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Glee kink meme prompt
Warning: G!P, werewolf, knotting
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"This is clearly an act of aggression on your part, Fabray! Now the only reason the Enclave allowed Russell's assassination and replacement by his pup, fresh off the bitch's teat, was to stop his, and by extension Clan Fabray's, unlawful expansion into other's territory! If you dare follow in your father's footsteps-"
"Figgins, please," Quinn's voice reverberates in a low growl, calmly indifferent, yet feral power evident. Reclining in her Executive chair whilst sipping a glass of wine, she doesn't bother to spare even a glance at the flat screen in front of her, displaying the fuming Middle Eastern Alpha.
"This is no illegal seizure; the people of Amityville came to us. Apparently the Clan they pay tribute to has been incompetently sparse with their patrols."
Far away in his own penthouse in Manorville, Figgins huffs and crosses his arms. He obviously expected to bully the newly made Alpha, having never spoken to the blonde teenager before.
Quinn is happy to subvert that expectation.
"You should have been more attentive to such a wealthy neighborhood," the blonde continues, holding her face in her palm, "For such tribute, their needs must be met, and Clan Fabray can meet them. That's why they annulled your contract and signed our own."
The hazel-eyed blonde reaches forward to turn off her own webcam. She puts her lips close to the monitor to speak one last time.
"And remember this, Figgins," she spits out his name with utter contempt, "my Clan owns all five boroughs of New York and most of Hudson Valley, so don't think for one moment I would jeopardize everything trying to encroach on Long Island of all places!"
She disconnects the Skype call before the older Alpha can reply. She throws her head back against the chair cushion with a heavy sigh.
"What have I told you about addressing your elder Alphas, Quinn?"
The admonishing voice behind her startles the young werewolf, who whips the chair around to confront the intruder. Her wide eyes, now glowing supernaturally brighter, come upon the figure of a middle-aged blonde, dressed somewhat casually in a dark blue dress and black jacket.
"Jesus, Mother!" The usually level-headed Alpha barks in surprise. Judy Fabray is seemingly the only being in the world she had trouble detecting having lived her whole life familiarized to her scent. The former slave, now mother of the Clan's Alpha is frightfully light-footed, even with heels, and she has always used this to her advantage.
"Oh, just look at you, Quinn!" The older blonde frets at her tense daughter, staring up at her with a mild grimace. "How could you address another Clan's Alpha dressed in your 'jammies?!"
The teenager looks down at her light blue silk pajamas, and tries to hide her blushing cheeks under her shaggy blonde hair.
"It's my casual wear, Mother, not 'jammies!" Quinn replies, indignantly, her freshly manicured nails ripping into the leather armrests. "I can dress however I like, especially in my own home during a meeting demanded by another Alpha in the middle of the night!"
The older blonde stands in front of her with unconditional love in her eyes, unconsciously brushing back hair from her daughter's ruddy face.
The flustered Alpha tries ineffectually to stop her mother's gentle fingers.
"Wh- why did you feel the need to scare the shit out of me tonight, Mother, didn't you have a night out planned with your little gaggle of hens?"
"Lucy Quinn Fabray, don't you dare refer to them as-!" Her mother cuts her reprimand short, suddenly remembering why she cancelled on her friends so abruptly. "Oh, oh, yes, my goodness, the poor dear must be a wreck by now!"
Before Quinn can question her eccentric mother further, the elder blonde takes out her phone and launches a quick text.
"The council purchased you the best breeding slave they could find and I've arranged a few of our older slaves to escort her here. She's been trained since birth to interact with Were's, but I remember how frightening it was when I first came here without human escort."
The young Alpha's jaw drops in surprise. Since the moment she tore out her father's throat, the possibility of breeding the next generation of Fabray's had never even crossed her mind.
And the idea of impregnating a human when her previous interactions with them had been extremely limited troubles her at that moment.
Her mother was the only human she had an actual relationship with, and that was by design. Every Clan had a main family that produced its Alphas, and every Alpha would breed with human slaves to keep their curse pure. The belief amongst most werewolves was that every Enclave-recognized Clan's curse came from a different source.
Some Clans claimed their curse came from an old witch or enchantress, others claimed from demons, while a few more self-aggrandizing Clans claimed they received their curse from the gods themselves. The idea of cross-breeding between Clans was seen as blasphemous to some and dangerous to most others, as it meant diluting their curses' particular strengths.
The Fabray's had some of the largest Wolves ever recorded, and so only the finest bred and most fertile human slaves were allowed to carry their pups. Quinn was the youngest born of such a human, Judith Ross, now Fabray, and her Wolf was strong enough to kill her overambitious father with ease.
"Mother, wait..." The younger blonde struggles to hold back what's to become a new stage in her life now suddenly forced upon her. "Surely, I get a say in who I fuck, isn't that the whole point of being Alpha?!"
The fiercely independent blonde receives a smack upside her head for the trouble.
"What have I told you about being so crass, Quinn?" Judy says, as her daughter pouts and rubs her stinging scalp. Regardless of her former status, she is still her mother, and the power she wields reduces the dominating Alpha to a scolded teenage girl.
The elder blonde holds back her reply for the surly teen's grumbled apology.
"You're too young to know how to sort through breeder's salesmanship and empty promises to actual honest-to-god pedigree. The Clan can't leave these things to pure instinct anymore. Plus, your uncle was quite insistent on this girl, said she was the daughter of Shelby Corcoran!"
Quinn waits for her smiling mother to explain why that name should mean something to her.
"... And who is that ex-?"
"Oh, honestly, Quinn," her mother speaks over her, "you should know more about the goings on of the other Clans, everything you can! Shelby is the favorite breeding slave of Cassandra July, of course. Her Clan holds most Connecticut, not to mention she has a special residence in Manhattan granted by the council after your father stole the whole borough from her ten years back!"
The young Alpha resolves not to tell her mother just how little she knew of Cassandra July beyond recognition of her name.
"It's an open secret that Shelby is Cassandra's paramour, she's given July nothing but Alpha-worthy pups, and if you own her only human daughter, it's possible she can help improve relations between Clans Fabray and July! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yayyyy..." The defeated blonde gives her mother a limp-wristed thumbs-up, before she hears a knock on the door.
Her mother calls out loud enough for the humans behind the door to hear. As it creaks slowly open, a new scent hits Quinn's nose, of sweat, salt and spice uniquely attractive.
She purses her lips while her mouth waters.
Two middle-aged slaves enter first, both property of her oldest first cousin, and bow their heads in subservience.
"Alpha," they speak concurrently, while the young blonde tips her head in acknowledgement.
They usher in the new slave before leaving, and the sight of her takes Quinn's breath away.
She is noticeably petite, a few inches above five feet at most, with olive-colored skin and depthless brown eyes casts down, fixed upon the polished wood floor. The young Alpha's glowing eyes follow the flow of thick chestnut hair down her exposed shoulders, down her long sleeved top and low-cut shorts, to the most gorgeous pair of legs she has ever seen.
The small brunette holds her hands together with obvious anxiety and stands a few feet away from her new owner.
She waits to be addressed as she has been conditioned to do so since birth.
Quinn is in no rush to address her, preferring simply to gaze at he exotic beauty in front of her.
"Quinn Fabray!" Her mother shouts, once again smacking her upside the head. "Don't just sit there gaping, stand up properly and address the future mother of your pups!"
The younger blonde shoots up from her chair, whining pitifully at her mother.
The doe-eyed brunette is stunned by Judy's actions; her eyes are pensive, as though she expects the dominant Alpha to rip her human mother apart in retaliation.
The hazel-eyed blonde does nothing besides glare at her, before she focuses her eyes on the younger slave.
"... Uh-m..." She coughs into her fist, "My name's- uh, Quinn- Quinn Fabray... what's- what's yours?"
Judy smiles at the awkward address by her very flustered daughter. She turns to the young brunette, whose eyes are still fixed on her. She clicks her tongue to snap the girl out of her stupor.
"Oh, oh, sorry, Domina, s-sorry!" The skittish young slave scrambles to apologize for her delayed response. "It's R-Rachel, Domina, bred by Hiram Berry, so unless you say otherwise, my name is Rachel Berry!"
Both blondes are visibly impressed, Quinn more so by the musical tone of her voice.
Judy wraps an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and kisses her cheek.
"Can you believe the manners on this one, Quinn?" She practically squeals into her ear. "My goodness, I haven't heard the term 'Domina' since my own breeder tried drilling it into my skull! Every Alpha on the planet would kill for such antiquated manners, my darling, don't you dare take her for granted."
The taller blonde huffs before replying, "Don't you have somewhere to be, Mother?"
Her mother smiles, and nods an affirmative.
She squeezes her ruddy cheeks together and pulls her face down to plant a kiss between her brows.
"Of course, Quinn, as the Alpha commands!" She puts her lips to her daughter's ear and lowers her voice. "Don't forget what I went through my darling. You are not, nor will you ever be Russell, I know this."
As she speaks, she gazes lovingly into her daughter's somber hazel eyes.
"But every Alpha must be mindful of their strength and gentle with their mates."
She lets the rest of that thought go unheard, but understood- 'until they want it rough.'
The younger blonde nods her head slowly and kisses the crown of her head. Her mother pulls out of their embrace and turns to leave.
"I love you, Mom," she says to the retreating figure.
Judy blows her a kiss and says, "I love you, too."
As she walks by Rachel, she waves goodbye with an encouraging smile. The doting mother will save her hug for the morning for the first person to touch Rachel Berry must be her mate Quinn Fabray.
When the door closes, the teenage Alpha cautiously steps forward.
The petite slave keeps her head down; a few strands of chestnut hair, loose from her long braid, frame her angelic face.
"Look at me," the blonde's husky voice startles her for a moment, before she obeys. Rachel brings her gaze up to look at the face her owner for the first time.
She is surprised at how little her head has to tilt back to lock gaze with her. The blonde Fabray heir, rumored to have the largest Wolf in the western hemisphere, stands only three to four inches above her.
The petite brunette struggles to maintain eye contact.
It may have to do with the intense light reflected in her eyes that make the golden brown pigments appear to swirl in a ring of emerald green.
Or perhaps it's the crushing anxiety hidden under her own thin veneer of composure.
The taller girl puts her palm gently on the side of Rachel's face and traces the small mole on her cheek with her finger.
The warmth of her palm brings a soothing effect to their first contact and the pounding of the brunette's heart eases.
"Take off your pheromone blocker, please."
The smaller brunette blinks in surprise and loosens her belt to pull down her shorts.
"Yes, Domina."
Wrapped around her waist is a device with the appearance of an old-fashioned girdle. It's remotely linked to implants inside her salivary and sweat glands as well as her core that regulate her pheromones. She has been bred to ovulate more often and longer, which makes these implants necessary to walk among Were's unclaimed.
When she detaches the girdle from around her waist the implants shut off for good and the heat of arousal rushes to her core for the first time in her life.
The girdle joins her shoes and shorts on the floor, which she shuffles away with her foot.
The scent of arousal immediately affects Quinn, who briefly struggles for breath and peeks down to see the results. Rachel follows the direction of her gaze.
The blonde's shaft strains against her silk bottoms, massive even at half mast.
The brunette's lips tremble at her size, fully aware that her transformation will only make it bigger.
"Rachel," the sound of her name from the blonde's lips startles her into looking back up. "Try to relax."
Rachel gives her a bizarre look, and blinks down at her palms to find them shaking violently. The whole of her body has the same reaction to its new stimulus.
"I- I... I'm sorry, Dom-"
"Shhhhhhh," Quinn puts her hands on the shorter girl's shoulders to rub them slowly, their faces only an inch apart. "Its OK, I promise. This is all new to you, I get it, but I'm not going to hurt you, Rachel."
The small brunette gives her a shy, yet genuine smile.
The hazel-eyed blonde moves her hands from the other's face, and lightly ghosts her fingertips over her flushed cheeks.
"Undress for me, please" she says staring into Rachel's chocolate eyes, "I want to see the perfect body attached to these gorgeous legs."
The flushed brunette can't help but giggle in response. Her reaction goes against everything her breeder taught her, but the blonde's wry grin erases her guilt.
"Yes, Domina," she replies, pulling up her top and dropping to the floor alongside the rest of her clothes.
Her torso is bare for the Alpha to see, unblemished and evenly tanned. She gazes upon perky breasts, seemingly designed to fit her pale palms and a flat stomach she can already picture swelled with her pups.
The doe-eyed brunette gazes cautiously up at the leering blonde, who smiles reassuringly and gestures to the last bit of clothing on her body.
Depthless brown eyes glance down and back up, flashing apologetically.
Her jittery hands pull down panties clinging to her dripping core.
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To be continued
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