Pairing Rachel and Quinn. brief mention of Santana and Brittany, although you'll probably miss it if not looking for it.
This has been sat in a folder for a while. Its an exercise in descriptive writing. I sometimes find it difficult sticking to one tense as you will no doubt find out. I went through this and hopefully caught all the mistakes. I should really work harder at that, but we only learn through mistakes. This is most definitely an AU. I do love my FaBerry, especially when its about the art and the stories and not about arguing with other fandoms, as though anyone really cares what anyone else thinks. This is a longer and more in depth one shot than what I'm used to doing.
disclaimer: I own nothing, those someone should take it off of ryan murphy.
feel free to enjoy... hopefully.
Rain poured down; sheets of it coating the cobbled back road. Dark buildings rose up making a barrier within which the stench of the forgotten city has congealed itself. It was like an invisible fog, cocooning me like a thick blanket as I hugged my trench coat closer to myself; protecting my passion... my life, within such thin material. I hastened towards a dimly lit building no different on the outside from the others that surrounded it. It became my sanctuary away from the constant arguments and fights that occurred day and night in my apartment building. The swinging sign came into sight and the briefest of thin smiles twitched across my lips.
Dirty rain: such a melding of different smells rose up from the ground. Dirt, soot, smoke, sewerage... it disgusted me, yet I found it so beautiful. Silhouettes of the factories climbed skyward, barely visible against the almost brown night sky. The rain wasn't letting up at all as I ducked in through the doorway into the dimly lit bar. Stale and fresh smoke entered my lungs immediately and I sighed as the tension in my body dripped away with the water that pooled at my feet. I made my way towards my usual table, far enough back to not bring any attention my way, but close enough to the stage to see her when she started her number. By her, I mean the goddess amongst devils; the soul of this hell hole. I stole myself from thoughts of her and removed my long filthy coat; hanging it over the back of my chair as I set my life down on the table in a heap of notes and creased papers. My passion... so worthless to anybody else... was my writing. It didn't bring me any kind of income. I didn't write for recognition. I wrote to get thoughts and images from the inner workings of my mind onto paper. I worked like everyone else, getting a measly wage every week. It paid for my writing supplies, a bit of food and my rent.
I sat, letting the sound of clinking glasses and monotonous voices wash over me, drowning out the sound of the downpour. It all blended into one sound; plain background noise as I lit a cigarette, whilst wiping my dripping mop like hair out of my face. I allowed my hazel-green eyes to rise and take in my surroundings for a moment before I got to my writing. Men, everywhere, hunched over, talking in hushed tones as if anyone else in the bar could care about what illegalities they were coming up with. It was the same old thing. Billows of smoke grew to congregate at the ceiling, candles lit up the walls and tables, flickering away to themselves, the sound of a glass crashing to the floor every now and again, somebody getting a bit too drunk and falling from there seats, just to get cut on the glass that landed first... not that any of them would notice because they were all so incapacitated by that time. I lowered my eyes, flicking my ash on the wooden floor as I pulled the papers towards me. Words in note form fell onto the pages, ready for me to write them up later.
A few dirty blonde locks plunged across my eyes, slapping wetly against my forehead before I pushed them back again. I had to repeat this constantly throughout the night as I kept my head bent low whilst scribbling words on page after page. I watched the blank pages transform into life, stories of characters I have written about since I was old enough to write. My facial expression changed with the emotion of each character, to the point where... I found myself scowling down at one page, and then grinning like an idiot at another. I suppose you could call them my imaginary friends as such; characters created within my mind, and living their lives on paper. They weren't imaginary friends to the extreme of me believing them to be real, or talking to them, but like a good friend they would never harm me or turn their backs on me.
I sighed once again as I leant back in my seat and stared up at the nicotine stained ceiling as I moved my still sopping hair from my face. This time it stayed back due to the angle of my head. I could almost imagine that I was alone in that place my mind had become so calm. But then again, my mind always travelled to her. My woman of the dark, and she didn't even know I existed. Not that she ever would notice me. Women like her didn't see women in the same way that I saw women, and for that one fault she would never see me. It was just my luck to be born with the wrong coding in my genes. I could always dream though, dream and write. To be honest I didn't even know her name. Id been going there for months but I still didn't know her name. They called her the temptress; no name, just the temptress. In some sense I wanted to know everything there was to know about her, yet I wanted her to remain a mystery to me. I wanted to trail every dip and curve in her body with my fingers and tongue. I wanted to map out her body so that I could describe the very essence of her on paper. I didn't have such an ego that I believed I was good enough to describe the beauty that she was though.
A lone sax sounded out and I closed my eyes as I let it slip through me. I knew she was going to be singing soon. I didn't want to see her so soon, I just want to feel her presence. Her sweet melodic voice, thick with all the emotion she put into her songs. What would I have done without her voice to break up the monotony of my life?
I'd have done the exact same thing I was doing then, but it would have been without her. A piano joined the sax, and then... My eyes opened of their own accord as her voice sent the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to stand. So deep and husky yet so feminine that it was seductive... my heart thundered harder in my chest as my eyes drank down her form. It was as though the smoke was caressing her; dancing around her slender body. I wanted to be an artist of pictures as well as words so that I could draw her; capture her form forever. I found my hand scribbling franticly, describing her in brief notes that I would build up later. She was dressed in a blood red dress that flowed down to her ankles; her hands were encased in elbow length red gloves, and around her neck, hung a thick feather boa. Her dark brown hair was in waves; pinned up beautifully away from her face.
I let my pencil go and just watched her, listened to her words as if I was trying to breathe them in through my ears. didn't anyone else even notice her? None of the scabs within the bar stopped their monotonous words. A few of them made lewd comments about her; wolf whistled crudely before they turned back to each other and laughed about it. I hated them, not understanding Why they had to see her as a piece of meat instead of the work of art that she was? As articulated as I could be, with my writing as beautiful as I could get it, no words would come to me if I was truly confronted, face to face with her beauty.
I watched her pools of brown lava close as her voice lowered to a gentle, soft, end. I could almost feel her breath thrumming against my neck just below my ear, heat trickled down my spine and sent rippling waves throughout the rest of my body. My imagination scorned me with the impossibility of what I wished could happen. Women like her... petite, sweet, tempting... deserved men who could sweep them up off their feet, protect them, and cherish them with their large hands and rugged frames. I knew I was nothing but a wisp of a woman, hardly even strong enough to protect my own existence. My small hands weren't good for anything except my poetic words, and my frame, as bony and underfed as it was... I looked more like a teenage boy those days... but I wanted her like I've never wanted anything before her. I needed her like my lungs needed air.
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I stepped out into the drizzle and thick clogged up night air, and yanked my collar up high around my neck. The cold was so heavy; it crept in through my coat and sunk into my thin bones. The weather had been unmerciful that year. It wore at the cobbled roads and buildings; ice created cracks and chips in brickwork. I left the bar behind me, slunk back to the dive I called home those days. A one room apartment, a bedroom is all I had, and the outside toilet, one of those new fandangle things that was hooked up to pipes that took away the human waste. I had no real attachment to life in the city other than the singer. I could take or leave everything else... not counting my writing. That would have to go with me.
I used to live in such a grand house, with my mother and father and older sister. My father was an upstanding member of the church, his soft blonde hair and disarming hazel eyes made him approachable and so easy to trust... He was found in bed with an underage girl somewhere close to my 16th birthday. My mother, the poor wench, drank herself into an early grave; my sister married a man of the cloth and was bound to follow our mother's footsteps. I was abandoned to the work force, barely pulling in money to survive. They never cared, not really. I saw my father not too long ago; he didn't even recognise his little princess. Had I changed so much, from that summer dress wearing, picture of perfect?
I grumbled, whilst I tried to pull my coat closer to myself as I headed down the road. I was barely one street away from home when I noticed the carriage, and the man leant against it, smoking, one foot flat against the side of the vehicle, his head bent low, turned and watching every step I took. Fear crawled deep inside my chest, until it was far enough in to bounce off my heart with each pump. I walked on, thinking that maybe it was my over active imagination, and I'd walk right past him and his Mohawk. I did, and relief flooded my soul as I made it five more steps, before a giant of a man stepped out in front of me.
"Miss, we have someone that wants to meet you," He said. I put on the hardest look I knew and glared at him.
"Not interested," I said and he gave me a dopey smile.
"You don't have much of a choice," I couldn't even react, as a hood was slammed over my head and my world was plunged into darkness. I was screaming, although the sound was muted. And thrashing around didn't seem to get me anywhere, other than out of breath. The toe of my boot connected hard with something soft, and my covered ears picked out a muffled grunt. I aimed for the same place again, but two large hands clenched my ankles and squeezed hard. I heard myself whimper, I wanted to curl in on myself and give in. Instead I held onto my stomach, making sure my writing wasn't going to fall out. I believed it would probably kill my soul if I lost it.
The journey was long and rough on my buttocks. We left the city. I could tell because the harsh cobbles gave out to something less jarring, and the smog that collected between the tightly packed buildings became fresh air that filtered in slowly through the musty rough hood that covered my head. There was no sound but that of the wheels turning, jarring every now and then on rocks in the road; that and the occasional hoot of an owl. It was too long and yet not long enough, before the carriage came to a stop. All sorts of sick fears had already tormented my brain, to the point where there was tears rolling down my ruddy cheeks.
The door to the carriage opened with a creak and hard hands gripped my ankles drew a shocked scream and made me thrash about, the heel of my foot smashing into something that makes a wet cracking sound and a man howl in pain. I hoped I got the bastard good.
For my good deed I was dragged, manhandled like a rag doll, out of the carriage. Whoever it was that did it, didn't even consider letting me set my feet down. He just ripped me from the carriage and dropped me to the gravel ground. My breath left me as my back collided with the earth and I bit my tongue as my head swam. I found myself panicking before I could breathe again. The air shuddered back into my lungs... in and out, nice and steady. I was pulled onto my wobbly feet and pushed forcefully forward. I only made it ten foot before I stumbled on a set of steps and fell forward. I didn't have time to react in time to save myself. Stone connected with my nose so hard it made stars explode behind my eyes, leaving me dazed as large hands yanked me back to my feet. There was blood dripping out of my nose in a river. It poured down, getting caught between my lips, until it made me choke. I coughed and spluttered, blew air out to try and force the blood away from my lips. I wasn't paying attention to what my feet were doing, more interested in not choking on my own blood. I just about registered that we stopped in a warm room and one of the men said something.
"Oh my god, what have you done to her? Finn...! I asked you to ask her if she wanted to come, not to bloody well kidnap the poor thing." There was a stuttered pause in a female voice and then a... "Is that blood? You made her bleed?" It was more of a hysteric high pitched noise that was quite painful for my already ringing ears. The cloth bag was ripped of my head and the bright light dazzled my swimming vision. I heard the gasp, but my eyes wouldn't focus, and before I knew what is going on, everything faded back to black.
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Long blonde ringlets bounce as the energised young girl runs through the vineyard with happy squeals. Behind her the tall man and his solid frame give chase, trying to be threatening, but really only joking as he gains on her. Dirt is kicked up under her feet as she pounds away, laughing, knowing he's going to catch her, knowing his strong arms are going to be sweeping her up any second. The sun beating down on them is so hot that she can feel it pricking her skin but she's so far past caring it doesn't even register in her young mind. All she knows is she has to keep running.
"Got you," Her father's happy voice sounds out behind her and she finds herself squeal/laughing as his large hands grip under her armpits and pull her up, throwing her up into the air. She lands in his arms still giggling as she curls up against his thick chest.
"No Daddy." She laughs, squirming against him.
"No...? No...? Right that's it!" His voice booms, and then he's tickling her and she's writhing in his arms unable to catch her breath she's laughing so hard.
It's so sudden that the heat disappears it takes a moment for it to actually register. Her Daddy's hands have stopped moving as she looks up. She sees his beautiful hazel eyes looking off into the distance as black clouds gather above them. They rumble in, rolling across the sky, casting the earth in dark shades of black and grey. The vineyard surrounding them suddenly looks more like a forest of thorns encasing them. Off in the distance there's a dark shape that is purely unfamiliar. It gives the youngster a nasty cold feeling in the middle of her chest as it makes its way towards them. When its close enough, all she can make out is flesh and women's parts and those things that remind her of devils protruding from its forehead. It moves like sin, and makes the youngster grip her daddy's dirt covered shirt tighter. It says his name, from a mouth that is full of monstrous teeth and a forked writhing tongue that makes the little blonde shy away in hot fear. A clawed hand reaches out towards them, palm up, beckoning.
"Daddy...?" The blonde wants to run, and this time it's not from excitement. She wants to run as hard and fast as is humanly possible away from this darkness, but her daddy is reaching for it. His face is slack, his beautiful hazel eyes are full of darkness, he licks his lips, and his breath is coming out in pants as he suddenly releases his daughter. She falls, screaming, to never land. Darkness surrounds her in an all encompassing tunnel. Her own beautiful hazel eyes watching in horror as her daddy stays on the surface, melding with the thing of sin. It wrapped around his form, all flesh and women's parts and sin, and that writhing tongue and sharp, monstrous teeth. The feeling of abandonment swells in her chest to such an extent that she curls in on herself to try and fill the hole left behind. She just keeps falling on and on as her heart shatters and explodes out of her. She's screaming as her small hands try in vain to collect up all the pieces and scoop them back into herself.
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I sat up, bolt upright gasping for air as my dirt stained fingers clutched at my chest. There was a dreadful urge to empty the contents of my stomach everywhere as I swallowed in big mouthfuls of air. A pained groan left my lips as I slowly opened my eyes. The ache that reverberated from my beaten head to my cold feet made the sick feeling in my stomach double and suddenly my mouth was flooded with saliva. Swallow, swallow, swallow, I lurched out of a bed that wasn't mine and threw myself at the empty wash basin atop the dresser across the room. Bile burnt up my throat and across my tongue as I opened my mouth and made some disgusting noise as it splashed against the metal bowl. I was somewhat aware of my fingernails digging into the wooden dresser as my entire body convulsed. My calves were tensed, my abdomen muscles shook and, I was pretty much on my tiptoes held up by my fingertips, before I collapsed slack on the floor and heaved in great gulps of air. My face hurt, my head was pounding at the front and back, and I was completely drained as I curled in on myself. It took a good half hour for me to get myself together enough to look around the room was confined to.
The room, although plunged in darkness, looked rather elegant. The four poster canopied bed was covered in what looks like a thick feather quilt. The room had extravagant looking furniture from what my eyes could make out. It all looked rather daunting in shades of grey. I had to force my body to stand up, to do something, because I couldn't stay on the floor. It took a lot of pushing and a bit of a stumble to get me to the door that opened without the slightest of creaks. The long corridor that stretched out in two directions outside the room was lit by oil lamps along the wall. The spaces in between each lamp was just a pool of intimidating black seeing as there were no windows to give entrance to any light from outside. It wasn't as though the moon had been making an appearance that night anyway.
I forced my legs to move. My bare feet crept along the wooden floor, which made my toes curl against the chill it caused. I wasn't sure how far I could get out of the strangers house without any shoes on but I had to try before they came to finish me off. My life wasn't much, but it didn't mean I wanted to loose it.
The corridor was crossed by another which lead me towards a wide staircase. Below it was, much to my relief, an open hall and the front door. The front door that was open. The front door that was open, with my shoes sat right next to it. My heart skipped an excited beat as I stumbled a little down the stairs towards the battered old things. I rammed my dirty feet into the only bit of protection they'd had for a few years. My hand went to the open door's frame and I stopped as terror seized my once excited heart. I could felt my own eyes widen, my hands curled into hard fists as I forced myself to stand still. Slowly I looked down at myself, knowing what was missing; knowing that I couldn't leave. Water pooled in my eyes as I patted down my front just to make sure. I had to swallow the sob that nearly escaped me as my dirt stained fingers felt across my shirt covered stomach. No trench coat, no large inner pocket... No writing. My knees folded beneath me.
"The doors right there, why are you still here?" The soft confused voice that sounded out behind me had my back straightening to imitate a steel rod. "Oh, I know..." the sound of gentle footsteps came towards me, and the urge to just run away screaming was strong, but I couldn't. They stopped at my side, small, dainty, feminine, clean feet. The flutter of fabric as my trench coat was thrust towards me made my heart almost explode in my chest. However, as I raised my eyes, as I realised who exactly is passing me my coat, all I could do was stare. "I'm sorry they hurt you, it's not what I wanted. You are free to go. I don't want you to think you're being held here against your will." That voice. That beautiful voice. I couldn't drag my eyes away from the thick lips that kept releasing that sweet sound. "Please say something... Do something." Her lips were turned at the corners in worry but all I managed to do was sit back on my ankles as if I was about to pray at her feet. She fell to her knees in front of me and thrust my trench coat at me again. "You can go. I'll get Puck to drive you back to the city."
"No," the word sounded confused on my tongue as I looked at her on her knees. I could feel my eyebrows furrow at the horror of the being been on her knees in front of me. It just shouldn't have been. I took my coat and put it aside before taking her hands, lifting her to her feet and dusting off her knees. I flinched back as if scolded when I realised what it was I'd just done. I touched her. She was looking at me with curiously confused soft brown eyes and I shied back a bit. I split my gaze between my discarded coat and the door. She said I could go. She would take me back... to where she wasn't. The pressure against my fingertips was completely foreign. I gazed down, to see her fingers gently enclosing mine and lifting my hand ever so slightly.
"Would you like to stay for some food; maybe rest a bit, and Puck can drive you back in the daylight?" Her voice... I'd never heard anything so soothingly compelling. I followed her limply for a moment, before taking my hand back, scuttling back to pick up my coat again. I hugged it safely to my chest as I stepped back to her side. The smile that she gave me almost killed me.
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The room I followed her into was lit comfortingly by a huge fire, which made oranges yellows and reds dance across the walls and furniture. Soft furnishings, couches, footstools, cushions, took up my vision before I realised there are two others in the room that fell silent and were staring right at me. Their eyes weren't hostile, but they weren't what I would have called friendly either. They looked like they were weighing me up, as if I was threat. I discovered myself shrinking slightly in my own frame. In the past I would have made myself look as tall and imposing as I could, those days I didn't try anything of the sort. The more I blended into the shadows, the easier life was... or that had always been the plan. I realised I had stopped when soft fingers gently curl around my rough fingers and give me a little tug away from the two girls.
"They won't hurt you," The voice said in a bemused tone as I was led a little way away from them to a different couch. There was a tray of food set out on the low table in front of the soft two-seater that has my mouth suddenly watering and my stomach growling with painful hunger pangs. "Eat... I'll be over there," Gentle hands pushed me into the seat as she nodded her head towards the two girls we had just passed. I looked towards them, to see them still staring at me. It unnerved me enough for me to quickly avert my gaze back to the brunette's soft smile. She shook her head, clearly amused by me as she wandered away. My unease only kept me occupied for a moment before my stomach reinforced the fact that I hadn't eaten since sometime yesterday and I had lost all the stomach acid in my fit of post nightmare panic. I quickly picked up the tray and pile cold cuts of meat onto the crusty bread. I completely ignored the sound of laughter as I wolfed it down. All the time my coat was right there in my lap.
There was a sigh of satisfaction that weaselled its way from between my lips without my permission as I sat back in the comfortable seat. I had eaten enough to make a small bulge prominent in my stomach. I was malnourished enough in my frame, for any sustenance to create a food baby, though any time for caring was snatched away from me as a tall man stepped in front of me and lifted the tray from the table. I found myself clutching my coat, sitting as far back away from him as physically possible in the confines of my seat. I recognised him as the rough looking mohawked man from earlier that night. His dark eyes lingered on me for a moment before he sighed with a shake of the head and wandered away with what was left of the food. Between his departure and the arrival of the woman, there were only scant minutes, though it was enough time to calm my ferociously beating heart.
I watched curiously as the small brunette sat on the recently cleared coffee table and looked at me with those dark eyes of hers. My eyes flittered across her features, drinking her in as though she would suddenly fade to grey and disappear. Her complexion was smooth, a creamy mocha that held no marking from illness or violent acts. I wasn't so lucky, my face held a crooked scar from my left temple to the corner of my left eye. An accident in the factory, one of the new machines broke sending out shards of wood. I was one of the lucky ones.
Her eyes watched me watching her, their brown a rich, almost red mahogany, filled with an inquisitiveness that I was not used to. Her pupils reflected the flickering of the firelight until she blinked. Her eyelids lowered for a brief moment, giving me a reprieve to follow the lines of her face until they reopened. Just a moment and then her eyes were on me again.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Her voice had my ears throbbing, having gotten used to the quiet room that simply held the crackling of the fire, and the gentle murmur of the two women far back at the other side of the room. She wasn't speaking loud. In fact her voice was utterly delicate, yet it hit deep and sharp, as though my senses had just been reinstated. I remained silent, knowing that my eyes were greedy, and would eat her up in a way that was neither proper, nor remotely comfortable. "You look like you've never seen a woman before, which is ludicrous, considering you are one, and they're everywhere..." she stopped and averted her gaze from mine. My eyes followed the line from her ear down her neck, to her collarbone and I could feel the stirring heat beginning to curl in my stomach. I forced myself to close my eyes. It took something like an iron will to force the lids down and lower my chin, so that when they opened again I was staring at her feet.
"I apologise," I whispered. The sound of my voice was hollow, distant. I don't remember ever hearing myself in such a way so I clamped my lips together.
"It should be me apologising. I'm sure the night hasn't been very nice for you. I didn't want them to hurt you," and the woman was on her knees again, in front of me, looking up at me with such a soul tearing gaze as her fingertips lifted to the crack in my skin across my nose.
"Don't... please don't kneel..." The idea of her looking like she was beneath me, trying to take care of me, was all wrong. "please," I took her hands, once again forgetting myself as I pulled her up into the seat at my side. She didn't understand my need for her not to lower herself. I could see it in her eyes as she watched over me. I couldn't explain it, and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable again so I averted my gaze. "I dare say I'd go through it again... if it meant being here... so close to you." I whispered, though she was close enough to me to hear it. She didn't move away from me, so I turned my head towards her, with my gaze low. She was wringing her hands together... nerves maybe. I reached out, and for the third time that night took her hands in mine. They were small, terribly soft, and so clean. It was obvious they had never seen a hard days graft. My own hands haven't been white since the first few weeks of leaving home. The dirt was so far ingrained into my flesh I wondered vaguely if they'd ever be white again. The flesh of my palms was rough, hard, worn thick where they were once blistered, hers was soft, smooth, a delicate pink hue as I traced my thumb over the lines.
"I've seen you at the inn." She whispers to me. I finally raise my eyes to hers. Her pupils are wide and dazed as she gazes back at me. "I've seen you watching me, scribbling on your paper." Her voice has dipped an octave and her hands are now limp in my hands because I can't find the strength in me to hold them even gently. "I was curious. So terribly curious about what you were doing. I couldn't figure you out. You were always there, in that same spot, with a cigarette dangling from your lips and I couldn't get you out of my mind. The idea of seeing you there made me giddy, and it was such a foreign, strange feeling that I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't know what it meant, when I'd watch your eyes running over your pages with such fire. I didn't understand why I'd falter behind the curtain, watching your lips pucker around your cigarette... I had to meet you..." Throughout her speech her expression had become more and more nervous, more scared, almost to the point of terror as if she expected me to lash out at her. I could barely think as my eyebrows knitted themselves together in the middle.
"My cigarette..? How...? I..."
"Like this..."
And her lips were the most luscious silk as mouth watering as a ripe plum as they enclosed around my bottom lip. As vital as air was, it simply stopped being a necessity in favour of giving in to her warmth as she pushed me back flat on the sofa. I was almost delirious at the sensation of her lying above me, pressing her mouth hotly to mine, and all I could do was allow it.
"You weren't there..." oh god she's nipping at my jaw. "Last Thursday, and" There's a whimper rolling past my tongue as her tongue connects with a patch of skin just bellow my ear, followed quickly by her hungry lips. "I couldn't sing. I couldn't find..." I wanted her to devour me whole, to take me in her mouth and never release me from its hot pink prison as her teeth found my collarbone, "my voice. My music." Her mouth is back on mine, drawing tortured moans from me as her fingertips clutched at my dirty blonde locks. As suddenly and as passionately as it started, it stopped and she was looking down into my eyes. "Without you... It just went. I couldn't function, because you weren't there with your ragged bits of paper, and your cigarette and I felt like my world had caved in. I needed to see you, to make myself believe that it wasn't what I thought. You weren't there though, until tonight. I didn't think I would... but..." and then the kissing started again. She'd utterly lost her train of thought with her eyes locked on my mouth, and she was kissing me again. "Please... tell me I'm not insane..." all I could give was a moan as her hot hand connected with my sharp malnourished hip bone. "Tell me you feel it too." I tried to give an affirmation, to nod, to do something. Instead I found myself turning us so that she was on her back and I was kissing her lips, her chin, her jaw, her cheeks, her eyelids until I stopped and rested my forehead to hers with tears swimming behind my own eyelids. I breathed her in, obviously dreaming, obviously passed out in a gutter somewhere because this reality isn't right. It can't be. She tried to reach her lips up to mine, but I pulled back. I had to get my bearings, to collect myself, to fully take it all in, because it was going too fast.
"Just... please, slow down." I whisper to her, my voice a good indicator of just how badly I want her. "It's too much, too fast. I don't know you... gods how I want to know you." My calloused right hand cupped her cheek bringing her lips to mine in such a gentle kiss that she seemed to melt in my arms. I buried my face in the space between her neck and shoulder and prayed. "Tell me I can know you, that I'm not just an itch to scratch. I'd give you anything." I pleaded with her, not caring that I sounded desperate. The feeling of her slender arms wrapping around my waist almost breaks me as I cling to her dress.
"I'd like that..." She whispered, intimately close to my ear. "If you'll let me know you too," She said and all I could do was nod against her shoulder and pepper her with kisses again. My trench coat and papers were discarded on the floor, forgotten in favour of a reality so much more than I could ever hope to write. "I'm Rachel," she smiled up at me and I grinned so wide at her.
"Quinn," I replied, before falling back into her kisses.