promises in that deep, sexy purr that never fails to resonate right through Rachel's core, "big plans, and none of them include a kitchen. At least, not tonight," she adds with a wicked grin.
Rachel mentally adds a kitchen fantasy to her list-alongside the table, and her dressing room, and on stage in a darkened theater, and Quinn's tiny office, and the shower, and…well…any bathroom, really, and Central Park. Okay, that last one will likely have to stay a fantasy, unless she can determine a plan of action to keep them from being arrested.
"Then by all means, do with me what you will," Rachel invites mischievously, lightly dragging her nails down Quinn's back. "I'm all yours," she promises in a far more serious tone.
Quinn's breath hitches. "Mine," she repeats, caressing Rachel's cheek with the tips of her fingers.
Rachel catches her hand and turns her face until she can place a soft kiss to the inside of Quinn's palm. Their gazes lock. "Always. I love you, Quinn."
Impossibly long lashes flutter over hazel eyes, and her smile is dazzling. The first time that Rachel had said those words-mere hours after their first kiss-Quinn had cried, held her close, and begged her to say it again. Rachel has told Quinn every day since-in person, on the phone, via text message, and scrawled on notes left scattered around her apartment. Quinn sighs happily, and dips her head to kiss Rachel. Then she's inching backwards, slipping out of Rachel's arms and catching her hands to lead her out of the kitchen with a spring in her step.
They cross into the living room, and Quinn grins when she hears the familiar melody of Take My Breath Away softly floating through the speakers. "Dance with me," she says, pulling Rachel into position and beginning to lead them in a slow, informal waltz.
"You're kind of a goofball," Rachel points out on a giggle. She'd never really noticed this side of Quinn in school. She'd only ever seen the sad, serious girl who'd been forced to grow up too fast. This Quinn hadn't fully appeared until their sophomore year of college, but thinking back, Rachel knows there were more than a few little moments when her quirkiness slipped out.
"Mmhm, but you love me," Quinn reminds her with a smile, dodging the sofa and the end table, and slowly spinning her closer to the bedroom.
"I do," Rachel agrees, never allowing an opportunity to say it slip away.
"I've always wanted to do this," Quinn admits.
"Waltz around my apartment?"
Quinn shakes her head, pulling Rachel closer until they're dancing the way couples do, with bodies brushing together without regard for their steps. "Dance with you. I really wanted to at senior prom, but," she trails off with a shrug.
Rachel's stomach clenches unpleasantly. Quinn had still been in the wheelchair at the time, just barely able to stand for short periods, let alone dance. And then there was Finn, and… "You spent most of prom night with Joe," Rachel remembers with a frown. She'd never really understood the appeal of that short flirtation.
Quinn chuckles, "Well, he was very pretty-for a guy." She sighs, rubbing a gentle circle over Rachel's lower back. "And I felt like…I don't know…like maybe God was punishing me for…for feeling the way I did about you," she admits, "and giving Joe a chance might…fix it."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say," Rachel chastises.
Quinn laughs again, "I know that now...but I was in a bad place at the time, and I hadn't fully come to terms with being attracted to women. Anyway, Joe Hart was just a silly distraction, and can we please stop talking about icky boys, now?" she jokes with an adorably scrunched up nose. "I want to…not talk with you." She kisses Rachel to punctuate her point, and all thoughts of boys completely evaporate.
The sway of their bodies gradually stills as their lips glide into a timeless dance. The tip of Quinn's tongue begs for a partner, and Rachel joyfully accepts. The kiss pirouettes into an intricate ballet of shy advances and deep, sweeping strokes, until the rhythm of their passion drives hands and hips to join.
Rachel's fingers curl into the fabric of Quinn's camisole, dragging at the hem until it bunches to expose a smooth patch of skin to her eager touch. She craves this-the feel of Quinn, solid and warm beneath her fingertips. Until now, she's only been allowed a meager taste-stolen glimpses and (too) brief explorations while they'd held each other, mapping curves beneath the cover of their clothes. She's wild from the knowledge that tonight will end differently, with every inch of Quinn's body molded and entwined with her own.
The hands on Rachel's back slide down and conform to the contours of her ass, flexing and releasing over the flesh. Quinn's hips shift forward as she drags Rachel up against her, groaning into the kiss. Rachel's hands slip higher, over a strong back, and a scarred left side. Quinn captures Rachel's lower lip, lightly nipping it with her teeth, before she finally breaks the contact. Her breathing is erratic, and her hands are still restless on Rachel's body. She licks her lips, gazing down with smoldering eyes. "You take my breath away," she murmurs, echoing the lyrics that are fading from the room.
"The feeling is entirely mutual," Rachel murmurs, placing a tiny kiss to the skin just beneath Quinn's lower lip-above the faint cleft in her chin. "Now take me to bed, baby."
"Such a demanding little thing."
"But you love me," Rachel reminds her.
"I do. So much," she breathes against Rachel's mouth, stealing another taste of her before she pulls away with a seductive smile.
She catches Rachel's hands, once again leading her across the short distance until they're finally standing at the foot of the bed. The image of Quinn spread naked across her mattress is about to become reality, and Rachel's impatience gets the better of her, driving her forward with the intent to relieve Quinn of her clothes. She gets as far as slipping her hands under Quinn's top before she's being gently deterred by a firm grip on her wrists.
"Patience, sweetie," Quinn warns with a sexy smirk. "Getting there is half the fun," she promises, trailing her fingers up Rachel's arms and leaving tingles in her wake.
"I'm already halfway there," Rachel complains, taking advantage of her freed hands by attaching them to Quinn's ass. Her body is hot, and tense, and pulsing with need. The anticipation is nearly as effective an aphrodisiac as Quinn's touch.
"Oh, we're not even close," Quinn corrects her with laughter, dipping down to press an open-mouthed kiss to Rachel's neck.
(Continued in Part B)
Author: poetzproblem
Fandom: Glee
Characters: Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray
Word Count: ~9,000
Rating: MA
Summary: It makes her feel powerful, having Quinn Fabray kneeling at her feet. If someone had told her fifteen year-old self that this day would come, Rachel would have hyperventilated from laughter. Seventh in the Don't Blink series.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.
The Taste I'm Touching
Exploring
The taste I'm touching
You're watching
I'm watching you, yeah
~Tell Me, Billie Myers
Girls want sex just as much as guys do. Rachel can still remember her fifteen year-old self recite those words, full of confidence and arrogance-and, frankly, ignorance. Her intent had been more provocation than the expression of any real personal desire for sex that she'd felt at the time. She'd wanted to capture Finn Hudson's attention, and yes-she can admit it now-she'd also wanted to rile up Quinn Fabray.
She still wants to rile up Quinn, but in a decidedly less antagonistic way. Rachel wants to fluster her, and tempt her, and arouse her to the point that she stops being so honorable-because twenty-two year-old Rachel really (really, really) wants sex more than she ever has in the past. No, that's not quite right-she wants to make love. There's a difference. She's always known that, but it's never been as clearly defined in her mind as it is right now.
It's been three weeks since she and Quinn had shared their first kiss. In that time, Rachel has experienced a myriad of new firsts in her life. Her first loss of a Tony Award (to freaking Kristin Chenoweth!) The first time (but certainly not the last) that she's had to explain to someone that,no, she isn't a lesbian now, but yes, she is in love with a woman. And the first time (and she certainly hopes it's the last) that one of her costars has told her intimate details about Santana Lopez's sexual prowess. What Rachel has yet to experience for the first time, much to her increasing frustration, is making love to her beautiful, extraordinary girlfriend.
Of course, they haven't just been sitting on their hands and casting shy, longing glances at one another across the table, either. In fact, if Rachel didn't know better, she'd think that Quinn is on a mission to prove the effectiveness of her old high school motto, because Rachel has been plenty teased in the last three weeks. She only wishes that the pleasing portion would be a little more…naked.
To be fair, Rachel hadn't been ready to jump straight into bed with Quinn, no matter how quickly the woman can arouse her with a single kiss. She certainly isn't a virgin anymore, but in a strange way, it's almost like she is again. Rachel has learned how to touch a man, (and in her experience, they aren't very picky in that regard) but being with a woman is something completely new, and she's so nervous that she's going to disappoint Quinn.
Allowing their physical relationship to progress slowly had seemed to be a perfectly rational plan at first, but Rachel has always been an exceptionally fast learner. She's ready now, and she suspects that Quinn is more than ready, but Quinn wants their first time together to be perfect.
Rachel understands. Quinn has been waiting to be with her for a long time-longer than Rachel can fully allow herself to believe. She doesn't want some frantic, heated coupling in Rachel's dressing room, or a few hours squeezed into conflicting schedules when one of them would inevitably have to leave the other alone in bed instead of being able to wake up wrapped in each other's arms. She wants to savor-to rejoice-to map and memorize-to tattoo the experience across both of their bodies and their hearts. Rachel wants (needs) to make it perfect for Quinn.
So she fusses with the gardenias in the vase on her table, and she straightens the silverware and the plates, and hops into the kitchen to check that their late lunch is being kept adequately warm. She wishes that she could claim that she's cooked it herself, but it isn't a skill that she's particularly adept at, so she's sacrificed home-cooked for edible in order to create a memorable moment. In any case, it's Quinn's favorite entrée from one her favorite restaurants-the one that happens to have plenty of vegan options for Rachel to choose from, as well. It's nearly one o'clock (and it's Thursday, of course) and Quinn sounded so excited this morning on the phone, because she's managed to get a whole afternoon off from work.
Rachel suspects that Quinn is expecting a nice lunch before they head out to the Guggenheim to see the new modernist exhibit, and then maybe a quick stroll through the park before they retire back to Rachel's apartment for a little more teasing and almost pleasing. And if that's what Quinn really wants to do this afternoon, then Rachel will happily hold her hand and stand in front of every painting and watch her expression morph from interest to disdain to amusement and back again. She's just hoping to entice Quinn into an alternate activity.
She skips into her bedroom and looks herself over in the full-length mirror one more time, running her hands over the front of her blue, sleeveless dress. The waist is cinched in, and the skirt is short, falling above mid-thigh. She's noticed that Quinn has a thing for her legs, and Rachel has no qualms about taking advantage of that weakness whenever possible. She's even chosen a pair of heels to accentuate her calves, which are, quite frankly, ridiculous to wear in the middle of the afternoon when-if Rachel has any say in the matter-they won't even being stepping out of her apartment.
With a final quick fluff of her hair, she nods in satisfaction and turns to the bed, grinning as she smoothes an errant wrinkle from the top sheet. A quick glance around the rest of the room satisfies her that everything is immaculate and in its proper place. The only thing missing is a sexy blonde spread naked across her mattress-and sweet Barbra, now that the image is there, Rachel can hardly breathe for the want of it.
The sound of the buzzer pulls her from her lust-fueled thoughts, and she nearly trips over her own feet in her haste to get to the door. She doesn't bother with the intercom, knowing in her soul that it's Quinn, and presses the button to let her into the building. She lifts her iPod from the docking station, scrolling through her playlists until she finds the one that she's prepared as a romantic soundtrack to their relationship, and she starts the music, leaving the volume turned down low.
Quinn's knock sounds, offbeat of the soft percussion, and Rachel feels the fizz of anticipation in her belly as she opens the door. Her breath catches (every single time) at the sight of the gorgeous, smiling woman in front of her. Quinn must have come straight from her office, because she's wearing a gray skirt that falls just above her knees, topped with a matching, fitted short-sleeved jacket, and the messenger-style bag that she uses as a briefcase is still slung over her shoulder. Rachel always has found Quinn's professional look to be unexpectedly sexy, and she unconsciously moistens her lips. She honestly would be hard pressed to choose between Quinn in a business suit, and Quinn in a formfitting, little black dress, because both are lethal combinations to a person's peace of mind.
Rachel feels the caress of Quinn's appreciative gaze as it travels over her body, and she mentally congratulates herself on her appropriate wardrobe choices. "Hi," she whispers softly, reaching out to dance her fingers down over Quinn's bare arm until they curl inside a warm, open palm and find their home.
"Hi," Quinn breathes, allowing Rachel to pull her in closer, and taking the silent invitation to dip her head and meet Rachel's lips in a soft kiss. It only lasts a few seconds, but when they part, Quinn's eyes are significantly darker. "You look amazing," she murmurs sincerely.
Rachel grins and ushers her the rest of the way inside, gently closing the door behind them. "You don't look so bad yourself," she teases. "How was your morning?" she asks conversationally, slipping her fingers beneath the straps of Quinn's bag to slide it down her arm and deposit it on the nearby table.
"Extremely busy," Quinn answers as she pops open the buttons of her jacket to reveal a silky white camisole underneath. "I'm so glad to have a break this afternoon."
Rachel is momentarily struck by the sheer domesticity of their exchange, and it sends tingles through her bloodstream. She can so easily envision doing this-welcoming Quinn home with a kiss and asking her how her day was-for years to come. "How did you manage to sneak out so early?"
Quinn ducks her head a little, and grins sheepishly, "Technically, I'm supposed to be working from home."
"Oh, if you need to do that," Rachel begins with a frown, only to have Quinn's arms slip around her shoulders, and her body pulled up against the enticing heat that's radiating from Quinn.
"Don't worry about it, Rach," she's quick to assure. "I only have some copy-editing to finish up for my boss, and it won't take more than an hour or so. I can do it later tonight. I just want to enjoy the rest of the day with you."
Rachel melts into Quinn's body, flattening her hands over a muscled back. "I'd like that," she purrs, rocking up on her toes to chastely brush their lips together. Quinn hums contentedly and chases Rachel's mouth when she tries to pull away, capturing her lower lip and teasing her with a series of short, sensual kisses. It's sinful, really, how good Quinn is at this-the kissing and the teasing.
Rachel's hands dip down, gliding over the curve of Quinn's tempting backside and molding to the firm flesh beneath her palms. It's shameful how easily Quinn can reduce her to her most basic, wanton urges. She feels Quinn smile against her mouth in the moment before she ends her assault on Rachel's senses, lifting her head and gazing down at Rachel with a pleased, little grin. Thankfully, Rachel manages to bite back the embarrassing whimper that is tickling in her throat. She takes a modicum of comfort in the fact that Quinn's pupils are completely blown, and her breathing is noticeably uneven, but then Quinn does what she's still so frustratingly good at doing, and composes herself right before Rachel's eyes.
Her body relaxes, and her smile grows sweeter, and she drops her arms from Rachel's shoulders, running her hands down along Rachel's arms until she's gently removing the hands from her backside and placing a small physical distance between them. Rachel smothers the uncharitable notion that Quinn does this on purpose-taking a bit too much pleasure in working her up before she stops them-because she knows that the years of suppressing both her emotional and physical responses to Rachel have made it second nature. Quinn is trying to be honorable, but Rachel just wants to rip her clothes off and take her right here on the floor.
"Mmm…something smells amazing," Quinn casually comments as she shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. Rachel's eyes rake over her torso, lovingly encased in the sleeveless camisole that's now exposed, and she bites into her lip. Quinn's skin is flushed pink, and her bra is doing a very poor job of disguising the stiff buds of her nipples. She probably shouldn't feel quite so proud of herself at the sight, but it certainly doesn't hurt her ego to know that even Quinn can't totally conceal the way her body reacts to Rachel.
Quinn takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of lunch wafting through the apartment, and her eyes widen. "Is that what I think it is?" she asks delightedly.
Rachel lets her sexual frustration slip away, lost to Quinn's adorableness. "If you think it's the grilled Scottish salmon from Josie's, then yes."
"Oh, my gosh, you are the best girlfriend," Quinn gushes, dropping a quick peck to Rachel's lips, and practically drags her into the kitchen. "I'm starving," she admits, letting go of Rachel's hand, and after a quick survey of the area, grabs the potholder and opens the oven.
Rachel crosses her arms, leans her hip against the counter, and smiles as she watches Quinn putter around in her kitchen. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last. Rachel is an expert at keeping takeout warm and heating up frozen meals, but Quinn actually cooks, and she's commandeered the food preparation on multiple occasions during their friendship. She doesn't have much to do today, just remove the container from the oven, take off the lid, and transfer the food to the plate already on the table, but Rachel still finds it cute that Quinn feels the need take over.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asks, pushing away from the counter and moving to the refrigerator.
Quinn purses her lips and tilts her head in contemplation. "Vitamin water is fine," she ultimately decides. "It's still a little early in the day for me."
Rachel nods and reaches for two bottles of water. Quinn's been careful about alcohol since high school, partly because of her own experiences with it, but mostly because her mother still fights the battle to stay on the wagon daily, and Quinn doesn't want to be like her. She doesn't need to worry. Quinn is nothing like Judy Fabray.
They settle down at the table with their meals-Rachel's opted for the Asian-marinated organic tofu salad-and Quinn smiles softly as her eyes dance over the gardenias. It's kind of their thing now. When Quinn first found out about junior prom, she'd laughed sadly and said, 'it figures.'It's only been very recently that she'd admitted, 'I should have known it was you all along, and I'm so glad it was, because that was the best part of that whole night-and you made it happen for me. All the best things in my life always come back to you, Rachel.'
Rachel sighs happily, so grateful that they're finally on the same page-that she's finally reading the right book. A small part of her wishes that she would have realized back in high school just how important Quinn would eventually be to her, but the bigger part of her knows that she wouldn't have been ready for this relationship back then. They'd both needed to grow up and experience life before they could fully appreciate what they could have together. Still, some part of Rachel's soul must have recognized Quinn as its mate-maybe it's her sixth sense-because she's always wanted (needed) to fit Quinn into her life in one way or another.
"I've been craving this so much," Quinn comments, lifting her fork and taking the first bite of her food. She closes her eyes in pleasure as she savors the flavor, humming in approval, and Rachel watches her mouth, the way her throat moves as she swallows, and her tongue as it peeks out to lick her lips. Somehow, Quinn can even make the simple, necessary act of consuming food into a vision of sensuality. Rachel has never, ever, found any of her boyfriends' eating habits particularly attractive, and most certainly not arousing, but with Quinn, she's actually imagining what it might be like to sweep their dinnerware onto the floor, drag her across the table, and have her for lunch.
In fact, she's so fixated on the fantasy that it takes her a moment to register that Quinn has stopped eating and is staring at her quizzically. "Are you not hungry?"
Rachel briefly glances down at her plate where she's been mindlessly pushing her salad around. She feels her lips curl into suggestive smirk. "Not for food," she says, looking at Quinn from under her lashes.
Quinn's eyes flash, and she draws in a breath as she carefully places her fork on the table. Her darkening gaze moves down to her plate, then to the gardenias, and then to Rachel in her too-sexy-for-one-o'clock-in-the-afternoon dress. "Is this a seduction, Rachel?" she asks, voice husky…and possibly a little bit amused.
Rachel contemplates whether to be direct, or play coy. "It's…setting a mood," she confesses, deciding to split the difference. Quinn doesn't say anything, but continues to study her with serious hazel eyes, and Rachel reaches over to take her hand and draw soft circles against the skin with her thumb. "I really want to make love with you tonight," she finally admits, switching to the direct approach.
A slow smile blooms over Quinn's lips, encompassing her entire face and lighting her eyes from within. She lifts their joined hands and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Rachel's fingers before she lets go, and-picks her fork back up? "Eat your lunch, Rachel," Quinn instructs calmly before her grin widens, and she purrs, "You're going to need the extra calories."
Rachel's body reacts immediately to the promise, sending shivers of excitement racing over and through every inch of her. The steady hum of arousal that's been teasing her since Quinn arrived spikes into a crescendo, and she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Quinn, seemingly unaffected, returns her attention to eating, taking extra care to slide her fork between her lips with measured deliberation. The glint in her eyes and her faint smirk is proof that she knows exactly what she's doing to Rachel.
The rest of the meal is more of the same, interspersed with Quinn randomly chatting about her morning, but Rachel does manage to eat most of her salad and by the time they finish, she's even willed her body into submission. At least until Quinn offers to help clear the table, purposely brushing against her at every opportunity. She follows Rachel into the kitchen, and stands behind her as she places her plate into the sink, reaching around and pressing the length of her body along Rachel's back. She ghosts a kiss across her cheek. "Lunch was delicious," she whispers, trailing her left hand across Rachel's hip and her right along Rachel's arm until long, elegant fingers are tucking strands of thick, dark hair behind her ear.
"W-well, I can't exactly, hmmm," she moans when Quinn's lips dance along the underside of her jaw, and she tips her head back, leaning into Quinn, "t-t-take c-credit."
Quinn's arms circle her waist, fitting her more snugly into the body behind her, and Rachel covers them instinctively with her own, holding on for dear life while a talented mouth plays over the sensitive skin of her throat. The effect it has on her is visceral, and she wants to reach back and tangle her fingers into silky hair to encourage Quinn to mark her, but she doesn't think that Laura (who does the makeup for her show) will appreciate having the extra work of covering it up tomorrow night. Quinn knows this, and she's careful not to bruise Rachel, never applying too much pressure or staying in one spot for too long. Instead, she alternates tiny nips with tickling laps of her tongue and puffs of hot breath against moistened skin. The combination is maddening.
Rachel squeezes her legs together, biting into her lower lip on a moan. She drops her left hand and reaches around to grip Quinn's thigh, and Quinn presses forward, letting out a little hiss that almost sounds like yes, but not quite as eloquent. The arms at her waist tighten, just for a second, and then Rachel feels that mouth curve against her skin. "We're not doing this here," Quinn murmurs shakily.
"As long as we're doing it somewhere," Rachel grumbles, curling her fingers into the firm flesh beneath them. Quinn's quiet laughter vibrates against Rachel's cheek, and then she is letting her arms slacken and gently removing Rachel's hand from its enviable position. "Quinn," she whines petulantly, annoyed that she's been expertly worked up, only to be denied. Again.
"Rachel," she echoes in amusement, gently spinning her around until they're face to face. An adoring smile greets Rachel, and she's pulled back into a loose embrace. "I love you," Quinn says simply. The words come easily enough, but the full weight and meaning of them is screaming from green-tinted eyes.
Rachel melts. She just…melts…right into Quinn, looping her arms around her girlfriend's neck, and taking that smiling, pink mouth with her own. She doesn't even care that Quinn still tastes faintly of the salmon she'd eaten for lunch. Rachel is only thinking of how very lucky she is to have been given the precious gift of Quinn Fabray's heart, and how she will spend the rest of her life cherishing and protecting that gift.
Quinn eventually tears her mouth away on a stifled groan. "We're really not doing this here, Rachel," she repeats. "I have plans for you," she promises in that deep, sexy purr that never fails to resonate right through Rachel's core, "big plans, and none of them include a kitchen. At least, not tonight," she adds with a wicked grin.
Rachel mentally adds a kitchen fantasy to her list-alongside the table, and her dressing room, and on stage in a darkened theater, and Quinn's tiny office, and the shower, and…well…any bathroom, really, and Central Park. Okay, that last one will likely have to stay a fantasy, unless she can determine a plan of action to keep them from being arrested.
"Then by all means, do with me what you will," Rachel invites mischievously, lightly dragging her nails down Quinn's back. "I'm all yours," she promises in a far more serious tone.
Quinn's breath hitches. "Mine," she repeats, caressing Rachel's cheek with the tips of her fingers.
Rachel catches her hand and turns her face until she can place a soft kiss to the inside of Quinn's palm. Their gazes lock. "Always. I love you, Quinn."
Impossibly long lashes flutter over hazel eyes, and her smile is dazzling. The first time that Rachel had said those words-mere hours after their first kiss-Quinn had cried, held her close, and begged her to say it again. Rachel has told Quinn every day since-in person, on the phone, via text message, and scrawled on notes left scattered around her apartment. Quinn sighs happily, and dips her head to kiss Rachel. Then she's inching backwards, slipping out of Rachel's arms and catching her hands to lead her out of the kitchen with a spring in her step.
They cross into the living room, and Quinn grins when she hears the familiar melody of Take My Breath Away softly floating through the speakers. "Dance with me," she says, pulling Rachel into position and beginning to lead them in a slow, informal waltz.
"You're kind of a goofball," Rachel points out on a giggle. She'd never really noticed this side of Quinn in school. She'd only ever seen the sad, serious girl who'd been forced to grow up too fast. This Quinn hadn't fully appeared until their sophomore year of college, but thinking back, Rachel knows there were more than a few little moments when her quirkiness slipped out.
"Mmhm, but you love me," Quinn reminds her with a smile, dodging the sofa and the end table, and slowly spinning her closer to the bedroom.
"I do," Rachel agrees, never allowing an opportunity to say it slip away.
"I've always wanted to do this," Quinn admits.
"Waltz around my apartment?"
Quinn shakes her head, pulling Rachel closer until they're dancing the way couples do, with bodies brushing together without regard for their steps. "Dance with you. I really wanted to at senior prom, but," she trails off with a shrug.
Rachel's stomach clenches unpleasantly. Quinn had still been in the wheelchair at the time, just barely able to stand for short periods, let alone dance. And then there was Finn, and… "You spent most of prom night with Joe," Rachel remembers with a frown. She'd never really understood the appeal of that short flirtation.
Quinn chuckles, "Well, he was very pretty-for a guy." She sighs, rubbing a gentle circle over Rachel's lower back. "And I felt like…I don't know…like maybe God was punishing me for…for feeling the way I did about you," she admits, "and giving Joe a chance might…fix it."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say," Rachel chastises.
Quinn laughs again, "I know that now...but I was in a bad place at the time, and I hadn't fully come to terms with being attracted to women. Anyway, Joe Hart was just a silly distraction, and can we please stop talking about icky boys, now?" she jokes with an adorably scrunched up nose. "I want to…not talk with you." She kisses Rachel to punctuate her point, and all thoughts of boys completely evaporate.
The sway of their bodies gradually stills as their lips glide into a timeless dance. The tip of Quinn's tongue begs for a partner, and Rachel joyfully accepts. The kiss pirouettes into an intricate ballet of shy advances and deep, sweeping strokes, until the rhythm of their passion drives hands and hips to join.
Rachel's fingers curl into the fabric of Quinn's camisole, dragging at the hem until it bunches to expose a smooth patch of skin to her eager touch. She craves this-the feel of Quinn, solid and warm beneath her fingertips. Until now, she's only been allowed a meager taste-stolen glimpses and (too) brief explorations while they'd held each other, mapping curves beneath the cover of their clothes. She's wild from the knowledge that tonight will end differently, with every inch of Quinn's body molded and entwined with her own.
The hands on Rachel's back slide down and conform to the contours of her ass, flexing and releasing over the flesh. Quinn's hips shift forward as she drags Rachel up against her, groaning into the kiss. Rachel's hands slip higher, over a strong back, and a scarred left side. Quinn captures Rachel's lower lip, lightly nipping it with her teeth, before she finally breaks the contact. Her breathing is erratic, and her hands are still restless on Rachel's body. She licks her lips, gazing down with smoldering eyes. "You take my breath away," she murmurs, echoing the lyrics that are fading from the room.
"The feeling is entirely mutual," Rachel murmurs, placing a tiny kiss to the skin just beneath Quinn's lower lip-above the faint cleft in her chin. "Now take me to bed, baby."
"Such a demanding little thing."
"But you love me," Rachel reminds her.
"I do. So much," she breathes against Rachel's mouth, stealing another taste of her before she pulls away with a seductive smile.
She catches Rachel's hands, once again leading her across the short distance until they're finally standing at the foot of the bed. The image of Quinn spread naked across her mattress is about to become reality, and Rachel's impatience gets the better of her, driving her forward with the intent to relieve Quinn of her clothes. She gets as far as slipping her hands under Quinn's top before she's being gently deterred by a firm grip on her wrists.
"Patience, sweetie," Quinn warns with a sexy smirk. "Getting there is half the fun," she promises, trailing her fingers up Rachel's arms and leaving tingles in her wake.
"I'm already halfway there," Rachel complains, taking advantage of her freed hands by attaching them to Quinn's ass. Her body is hot, and tense, and pulsing with need. The anticipation is nearly as effective an aphrodisiac as Quinn's touch.
"Oh, we're not even close," Quinn corrects her with laughter, dipping down to press an open-mouthed kiss to Rachel's neck.
(Continued in Part B)