Title: The Double Royale: Legends

Author: J Rease

Rating: M/Obscene

Warnings: Shameless Porn with a shallow backdrop of a deeper, unexplained history in a different universe. Faberry (endgame), Quinntana (flashback rendezvous!) GIRLPEEN.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: New York City Chronicles. Quinn's POV. Fifth in the series. A continuation of The Double Royale: Two Week Notice. Girl!Peen.

A/N: Hello everyone. Here is part five of The Double Royale series, Legends. This part will be written a little differently (the logical part of my brain makes me set the scene... so I needed to build it up before I got into it, sorry smut will follow). And forewarning, the plot bunny in this fic is actually a sexually frustrated beast that had to dig in the dark dirty places of my mind to find this kind of smut. I apologize for all the nasty things that may emerge on your screens. Like no, really, I'm sorry.

Kate pointed out to me (as I assumed someone would) that Cornell isn't in the heart of NYC. I shall be fixing that little problem after I can do research (typing on my cell phone so multitasking becomes distracting) before I post this. I have never been to New York (Gasp- I know), so I usually just make up things on the fly. So thank you bunches for the correction

Also, to the lovely anon who asked for anal—I was going to end the series with this installment. But after the reception it has gotten on this site as well as Tumblr, I have decided to put your anal request in the sixth part of the series, The Double Royale: Back in Business. It will be posted after I update a few of my neglected fics over the next two weeks.

Someone emailed me and asked why I didn't put all of these parts in one fic. My answer: I didn't expect this series to go past the second part. Lol, so I apologize to those who think it sucks that they have to author alert me to read the new ones.

This is the longest of the series so far. Thank you all for your reviews, favorites and enthusiasm.

All mistakes are mine. Please review.

EDIT: hates me. Thanks to KW Jordan for letting me know the end was cut off before I fell asleep. Reposted!

Legends

Santana was in the closet. She was literally inside of the closet when she walked into their shared loft and hung her key on the hook by the door. It was the closet they normally hung their coats and left their shoes; but it was empty now... everything inside it chucked onto the big sofa in the living room. Santana was sitting atop three layers of blankets, a red back support pillow tucked into the corner behind her; her books tumbling out of the partially open doorway. There was a long extension cord leading out of the small space, and it connected to the small desk lamp she had propped on a shelf above her; the other socket connected to her laptop. Santana had on headphones, presumably listening to music as she studied; to block out the loud noises emitting from the other end of the apartment.

Their apartment was a mess. The loft was spacious enough for all four of them. But once test dates crept upon them, the apartment was too cramped for all of them to study their different concentrations. Halfway to the bathroom she found all of the easily moveable furniture from Brittany and Santana's room pushed against the hallway wall. Everything but the bed.

She found their bed when she looked into the open doorway. It was horizontally blocking the door to allow Brittany the full space to practice...whatever it was she was practicing for. She leaned on the door frame and listened to the music she had on loop. Brittany was dipping her ballet shoe clad feet into a paint canister. She watched her turn to the wall length mirrors (the same ones that lined the wall in her and Rachel's room; a big amenity to the actress and dancer) and stand, on tip toe, before trailing red paint across an unrolled ream of giant brown paper.

She chose not to interrupt the blonde, who was too lost in work that she didn't notice her in the doorway. She slid around the rest of the furniture in the hallway before reaching the bathroom at the end of the hall. She opened the door to find Rachel, inside the bath tub, headphones in her ears and her iPod thrown haphazardly to the side. She was sitting with her back to the door, blankets and pillows stuffed around her as she memorized whatever she had in her hand. She used the bathroom without disturbing her girlfriend, and she was washing her hands by the time Rachel started belting out a solo from some obscure script she'd never heard of before; oblivious to her presence.

She went into the bedroom she shared with Rachel and quickly changed out of her work uniform. She hated Starbucks, but it filled in the blanks for many of the necessities she hadn't accounted for when they first moved to New York. When she was comfortable in sweats and an old t-shirt, she made her way through the maze of furniture, maneuvered by the cluttered living room and past the cracked open closet door; away from the noise, and en route to the library.

It was finals week. And there were no more spaces in their loft quiet enough for her to study, so she made her way on foot to somewhere she could think in silence.

000 0000 000

The next time she sees all of her loft mates without looks of panic or dread on their faces is the Sunday after they were all finished with exams. It was the Sunday they decided to celebrate the end of their first semester; their first few months away from Lima. It was that celebration that catapulted them to where they were now, naked, tangled and exhausted in her bed; all four of them.

It started with wine coolers. It seemed fitting for the situation. They had brunch in front of the television and decided to get drunk, just because Monday signified three glorious weeks without classes. After her third wine cooler, they started playing cards at the kitchen table, War, because it was all Brittany knew how to play. It was Sunday, so they all slept in, pure exhaustion keeping even Rachel in bed until sometime after eleven. The game seemed never-ending. And sometime between having all of the cards to having none, a conversation started.

"Did you hear about Sandy Ryerson getting arrested? Feds came in and raided the place,"

She watches Rachel's eyes snap to Santana as she puts down a card that trumps both Brittany and Rachel's play. She chances another look at Rachel, who smirks slightly before putting down her next card, an ace.

"Mmmmhmmm girl. Sue told me. Apparently he moved up to cocaine. Brought a whole lotta heat down on Lima. When I talked to Schue he told me that Sandy snitched to the feds for a deal. They already picked up Rod Roddington. He even ratted out Patches."

Rachel dropped all of her cards.

"Rachel, you aren't allowed to look at your cards in this game."

Rachel looked shocked. She began gathering her fallen cards before turning to Brittany to pat the blonde knowingly on her hand.

"I know, Britt—so Santana, who else is on the list?"

Santana shrugged before taking another sip from her wine cooler.

"Basically everybody. Well he didn't snitch on Sue- doubt he could actually pin anything on her-"

"What about BJ? Did he rat her out too?"

It made sense now, why Rachel is panicking. She knew that Sandy was probably the only person besides her who knew BJ's true identity. But she's also sure that they wouldn't be able to actually convict her of any crime since no one else would be able to verify it.

"Nope, didn't hear anything about that. I mean, that BJ broad left Lima in like August, I'm sure she's long gone, Hobbit. Why do you care anyway—"

She's seen that look on Santana's face before. It's the face Santana gets when she smells scandal; it's the same face that happens when Santana connects the dots. She would laugh, but she doesn't think Rachel would appreciate it. Santana chuckles. It's throaty and loud, and she tilts her head back as her shoulders shake.

"There is no way! There is no freaking way Rachel "Treasure Trail" Berry is BJ Askew. No way!"

Santana leaned back in her chair and swallowed the rest of her wine cooler before grabbing another from the case by her feet.

"So that must mean you know who it really was... so spill it, Munchkin."

Rachel huffs indignantly.

"I bet it was Shelby... San it's your play."

Brittany taps her fingers impatiently on the kitchen table."

"It was not Shelby!"

She shakes her head when Rachel realizes that she's been caught. Rachel deflects by sipping her wine cooler, she is only on her second, before deflating in her seat.

"Fine, it was me."

Santana looks to her for confirmation, and she nods slowly as Santana looks between the two of them.

"So... you knew all this time, Q, and you didn't tell me? Party foul!"

Brittany's impatience grows.

"Well, San, you didn't tell Q about that time we did it in her bed. And you didn't tell Rachel about all the sex you and Q had that summer I went to Amsterdam. So everybody's even. Play your card, honey; I want to pick up the pile."

Rachel is glaring at her. She feels her staring so hard at the side of her face, which she is sure is all kinds of crimson. She never put a name to her first. Living with Santana would have been a problem if Rachel had known that San was 'that girl'. She feels Rachel's gaze drift to Santana, before her voice cuts through the tension.

"Are you going to claim the virginity of everyone I date, Santana?"

Santana shrugs, and puts her card face up on the table, grinning when her king beats Brittany's Queen.

"Nah, that was a high school thing. And if you're sober enough to still use the thesaurus to speak, I suggest you have another."

Santana slides another wine cooler toward Rachel. She's relieved when she sees her open the cooler and plays her next card, letting the conversation drop.

"Well... since we're sharing secrets, Britts- Q totally has a dick."

She's shocked that Santana never told the blonde. She swigs her drink before interrupting the conversation.

"You never told Brittany?"

Santana shrugs.

"Britt gets word vomit. I'm a bitch... but I'm not that big of a bitch. I mean, I told her we boned, but that's it-"

Brittany interrupts the conversation.

"So she has one... just like the ones we keep in the box under the bed, or the drawer beside our table and the-"

Santana cups her hand over Brittany's mouth.

"See what I mean?" She moves her hand. "No Britt, like the real thing." Brittany nods slowly, realization dawning on her face.

"That's hot."

"Now, back to little Miss Blow Job here... who'd you do?"

Rachel is wearing a smug smile.

"Wouldn't you like to know? But it's confidential. So don't ask again."

"Come on! We're all friends here... share the deets. Or at least tell me about the juicy ones."

Rachel sighs and swallows a few gulps of her newly opened wine cooler. She looks over at her before sighing again.

"Well... I did Quinn. You can know about Quinn."

"Well no shit Sherlock, she's your girlfriend-"

She interrupts the tirade Santana is about to embark on.

"No. She means I paid for it. I got a Double Royale."

"What's that mean?"

All heads turn to Brittany. She leaves Rachel to answer the question as she goes to the cabinet to get the bottle of Jack and a four shot glasses.

"Well... it means she got a blowjob for an hour. Not too many people can last that long-"

She pours them each a shot.

"Bullshit. It can't be that good. I mean, I heard stories and whatever but I'm sure most of them are urban legends. Seriously, I heard once that BJ could suck a golf ball through a crazy straw. Or that she could unhinge her jaw and swallow down cock and both testicles without gagging. And I mean... if anyone would be able to do something like that; it'd be Sam."

Brittany is leaning her head on her open palm, her cards abandoned. She chuckles before taking her shot.

"So, Rach, did Q last the whole time?"

Rachel smiles at Brittany. She takes her own shot before chasing the taste away with wine cooler.

"Quinn got to around forty five minutes. I mean... I wasn't really counting with the timer, but I reviewed the tape a few times after. She actually beat the record."

Santana took her shot and tapped the table for another. She poured her one and then one for herself before sitting back in her chair.

"So... I gots to see this. Where is the tape? Because the Oompa Loompa can't give better head than me, no way."

She finally swallows her own shot, wincing at the taste.

"Actually... San, she gives really good blow jobs, like really really good ones-"

Rachel cuts her off.

" I destroyed all the tapes... you know, evidence and all. And besides, Quinn's had us both, she can tell you who's better."

Rachel put her on the spot. Santana crosses her arms, and Rachel turns to her expectantly.

"I am not setting myself up for that. So, S, I guess you'll never know."

Santana downs her second shot.

"Like hell I'll never know. Show me."

"Well, Santana. You don't have a penis so technically—"

"I meant on Q, Berry. I won't believe it until I see it."

Rachel shakes her head furiously.

"No. Not happening. I'd rather not have an audience while I go down on my girlfriend."

"Come on, Rach… no day but today."

It comes out of her mouth before she can stop it. She doesn't really know why she says it aloud. She blames the liquor. She blames the liquor and that little voice in the back of her mind telling her not to let a competitively spirited blow job slip by. A blow job would be great right now, regardless of who's watching. Rachel stands abruptly, and pours herself another shot. She downs it without a chaser and looks straight at Santana.

"I'll show you once. But when you realize how much better I am at it, you have to… you have to kick your smoking habit."

Santana smirks. Brittany fist pumps silently beside her.

"Well, since I'm sure you aren't better than me at anything—you're on."

Rachel grabs the timer from the kitchen counter and marches toward their bedroom.

000 0000 000

They brought in chairs from the kitchen table. Santana and Brittany sat at the bottom of the bed and waited for everyone to get ready. She was a bit nervous. She's never been in a voyeuristic situation before, but she feels lightheaded and giddy at the same time. She was sitting in the middle of the bed against the headboard, waiting for Rachel to come back from the bathroom. She'd left her own pants somewhere between the bathroom and her bedroom, and her shirt was tossed casually beside the hamper. Brittany was bouncing in her seat, a wine cooler still in her right hand. Santana was sitting next to her, her legs propped on the mattress, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Come on, Berry, I ain't gots all night!"

When Rachel emerges in the doorway, she is only wearing a tank top and boy shorts. Rachel scoffs before getting on the bed, and she straddles her thighs before leaning forward to kiss her. Santana says nothing more, and she quickly reciprocates the open mouthed kiss her girlfriend was giving her. She let her hands grab Rachel's hips, and Rachel slowly began rocking against her. The rhythm is slow. Rachel was kissing her and grinding her hips on top of her. She was still nervous, and the erection that would have normally sprouted was almost non-existent. Rachel kissed the shell of her ear before whispering.

"Just… relax. Pretend they aren't here…"

She closes her eyes as Rachel kisses down the side of her neck, inhaling slowly as she makes her way to the sensitive spot above her collar bone before sucking it. Rachel's hand squeezes her through her underwear, and she can feel the blood trickle slowly from her brain. Rachel kisses her way down the valley of her breasts, unclasping the front snapping bra before tugging it down her arms. Brittany and Santana are whispering quietly to each other, but she can't make out what they are saying over the banging of her heart beat. Rachel continues stroking her, and she can feel the fabric of her underwear suffocate her growing erection.

Rachel takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. She opened her eyes to take in the sight when she notices Santana crossing her legs in the chair she was sitting in. They never needed words to communicate. She knew that face; Santana was wet; already. She was probably wet with a giddy anticipation; the mere thought of watching probably turned her on. She watched Brittany tuck a hand between Santana's thighs and she smirked; apparently Brittany knew that face too. Her cock was peeking under the waistband of her underwear, and Rachel dragged her tongue experimentally over the tip, before pulling her out with her underwear still in place.

Rachel didn't get back on top of her. She sat to her right side, and she fiddled with the timer before gathering her hair to one shoulder.

"If the timer goes off before Quinn cums… you win."

Santana has to clear her throat before speaking.

"What do I get when I win?"

Rachel smiles.

"You get to tell everyone that you give better blow jobs than BJ Askew."

Rachel doesn't give her time to prepare for the hot mouth that wraps around her cock. She hisses when Rachel's nose makes contact with the skin on her hip, and she grabs handfuls of hair from Rachel's face as she sets the pace. She cants her hips into Rachel's moving mouth, trying her best not to cut off Rachel's air supply. Rachel is sitting sideways, so she can't focus on her face from her point of view. She opens her eyes to look in front of her as Rachel begins squeezing her throat around her cock. Santana is opening and closing her legs around Brittany's hand, which has disappeared beneath Santana's baggy shorts. She looks behind the two at the end of the bed and into the mirror, awestruck by the sight of Rachel swallowing her entire cock with her eyes closed. She focuses on Santana's face just as Rachel begins vibrating around the base. Santana bites her bottom lip, and Brittany momentarily blocks her view of the wall mirror to whisper something in Santana's ear that makes her visibly shudder.

She closes her eyes again as Rachel shoves a hand into her underwear, and she feels Rachel's fingers play at her wet entrance. She can hear faint moans coming from Santana, followed by a reassuring "mmmhmmm" chanting from Brittany's mouth. She feels the rush of her climax when Rachel dips a single digit inside her, and the harsh "fuck" from Santana nearly pushes her over the edge. Rachel pulls her hand from her underwear abruptly, and she doesn't register the absence of her girlfriend's mouth until she feels the cold air on her dick; and the motion of her still thrusting hips humping empty air.

Her chest is heaving. She is so close, and she has to calm herself down before she blows her load prematurely. She doesn't know what has her hotter, the fact that Rachel was blowing her in front of their roommates, or the fact that watching them had turned Santana on enough to get her off. When she finally tames the urge to come, she opens her eyes slowly. Brittany is alone in the chair at the end of the bed, her own hand now down the front of her sweatpants. It takes her a few seconds to focus on the mirror behind her, but she sees Santana, standing in front of Rachel—kissing her with both hands on her face. She feels like she should be upset. But her penis eagerly jumps at the new visual, and she stays quiet long enough to bask in the glory of the two girls making out beside her.

Its short lived, their kissing, because Santana climbs on the other side of the bed and lets the tip of her tongue trace the head of her penis, which she is sure would turn purple soon from need. Rachel sits back in her initial position, and she locks eyes with Santana before dragging her tongue from base to tip. It's hard to keep her eyes open, but she focuses, because if she looks down, she'll more than likely have an accidental orgasm. She chooses, instead, to focus on Brittany, who is busy pulling off her sweat pants. The blonde sits back on the chair, bare bottomed, and stretches her legs open wide enough for her to catch the glistening wet of her gleaming twat. Brittany is sitting unabashedly in front of her, biting her bottom lip before letting her hand dip down to swipe her clit. She grunts at the sight, and almost swallows her own tongue when Brittany locks eyes with her as she teases hserself.

Her eyes close when she feels Santana's fingers slip inside her. The feelings are confusing; there were too many hands and tongues, and two sets of full, pouty lips—everywhere. She's wet and she's hard, and all she really wants to do is bury herself inside of any of the girls in the room with her. Rachel swallows her whole and Santana's fingers are pumping skillfully inside her. She has a bubbling tension winding in the bottom of her stomach. When she opens her eyes again, Brittany is on the bed, in between her open legs (when did she spread her legs this wide?) and Brittany is just watching them, two fingers to her clit, running circles around the hardened bud. Rachel is sucking her off, on her right, and Santana is on her left, her hand is between her spread legs, thrusting through wetness that seems to never stop leaking. Rachel hums. Her eyes flutter shut again. Rachel hums with her all the way down her throat and Santana stills her fingers and sucks on the spot beneath her ear; and she comes. She comes around Santana's fingers and Rachel swallows every drop spilling down her throat. It's the first time she's ever had to two different orgasms at the same time.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, slumped over in the last stages of her aftershock, her entire body sated from the giant release. There is a warm body sitting on her lap. She's soft now, but she knows there is only a matter of time before she can get it up again, especially when whoever is on her lap was grinding so expertly against her. She has to drag her eyes open; but she's delighted when she does. Brittany is on her lap. She was sliding between slick folds and tempted by the luscious smell emitting from the blonde. She's mesmerized as Brittany moves above her, sure in her movements. Brittany leans down and kisses her, softly at first, before smiling against their kiss and sucking on her bottom lip. She wraps her arms around Brittany's waist and she kisses her back, lost in the sensation of kissing someone new. Brittany is no stranger… but she's never been with her this way; and she realizes soon that the blonde has this all-consuming aura. She's running her hands through her hair and inhaling the musk wafting from between her naked thighs.

She rocks against Brittany, and she takes delight in the sounds the dancer is making when she drags her cock over her hard clit. Brittany growls when she squeezes her ass… and it's all it takes to have her hard again. Sirens go off in her head when she realizes that she doesn't know where Rachel is; or if Rachel would approve if she slipped inside of Brittany. She breaks away, using pulling down her underwear an excuse so survey the rest of the room.

Rachel is sitting on the foot of their bed, spread eagle. She doesn't see Santana until she looks in the mirror. Santana is suddenly nude in front of Rachel, and she's on her knees and lapping at Rachel's sopping sex. It's erotic. It's one of the sexiest things she's ever seen, because Rachel has never been with a girl… well—a full girl, and the noises she is making didn't sound like the noises she makes when she is with her. Brittany pulls her chin back to face her, and she kisses away all of the thoughts clouding her head.

"How hard can you fuck me, Q?"

It's whispered against her ear, and it's the first thing anyone in the room has actually said since this all started. She doesn't answer Brittany, but she flips them both over (even though her body still feels like jelly; she blames the adrenaline) and she pushes Brittany's left leg until it touches her shirt clad shoulder (why was she still wearing clothes?). She's inside her to the hilt with a guttural grunt. She starts pounding into her, slow and deliberate, and she only looks up when she hears Rachel screaming Santana's name repeatedly. She grabs Brittany's hips and thrusts until she feels the ridges inside her. Brittany is squeezing around her harder with each thrust, and soon Brittany is leaving scratches on the bend of her back, moaning her name in time with her slow, hard thrusting.

She looks into the mirror again and she sees Santana, spreading Rachel wider to let her tongue roam from the top to the bottom of her sex. Rachel is shaking. She is visibly shuddering against Santana's tongue, her head lulled back—sweat gathered around her hairline. She turns back to Brittany, who's eyes are rolling in the back of her head and she pulls out when she feels the distinct feeling of convulsing muscles. Rachel comes on the tip of Santana's tongue seconds later, and collapses onto the bed.

Brittany whines and clutches around the emptiness she left behind. She settles back against the headboard and urges Brittany to get up. Brittany sits up, and she guides her until she turns around. Brittany straddles her, reverse cowgirl style, and sinks slowly down over her now fully erect cock. Brittany starts riding her, her palms holding her up as she slides up and down her girth effortlessly. She closes her eyes, and grips the flesh on Brittany's ass and she lets the taller girl fuck her. She can still hear Rachel panting.

The timer goes off.

She hears Brittany giggle from her perch, and she starts thrusting into her mid laugh. It's quiet suddenly. And the inside of Brittany feels so good she isn't sure she'll last much longer. There is a shuffle, and she feels the bed dip before weight adjusts at the foot of it. And she feels Brittany slide down until her palms aren't holding her up anymore. And the angle has changed but Brittany is still stroking up and down her shaft. When she hears Santana moaning through a mouthful, she forces her eyes to take in the fantasy before her.

Santana is on her back, beneath Brittany. Brittany's arms are wrapped around the open V of Santana's thighs. She can see Brittany's tongue flick knowingly over Santana's clit, and the brunette beneath her is pushing into Brittany's mouth. When she finally commits it to memory, she looks up, and Rachel is sitting lightly on Santana's face, palming her own breasts and kneading them in her hands.

The bed is rocking. She pulls her legs from beneath Brittany without pulling out and she starts pounding out a rhythm from behind. She thinks she loves this. No, she knows she loves this. She loves every moment of it and she doesn't know how long she can last with Rachel staring her seductively from her seat atop Santana's face. Brittany is creaming around her cock and she feels the tightness squeeze her, and Brittany moans against Santana's clit until her orgasm subsides. Rachel follows shortly, and she collapses sideways off Santana's face. She pulls out of Brittany, still hard, and crawls over to Santana.

They don't have to speak.

Santana climbs on top of her and wraps her arms around her neck. She stands, holding Santana at the waist, and takes two steps to the desk by the bed. She sits Santana on top of it and pulls her legs to wrap around her waist. She can faintly hear the noises coming from the bed, and she looks over her shoulder in time to see Rachel get lost in Brittany's kisses. She turns back to Santana, and she bites her lip as she pushes inside of her. Nothing has changed since last she's been there, so she pumps slowly into her; staring her in the eyes and daring her not to come. Santana is never loud. But today, she's chanting expletives with each upwards thrust. She lets Santana come, but she doesn't stop the pace she's set. She picks up the brunette and leans against the desk, interested to see what Rachel and Brittany were doing.

When she catches sight of them, her breath catches in her throat. Rachel's between Brittany's open thighs on all fours, stroking her clit with her tongue. Santana is shaking. She's vibrating on her dick, and she isn't sure she would be able to take another orgasm. She probably won't make it through another one either. She picks Santana up again, and walks back to the bed. She lays Santana on her back and she thrusts as slowly as possible into her. She's watching Rachel eat Brittany out, guided by a hand the blonde has cupped on the crown of Rachel's skull. She reaches her hand out to push two fingers into Rachel, and is delighted when she is instantly met with a bucking of Rachel's hips. Her fingers plunge in and out of her girlfriend, and she starts pumping into Santana faster, frantically toward her second (or third?) orgasm of the night. Brittany fists her hand in Rachel's hair before kissing Santana to quiet the noise her orgasm makes. Rachel follows, her trembling insides squeezing her fingers before Rachel falls away and sighs satisfactorily in her direction.

Santana's body is vibrating, her back arches off the bed and falls heavily down, her insides juddering with such force that she comes inside of her unexpectedly. She pulls out on wobbly legs, and sits breathlessly on the bed. She doesn't realize she zoned out until she blinks awake, her eyes drifting over naked limbs and tangled hair.

In hindsight, she would never have expected something like this would happen. Never to her. But as she wraps her arm around her girlfriend, and snuggles up against Santana, who's spooning Brittany—she realizes that she could really get used to this.

A/N: The Double Royale: Back in Business will be the next installment. Please review… I'm biting my fingernails on this one.