Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or it's characters (if I did, well, let's just say that it'd not have sucked so badly at the end..)
This is for Faberry Week 2k15: day 2 - Experimentation. Enjoy! And remember: reviews are very much appreciated.
I wanna be your vacuum cleaner
Breathing in your dust
I wanna be your Ford Cortina
I won't ever rust
I Wanna Be Yours – Arctic Monkeys
"No, Rachel."
"Please?"
"No."
"Quinn… You've got to admit that it does sound like a marvelous idea. The first one Santana has had ever, if I'm being honest."
"I'm going to kill her."
"Is that a yes?"
"No. And stop pouting, it's not going to work."
That seems to fuel Rachel's desire to get what she wants, for she then gives Quinn the eyes. Rachel always uses that tactic whenever she wants something that Quinn is hesitant to give her (it always works, to Quinn's dismay). But this is different. This is not a Broadway limited edition Barbra Streisand tee, or tickets to see a random play with naked people in it (It's all for the arts, Quinn!), or a five-hour long queue to buy an Elphaba costume (which Quinn thought to be completely pointless since Rachel already plays Elphaba almost every day of the week). This is another thing entirely. This reaches the top level of weirdness and bizarreness of Rachel's insane ideas (and the brunette has many, many strange ideas running around her mind all day). Except that this one had been Santana's idea in the first place, an idea that slowly crept into Rachel's mind and seemingly took over her being.
Quinn has made up her mind. She is going to kill Santana Lopez. Orange is the New Black has taught her well. She can handle prison (she lived for sixteen years with Russell Fabray, what's the difference?). She'll just have to find a way to sneak in a razor blade and m&ms. And a picture of Rachel in nothing but underwear for… particular reasons.
Rachel continues to pout as Quinn keeps on glaring at her, hopeful that it'll make the brunette forget all about her absurd scheme. It does not work, mainly due to the fact that Quinn doesn't glare at Rachel like she used to in High School (and even then, Rachel assures her that her glares weren't so threatening).
"Rachel…" Quinn starts, but is effectively cut off by the sounds of Rachel's sobs. "What's wrong?" Her 'I'm tough and I refuse to bulge' façade fading slowly.
"I just… I don't want you to leave me!" Rachel croaks out, burying her face in her hands, leaving a dumbfounded Quinn to stare at her. "Santana said that you like to keep things spicy when it comes to sexual intercourse and I don't want to lose you because I'm a boring nun!"
Not for the first time in her life, Quinn finds herself at loss of what to say. The first thought that crosses her mind is: Really? Keep things spicy in the bedroom? Me? Former celibacy club president? Member of God-knows-how-many pro virginity squads?
But she can't exactly say those things, considering she did date a 40-year-old man at one point (what the fuck was she thinking?), half-dated her professor in college (no comments there) and had sort of spicy sex with the person she's planning to murder (again, no comments here).
The second thing that pops into her mind is the boring nun remark. Definitely not an insult Santana would've used in High School. Quinn smirks. The Latina is evidently losing her touch. She'll have to call her later to mock her and humiliate her (which comes before the murder itself).
Rachel takes her silence as a sign to keep talking, for she doesn't stop, not even to catch her breath (at one point it used to annoy her, but Quinn has found it rather amazing how Rachel can talk nonstop and not even once go red in the face, unless she's angry). But how she manages to do it whilst fake crying? Quinn shall never know.
"I want to make our relationship last forever, as you are much aware thanks to the song I wrote for you and yes you're very much welcome. I read in a magazine that spicing up our sex life will make our relationship last longer. Besides, we're this close to our third year anniversary, it'd be a perfect opportunity for us to try this out! Not to mention the fact that I did some research and sex shops are selling the items we need for half the price! Something related to a 'low demand because it's dangerous' policy, but don't mind that. Please, Quinn? Please? We won't regret it, I promise!" Rachel finishes her rant with a smile, no sign that she fake-cried not only five seconds prior in her face.
Quinn purses her lips. Damn Santana. Damn sex shops. Damn Rachel and her cute rambles. Damn Rachel and that smile of her. Damn Rachel Berry.
She sighs and nods, figuring that there is no point in keep arguing about this. She knows, deep down, that she'd have ended up agreeing anyway, sooner or later. Because besides the pout and the look, Rachel has other ways of successfully getting Quinn to give her the sun and stars.
Ways that she uses to thank Quinn for agreeing afterwards in their room.
"I can't believe I agreed to this."
"Oh, hush. You weren't complaining last night."
Quinn bites back the urge to say: that's because I was too busy moaning your name to regret my choice, and instead just huffs like a little kid.
They are currently at a sex shop (the cleanest they could find after searching for a good half an hour), examining the shelves in search for what Rachel wants to buy, which Quinn doesn't know what it is yet and has no intention of asking.
"Don't scowl, you're going to scare away people!" Rachel reprimands and takes her hand, making Quinn's scowl diminish considerably. It doesn't fully go away though.
"What people? The only ones here are you, me, and the lady at the cashier!" She responds, glancing at the lady, who is more close to falling asleep than they are of finding the perfect way to 'spice their sex life up'.
"Look, dildos!" Rachel squeaks out as if they were nothing more than toys, making Quinn blush considerably. "Santana says they are not that great, but that it depends on what you like. This one looks like a cucumber, isn't it adorable?"
"Oh God." Quinn mutters, releasing Rachel's hand and going to venture the store on her own, in case her girlfriend decides to act all giddy at the sight of the vibrators.
It's not her first time in a sex shop (sophomore year, dared by Santana and Brittany, long story), but this one is really fucking bizarre and she momentarily wonders if she'd be able to pick Rachel up bridal-style and make a run for it (her girlfriend would probably squeal all the way to their apartment and bang her tiny fists on Quinn's back).
She wanders around hesitantly, blinking in disbelief from time to time because sex shops really have the weirdest things known to man-kind. However, she's ninety percent sure that not even Brittany or Santana could've tried everything in this store, and they claim to have be the Queens of Sex.
She's startled when Rachel yells her name and immediately turns around and runs in the direction she assumes the voice came from, hoping her girlfriend didn't call to seek her help to kick someone's ass for throwing a piece of bread at a pigeon (long story short: the woman ended up kicking Quinn's ass instead, it wasn't pretty).
"Rachel? Rach? Rachel? What's wrong?" She asks in a panic, only to gasp at what Rachel is happily holding.
A box
A box with the picture of a swing.
A swing.
A swing that is by all means no ordinary at all. It's one of the sex swings Quinn has seen on TV, more often than not used by the Kardashians (her housemates at Yale used to binge watch their show, sue her).
A sex swing.
Her girlfriend is about to buy a freaking sex swing.
"No." She says briskly, shaking her head (finding it hard in her to keep herself from laughing her ass off). "No, no. Rach, how the hell are we going to use that thing?!"
"It's simple! The instructions are on the back!" Rachel happily says, bouncing up and down. "I already paid for it. I can't wait to get home so we can try it out! We must go, effective immediately. And let's forget about using it for the first time in our anniversary, this is too important to wait!"
At that, Quinn does laugh. More out of disbelief than anything else. Correction: her girlfriend has already bought said sex swing. Perfect.
She only hopes that they don't break it in the first attempt.
They do break it in their first attempt.
It starts out nicely (as nicely as sex can start when the imminent threat of a sex swing is right in front of your eyes).
Quinn trails sweet kisses down Rachel's neck, motivated by the delightful sounds emerging from her girlfriend's mouth (it is a wonder how Rachel's moans are in perfect harmony all the damn time). She wastes no time in taking Rachel's skirt off, spreading those long legs she'd die for and sneaking a hand in between them, gaining a satisfied hum from Rachel's mouth. Yes.
Soon enough they are too turned on to give a crap about the stupid sex wing. Well, she is. Rachel, on the other hand…
"Wait, wait. We must try it!" She says, making Quinn's lip quiver. So close.
"Okay. Fine." She mumbles, helping Rachel get up from their bed so she can hop on the stupid swing.
Rachel is in her underwear and so is Quinn, which makes it somehow more comfortable for the both of them to try out the thing.
When Rachel is on the swing, Quinn looks at her inquisitively, arching both eyebrows, "Now what?"
The brunette bites her lip, pondering Quinn's question deeply. "I am not sure. Kiss me?"
Too happy and eager to oblige, Quinn leans in to kiss Rachel, ignoring how uncomfortable it is. She steps in between Rachel's spread legs and deepens the kiss, smiling when the brunette wraps her arms around her neck. They get into the kiss soon enough, successfully not paying attention to a small noise that on any other occasion would have startled Quinn.
The noise gets louder as their making out session gets more and more heated, though Quinn doesn't mind.
She suddenly thinks, with Rachel's tongue in her mouth, that maybe buying this stupid thing wasn't such a bad idea.
Sure, it's uncomfortable, weird, and it looks ugly in their bedroom, but if it makes Rachel happy… Then so be it.
The noise doesn't bother her until it does, with Rachel letting out a scream that could pierce through anyone's ears.
The swing, which Quinn was in charge of building with Rachel's instructions, broke down.
With Rachel's cute butt falling flat on the ground.
"Well. Shit."
"Does it hurt?"
"Extremely so."
"Can you sit down?"
"Doubtful."
"Can you try?"
With a grimace and a tear rolling down her cheek, Rachel sits down on their couch.
They had just returned from the hospital, where a very kind nurse did them the favor of… checking Rachel's ass for any major injuries, to then bandage it afterwards. Rachel wasn't happy in the slightest, and it showed, for she kept sulking all the way home from the hospital.
"I can't believe it broke down! The lady guaranteed it was the swing with the highest quality!"
Quinn rolls her eyes. When will a sex wing found at an ugly ass sex shop ever be of high quality?
She sits down next to Rachel, offering her a cup of coffee and a couple of pillows so her ass would be more comfortable.
"Santana said it would be fun! But no, I ended up with a broken ass, I didn't even think that was possible, and a broken swing! Our first attempt at spicing our sexual life up and I ruined it!" She buries her face in her hands then, and Quinn knows that her girlfriend isn't fake crying this time.
"Rach, listen to me." She says, reaching out to grab both of Rachel's hands in hers, making the brunette look at her in turn, "Our sex life is fine. Whatever Santana said to you, whatever she made you think, our sex life is amazing the way it is. I don't care about 'spicy' things when it comes to sex. I mean, why would I? I have the hottest, spiciest girlfriend in the whole world already."
Rachel smiles tearfully at her and kisses her on the cheek.
"You're the sweetest, you know that?"
Quinn winks as an answer, to which Rachel rolls her eyes.
"I'm sorry I bought that thing, by the way… And that I let Santana's ideas get into my head. Who knew experimenting with these things would be so hard, dangerous and dumb?"
"Rachel, it's okay. I'm not the one with a broken ass."
"Promise me you won't make bad puns about butts?"
"C'mon, don't be so butt hurt! What's wrong with puns?"
"Quinn!"