Fantasy Free Me (1/2)
It looked like a room that would belong to her. Picture of Jesus on the nightstand, old copies of Splits Magazine on the desk, a picture of her with coach Sylvester. Everything about this room screamed Quinn Fabray, and it didn’t surprise the brunette diva who was cleaning it, not one bit. It was a little odd, Quinn Fabray, living in her house, but after Finn had found out about the baby not being his (from her, though it was not a decision that she regretted in the least), his mother had thrown Quinn out and she had nowhere to go. So, Rachel had talked to her fathers and within hours, Quinn was moving into the spare room in the Berry house, one that was usually reserved for her therapist in times of crisis, but they could make an exception for the next few months. Dr. Goldberg would simply have to sleep on the couch, that’s all.
It had been a month since Quinn had moved in, and honestly, Rachel was surprised at how things were going. Of course, the blonde had been nothing but courteous to her fathers, as she understood what a big favor they were doing for her, but her demeanor towards Rachel had also started to warm up. She was kinder, she invited Rachel to watch movies with her from time to time in her room, and she even offered to help the brunette practice for Glee club. They were friends, that much had been established. They ate lunch together, and while Rachel still inevitably got on Quinn’s nerves from time to time, overall, things were going well.
Except for the fact that Rachel had been having… thoughts about the blonde lately. Thoughts that she didn’t necessarily want to be having. Maybe it was just her need for affection, and her automatic attachment to anyone who would show her kindness, but Rachel had been having thoughts about Quinn Fabray that could only be classed as inappropriate. It had started with simple things - just watching the way that Quinn would wring her hands in her lap while they were watching a movie, or the way she would run her hands through her hair and simultaneously arch her neck back, letting her eyelids flutter shut while she did so. Rachel was never exactly oblivious to the fact that Quinn was beautiful, but she had never thought of Quinn in a sexual way until recently. She didn’t necessarily picture herself doing anything to Quinn, given that she was pregnant and she was afraid that the vaginal contractions might stimulate labor (not that she’d looked that up or anything), but she thought about what it would be like if Quinn did things to her. Quinn had long, slender fingers, and Rachel had had to press her thighs together on more than one occasion when thoughts started filling her brain about what it would be like to have those fingers inside of her, curled up against her spot, while her thumb rubbed her clit mercilessly.
“Control yourself, Rachel,” the brunette muttered as she passed the feather duster over Quinn’s desk. Quinn was at Cheerios practice (not that she was actually still a Cheerio, but Brittany needed a lift and so Quinn had agreed to stay and watch), and Rachel thought that since she was home alone, it might be a nice surprise for her to clean Quinn’s room.
Climbing onto the bed, Rachel passed the duster over the headboard, and reached to try and clean the shelf above the bed. Of course, Rachel was short, and the mattress was kind of wobbly, so that didn’t go over too well, and the brunette fell onto the pillows. Not exactly the hardest of falls, but still, losing your balance while stretching and landing face first into a bunch of pillows was never fun. “Ugh,” Rachel groaned, pushing herself up as she got a whiff of what smelled like Quinn’s shampoo from the pillows. Even Quinn’s smell made her a little dizzy sometimes. It was like the blonde was trying to unintentionally drive her crazy, even when she wasn’t around. Picking up the pillow, Rachel smelled it again, greeted by the smell of apples that very definitely came from Quinn’s shampoo. Quinn said that the smell reminded her of apple pie, her favorite dessert, and Rachel realized that she was right. Licking her lips absentmindedly as she placed the pillow back down on the bed, Rachel was surprised to find herself feeling a familiar tingle below her waist. Even smelling Quinn’s pillows was enough to turn her on.
Biting her lip, Rachel laid down on the bed. The problem wasn’t really going to go away. Once she was wet, it was like a constant reminder that she needed to feel that sweet release until she actually did something about it. No one was home anyways, though she was aware that Quinn would probably arrive soon. I’ll have to make it quick.
Stripping herself of her shirt and skirt, tossing them on the floor, Rachel discarded the feather duster she’d been holding next to her. Moving a hand behind her back, she unsnapped her bra and slid it off, tossing it onto the floor with her clothes. Normally, she’d spend some time paying attention to her breasts, pulling and tugging at her nipples, rolling and pinching them until they were hard, but she didn’t have time for that. Quinn would be home soon and it would be mortifying for Quinn to catch her masturbating, on her bed, no less. So, Rachel slid her hand down, past the treasure trail that she actually did not have, despite Quinn’s incessant teasing, and pressed a finger to her clit, over her panties, rubbing herself gently.
Closing her eyes, Rachel gave herself over to the fantasy that been filling her mind as of late, and the image of Quinn Fabray filled her head. Her hair was down, straight, with that small side braid that she liked to wear. Rachel thought that that was an especially beautiful look for her and she liked helping Quinn braid it in the mornings. Quinn’s fingers were pushing aside her cotton panties, and the blonde licked her lips as she caught sight of the brunette’s center, wet and glistening, all for her.
Tugging her panties off her legs, Rachel moved her thumb back to her clit, rubbing it in firm circles as her fingers slid down her slit slowly, teasing her entrance, just barely pushing in, torturing her the way she imagined the blonde would, simply because she was Quinn Fabray, and Rachel couldn’t imagine letting Quinn letting anything be easy. “Quinn,” the diva whimpered, growling unhappily as the glowing cheerleader smirked at her in her mind, enjoying every second of torture. Rachel pushed two fingers into herself, thrusting them deep, moaning loudly at the feel of her own wetness coating her fingers, urging her to push deeper, search for that sweet spot, the way she imagined that Quinn’s fingers would be, relentless in their pursuit.
“Oh God, Quinn…” Rachel moaned, throwing her head back against the pillows as she pushed her legs further apart, pumping her fingers faster, finding a steady rhythm, hard and fast. “Fuck…” Rachel wailed, as she curled her fingers up, her hips bucking against her fingers involuntarily.
“Quinn… Quinn… Fuck… Quinn…” the brunette chanted, imagining that it was the blonde thrusting her fingers into her g-spot, and not her own fingers doing the work. Her back was arching as she pulled helplessly at the sheets with her free hand, moaning loudly as her walls began around her fingers. “Quiiinnnn….” Rachel wailed, as she thrust her fingers again, letting her orgasm wash over her, though honestly, it felt like she’d been hit by a freight train, it was that good.
Who knew that Quinn Fabray could be the deliverer of such an intense climax? Rachel collapsed back onto the bed, panting heavily as her body went limp, pulling her fingers out of herself and reaching to grab a tissue on the nightstand to wipe off her fingers.
It was then that her eyes fell on a pair of legs. A pair of legs that she knew all too well… a set of legs that belonged to a certain blonde cheerleader she may or may not have been fantasizing about while fucking herself.
“My apologies. It looks like you don’t have a treasure trail after all, Treasure Trail.”