Fic: Company (11/?)
Title: Company
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17 this time, for sexytimes!
Spoilers: Original Song.
Summary: Making a Connection
A/N:Sorry for the filler chapter, but hopefully its porni-ness makes up for it being filler! I might not have more up until middle/late next week, as I start my therapy on saturday, but I'll get updates up as quick as possible! :)
The afternoon is a curious blend of emotions, most of which you can’t even name. The fact that Dylan is still yours, at least for now, is pure euphoria. The fact that you may even see justice done is better still. The only negative is the hurt you feel that Rachel went behind your back, and you know that you’re going to need to talk about it in private. But for now, there’s a dinner at your mother’s house, a massive feast of take-out Chinese that Charlie foots the bill for. With dinner served, Charlie stands at the head of the table with a glass of wine in her hand.
“I’m not good at the mushy shi-stuff,” she corrects with a look at Dylan. “But Rachel, you are my hero today. What you’ve done for my baby sister, I can’t ever repay. I want you to know if you ever need anything - and I mean anything - you come to me. Okay? And Quinn - if you let her get away, then you’re even dumber than I always thought you were.” She ignores the spoonful of rice you pelt at her. “Seriously - take her somewhere, Q. Or let her take you somewhere. Where both of you can be together forever, in the eyes of god and the law and whatever else, and you can be out of this godforsaken state. She loves you - I can see it in her eyes. And I already know you love her. So don’t let that slip away.”
“Hear, hear,” Judy raises her glass. Rachel just looks at you, her eyes shining. The lump in your throat keeps you from answering, so you simply raise your glass in her direction. She seems to understand, and lays a hand on yours. You refrain from kissing only because you don’t feel like explaining that to Dylan just now.
“So,” your mother clears her throat. “How long do we have to wait before we know? About that evidence Rachel gave the police, I mean?”
“Weeks, probably,” Rachel takes a sip of her wine. “Apparently DNA testing isn't quite as fast as it is on televsion.”
“Quinnie, if that man ends up going on trial-”
“Don’t,” your voice is hoarse. “Not now, please. We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Now, Dylan, are you hungry?”
“I could eat a elephant,” he nods, and you can’t help but laugh.
“An elephant, baby.” He nods.
“Well, then, what would you like? Vegetables?” he shakes his head, making a face. “Well, how about chicken balls and rice?”
“Mother.”
“Oh, let him get spoiled for one night, Quinnie.” Dylan pouts at you, and your heart melts.
“Fine. But you’re eating vegetables tomorrow, little man. Clear?”
“Clear,” he nods solemnly.
The rest of dinner is cheerful conversation, interspersed with the sounds of cutlery on plates and wine glasses on the table. When you’re all full, Charlie clears her throat. “Rachel, why don’t you take Quinn home?”
“Dylan-“
“Is having a sleepover at Grandma’s with Auntie Charlie. He already agreed.” She smiles at you. “Go,” she mouths.
“Thank you,” you mouth back at her, and then at your mother. You let Rachel lead you to the door, shrugging into your jacket and slipping into the low heels you wore to court. She takes you out into the night, and the thrum of electricity between you is enough to leave you both vibrating. The drive home is wordless, as is the walk into the house. She doesn’t even wait for you to get your shoes off before she shoves you roughly against the door. She pulls off your jacket, your blouse, your skirt, interspersing each with fiery kisses on your mouth, your neck, your chest. “Don’t move,” she whispers.
“Rach-“
“I said. Don’t. Move.” She kneels in front of you and reverently removes your shoes, but makes no move to pull down your tights. Instead she trails a single finger up your leg, starting at your big toe and going all the way up to your thigh and the end of the tights. The friction of her finger through your tights is maddening and incredible, and you can feel the growing dampness between your thighs. She doesn’t hurry, though - she’s piteously methodical, instead, tracing a path from each toe to your thigh, and following that up with quick circles along the bottom of your foot before moving on to the other leg. Your knees have all but given out when she stops, a condition not helped when one of her questing fingers finds your wet panties and lightly traces your slit through them. You can’t help but cry out, and you know without looking that she’s grinning.
“Fuck - oh, god, Rach.”
“Shh - good things come to those who wait, Quinn.” She puts her damp finger in her mouth, sucking it loudly, and goes back to gently rubbing you through your underwear. It’s delicious, the way she’s making you come undone in slow steps, but soon you start to shake. “Rachel, I can’t stand up anymore.”
“Lean on me if you need to,” she whispers, “but you’re not lying down. I want you standing.” Her single finger slips into your panties and slides slowly up and down your glistening lips, gathering moisture, and then gives your clit a single flick. Your hips piston wildly, your hands landing on her shoulders to support you, and you can’t stifle your moan. Her damnable finger slides slowly into you, and curls, and you feel your release must be near - but her pace is, still, slow and precise. You’re rocking into her, trying to force her further into you, but she won’t oblige.
“More - god, please, I can’t take this, Rachel, please just give me more, just finish it!”
“Patience is a virtue, Quinn. I’ll get you there, but you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”
“Ngh,” you groan. “Yes, I trust you, but fuck, please!”
“Stay with me, Quinn. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Her finger begins to twist, to curl, to trace long intricate paths inside you, and you start to shake as your orgasm builds. You want to cry out, to tell her to hurry, but all of your nerves are on fire and you can’t seem to verbalise anything but grunts and moans. And then, just when you think you can’t possibly survive another second, she does something remarkable with her questing digit, and this time your legs really do give out and you slide down the door until you crash to the ground. She never takes her finger out of you, though, and you ride your climax all the way down.
“FUCK! OH, GOD, RACHEL!” is all you can scream, over and over, until the whole world seems subsumed by your pleasure. You realise you’re crying only after you come back to yourself. She’s kissing you, her perfume is in your nose, her scent is in your heart, and you can’t do anything but weep at the beauty of it. “I love you,” you’re whispering, the first time you’ve said the words to her out loud, “I love you, Rachel, don’t ever leave me, please, I love you.”
She pulls away far enough to look you in the eyes, and there are glistening tears in hers as well. “Quinn,” she whispers, “I don’t know if there’s such a thing as second chances, but if there is then I believe that you’re mine. I love you so much. I will never leave you, not until I die or you get tired of me. I will love you forever.”
“Forever,” you promise, and for the first time since Finn you really do believe it’s possible, that forever might really be. Your kisses are salty with her tears, and yours, but soon they go from loving and comforting to filled with passion, and she licks her lips as she looks in your eyes.
“You know, that’s twice I’ve done for you,” she grins, “and you’ve yet to return the favour.”
“You know, you’re right,” you say, with mock wonderment. “Whatever shall we do about that?”
“I’m going to vote for you taking me upstairs and fucking me.”
“I second that.” You race her to the bedroom, a race she only wins because you’re still dazed.
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You’re nervous and fumbling, and she takes your hands in her own to still them. “Quinn,” she whispers. “There’s no rush, okay? I’m not going anywhere, so take your time.”
You take a few deep breaths, and with a new calm you unbutton her shirt. You’ve seen her naked before, of course, but this is different. This time you’re worshipful, reverent as you reveal her body. Her shirt discarded, you trace the cups of her white bra, watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath she takes. Her nipples harden visibly, jutting proudly against the fabric, and you palm them gently in circles. Her breath stops for a second and she moans, wriggling on the bed. You lift her and unfasten the bra, helpless to stop the soft sigh that escapes your lips at the sight of her perfect breasts. You have to taste them, and you do, capturing her nipple gently between your teeth and pressing down until you’re on the verge of biting. She keens, her hands finding your head and burying themselves in your hair. You turn your attention to her other breast, repeating your actions as her fingers pull roughly at your locks.
Untangling yourself, you kiss down the slender expanse of her flat stomach, squeezing her sides with both hands. She’s talking incoherently above you, and you smile against her skin as you trace the waistband of her slacks, popping the button with practiced ease. You slide them down her legs, and her skimpy panties soon follow. Leaning away, you dig in her bedside table until you find what you’d seen in there when you’d been snooping. The vibrator whirs to life in your hand, and you nudge her legs open with your knee. Her bare sex is glistening in the soft light, and you can smell the thick musk of her arousal, doubtless mixed with your own, in the bedroom air. You trail the tip of the vibrator up her legs, dancing across her thighs, watching her hips jump as you near where she aches for you to touch. Finally, when you sense she might actually kill you if you dally any further, you gently press the toy against her clit as you slowly slide two fingers into her and begin to thrust and curl. She’s screaming your name, and her muscles are squeezing your fingers tightly, and her hips rise off the bed as she comes. You don’t let up, though, thumbing the speed on her vibrator up and resuming your pace with a third finger added. The second orgasm is more intense than the first, her scream ear-splitting as her come gushes down your fingers. When she’s collapsed to the bed, spent, you withdraw and lick your fingers clean with relish. The vibrator’s discarded into the pile of her clothes and you crawl up into her arms, unsurprised by her tears because you can feel your own on your cheeks.
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“So,” she asks later, with the two of you still wrapped around each other, “where would you go?”
“Hmm?” your brain’s only running at half speed.
“What Charlie was saying earlier about getting out of Ohio. If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”
“Uh - somewhere warm, I guess. Somewhere I could take Dylan to the beach and let him swim - and ogle you in your bikini, too.”
“Maybe she’s right. There’s really nothing holding us here, is there? I don’t even really like Ohio.”
“Well, I don’t either, but we need to be practical.”
“What’s impractical about it, Quinn? I’m a teacher. No matter where we go, I can get myself certified to teach.”
“And what would I do?”
“I’ll keep you on as my maid for as long as you want,” she catches your eye now, her hand gentle on your cheek, “but I’ll also stand behind you if you want to go back to school, or find a different kind of job.”
“And Dylan? Without my mom to look after him-”
“We can figure it out, Quinn. He’ll be in school during the day, and if you start with part-time school or part-time work you can take him to school and pick him up afterward. I’ll do whatever I can, too.”
It’s something you’d never even considered before. And if you had, it would have seemed impossible, like something out of someone else’s dream. But now - well, now you can’t shake a mental image of you and Rachel on a beach, laying beside each other as Dylan and another child - yours as well, you know instinctively, a little girl who takes after Rachel - frolic in the water. It’s so perfect that your heart swells in your chest.
“Maybe we should,” you concede. But maybe we should get this hearing out of the way first?”
She pokes your side, and you giggle.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17 this time, for sexytimes!
Spoilers: Original Song.
Summary: Making a Connection
A/N:Sorry for the filler chapter, but hopefully its porni-ness makes up for it being filler! I might not have more up until middle/late next week, as I start my therapy on saturday, but I'll get updates up as quick as possible! :)
The afternoon is a curious blend of emotions, most of which you can’t even name. The fact that Dylan is still yours, at least for now, is pure euphoria. The fact that you may even see justice done is better still. The only negative is the hurt you feel that Rachel went behind your back, and you know that you’re going to need to talk about it in private. But for now, there’s a dinner at your mother’s house, a massive feast of take-out Chinese that Charlie foots the bill for. With dinner served, Charlie stands at the head of the table with a glass of wine in her hand.
“I’m not good at the mushy shi-stuff,” she corrects with a look at Dylan. “But Rachel, you are my hero today. What you’ve done for my baby sister, I can’t ever repay. I want you to know if you ever need anything - and I mean anything - you come to me. Okay? And Quinn - if you let her get away, then you’re even dumber than I always thought you were.” She ignores the spoonful of rice you pelt at her. “Seriously - take her somewhere, Q. Or let her take you somewhere. Where both of you can be together forever, in the eyes of god and the law and whatever else, and you can be out of this godforsaken state. She loves you - I can see it in her eyes. And I already know you love her. So don’t let that slip away.”
“Hear, hear,” Judy raises her glass. Rachel just looks at you, her eyes shining. The lump in your throat keeps you from answering, so you simply raise your glass in her direction. She seems to understand, and lays a hand on yours. You refrain from kissing only because you don’t feel like explaining that to Dylan just now.
“So,” your mother clears her throat. “How long do we have to wait before we know? About that evidence Rachel gave the police, I mean?”
“Weeks, probably,” Rachel takes a sip of her wine. “Apparently DNA testing isn't quite as fast as it is on televsion.”
“Quinnie, if that man ends up going on trial-”
“Don’t,” your voice is hoarse. “Not now, please. We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Now, Dylan, are you hungry?”
“I could eat a elephant,” he nods, and you can’t help but laugh.
“An elephant, baby.” He nods.
“Well, then, what would you like? Vegetables?” he shakes his head, making a face. “Well, how about chicken balls and rice?”
“Mother.”
“Oh, let him get spoiled for one night, Quinnie.” Dylan pouts at you, and your heart melts.
“Fine. But you’re eating vegetables tomorrow, little man. Clear?”
“Clear,” he nods solemnly.
The rest of dinner is cheerful conversation, interspersed with the sounds of cutlery on plates and wine glasses on the table. When you’re all full, Charlie clears her throat. “Rachel, why don’t you take Quinn home?”
“Dylan-“
“Is having a sleepover at Grandma’s with Auntie Charlie. He already agreed.” She smiles at you. “Go,” she mouths.
“Thank you,” you mouth back at her, and then at your mother. You let Rachel lead you to the door, shrugging into your jacket and slipping into the low heels you wore to court. She takes you out into the night, and the thrum of electricity between you is enough to leave you both vibrating. The drive home is wordless, as is the walk into the house. She doesn’t even wait for you to get your shoes off before she shoves you roughly against the door. She pulls off your jacket, your blouse, your skirt, interspersing each with fiery kisses on your mouth, your neck, your chest. “Don’t move,” she whispers.
“Rach-“
“I said. Don’t. Move.” She kneels in front of you and reverently removes your shoes, but makes no move to pull down your tights. Instead she trails a single finger up your leg, starting at your big toe and going all the way up to your thigh and the end of the tights. The friction of her finger through your tights is maddening and incredible, and you can feel the growing dampness between your thighs. She doesn’t hurry, though - she’s piteously methodical, instead, tracing a path from each toe to your thigh, and following that up with quick circles along the bottom of your foot before moving on to the other leg. Your knees have all but given out when she stops, a condition not helped when one of her questing fingers finds your wet panties and lightly traces your slit through them. You can’t help but cry out, and you know without looking that she’s grinning.
“Fuck - oh, god, Rach.”
“Shh - good things come to those who wait, Quinn.” She puts her damp finger in her mouth, sucking it loudly, and goes back to gently rubbing you through your underwear. It’s delicious, the way she’s making you come undone in slow steps, but soon you start to shake. “Rachel, I can’t stand up anymore.”
“Lean on me if you need to,” she whispers, “but you’re not lying down. I want you standing.” Her single finger slips into your panties and slides slowly up and down your glistening lips, gathering moisture, and then gives your clit a single flick. Your hips piston wildly, your hands landing on her shoulders to support you, and you can’t stifle your moan. Her damnable finger slides slowly into you, and curls, and you feel your release must be near - but her pace is, still, slow and precise. You’re rocking into her, trying to force her further into you, but she won’t oblige.
“More - god, please, I can’t take this, Rachel, please just give me more, just finish it!”
“Patience is a virtue, Quinn. I’ll get you there, but you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”
“Ngh,” you groan. “Yes, I trust you, but fuck, please!”
“Stay with me, Quinn. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Her finger begins to twist, to curl, to trace long intricate paths inside you, and you start to shake as your orgasm builds. You want to cry out, to tell her to hurry, but all of your nerves are on fire and you can’t seem to verbalise anything but grunts and moans. And then, just when you think you can’t possibly survive another second, she does something remarkable with her questing digit, and this time your legs really do give out and you slide down the door until you crash to the ground. She never takes her finger out of you, though, and you ride your climax all the way down.
“FUCK! OH, GOD, RACHEL!” is all you can scream, over and over, until the whole world seems subsumed by your pleasure. You realise you’re crying only after you come back to yourself. She’s kissing you, her perfume is in your nose, her scent is in your heart, and you can’t do anything but weep at the beauty of it. “I love you,” you’re whispering, the first time you’ve said the words to her out loud, “I love you, Rachel, don’t ever leave me, please, I love you.”
She pulls away far enough to look you in the eyes, and there are glistening tears in hers as well. “Quinn,” she whispers, “I don’t know if there’s such a thing as second chances, but if there is then I believe that you’re mine. I love you so much. I will never leave you, not until I die or you get tired of me. I will love you forever.”
“Forever,” you promise, and for the first time since Finn you really do believe it’s possible, that forever might really be. Your kisses are salty with her tears, and yours, but soon they go from loving and comforting to filled with passion, and she licks her lips as she looks in your eyes.
“You know, that’s twice I’ve done for you,” she grins, “and you’ve yet to return the favour.”
“You know, you’re right,” you say, with mock wonderment. “Whatever shall we do about that?”
“I’m going to vote for you taking me upstairs and fucking me.”
“I second that.” You race her to the bedroom, a race she only wins because you’re still dazed.
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You’re nervous and fumbling, and she takes your hands in her own to still them. “Quinn,” she whispers. “There’s no rush, okay? I’m not going anywhere, so take your time.”
You take a few deep breaths, and with a new calm you unbutton her shirt. You’ve seen her naked before, of course, but this is different. This time you’re worshipful, reverent as you reveal her body. Her shirt discarded, you trace the cups of her white bra, watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath she takes. Her nipples harden visibly, jutting proudly against the fabric, and you palm them gently in circles. Her breath stops for a second and she moans, wriggling on the bed. You lift her and unfasten the bra, helpless to stop the soft sigh that escapes your lips at the sight of her perfect breasts. You have to taste them, and you do, capturing her nipple gently between your teeth and pressing down until you’re on the verge of biting. She keens, her hands finding your head and burying themselves in your hair. You turn your attention to her other breast, repeating your actions as her fingers pull roughly at your locks.
Untangling yourself, you kiss down the slender expanse of her flat stomach, squeezing her sides with both hands. She’s talking incoherently above you, and you smile against her skin as you trace the waistband of her slacks, popping the button with practiced ease. You slide them down her legs, and her skimpy panties soon follow. Leaning away, you dig in her bedside table until you find what you’d seen in there when you’d been snooping. The vibrator whirs to life in your hand, and you nudge her legs open with your knee. Her bare sex is glistening in the soft light, and you can smell the thick musk of her arousal, doubtless mixed with your own, in the bedroom air. You trail the tip of the vibrator up her legs, dancing across her thighs, watching her hips jump as you near where she aches for you to touch. Finally, when you sense she might actually kill you if you dally any further, you gently press the toy against her clit as you slowly slide two fingers into her and begin to thrust and curl. She’s screaming your name, and her muscles are squeezing your fingers tightly, and her hips rise off the bed as she comes. You don’t let up, though, thumbing the speed on her vibrator up and resuming your pace with a third finger added. The second orgasm is more intense than the first, her scream ear-splitting as her come gushes down your fingers. When she’s collapsed to the bed, spent, you withdraw and lick your fingers clean with relish. The vibrator’s discarded into the pile of her clothes and you crawl up into her arms, unsurprised by her tears because you can feel your own on your cheeks.
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“So,” she asks later, with the two of you still wrapped around each other, “where would you go?”
“Hmm?” your brain’s only running at half speed.
“What Charlie was saying earlier about getting out of Ohio. If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”
“Uh - somewhere warm, I guess. Somewhere I could take Dylan to the beach and let him swim - and ogle you in your bikini, too.”
“Maybe she’s right. There’s really nothing holding us here, is there? I don’t even really like Ohio.”
“Well, I don’t either, but we need to be practical.”
“What’s impractical about it, Quinn? I’m a teacher. No matter where we go, I can get myself certified to teach.”
“And what would I do?”
“I’ll keep you on as my maid for as long as you want,” she catches your eye now, her hand gentle on your cheek, “but I’ll also stand behind you if you want to go back to school, or find a different kind of job.”
“And Dylan? Without my mom to look after him-”
“We can figure it out, Quinn. He’ll be in school during the day, and if you start with part-time school or part-time work you can take him to school and pick him up afterward. I’ll do whatever I can, too.”
It’s something you’d never even considered before. And if you had, it would have seemed impossible, like something out of someone else’s dream. But now - well, now you can’t shake a mental image of you and Rachel on a beach, laying beside each other as Dylan and another child - yours as well, you know instinctively, a little girl who takes after Rachel - frolic in the water. It’s so perfect that your heart swells in your chest.
“Maybe we should,” you concede. But maybe we should get this hearing out of the way first?”
She pokes your side, and you giggle.