The Story of Q,R & S
They'd just had sex. She was absolutely sure. You could see it a fucking mile off. Rachel! Thinking about those two had a propensity to make her swear. But if you thought they'd been off to get a snack at Subway for lunch then you seriously needed your eyesight checking. Santana's flushed cheeks when they came through the school doors after lunch, the way Quinn had walked away into afternoon classes, just their whole… EVERYthing! Damn them, and damn the way they kept on making her feel. Obviously it wasn't like Rachel Berry had a problem with gay people; hello, her dads? She didn't care if two girls, two guys, two anything got together if it was consensual etc, etc, blah, blah, blah. It was just those two. There was something about those two. There was something that lead to her falling asleep with her hand between her legs, not thinking about Finn, but imagining what those two were getting up to and what they'd get up to if they had her in the middle. She sighed. Like that was ever going to happen. They barely ever spoke to her apart from when it came to Glee, they definitely only ever tolerated her presence and to think that they'd ever even consider doing anything with her? Laughable. Pathetic. Hot. Between her legs. Dammit. She shook her head and raised her face to the front of the classroom to try and get back into the lesson, if that was at all possible right now. As she turned to gaze on something to do with The Scarlet Letter scrawled on the board up ahead, she saw Santana looking at her from the corner of her eye. Feeling herself immediately flush redder than that infamous letter, she could barely bring herself to return the steady gaze. When she did, she saw the faintest glimmer of a smile twisting the left corner of the Latina's face. Immediately busying herself with an imaginary doodle, Rachel wished that the earth would swallow her up. It wasn't like Santana knew what she was thinking anyway. She shook her hair and reapplied her mind to the lesson, but try as she might, she just couldn't shake those thoughts… or the image of Santana's smile… her pussy clenched and she bit down on her pencil, snapping it in two. A low laugh came from across the room. DAMMIT!
Class ended and Rachel couldn't get out of there fast enough. Shoving everything into her bag with as much haste as was humanly possible, she tried to muscle her way out from her desk before she had any chance of coming into contact with one half of the object of her darkest fantasies and desires. Unfortunately for her, Mercedes was thoroughly in her way and not going anywhere fast, and Rachel tutted in frustration. She felt pressure from behind from her fellow classmates to essentially "move!" but if you'd ever tried to push past Mercedes then you'd know full well that it wasn't worth the barrage of diva-esque abuse that could potentially come your way. The pressure came again and she whipped her head round testily.
"Hold ON!"
She gazed straight into Santana's amused eyes.
"Ummm… Mercedes… sorry, she's in the way… I can't get past… sorry!"
"No need to apologise," Santana drawled in liquid tones. Rachel formed an involuntary liquid of her own. She felt like her legs would give way any moment.
"Mercedes! Come on!" she stammered, begging the girl with all her internal might to get the fuck out of her way.
"I'm just putting my books away, geez!" muttered Mercedes, ignorant of Rachel's plight. Rachel felt a hand on her arm, as Santana moved around her body. A shiver ran through her and she turned her head as far away to the other side as she could to avoid anything else that might turn her to a jellified wreck. Fingers stayed loosely on her skin and she could have sworn they moved ever so gently up and down.
"Mercedes, get your shit together, some of us would like to leave today you know," came the very familiar icy tones of Santana Lopez in full bitch mode. It served nothing more than to cause Rachel's skin to ripple with even more desire. Still the fingers slowly moved up and down her arm.
Mercedes FINally gathered her 'shit' together, and with a withering look back at Santana and Rachel, moved off towards the doorway. Rachel bolted after her, her arm suddenly feeling incredibly naked as she did so. Without looking back she practically fled down the corridor and out into the cool afternoon air.
Back in the sanctity of her own home, she sank down onto her bed. Had she imagined it? It had felt like a lifetime that Santana's fingers were upon her skin and she could have sworn they were there with intent. You don't move your fingers up and down someone's arm just for the hell of it, surely? She had to be imagining it. You can make all kinds of stuff real when you want it that badly. She'd been just the same with Finn when she first started hanging out with him. It was so easy to build a fantasy world around someone so that every little thing they say or do can be totally misconstrued into something much bigger and way more meaningful. Although, she had to admit to herself, she'd been pretty much spot on when it came to her and Finn. So could she be right about Santana? Whatever she was feeling, it was irrelevant anyway. Santana was with Quinn, pretty fucking obviously for everyone to see, and she was with Finn. Joy. She dragged her backpack onto the bed. Finn. What a drag that was turning out to be. Not exactly the most passionate of relationships, not in the way that she wanted anyway. It was all incredibly vanilla, too softly softly for her. Even when they kissed there was none of the fire and heat and desire that she was looking for. They seemed to have fallen into a slow rut of habit, which for someone with a secret imagination like Rachel's, was downright crucifying.
She opened her bag to assess what tonight's homework situation would be like, looking to throw herself into a myriad of math and English Lit, anything that would take her mind off this seemingly incessant tangent. Pulling out a clutch of books, a loose piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Confused, she picked it up and turned it over. Her hand shot to her mouth instantaneously, the paper fluttering back to the floor beneath her feet. Slowly, in disbelief, she slid off the bed and sat down next to it. There, in full on black and white, was a picture of her being fucked by Quinn and Santana. There was no wondering, no possible debate about what was going on, what it might mean – Santana had always been good at art and this was a mightily graphic and thoroughly comprehensible depiction of Quinn and Santana having their wicked way with an innocent Rachel. Although on second thoughts, if Rachel's face was anything to go by in the drawing, she wasn't innocent any more. Her head was thrown back, her mouth was wide open, her eyes screwed shut, she was loving it! She was also, OMG! She was chained! She was shackled!… She picked it up and inspected it more closely, her breath hitching as her brain tried to take it in, her free hand sliding almost involuntarily under the drawstring of her pants at the same time. She lay back against the foot of the bed. In the picture, her wrists and ankles were in chains. Her body was strapped against some sort of X-frame contraption with her arms and legs spread out. Her ass was firmly in the air. A blonde, obviously Quinn, had her hand inside her pussy while the brunette, Santana, crouched below Rachel with her mouth buried against her mound. Rachel groaned, her body stretching out beneath her as the image sank into her mind. Her fingers snapped underneath her panties, moving through the wet pussy juice and inside the slippery folds of her labia. She clenched her teeth and ran her fingers gently across her clit, sparks flying immediately. Oh. My… WTF! She twisted her head against the soft sheets, imagining instead that she was burying it into hot, soft, female skin. Her fingers pushed greedily inside. She thought of wet tongues pushing up her pussy, she imagined hands snapping her hair back, she dreamt of pale and tanned skin rubbing up against her while she lay captive to their filthy desires. She came with a thundering shudder, turning over and grinding her body into the soft rug below. Her brain felt like it was about to explode. Her hand crumpled around the sheet of paper. What was she supposed to do now?
Morning came far too quickly. Dreams were filled with long, drawn-out, mysterious scenarios where shaded figures teased her clothes from her and soft hands pulled her curves down into wanton desire. Dreams that were intoxicating as they were frustrating, dreams that could only lead to morning self-pleasure of the sweetest nature. She'd woken up wet between the legs and that hadn't changed by the time she got to school. If anything, the dampness only seemed to flow more freely the closer she got to the glass double doors. Butterflies twisted in her stomach, a flush took permanent residence across her cheeks, and her fingers sought out anything that they could nervously play with. By the time she reached her locker, she was a gibbering wreck. She fumbled with the combination code, missing the number four times in a row and hissing in frustration. Swinging the door open on her fifth attempt, she stared blankly into the vanity mirror hooked up on the inside. Did she look normal? Did she look unaffected by Santana's 'note'? Could she pull of being nonchalant or pretend she hadn't even found it? One look at her glazed eyes and she sighed slowly.
Maybe Santana was messing with her. Maybe it was just some form of cruel joke between her and Quinn. Send the straight girl a lewd picture and watch her squirm. She teased out a wrinkle in her collar shirt. That's actually all it probably was. Just a joke. Look at them and look at me. I'm nothing to them. They are the epitome of sexual goddesses and I'm just… I'm Rachel Berry. Straight-laced, geeky, nervous, goodie two shoes, nothing to see here, move along please.
"Rachel!"
Finn's voice cut through her thought process. For the second time in as many minutes, she exhaled a sigh.
"Finn."
The foppish boy laughed easily and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Want to walk to class together?"
She dropped the morning's books into her bag and closed up her locker. "Sure, why not." She smiled up at him and linked her arm into his. Yep, safe old Rachel. Straight Rachel. Finn's Rachel. Yawn.
The bell rang for lunch. She'd sailed through classes on autopilot, staring into pages and seeing nothing, answering teachers with barely any interest, chewing on anything she could stick in her mouth and spending half her time bringing herself 'back into the room'. It was impossible to get the picture out of her mind. It was even more impossible to rid her memory of the sheer electrifying sensation of Santana's touch. Combined together, and her mind was racing even more than her body. She shut her bag and walked outside into the bustling corridor, desperate for fresh air and a clear head. She looked around for Finn, peering over jostling heads to catch a glimpse of the familiar sandy-head.
"Hey!"
She heard him before she saw him, and bent down to pick her bag from the floor. Coming up, her stomach flipped and her mouth turned 50 shades of dry. Arm in arm, Quinn stood next to Finn, gazing at her steadily with those haughty, ice-cold electric eyes. Rachel felt her legs begin to wobble and she reached a hand out to the wall to steady herself. Finn immediately reached round her waist to support her, concern flashing across his face.
"You ok?"
"I'm fine," she mumbled, gathering her breath before pretending to find something incredibly interesting in the depths of her school bag. She could feel Quinn still looking at her and panic seemed to set in. "I've just got to… I said I'd meet…" She raised her head and looked at Finn, clearing her throat and hiding the rising emotion as best she could. Dammit Rachel, think! "I have a song to practise for Glee Club, I can't make lunch." She held her gaze steady as best she could and tried to ignore the rising flush across her face.
"You're sure you're ok?"
"Finn I'm fine!" she snapped, and immediately regretted it. He looked hurt and she placed a hand on his arm. It wasn't his fault she was having disgustingly lewd thoughts about his ex-girlfriend and her lover. It wasn't his fault she was going to have to change her underwear any second now. It wasn't his fault that her clit was throbbing, her nipples felt like they were going to break through the material in front of them and the only thing going through her mind right now was Quinn throwing her up against the nearest wall and thrusting her hand up inside her hot, wet, tight pussy till she came like a little bitch. She screwed her eyes and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I just really need to practise, I can't get the melody right and I don't want to blow it in rehearsals in front of everyone. You know how it is?"
"Sure, of course," he said, smiling half-heartedly. "Ok no worries, I'll catch up with you later then."
He turned and Quinn, who had been silent the entire time, turned with him. As they walked away she turned over her shoulder and looked straight at Rachel. "See you in rehearsals."
Fuck. Me. Rachel slumped back against the wall and blew the air it felt like she'd been holding in forever out in one long, stomach-churning gasp. Her head felt like it was spinning and the heat coming from between her legs, she felt like she had some sort of spewing volcano down there. Practically stumbling down the hall, she made her way to the washrooms and threw her face under a torrent of rushing cold water. She leaned her elbows on the cool white basin and sank her forehead into the palms of her hands. She felt like she'd lost complete control of all her faculties, as if her brain was suffering some sort of time delay sending vital information to her limbs. She gathered her senses, breathing in and out slowly, directly from the diaphragm. The world started to come back into focus. She heard the outer doors to the washroom swing open and not wanting, needing anyone to see her in her current state, darted inside the nearest cubicle.
Sitting on the toilet seat with her bag between her feet, the incessant chatter of high school girls filled the air. She sat back against the tiled wall and waited for them to leave, her mind racing. Quinn filled her head – her swinging blonde hair, her cool, arrogant blue eyes, her toned body that leant itself to all the right places underneath the flimsy cotton of her cheerleading uniform. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her ass, the delicate muscles flexing up and down her arms. The taut ivory skin spread across her toned legs, her slender legs, her legs that held what Rachel could only imagine to be the sweetest nectar at their very apex. Her mouth, that seemed impassive yet cruel, a mouth that held a wicked tongue that could do wicked things to her, that could reach out and find her wanting, waiting, dripping, ready to be taken. For the second time in 24 hours Rachel reached down and slowly took herself to a feverish climax.
"Did you like your present?" Santana had her cornered. Her voice purred against Rachel's skin, vibrating across the air with luxurious intent. One arm rested easily against the painted white bricks, trapping Rachel nervously against the theatre walls.
"Tell us Rachel, did you like your present?" Quinn stood to the other side, her eyes sparkling with what seemed like naked lust. One finger twirled itself delicately in Rachel's deep brown locks.
"Did it turn you on?" Santana's turn, her words dripping lazily from impossible soft lips, a tongue slowly sliding across them as if to lick them back up again. "Did it make you wet?"
"Stop!" she hissed, turning her head into the wall and putting her hands to her face. "Just stop it!"
Rehearsal had been a fucking disaster. Santana and Quinn hadn't taken their eyes off her the entire time. She'd fucked up on practically every single line, she couldn't get her high notes out, her low notes sounded like they'd been put through a broken vocoder and she'd dropped her music sheets about 50 million times from her stupid, traitorous, shaking hands. Mr Schuester had repeatedly asked her if she was coming down with something, Finn was convinced she needed to go to the hospital, Mercedes and Kurt had sniggered away behind her for a good 20 minutes and these two damned bitches had thoroughly undone her. She was losing her mind and she'd had enough. She pushed past them and broke out through the doors, heading blindly to her locker to collect her things and get the hell home.
She heard them following her and whirled round in a rage. "Leave me alone! Stopping fucking messing with me!"
"Slow down."
Slow down my harmonising ass! All she wanted to do was to get away from them, get away from the torment, get away from the images they seemed to automatically plant in her mind. She picked up the pace, speed walking in an effort to escape.
"Rachel, slow down."
They were still behind her, relentless. She felt like some sort of hunted prey, about to be devoured by the top of the food chain. Why the hell did that make her body sing even more?! She felt hot tears springing up from somewhere deep inside, and angrily shoved against them with the backs of her hand. Her feet began to run underneath her as she tried desperately to flee. She pushed through doors, any doors, not caring any more where she went, not caring if anyone saw her, a blind panic gripping her as emotion threatened to completely overcome her. She crashed into something metal, fell across some kind of box, grasped out to keep herself upright as she clattered straight into a small stock room. A hand reached out and grabbed at her cardigan. Another seized her arm. She struggled wildly. Hands became limbs entwining her, holding her, slowing her, bringing her down. Warm faces pressed up against her hair, soft voices breathed words of comfort into her ear. Her heart began to thud a little less savagely against her chest. She stopped struggling and let her limbs go weak. Strong arms supported her, caressed her, loosened around her ever so slightly.
"Slow down." One more time came the firm command, and she did. She breathed in and out, feeling the heat from her face begin to slowly subside. Opening her eyes, she saw two pairs looking at her with gentle but firm concern. She pushed her hair back from her eyes and blinked up at them.
"Why are you doing this?"
Quinn reached out and ran a single finger down the side of Rachel's face. Her eyes darkened at the shivered reaction. "We want you."
Rachel's throat went dry and words seemed hard to form. "You want me?" she repeated, dazed and not a little confused. It was Santana's turn to slide a finger across her skin.
"We want you."
"Do you want to play with us Rachel?" said Quinn, her face impassively innocent, her words weighed with delicious meaning. She brushed her lips over Rachel's cheek, inhaling deeply. She stopped at the tingling spot just below her ear. "Would you like us to fuck you?"
Rachel caught her breath. Images, fantasies, seemingly tantalisingly out of reach now became reality. Things that she'd conjured up in the moment before sleep, little details that sent her mind into overload, things that had been locked away deep in her sexual reveries, now came forward in glorious black and red technicolour. She couldn't speak, she couldn't answer them, fear paralysed her – not fear of Santana and Quinn, but fear of herself, of who she was, of what it was that she really wanted, of what she wanted from them. Take this step, cross this line, and she was opening up a whole new part of herself to explore, but something that she would never be able to escape from again. She looked at the door and the need to bolt seized her again.
"Slow down Rachel." It was like Santana had a window into her thoughts. She felt the other girl lean in, her breath hot across her skin. Her soft lips moved like a butterfly up her neck, her fingers tangling in the back of her hair, driving her skin wild. "Stand up."
Rachel rose to her feet, finding it impossible not to obey. Quinn moved behind her and began to remove her cardigan. Santana stood directly in front of her, looking straight into her eyes. Rachel closed her own and gasped for breath. "Look at me." Please don't make me look at you, Rachel prayed, please don't make me look into your eyes. She felt like she had only one last vestige of innocence to hide behind and if Santana made her offer that up, then everything was lost. She would be lost to them. Quinn's hands moved up her thighs, dragging her nails across Rachel's skin. Her fingers hooked around the top of Rachel's panties, caressing her slowly and deliberately. Rachel felt like her skin might catch on fire any second. "Look at me Rachel." This time harder and firmer, insistent. Not to be disobeyed. Quinn's fingers stopped still, and Rachel knew that if she was to receive any more of this attention then she would have to do as she was told. The knowledge set her cunt on fire like never before. This was real. This was happening. They were going to take her. She opened her eyes slowly, carefully, hesitantly, afraid. Santana's dark gaze met hers. "Good girl." Quinn's fingers began moving again on cue. Rachel moaned softly as Santana reached out to her chest, flicking her shirt open button by button, never taking her eyes from hers. She felt her panties drop to her knees, then down to her feet. Quinn stood up behind her. "Step out of them for me." She obeyed unthinking, lost and found. Arms wound around her waist, slowly undoing the fastener on her skirt. That too fell to the floor. She raised her feet and kicked it to the side. Quinn murmured approvingly in her ear, flicking out a tongue and swirling it around the outer shell, sending electric sparks across Rachel's entire body. Santana pushed the shirt off her arms and threw it without looking across the small room. Quinn knelt down and took each shoe off; Santana reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it fall. Finally, she was naked. Naked, shivering, vulnerable, exposed, she was at their whim. She had become the prey. She had been hunted and now she was at their mercy. She understood that they could, they would, do whatever they wanted with her. To her. Yet she had never felt so on fire in her life. Santana stood back, her eyes finally leaving Rachel's to drink in their prize, deep pools of lust quickly forming in her eyes. Without a word, Quinn's fingers slid through Rachel's wet pussy. Her fingers danced across her swollen lips, the tips tickling the inner heat. Rachel's whole body stiffened, a moan escaping from her mouth. Santana leaned in and captured her tongue, rolling it around against her own, her hands snaking up across her back and weaving themselves into her hair. Rachel parted her legs further, offering Quinn whatever she wanted, begging with her silently to give her what she needed. She felt the blonde's lips tease trails across her shoulders and up the sensitive back of her neck. Santana's teeth scraped her bottom lip, her hands now pinching and pulling on her nipples. Her breasts had never felt so alive, had never ached so much under anyone's touch. She cried out into Santana's mouth and felt her tongue slide deep inside to silence her. She took her fill, devouring any part of Santana that she could have, sucking, rubbing, licking, kissing, desperate for the kiss to deepen even more impossibly. Quinn's fingers began to penetrate her, pushing insistently inside her pussy. She felt the juices running down her leg, she smelt how aroused she was, how horny and heady and ready she was. Santana's mouth moved away from hers and she groaned her displeasure. But wet lips travelled down between her heaving breasts, fluttering across her jumping stomach, hands lowering over her sides, skimming her curves, grabbing the cheeks of her ass and pulling them apart. Rachel felt like she was going insane, like the world was about to collapse and fall in on her. Santana's quick, wet tongue probed against her pussy, Quinn's fingers fucked her harder and faster. Santana took Rachel's clit into her mouth and began to suck her into divine ecstasy, pulling and tugging, flickering and teasing, building up a rhythm to match Quinn's. Rachel flung her arms out and held on to the narrow walls either side to keep her body upright. She didn't want it to stop, she wanted it harder and faster and deeper and more – she wanted it all. She gave her body up completely and threw her head backwards in abandon. The walls of her pussy began to shudder violently, her clit began to feel like it would explode in Santana's mouth. She mouthed, she gasped, she cried out. "More! Please! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Oh my…. Please!" Quinn grabbed her by her hair and pounded into her relentlessly, Santana grabbed her ass and ground her face into her clit, nails scraped her skin, teeth bit her neck, someone slapped her ass with a ferocious sting and Rachel came, came like the little bitch she wanted to be for them, came like the abandoned female she'd played in her dreams, came with juices shooting from her undulating pussy until she could literally give no more. She fell back against Quinn and felt Santana's hands steady her legs. The room swirled, the world caved, she felt completely alive and unconscious at the same time.
Quinn stood above her and reached down a hand to help her up. Santana gathered up her clothes and put them on a small shelf next to her. Rachel stood nervous now, completely unsure what to do with herself. She reached for her soaked panties.
"Leave those," said Santana, composed once again. Rachel nodded and put them back, instead stepping into her skirt and bra, shirt and cardigan. The two watched her dress. She wondered what to do next. She shifted uncomfortably. Quinn whispered something in Santana's ear and the dark haired beauty nodded, a cruel smile flickering across her face. Quinn opened the doors and bright light flooded in, causing Rachel to cast her arm over her face. The two became silhouettes against the doorway, Rachel squinting to try and see better.
"Wednesday," Santana said calmly, "7 o'clock after school. Come to mine. Don't be late."
Rachel stammered consent.
Quinn and Santana smiled easily. Quinn leant in for one final kiss, almost chaste, before whispering in Rachel's ear. "We haven't even started yet."
The door swung shut, darkness prevailed, they were gone. Rachel sank limp to the floor and closed her eyes. Silence. Had that really just happened? She ran her hands underneath her skirt and felt her naked pussy. A smile played on her lips, erupting into a deep, longing laugh. She regained her senses and walked out into a whole new world.