A/N: It's my kink, I can write it if I want to. Pretty obviously inspired by Jack Johnson's lovely song Banana Pancakes. Originally a weird fantasy I had about Martha Jones from Doctor Who and then it somehow became a domestic Faberry fanfiction? I don't make any sense; ignore me and enjoy your pancakes.
Comfortable in their vast bed, Quinn woke slowly to the smell of breakfast, wafting its welcome scent into the room. Curious, she threw back the covers and padded out the door, not bothering to change from the pale blue teddie she slept in. Waking to breakfast was no longer something unusual to her. Since moving in with Early Bird Rachel, she found meals already made for her more and more. Groggy and bleary-eyed, she'd stumble into the kitchen, and be served with a peck on the cheek and a brilliant, Berry smile. How she stayed so chipper, Quinn would never know. All she knew was that she loved her girlfriend and she loved bacon, even if it was vegan and tasted slightly burnt.
However, what intrigued her this particular morning was the aroma itself; it wasn't fake bacon or fake sausage or fake eggs or any other kind of protein substitution: it was pancakes. Banana pancakes, if her nose wasn't mistaken.
Quinn salivated at the thought. She hadn't had pancakes since...oh, she couldn't remember! It was the only cooking her daddy ever did. Very possessive of it, too. He wouldn't let anyone even near the griddle. Bitterly, she pushed back the painful memories, not wanting to be reminded that he had disowned and abandoned her when she needed him the most. Or the way he would swing her and her sister on his arms, or let them sneak bits of batter from the bowl.
No, she reasoned, silently scolding herself for being so wistful. That was a part of her old life. Before Beth, and certainly before Rachel. He would never understand the life she had with Rachel.
Stepping out into the hallway, shuffling into her slippers, she smiled to herself. And what a good life it was, she decided. She didn't need anyone else's approval. Not so long as she had Rachel.
Before entering the kitchen, she pause to glance at herself in the hanging mirror. Quirking her mouth, she conceded that she looked "okay," trying her best to flatten her bedhead mess of hair. Her teeth looked fine, however, and her breath wasn't too bad when she checked it. She was ready to greet her girlfriend with a smile.
Upon entering, she nearly slipped and smacked her face against the island; for standing there, her bare back to her, was Rachel, humming and flipping flapjacks like it was no big deal. Indeed it was a big deal, however, because although the island concealed the bottom half of her body, it appeared that Rachel was wearing and apron and onlyan apron.
Hearing her walk in (and the strangled cry she gave upon seeing her outfit), Rachel innocently turned around, finger in her mouth as though she had been stealing tastes of the batter. She looked like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. If the child were 26 and incredibly sexy, wearing only a ridiculously frilly, white apron.
Quinn could see her erect nipples through it. The room suddenly felt very hot. She struggled for words, afraid she'd bite her tongue if she chose poorly. All she got out was a strained, "Rachel?"
Blushing like a bride on her wedding night, Rachel pulled her finger from her mouth, dragging her bottom lip with it. "I thought I'd...try something new," she elucidated, apparently indicating the pancakes, not her attire or lack thereof.
"Is..is there anything underneath that?" she squeaked as she walked around the island.
"Nope," she answered, deceptively innocent in tone. She turned around, back to her cooking, and Quinn saw her round ass.
It wasn't like she'd never seen Rachel naked before (quite the contrary), but she had never purposefully seduced her in such a way. Quinn suddenly felt dizzy. Stepping forward, she took a cheek in each hand, her body flush against Rachel's. She gasped, dropping her spatula and setting her hands on the counter. She wasn't expecting so swift a reaction. Bending at the waist, she eagerly pushed her ass further into Quinn's kneading hands.
Slowly, she slipped two fingers down between her cheeks, moving sensually down to her vulva, which was already wet under her hand. Quinn said her name in that husky way of hers, the way that she knew made Rachel weak at the knees. "Quinn," she replied, gasping. "The pancakes, they're going to burn."
"Let them," breathed Quinn in her girlfriend's ear.
Rachel shifted, picking up the spatula, then flipping the pancakes onto the plate. Then a wide grin spread over Quinn's face. She slid her fingers faster yet over Rachel's slick sex. "Oh!" she cried, startled by the sudden change in movement. "I..Quinn, I..."
"Yeah?" prompted Quinn, leaning further into her, quickening her deft fingers. They found Rachel's clit, rubbing her fore- and middle finger over it, alternating and working in time.
"Mmm, ah, I," she tried. "I have a question to ask. It's, uhm, been...bothering me for a...a while."
Talk, talk, talk, thought Quinn, but she listened closely, slowing her rhythm.
"W-we're both girls," stated Captain Obvious. The sentence sounded like it didn't want to end, like a comma or an ellipses preluded her next statement.
Pausing in her work, Quinn looked to Rachel's face, searching for signs of what would come. Rachel looked sad she had stopped, but determined to be heard. Defeated, Quinn let her hands rest around Rachel's waist, her cheek on her shoulder. "Yes," confirmed Quinn.
"So it's normal to...compare each other, right?"
Sighing, Quinn demanded, "Is this about you convincing yourself that I'm prettier?" She squeezed her tighter. Chewing her bottom lip, Rachel refused to look at her, apparently intent on the pancakes. "Rachel, you're beautiful."
"But do you ever get jealous of me?" she blurted.
Taken aback, Quinn answered with the truth, "Yes."
Rachel's voice was barely a whisper: "Anything specific?"
"Hmmm," she mused, starting her hands on Rachel's shoulders, then moving them down to her wrists. Rachel shivered. She aligned her fingers with Rachel's, pressing her palm to the back of her girlfriend's hand. She held up her hand, moving it to dip a finger into the pancake batter, then slowly brought it to her lips. She put her mouth around the finger, tongue licking it clean. She whispered in the other's ear, "Your perfect piano fingers."
Kissing her cheek, she admitted, "Your cheekbones."
The list went on, all murmured hoarsely into Rachel's ear, her lips brushing against it.
"The smell of your hair."
"Your pride."
"Your talent."
"Your voice."
With each addition to the list, Rachel's breathing quickened. Quinn moved her hands down over her body, until they were on her ass again.
"Your neck," she breathed, leaning down to plant another kiss. This time, however, she blew the biggest raspberry onto her tender neck. Squealing, Rachel squirmed between the tickling sensation of Quinn's vibrating lips.
Giggling, Quinn turned Rachel around, looking her in the eyes. "What do you have anything to be self-conscious about anyway?"
Awkwardly, Rachel smiled. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Quinn."
She took this as a moment to gloat, bowing her head, "Thank you."
Rachel chuckled, but bit her lip and continued, "I just don't know how you're with me."
Pulling her closer, Quinn smirked. "Because you'rethe most beautiful woman Ihave ever met."
Tenderly, she kissed her. Rachel was the one who deepened it, wrapping her arms wholly around Quinn, as if never wanting to let go. In a bout of strength, Quinn hoisted Rachel up, hooking her arms beneath her. She turned around, to the island, Rachel's legs wrapped around her torso. Setting her down, her hands slip up over Rachel's shins, as she bent down over Rachel's spread thighs.
"The pancakes are gonna get cold," squeaked Rachel.
Again, she answered, "Let them."
Without hesitating, she put her mouth to Rachel's sex, lips and tongue working symbiotically together. Rachel threw her head back, a guttural "Ohhh" leaving her mouth.
Idly, Quinn wondered why they had never done this in the kitchen before. It was perfect for it. She dug her hands into Rachel's lower back, pulling her closer still. Rachel hummed her way to orgasm, Quinn an expert with her lips. As she edged nearer, Rachel wrapped her legs around Quinn's head, her fingers tangling in Quinn's hair. Gently, she pulled, and Quinn pushed the tip of her tongue further into her.
It came unexpectedly quickly, but stayed longer than usual; Quinn held her lips to Rachel's clit for an extended amount of time, holding her there.
Breathless, Rachel sat up when Quinn pulled away. They smiled at each other.
"So..." began Quinn sheepishly. "Pancakes?"
Rachel hopped down from the island, "I was thinking I could return the favor."
"What about the pancakes?" she asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
"They'll still be here when we're done."
She gripped her hand, pulling her to the hall. They giggled their way to the bedroom to finish what they had started. The pancakes would certainly have to wait.