
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/219101.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Rachel_Berry/Quinn_Fabray
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-04 Words: 971
****** hit me with lightning ******
by ultrageekery
Summary
     She doesn't think about this, doesn't think about much of anything,
     as she falls to her knees before Quinn like she is a goddess to be
     worshipped – and in Rachel's eyes, the metaphor is more or less true.
     ;Rachel/Quinn;
Notes
     Soooo um this is my first try at Faberry porn. Why do I even own a
     computer. What am I doing with my life. Oh my God. Set post season
     one and, obviously, completely disregards canon pairings. Title is
     from 'Starry Eyed' by Ellie Goulding.
Quinn pinches her own nipples through the cotton of her shirt. Breath shallow,
she stands and walks across the room, sliding her shirt off.
She is not wearing a bra – Rachel is awarded a full view of her torso, her
chest, her breasts. Pale and stretch mark riddled as they are, she still finds
them beautiful - Quinn despises them.
Rachel supposes this is part of the reason they’re together. Well, not ‘hold
hands and write cheesy love notes’ together, but they’re fuck buddies, and sex
with the right person, Rachel thinks, will eventually boost your self-esteem.
She’ll laugh if she ever finds a medical publication concerning emotional
health and sexual experiences – specifically, how the two are woven together –
because she has a feeling that ‘orgasm withdrawal syndrome’ isn’t in the
diagnostic and statistical manual.
At any rate, Quinn shares her feelings on the subject and as such, is willing
to have sex whenever the mood strikes them. Tonight will be their third
encounter. So far, there are no changes in the way Quinn sees herself, but
Rachel remains optimistic that they will occur.
Maybe the mindset she holds is the result of having two gay dads.
But she doesn’t think about this, doesn’t think about much of anything, as she
falls to her knees before Quinn like she is a goddess to be worshipped – and in
Rachel’s eyes, the metaphor is more or less true.
Quinn is blonde and beautiful even with a hint of remaining baby weight and
those damned stretch marks, as she puts it sometimes only to be shushed by
Rachel – evidently she is corrupting her child fresh out of the womb if she so
much as hints at swearing. Quinn doesn’t necessarily believe that this is true,
but she’ll cater to Rachel’s whims simply because a lot of the time, she’s
really fucking horny and will always be afraid of scaring Rachel away with any
inadvertent anger from either of them, thus losing the sex.
If it were a romantic relationship, they’d be more worried about priorities and
morals. But it’s not, there is a very slim chance of their little tete-a-tete
evolving into such a thing, and on top of that they’re steadily running on very
few fucks left to give. They reserve caring for more important events.
Such as now, with Quinn’s skirt rucked up around her waist, the Cheerios
perfection suddenly marred by teenage libido and the lightest touch of hands to
flesh. Rachel hooks her index finger around the bottom of Quinn’s underwear,
lightly tapping the skin she finds there in a way that really shouldn’t be
sensual but so, so is.
It’s funny to Quinn – Rachel is such a clinically-minded, perfectionistic
person, and Quinn has started to realize that’s just an act; the real Rachel
Berry is someone even Rachel herself barely knows. She is confident. Brazen.
Sexy.
At least until they’re in public – then the curtain of neurosis falls once more
and Quinn has to grip Rachel good-naturedly by the elbow and tell her, in the
nicest way possible, to chill out because she’s already made three kids cry
with the tone of voice she’s using.
Unintentionally, of course, but still.
Rachel’s hand snakes up Quinn’s leg, bringing forth a moan from the taller
girl.
“Fuck,” she hisses through gritted teeth, feeling the backs of her legs burn as
she starts to shake against the desk. “Fuck, fuck, Rachel…” Quinn’s words trail
off, fading into near-silent whispered pleas. She recognizes just how
ridiculous it is to be on the verge of an orgasm when Rachel hasn’t even
fingered her yet.
But, tough shit. She’s a teenager, she’s horny and she’s definitely not going
to be working the ‘sweet, innocent Christian’ angle anymore. There’s more to
life, she has learned, than simply living in the shadow of what everyone else
expects you to be.
“Please,” Quinn is almost whining, practically begging Rachel to ravage her.
“Please.” Rachel, smirking as Quinn writhes in the grip of intense lust, pulls
Quinn’s underwear to her ankles in one swift movement. The meticulously ironed
Cheerios skirt follows the panties south, leaving Quinn’s pussy bare. As the
wood bites into the skin above her hips and cool air races over her clit, Quinn
jerks her body forward, trying to lurch towards Rachel’s fingers.
The point of contact, when it is finally found and slammed into with quick
thrusts of Rachel’s hand and the erratic motion of Quinn’s hips, is enough to
lead Quinn into an orgasm. She rides it out as Rachel’s tongue slides
experimentally inside of her, just once.
Still shaking, she clutches the desk behind her as though it will save her from
drowning in the waters of lust, bending her arms at an odd angle that makes
them burn as, somehow, she cums again, the long wave of pleasure only slightly
less concentrated this time.
Rachel laps at the liquid she finds between Quinn’s legs, drinking the sweet
nectar of corruption.
Their actions contain such a wild desperation, it’s almost plausible to say
that they are saving the two young women somehow.
When it’s all over and they both lie spent, naked and curled around each other,
Quinn and Rachel can both say with certainty that they will not be afraid to
face any events in their future – they have come to the realization that
nothing quite tops the fear they felt upon really seeing each other for the
first time.
At some indefinable point, all of the half-truths and snide comments were
peeled aside, leaving only the most primal parts of themselves behind for the
other to see.
In the center of this tangling of souls rested a single beating heart – their
secret admiration for each other had grown into mutual acceptance of the spark,
the attraction, that had always pulsated between them.
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