Slice of Heaven
Pairing: Rachel & Quinn
Genre: romance/humour
Summary: Rachel decided that if her Broadway dream were to ever not come true, she could always pursue a career as a baker. Faberry season 1. Pregnant Quinn.
Rachel realised something.
Something that she was surprised to not have noticed before when it was so blatantly obvious.
Finn Hudson was an insufferable ass.
She helped that pompous oaf with his job when he desperately needed it, helping him get financial support to help support his pregnant girlfriend. Well, his then pregnant girlfriend.
The fact remained that she went out of her way to help a friend in need. And in the spirit of fairness and friendship, she asked the tall boy to help her inquire about a job too. But no. it turns out that she was wrong about the boy who she had a crush on for the most of the year.
Finn had the audacity to claim that because of her personality, that the chances of her getting a job were, in his words 'Not very good…like', and she wouldn't even get the sympathy vote if she came equipped with the wheelchair.
What a, dare she say it, asshole!
But she did get a job. And they just so happened to like her 'annoying' and 'perfectionist' personality, AND she got it without pretending she was confined in a wheelchair.
If she had male genitals, this would be the opportune moment to tell Finn to suck it.
She didn't think she would ever in her life time work in food preparation. She knew that most people had to make do; most worked in jobs that they hated but absolutely needed, and she had no issues with that. She just didn't think she would be one of them.
But in a way, she was glad. She saw this as an opportunity to get some experience, for the sake of her Broadway bound future. Plus she was getting money that she would plan to save towards that dream.
And she happily decided that if her Broadway dream didn't blossom, she could always pursue a career in the baking business.
It was 4:30 on a Friday at the 'Slice of Heaven' bakery and the young diva, clad in a soiled apron and flour on her nose, was having another go at the boysenberry tarts she was assigned to make. Rachel would admit; she was a terrible cook. But being the proud perfectionist that she was infamous for, she saw her lack of skill as opportunity. Of course she knew that cooking skills has no influence what so ever in musical theatre, but a skill is a skill. And realising she wasn't even a novice at the subject was motivation enough to pick up the spatula and get messy.
Her last batch was a disaster, burnt around the crust, and although she hadn't made many tarts before, she knew they weren't meant to be that crispy. She would admit; she did suck, but she wasn't THAT ill informed.
She would have thought that Mr Davies, the owner of the bakery would have been sick of her 'unseasoned-ness' in the kitchen by now, but the older man insisted that he liked the company.
She was grateful of the man. He had to be one of the few people in Lima who wasn't a homophobe. It was a small town; people knew everyone. Knew who you were related to, and being the daughter of two fathers, she certainly had made an impression among the bigoted folk.
Not that she was gay mind you (openly Bisexual), but according to Lima, it didn't matter.
Suffice to say, her first few job inquiries were rudely ignored. Heck, most of them shut the door in her face before she could get a word in. she briefly considered using the wheelchair to gain the sympathy vote; she had the wheelchair in the back of her car as a last resort.
She didn't mind though. Ultimately If they didn't want her talents, then so be it. They'll regret it later when the next recession hits.
Mr Davies was not like them. From what Rachel understood, Geoffrey Davies was an old friend of her daddy back in his high school days. Her daddy explained, without going into too much detail, that he owed Geoffrey thanks after a certain fight that involved a few of those bigoted homophobes at William McKinley High School. He didn't speak any further on the subject, but he had a smile on his face. And that vague smile was evidence enough for Rachel to respect the man.
Mr Davies was a diamond in the rough; something she believed they shared in common.
And the diamond himself, out of his working apron, walked into the kitchen. He spied Rachel rolling out the pastry with a look of sheer concentration on her face, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she rolled the pastry flat. The girls normally kept hair was pinged in all directions. The apron she wore was a size too big and behaved more like a dress, the bottom kissing the linoleum floor. And there wasn't a patch of her caramel coloured skin not powdered with flour.
He chuckled warmly at the sight.
Finished with his observation, Mr Davies made his presence known "Having fun there, Rachel?"
The baker suppressed a snort when the girl in question jumped a few feet off the ground. The wooden roller she was holding hit the bench with a thud, as she turned around with a hand to her chest to still her rapidly beating heart. Her face calmed with a nervous laugh. "Mr Davies! That was rather cruel of you!"
The baker did have the decency to look a little ashamed, but recovered with a smirk that made his laugh lines stand out. "I couldn't resist, really." He caught a whiff in the air and his face fell, before smirking again with narrow eyes "Burn something, did we?"
Rachel stilled, her eyes shifting to the large stone oven on the other side of the kitchen with its door open, revealing a tray of cooling charcoaled blueberry muffins. She looked back to the amused baker, chuckling with a sheepish grin, and then crossing her arms with a jutted chin. "Do believe me when I say that those are an improvement from my previous attempt."
This time Mr Davies didn't hide his snort "Oh really now?"
Rachel let her shoulders slump and a sense of defeat fell upon her "I'm sorry Mr Davies. I'm wasting all of your ingredients." She began to doubt herself "in all honesty, I'm quite surprised that you took me under your wing in the first place. I'm not doing your business any favours. It would be of more benefit for you to hire a person with experience that extends past making apology cookies."
"It would seem so." He pretended to ponder "Are you having fun?"
The question caught Rachel off guard, but after processing the question from the baker, she answered with a creased brow, almost as if realising right then and there how true the response would be. "Surprisingly yes…"
"And are you learning?"
She gave a quick glance at the burnt pastries. She shrugged. "Bit by bit."
The salt and pepper haired man grinned widely "Then it's fine. All I ask is that you serve customers and clean up after yourself. Other than that, I encourage- no- expect you to practice your baking."
Rachel grabbed hold of the rolling pin, clenching it in determination "hopefully one day I can bake a pie for you."
"And hopefully one day I will be able to eat it without gagging." He chuckled when Rachel feigned offence.
"I'll leave the key on the bench here; lock up when you're done. And if any stray customers wander in-"
-I'll give them the best 'Slice of Heaven' service that they've ever experienced." Rachel saluted with a toothy grin.
"Atta girl," Mr Davies laughed, zipping up his evening jacket "oh, and Rachel?" Mr Davies called over his shoulder "Be sure to pour flour over the dough, not baking powder next time." He gave a wink before closing the kitchen door behind him.
Thinking over what the baker said, Rachel smiled sheepishly to herself and pushed the pastry dough off the bench and straight in the bin. She reached for her spatula and gave the mixing bowl a good stir.
Well, third times a charm anyway.
When Quinn Fabray had a craving, you knew to say clear.
And if you ever helped her quell her craving, you'd be in her good books.
Except on this Friday late afternoon, staring into the empty fridge of the Jones' household, she didn't have that assistance. Her only option it seemed was to drive to the nearest Dunkin' donuts and buy enough sugar coated - fat fried - chocolate smothered treats that would induce a heart attack just by looking at them. But alas, she didn't have access to her car, the only thing she got to keep from being kicked out of her house. Her father wasn't that generous, so she was thankful in that aspect.
Well, when she says she doesn't have access, she doesn't have the keys; the car itself lay motionless and unused inside the Jones' garage.
Mercedes was to blame for that. The diva didn't want her driving while she was heavily pregnant. She insisted so much, that she hid Quinn's keys to her Volkswagen beetle. She wasn't certain, but she thinks Mercedes hid them in the cleavage of her bra when she left to stay at Kurt's for the evening.
So Quinn was forced to stay confined at the Jones' residence for the rest of the night and let her craving turn her rabid.
Even with a bowling ball under her dress, Quinn was still very fit with her cheerio - sculpted body. She survived Sylvester's various forms of torture; from running fifty laps in hail to two hundred press-ups while listening to nickleback on repeat; Quinn had suffered from the worst of pain.
But no pain was worse than trying to deny your desires.
No, Quinn craved.
She craved sugar.
And head cheerleader or pregnant; it didn't make a difference. As Quinn walked out the front door with her American express in hand, the look of determination was hard to waver.
Quinn Fabray always got what she wanted.
It took a good twenty minutes, discounting the two breaks and peeing behind a bush, but she made it in one piece.
And she stood in front of the building with a tired smile.
The 'Slice of Heaven' Bakery.
She went here a few times as a kid, but remembered her father one day deciding to never set foot in the place, or even mention it again. She remembered asking Russell if they could go get a blueberry pie from the bakery, and she remembered him turning sharply, grabbing her wrist (rather tightly she recalled), and telling her sternly that they couldn't eat there anymore and forbid her to go near it. Being the obedient child she was, she promised and the subject was never brought up again.
But she always remembered the pies she used to enjoy so much.
The cinnamon rolls.
The apple strudels.
The berry pies.
God, her mouth was watering just thinking about them.
She rubbed her belly as she felt it rumble in hunger, or was it the baby kicking? In any case she needed to satisfy this craving.
'Daddy isn't here to tell me no, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him', and with that, she entered the bakery without a second thought.
Rachel didn't hear the door chime, her mind too far away and her hands too deep in dough to notice.
Walking into the empty shop, Quinn stopped for a moment to take it all in. she noted the two-seater directly to her right. She smiled sadly when she recognised it as the same one from her childhood. She and her father would sit on that very couch as they waited for Mr Davies to serve their order for the day.
How things change.
Noticing the unoccupied register, she frowned at the lack of staff. She did note that it was around four-ish and most retails would be cleaning up after a day's shift then shutting up soon after. Quinn looked back at the glass door and noticed the open sign. 'Well, if they are open, then why aren't they behaving like they are?' she thought with an aggravated huff.
Then it hit her.
Like a wave of sweet warmth that travelled through her nose down to the tips of her fingers and toes.
It was a smell that she hadn't experienced since she was eight, but she loved it so much that she'd recognise it anywhere.
Boysenberries and cinnamon.
The blond's mouth began to water.
And then suddenly she lost control of her legs and she began to wander further into the bakery, walking past the cash register and into the fly mesh leading into the kitchen. She knew she was trespassing but the smell was so enchanting, so mesmerizing that it seemed impossible to resist.
Hearing the plastic rustle of the fly mesh, Rachel rolled her eyes. Believing it was the baker coming back to remind Rachel to clean up after herself, the diva turned around with a light chuckle to acknowledge him.
"Mr Davies, did you forget somethi-
Oh crap.
"Berry?!"
Oh double crap.
Standing, in the flesh, was her arch enemy, Quinn Fabray; the former HBIC of McKinley.
Oh no. no no no no no this wouldn't do at all! This was her safe haven, a place away from her tormentors. They bully her enough at school, why did they have to hurt her here too?
And why did it have to be the worst of them all?
Why did it have to be her?
Seeing Quinn Fabray without her signature cheerio uniform always was a shock. It gave her a brief feeling of security.
Only briefly.
Maybe...Maybe because she was on her own, without her minions, she will only throw an insult or two. She knew it was wishful thinking, but that didn't stop her from hoping.
But Rachel would admit that Quinn Fabray did not need a status symbol like the cheerio's had provided. Quinn with a protruding baby bump that looked ready to burst was still a wicked force to be reckoned with.
And she could also admit without doubt, even with the pregnancy, Quinn still managed to look so strikingly beautiful. Her beauty would always be with her, No matter how low in the food chain she would fall, that's the one thing she would never lose.
And Rachel admired and disliked her somewhat for that.
Honestly, looking at her in detail; taking in the wavy hay-coloured hair, porcelain doll skin, perfectly sculpted eyebrow, golden hazel eyes.
Soft pink lips.
Quinn seemed to notice Rachel's prolonged stare and couldn't help the blush that crept up her neck. This had to stop "Man hands!" she blurted.
"Oh! Quinn!" Rachel squeaked in surprise, dropping her rolling pin for the second time today.
"What in the fiery pits of hell are you doing here?" the blond crossed her arms.
Rachel winced. Oh no, this was not good. The ex-HBIC tortured her everywhere she went, the slushy stains on her training bra to prove it. But Rachel knew without a sliver of doubt that an angry pregnant Quinn was the worst and she had to watch what she did in case she were to be thrown in a trench.
If Rachel knew fear before, she was in for something new.
"Q-Quinn, what are you doing here?" she asked, despite her stance, "You can't be here. The kitchen is for authorized personnel only."
Quinn remembered she was the one uninvited and she blushed a little, having the decency to look like she was in the wrong. But she was too hungry to back down and she scowled.
"I was hungry; if you didn't want anybody in here then you should have put your closed sign up."
Rachel would have countered with the fact that it was her who was trespassing, but she answered the blond's question, holding a berry jam coated whisk "I'm one of Mr Geoffrey Davies assistants for his bakery."
"Wait, you're baking?" Quinn didn't try to let her disgust hide from her features. Great, treasure trail is getting her hands in all those pastries.
But it did smell so...so delicious, so berry must have done something right.
Rachel could feel the disapproval simmer off of Quinn and she rolled her eyes, stomping her Mary-Jane shoe on the indium floor with a huff.
"Did you want something?" she asked with impatience.
As if on cue, the blond's stomach rumbled in hunger. She cleared he throat as a distraction, but Rachel had heard it, and couldn't stop the almost smug look to grace her features.
"What's that look for, berry?" the blond sneered.
"Are you hungry?" the brunette smirked. The blush the blond had previously came back in full force, and at this, she smirked wider.
"W-Why else do you think I'm here?" Quinn flustered, "to converse with the likes of you?" the brunette dropped her smile in a wince.
"Well...did you maybe… want to try a slice of my boysenberry tarts I mean, it's my first batch that I think might be edible…"
Quinn wouldn't admit it, but she felt her mouth water. Curse her bodily functions.
She gulped "I guess so, Berry…"
Giving Quinn a cautioned smile, Rachel walked over to the oven. She opened the large door to reveal a freshly cooked boysenberry pie, the aroma swimming through the air like a mist, warming her cheeks. She gave it a scrutinizing look and what she saw surprised her. It… actually looked good; It wasn't burnt round the edges, there was little to no oozing of jam out of the corners, and it didn't look like it was just submerged in the fires of Mordor. Rachel couldn't help but feel a little giddy at the thought of sampling an edible pie.
Grabbing the oven mitts nearby, she pulled out the tray the pie was encased in and laying it gently on the kitchen bench. Taking a knife from its sheath, she cut into it, making a perfect portion (but making it a little bigger for the pregnant teen (she figured the girl would appreciate it). Placing the steaming piece onto a nearby porcelain plate, she handed it to Quinn, who just stared at it, salivating. The girl in question swallowed tightly before asking: "How much is it?"
"It's on the house; you're my taste tester." Rachel smiled shyly.
Quinn gave her signature eyebrow raise before accepting the plate "you're too nice for your own good, Berry."
"It's because I am…" she answered quietly, but Quinn didn't hear her.
Quinn stared at the slice of pie presented before her. Observing every detail. She wasn't too keen on the idea of sticking something so foreign in her mouth.
But the smell was just…hypnotizing.
She picked up a waiting fork from a nervous Rachel's hand, and separated the very tip, the pastry underneath crumbling from the pressure. Gathering a rather small portion on her fork, she gulped her nerves down. Rachel's observing on the side lines ever present.
Here goes nothing…
Slowly biting into it, as if it were a poisoned apple, she separated the piece from the tart and let her taste buds accommodate the probably disgusti- Quinn's eyes bulged suddenly in surprise.
Her expression made Rachel wince a little. That wasn't good.
She was trying really hard with her cooking, she truly was. But no one other than her dads had tried her recipes, and as much as she loves them and their appraisal, she knew it was their jobs as fathers to please their daughter with their flattering comments. She would hear their words of encouragement and almost picture them spitting out the contents when she leaves the room. Quinn was her first person outside of her family to try her baking so she was a little nervous. At least she would be a bit happier knowing when she spits it out she will be honest. The Fabray's were known for their brutal honesty.
But this wasn't to be the case because Quinn did the last thing that Rachel thought would ever happen.
She moaned.
It was shaky, not incredibly vocal, but it was there, her eyes closing in ecstasy. And she made no attempt to hide it.
The blond chewed slowly, savouring the sweet tart flavour. Rachel couldn't help but whimper when she saw a tongue slip out and lick the loose sugar on Quinn's lips.
This was downright criminal.
"This…this is really good," the pregnant girl sighed with joy, swallowing the pastry down "like, really good…are you sure you made this?"
Rachel took her gaze away from the blonds pink, plump lips to answer "y-yeah," Rachel cleared her throat "Yes, I did. I'm a novice at best, so they're not perfect."
Quinn's pleasured moan begged to differ.
Quinn seemed to throw her delicateness out the window because she took a whole bite, consuming the rest of the pie much to Rachel's fascinated stare.
Then a rogue drop of boysenberry jam oozed down her lip.
And it was that rogue that changed the course of the evening.
Oh sweetness.
"You've got some boysenberry sauce on your chin…" Rachel gulped.
The brunette took the clean plate and fork from the blond's fingers, and placed them gently on the bench behind the blond, her eyes never leaving the fruit juice under the pink bottom lip.
Thinking back now, she didn't know why she did it. Thinking back, she didn't know what made her make the first move. Thinking back, she didn't know what made Quinn respond the way that she did.
But thinking back, she was glad that she did it.
Dragging her thumb across the line of the ex-cheerio's bottom lip, Rachel collected a small drop of boysenberry fruit, Quinn watching her every move with rapt attention. Without really thinking, she brought the thumb up to her lips, gently sucking off the sweet juice. Quinn's breathing hitched, closing her eyes then slowly opening them to reveal fully blown pupils.
Looking into those dark eyes sent a throb below Rachel's belly, and she whimpered.
Oh god.
"Berry…"
The train of thought of the girl in question was leading to soft, pink and wet, her eyes never leaving lips.
I wonder how soft those lips are…
This was getting too much.
Something needed to happen, and if it didn't happen Quinn was certain she would explode. Or scream. Or both.
"I just…I just need...to…"
Only when she moved close enough that the girls where breathing the same air did Rachel stop. Almost wanting a sign, she looked up at the blond to find her eyes tightly shut and her brow creased, as if bracing for impact. It was such uncertainty that Rachel hadn't seen and she couldn't help but find it...endearing.
Closing the gap, their lips touched lightly. Rachel latched on to Quinn's upper lip.
Quinn breathed sharply through her nose, her fingers extending then curling into fists.
After a few seconds went by with no response from the other girl, Rachel began to panic.
oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap! This was a stupid idea! Whose stupid idea was it to get a job at a bakery? This is all Finn's fault, that dumb oaf!
Just before Rachel could pull away, delicate, almost unsure fingers wove through her hair, feeling Quinn respond to the kiss soon after.
And just like floodgates being released, so was the sexual tension. It was being attended to; with caressing, squeezing, kisses, sucking, biting, and all around unadulterated exploration of the body.
The scream of Quinn's rational sense was being quelled out by a mix of Rachel and her own moans and gasps.
Curiosity possessed Rachel's hands, and they roamed over planes of cotton and skin. They brushed over the exposed skin of Quinn's chest and caressed soft peaks with light squeezes, much to the pleasure of both girls.
Quinn's brain was swimming with sensations. The gentle fingers of Rachel berry were causing wonderful, glorious, fantastic hums of warmth to course through her body. Fireworks ringing through her ears like a sweet symphony. She was in heaven.
But she was selfish.
She craved-no, needed more.
The brunette's exploration of her fingers halted when she came into contact with a bare thigh, radiating with heat. Oh Barbra.
She stopped, looking the blond in the eyes, silently asking for permission. For…what…Rachel didn't know (to feed her curiosity perhaps?).
Quinn seemed to be equally curious because she took hold of Rachel's wrist, and slid the brunettes hand further up her thigh, her wide eyes never leaving hers. Rachel was slack jawed and a collective gasp filled the kitchen when the hand had reached its destination.
"Touch it."
Wait, what?
Whoa…Rachel speechless. If the girl didn't have her hand between her legs, Quinn would have got a camera to record this moment.
Oh god I can feel her. I'm barely touching it; it's so…so warm.
And her nervousness found her blabbering switch, and she couldn't seem to stop.
"A-are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you do have a rather big hindrance in the form of a pregnancy, and while I would very much like to partake in sexual activities with you," she still couldn't fathom that "I would feel that we must remember that there is a third party involved, and although the unborn child has no say what so ever in who its mother couples with, I do feel as if it should at least be considered while we delve into matters of uncontrollable teenage lust-"
Rolling her eyes in impatience, Quinn's grip on the brunette's wrist tightened, pushing its up so her hand was cupping her heat. And Rachel's nervous sentence seized in her mouth.
"Touch," Quinn husked, lifting her hips to hump Rachel's fingers "Me."
Ask and you shall fucking receive.
She began to knead the heel of her palm into damp panties softly, but it was enough to make both girls whimper.
Despite her short stature, Rachel still needed to get on her knees to be in eye level of Quinn's centre. With trembling hands, she took hold of Quinn's thighs, sliding them up under her dress until she had her thumbs hooked the hem of her panties, pulling them down, her knuckles grazing her skin, leaving fire in their wake. She heard the blond hiss under her heavy panting. It was when she started lifting up the hem of her dress did Quinn stop her, gentle hands pushing the dress back down.
"W-what's wrong…?"
Quinn gnawed her bottom lip in thought. Her growing belly had a huge impact on how the blond saw herself sexually. She would often stare naked in the mirror and really take time in observing every detail of herself.
The breasts: too small
The thighs: too big
The stomach: too fat
Every part of her that she hated previously was still there, and seemed even bigger a dislike with the baby girl adorning her belly.
And she knows that by exposing her body to the diva, she would be exposing all of her insecurities, her faults.
She would feel naked, in both senses of the word.
She would feel the way that she tries to make Rachel feel every single day.
Her mind escaping her she realised she hadn't answered Rachel's question. She whispered "just touch me…"
Not quite understanding her wishes but not one to question them, Rachel let go of Quinn's dress. With a gulp, she lifted the blond's legs over each shoulder and came face to face with her sex. Oh god, her scent was just so… overwhelming. She couldn't control her body as her nose inhaled deeply. She decided to pass the threshold to give the folds a teasing flick of her tongue.
And that's when Quinn, out of reflex, hissed through her teeth and clamped her legs shut, forgetting the diva's head which was between them. Ummm,okay oww.
"Uhhh…Q-Quinn, my head-"
Quinn let out a gasp, releasing her tight hold on Rachel's head; an embarrassing blush crept over her skin. (More out of embarrassment then arousal).
"Are…You okay, Rachel?" she breathed, her brow creased in worry.
If Rachel wasn't about to go down on the girl, she would have ran and got a camera to record this moment. It was a double whammy.
Point A: Quinn Fabray asked about her well-being.
Point B: Quinn Fabray called her something that wasn't man hands, treasure trail or hobbit.
But by her first name.
Rachel did find it amusing that that was the thing that surprised her most, not the sexual tryst they were about to partake in.
Catching a whiff of the mouth-watering aroma, Rachel remembered where she was; in between her former tormentors legs about to taste forbidden fruit.
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." She gulped "H-How about you…?"
Quinn couldn't look at the girl in between her legs, her face burning.
"I …I want you to do that again…"she mumbled. She didn't think she could get any redder, which Rachel found odd, because if Quinn wanted to be embarrassed she should have started when she stuck her tongue down her throat "Don't worry, I won't put your head in a vice…" she added with a light chuckle.
Rachel did return a smile.
"O-okay…"
Taking a deep breath, Rachel flattened her tongue against the blond's clean folds and licked up to her pink, pulsing clit. The action causing a guttural moan to creep out of Quinn's throat, before spiking once it reached her bud. The sound and taste hit all of her senses and was pure Quinn. Rachel had to wait a moment to let her mind catch up with her. Above her she heard a frustrated, almost desperate, huff.
"Rachel…?"
'Y-Yeah?"
"D-Don't stop. Don't ever stop…"
Not one to argue, Rachel continued, letting out a content groan as she licked again but with more force.
"Oh god I have wanted this." The blond whimpered admission only encouraged Rachel as she continued her endeavour on her sex. Quinn's sudden transition from a nervous girl to this sex goddess was surprising as it was arousing. Quinn's fingernails dug into anything, scratching the surface of the kitchen bench before finally finding thick chestnut locks. She scratched her scalp tenderly as she rode Rachel's face.
Rachel probed her tongue in and out of her sweet hole, trying desperately to gather more of the blond's essence on her taste buds. The tart flavour was so addicting that Rachel couldn't find it in her will to stop. The diva began humming a tune, the vibrations from her lips stimulating her task further.
Oh life is juicy, juicy and you see
I've got to have my bite, sir.
The moans were escalating above her, getting louder and very, very dirty.
"R-Rach…I-uhh-uhh I-I need-FUCK!" she swore as the warm muscle flicked her clit hard. God, please curse more often.
"Hmm? What do you need?" Rachel hummed with a thrilled smirk on her features. God Rachel could cum alone on the sexual desperation in the ex-cheerleaders voice. At this, she humped the air, realizing how wet she was getting.
"Baby uhh-uhhhh god fuck...please…" Quinn was never so uncertain in her life. She didn't know what she was begging for but she hoped for both their sakes that Rachel did know.
Rachel would be lying if she knew what she was doing.
"Do what…?"
"I-I don't know…just…do something!" she groaned.
Quinn was aching all over and oh god if Rachel didn't make her cum soon then she would swear she would deliver a world of pain that Rachel could only imagine in her nightmares.
She slipped the tip of her index finger into her warm and wet cavern, and felt the blond clamp on it like a vice.
"SHIIIIT!" the blond yelped.
This was unreal, this was unbelievable. Unfathomable. This was warm, this was wet.
This...this was actually happening. Rachel Barbra Berry; loser and social pariah of William McKinley high school has her fingers clamped inside the velveteen pussy of her former tormentor Quinn Fabray. She was, to put a better word, 'fucking' Quinn Fabray. Fucking thee Quinn Fabray. She was causing the pregnant teen above her to create such sexy mewls, moans that were coated in pleasure. She was causing her to rake her nails in her hair out of sheer desperation to reach climax. It wasn't Finn, it wasn't Puck, and it wasn't any guy sending her over the edge. It was her; Rachel Berry.
And she was loving every second of it.
"Rachel…fuck…I-I'm soooo close…"
"I-I know."
With each thrust, Rachel swore she delved even further into the blond's canal. She was sure to curl her fingers into that special spongy spot that seemed to make the girl above her go insane.
The blond's walls began to quiver and tighten slightly over Rachel's fingers, and she knew she was on the edge of a cliff, just a step ready to fall. As a finishing touch, she sucked Quinn's clit hard as she pumped her fingers in and out with all her strength, the double stimulant sending Quinn over the edge.
"F-UUUCK!" Quinn came with a scream, her head falling back as Rachel continued to pump into her to help her ride her orgasm for as long as possible. The blond's essence spilled into her palm and she lapped it up, groaning at the pure taste.
With a final lick, she pulled out her fingers, Quinn breathing sharply at the brunette's absence from inside her.
Both girls stared at the glistening fingers. Then, as if on autopilot, Rachel brought the fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean.
The sharp intake of Rachel's breath was enough to snap Quinn out of her post-orgasmic state. With her face burning, she tiredly reached down to pull her underwear that was hanging loosely from her ankle back up her legs.
"Oh, uhhhh, let me help you with that…" Rachel murmured, quickly standing up from the lino floor and reaching for the blond's underwear.
"No no it's fine, I've got it." Quinn answered. Pulling the blue panties back into place, she lifted off the kitchen bench standing on jelly legs. Avoiding eye contact with the diva, she raked her fingers through her hair, flattening out the evidence of their…tryst.
Walking out of the kitchen into the front room Rachel tried her best to not look like the cat that got the cream. But, well, yeah she did get the cream, proudly so. Had she had been told previously that by accepting this job that she would be responsible for inducing Quinn Fabray's orgasm, she would have laughed, and probably smacked the perpetrator upside the head for thinking such a crass thing, and Rachel Berry wasn't one for violence.
Looking out the window she spied her little blue ford escort in the car park; the ONLY car in the car park. She frowned.
"How'd you get here?" she asked.
"I walked." Quinn answered, then winced, realising her mistake.
Rachel's jaw dropped in shock "Wait, you WALKED HERE?! Quinn that is very irresponsible of you! You are in no state to be putting more strain on your body than your baby already is-"
"You say that now? After what we just did?" Quinn growled, but then smirked when the brunette quickly closed her plump lips and went redder than a fire engine. That shut her up.
"Do you need me to drive you home?"
Quinn did say anything, just opened the front door of Rachel's ford escort and climbed in.
It was only a ten minute drive to the jones' house, but it felt like the longest ten minutes the two girls had ever endured. Quinn's eyes were shifting everywhere, focusing attention to the pink iPod plugged into the output, to the little green wooden witch on a broomstick hanging from the rear-view mirror; anything that wasn't the eyes of the girl beside her.
The brunette beside her however kept her sight well kept on the road before her, her knuckles turning white on the pseudo leather steering wheel. Unlike her car running a steady driving speed, her thoughts were running a mile a minute, so quick they were hard to decipher.
Before her thoughts had the chance to get the better of her, she parked into the jones' driveway, turning off the ignition.
The silence in the car was deafening and it was driving Rachel insane. Silence being something she wasn't used to. She needed to break it.
"So! Uhhh, what happens now? It's not very often, if ever, that I partake in activities of the sexual nature, and well, I know that you have –Obviously! Because your first sexual encounter resulted in your pregnancy- not that I could help conceive a child anyway – because its physically impossible – but, I mean, you have had more experience in the matter than I have and I was wondering if perhaps you could advise me on what-"
As Rachel talked (word vomited), Quinn reached over the gear stick, her face gradually getting closer to the blabbering brunette. Rachel's eyes got wider the closer she approached.
"-I should do-"
Quinn was breathing the same air from Rachel's lips.
"-next…?" the brunette blanched, her last breath escaping her as her darkening chocolate brown eyes focused on familiar pink lips which were begging to be kissed.
But Quinn beat her to it, claiming Rachel's bottom lip between her own and sucking, her fingernails gently grazing the fine hairs behind Rachel's ear.
Pulling away, she felt Rachel's lips chasing hers, but she stopped them with a finger. She gasped, felling the low throb building up again when a sneaky tongue flicked her finger tip.
With all the force she could muster, Quinn pulled away completely, opened the passenger door and getting out as carefully as a pregnant teen could. Closing the door, she gave Rachel a final look.
"You have my number." Quinn stated.
"I do?" Rachel blanched.
Quinn rolled her eyes. "You're Rachel berry. I'm part of glee club; you have everyone's number in-
-case of vocal training emergencies." Rachel nodded with a grin. She remembered, and felt kind of touched that the blond remembered as well.
The dead silence was starting to get nerve-wracking, and Rachel felt the need to break it once again.
"Well, I'll…see you in school, I guess?"
Quinn didn't say anything. Just gave a shy smile and a nod.
With that, Rachel turned on the ignition and drove out of the parking lot, sure to give Quinn a last smile. Then she drove.
Waiting till the blue ford escort was out of sight, Quinn walked up to the Jones' house opening the front door, glad that no one was home yet.
Driving down the road back home, Rachel realised something.
She needed to thank Finn Hudson.
He was still a douchebag though.
Closing the door, Quinn leaned behind it, her thoughts running a mile a minute.
But one thing was certain.
She bent her neck to breath in the lingering cinnamon scent in her clothes. She sighed, biting her lip as the euphoria engulfed her. When she recovered she smiled cunningly to herself.
When Quinn Fabray craved something, you knew to stand clear.
And boy did she have a craving.
Whoa, so uhhhh, first smut fic. Might continue?