Author's note: A long time ago, angelffxmaniac requested a story with Faberry, baseball, and hatesex. So I figured what better way to do that than by delving into the most heated rivalry in sports. ;) And while I admittedly failed on the hatesex part, there are sexytimes to be had.
Also, just so you know, I started writing this fic in late 2011, so there are major discrepancies with how the 2012 season actually played out. So just pretend that Kevin Youkilis and Adrian Gonzalez stayed on the Red Sox all of last year, Alex Rodriguez never went on the DL, and that the Red Sox weren't terrible and actually made the playoffs.
Many thanks to poetzproblem for beta-reading this story. :)
Happy birthday, Angel—I hope you like it!
Fever Pitch
Fall 2012
Quinn was in love.
New York City was amazing, and being here—with a fresh start and limitless possibilities—was invigorating. Part of her was still surprised at how much she loved what her friends back home dubbed enemy territory, but ever since she had visited NYU's campus last fall, she had been set on spending her first four years out of high school in the city that never sleeps.
She couldn't wait to get out there and explore everything New York had to offer, but she figured it would probably be best to unpack and get settled in first. Her roommate, whom she had spoken to briefly when room assignments were sent by the school, had yet to arrive.
Since both sides of the room were essentially mirror images of each other, Quinn didn't think there would be any harm in claiming one of the beds as her own and began unpacking her things.
The jingling of keys at the door caught her attention, and as Quinn looked up, she was greeted with the sight of a leggy brunette with brown doe eyes, wearing cut-off jean shorts and a black tank top, showing off smooth, tan skin. Simply put, the girl was hot. Quinn swallowed and mentally shook her head of those thoughts.
"Hello," she greeted brightly, extending her hand. "I'm Rachel Berry."
"Quinn Fabray," she replied with a soft smile, taking the girl's smaller hand in hers.
"It's nice to finally put a face to the name and the voice," Rachel added, releasing Quinn's hand—making her immediately miss the contact—and looking back at two men who were standing behind her with a moving bin. "These are my fathers."
Quinn's eyes widened a bit, but she didn't falter. "It's nice to meet you," she said, offering them her hand.
"Likewise," replied the taller of the two as he took his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. He cocked his head and looked at her curiously as she shook Rachel's other father's hand. "Rachel told us you're from Boston."
"Just outside, actually. I'm from Medfield."
"I see," he continued. "Do you by any chance like baseball?"
Quinn noticed Rachel watching their exchange with interest. "Of course I do. It's practically our religion."
He smirked. "Red Sox Nation and all that?"
"You know it," she replied with a hint of pride.
"Oh, this should be fun," Rachel's other father chimed in.
"How do you mean?"
"I'm a Yankee fan," Rachel provided, drawing Quinn's attention back to her fully.
"That's unfortunate," she retorted playfully. "Bandwagoner?"
Rachel looked positively affronted as her fathers chuckled. "I resent that accusation," she huffed, her hands on her hips. "I bleed Yankee blue."
Quinn couldn't stop the small smile that graced her lips. She knew she shouldn't find Rachel's antics so endearing—after all, the girl had terrible taste—but she still did all the same.
"Alright, we'll let you girls get settled in. Try not to kill each other," the shorter of the two men said. "It was nice meeting you, Quinn."
"You too."
As Rachel saw her fathers out, Quinn couldn't help but discreetly check out the girl's legs as she did so. Quinn bit her lower lip and mentally shook her head as she turned her attention back to unpacking. Crushing on her roommate probably wasn't the smartest idea. Especially not one who rooted for the bane of her existence.
"Major?" Rachel asked as they put the finishing touches on their dorm room decorations.
"Undecided," Quinn replied as she helped Rachel hang her Wicked poster over her bed. "You?"
"Musical Theater."
"Makes sense," she said, nodding in realization as she looked at the poster. "So I take it you're a good singer."
"Good enough to get into Tisch," Rachel said with a touch of pride as she took a seat on her bed. She patted the empty spot next to her, and Quinn settled down next to her. "I've been training for the stage all my life. I won my first singing competition when I was eight months old."
"That's…" she wanted to say insane but somehow thought that wouldn't go over too well. "Dedicated."
"My dads taught me well."
"Did that include what baseball team you root for?" Quinn teased.
"No. Sadly, they are both stuck rooting for the Indians. Knowing I would one day be a New Yorker myself, I consumed all things New York-related from a very young age," she explained. "How did you have the misfortune of becoming a Red Sox fan?"
Quinn knew she should have been offended, but for whatever reason, she didn't mind talking a little trash with Rachel. "Born and raised a Red Sox fan," she replied. "My dad always made sure to take me and my sister to Fenway at least once a year."
"That's actually pretty cool. I'd like to see a game there one day," Rachel admitted. "I still haven't seen a game at Yankee Stadium."
"Neither have I. We should get tickets for a game," Quinn suggested. "Next time the Sox are in town, let's go."
"Sounds like a plan," she agreed with a smile. "You know, you're not so bad for a Boston fan."
Quinn narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky you're so adorable."
"You think I'm adorable?" Rachel batted her eyelids and smiled cheekily at her, making Quinn melt a little inside.
"Despite your lack of taste, yeah, I do," she replied with a cocky smile of her own.
"Hey!" Rachel shouted indignantly, shoving Quinn's arm and causing her to laugh at her roommate's outrage.
Quinn sat at her desk attempting to do her homework, but found the presence of her roommate to be thoroughly distracting. Just mere feet away, Rachel was softly humming "My Favorite Things" while typing up a paper—wearing nothing but a pair of booty shorts and a camisole. Quinn was beginning to think that Rachel did things like this just to torture her.
There was no denying the fact that she found her roommate to be ridiculously attractive, and while she had yet to act on her attraction toward another girl, Rachel was making it difficult to resist the urge.
"Something on your mind?" Rachel's voice cut in, causing Quinn to jump slightly in her chair.
Heat colored her cheeks upon the realization that she had been caught staring at her roommate's legs. Quinn sheepishly looked up to meet Rachel's gaze, only to catch the teasing glint in her eyes.
There was no doubt—Rachel was definitely doing this on purpose. An excited thrill coursed through Quinn at the very thought.
Quinn cleared her throat and bit her lower lip, deciding two could play at that game. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something," she said, her voice taking on a slightly flirtatious note. "What's a word for something that provokes desire but is out of reach?"
Rachel pressed her lips together, her eyes darkening ever so slightly. "Tempting," she replied, her lip curving up into playful smile.
Quinn hummed thoughtfully, pretending to think it over. "That could work, but I think there might be a better word for it." She licked her lips slightly, dropping her voice a touch. "What about… tantalizing?"
Rachel squirmed a little in her seat and a tiny whimper escaped her lips, betraying how much a simple phrase had affected her and causing Quinn to smirk in satisfaction. "That… definitely works," Rachel finally replied, her voice a touch huskier. She cleared her throat then. "Although, I never truly believe that anything is out of reach."
"Is that so?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rachel nodded, gazing at Quinn meaningfully. "Unless you happen to be the Chicago Cubs. They're never going to win a pennant again," she added cheekily, the levity breaking up some of the sexual tension growing between them.
Quinn laughed a little, shaking her head. "You never know. My Red Sox broke the Curse of the Bambino. Maybe the Cubs can break the Curse of the Billy Goat."
The first Tuesday of the semester marked the start of a three-game series in Boston between the Red Sox and Yankees. Rachel wanted to watch the game with Quinn, and, even though she knew things were likely to get contentious between them, she was all too eager to agree.
She stopped at Spice on her way back to their dorm to pick up her takeout order—pad thai for Rachel and Thai BBQ chicken for herself. While NYU's meals were surprisingly decent, Quinn thought it would be nice to mix it up tonight. Plus, she wanted to surprise Rachel. Her roommate had mentioned wanting to try their food, and, after finding out her favorite Thai dish, Quinn knew what she had to do.
When she crossed the threshold of their room, her breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. Rachel was sitting on Quinn's bed watching the pre-game show, donned in an oversized Robinson Cano jersey and a pair of navy blue shorts that were so short, she might as well have been wearing only the jersey.
Quinn sucked in a breath, simultaneously trying to tamp down on her arousal and cursing herself for ever finding pinstripes so damn attractive.
"Mmm, that smells delicious, Quinn," Rachel said as she looked up, her eyes locking onto Quinn's and making Quinn's pulse quicken.
"I hope it tastes just as delicious as it smells," Quinn replied, holding the bag up for Rachel to see. "I got you something too."
Rachel's eyes lit up as her lips curved up into a genuine smile. "You're the best roommate ever."
Quinn chuckled, her cheeks warming at Rachel's compliment. "I try," she said, placing the bag down on her desk and taking out the cartons of food. She grabbed a napkin and a fork and handed Rachel her dinner, offering her a teasing smirk. "But I doubt you'll be saying that after Lester shuts your guys down tonight. All those left-handed hitters will be easy pickings for him."
"Please," Rachel shot back. "Lester's going to get rocked tonight. The Yankees own him."
Quinn simply raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Rachel. Keep deluding yourself," she said before turning back to get her own food.
Rachel huffed in annoyance. "You'll see," she argued before taking a bite of her food. Quinn watched out of the corner of her eye as Rachel's expression turned to one of pleasure. "Oh, this tastes amazing, Quinn."
Quinn smiled. "I'm glad you like it," she replied, settling down beside Rachel on the bed and trying some of her own food. The second it hit her mouth, she was in instant agreement with Rachel. She hummed in pleasure after swallowing another mouthful. "So much better than the dining hall."
"Definitely," Rachel agreed. She shifted slightly then, stretching her legs and drawing Quinn's attention to them. God, what I wouldn't give to have those legs wrapped around me…she thought, biting her lower lip to stifle the moan that was threatening to escape. She chanced a glance at Rachel's face, but her roommate was completely engrossed in her meal.
Right, Quinn realized tearing her gaze away from Rachel and toward the TV. Food. Baseball.
Soon enough, the game itself was underway, and all thoughts of Rachel's legs and how Quinn honestly wouldn't mind having them wrapped around her body were firmly in the back of her mind.
But as the game went on, Quinn's mood began to sour a bit. Rachel, unfortunately, had been right—Jon Lester was hit hard by the Yankees and left the game in the fifth inning due to a high pitch count—and Rachel was gleefully rubbing it in. "I told you," she gloated.
"So he had an off night. The game is still tied," Quinn tried to reason, gesturing toward the score on the TV—although the current situation admittedly had her feeling anxious, but she would never actually admit such a thing to a Yankee fan.
"Not for long," Rachel argued confidently. "Bases loaded, no one out. We're gonna break it open right now."
Quinn anxiously watched as Alfredo Aceves prepared to deliver his next pitch to Alex Rodriguez, praying to God that he'd make an out and fail to drive in any runs.
"The 2-2 pitch," the announcer's voice sounded through the TV. "Struck him out swinging!"
"Ha!" Quinn exclaimed. "Suck it, A-Roid!"
Rachel grumbled next to her. "You're not out of the woods yet."
Quinn watched as Mark Teixeira stepped up to the plate, leaning forward in anticipation. After working himself to a 2-1 count, he grounded weakly to second, setting up an easy double-play for Dustin Pedroia. Quinn let out a whoop as she clapped at the Red Sox escaping further trouble.
"What was that you were saying?" Quinn asked, turning back to face Rachel with a smug grin.
Rachel could only shake her head.
The game remained a close battle for the next four innings, and there wasn't much trash talking between them, as they were both too focused on what was happening on screen. At least, that was the case until the bottom of ninth inning rolled around.
"Nervous?" Quinn asked as David Ortiz stepped to plate.
"Admittedly, yes," Rachel replied honestly, much to Quinn's surprise. "He's a Yankee killer and, unfortunately for me, he does have a flair for the dramatic."
Two pitches later, Ortiz proved Rachel right—his bat cracking with an oh-so-familiar sound.
"Deep to left!" the announcer yelled as the ball sailed through the air. "There it goes—see ya! A walk-off homerun for David Ortiz, and the Red Sox win it 4 to 3!"
Quinn smiled widely as she clapped, watching Big Papi round the bases as a feeling of elation coursed through her. His teammates surrounded him at home plate, and they jumped around like little boys, celebrating their latest win over their most-hated rival.
The channel suddenly changed to a rerun of Law & Order, jarring Quinn out of her revelry.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, turning to face Rachel and grabbing for the remote.
Rachel quickly moved her arm, leaving Quinn grasping nothing but air.
"Come on, Rachel," she tried again, encroaching on her roommate's space and reaching out, trying to snag it to no avail. "Give me the remote."
"No," Rachel refused, her frown clearly demonstrating how displeased with the result of the game she was as she once again evaded Quinn.
"It's not my fault your bullpen choked," Quinn argued, moving swiftly and wrapping a hand around Rachel's forearm.
Rachel shoved Quinn's shoulder and managed to slip out of Quinn's grasp, much to her frustration.
This time, she pounced on Rachel, only to have Rachel push back and roll her over on to her back, taking Quinn by surprise. She caught the smug look in Rachel's eye, and it made her competitive streak flair up even more. Thrusting her hips up, she quickly shifted their momentum, sending the pair back the way they had come.
Finally gaining the upper hand, Quinn gripped on to Rachel's wrists and straddled her waist, overpowering her and pinning her down on the bed.
Panting lightly, Quinn stared down at Rachel, who stared back with dark eyes and slightly parted lips. Only then did Quinn realize the intimacy of their position.
She swallowed thickly as she felt the air shift between them. There was a look in Rachel's eyes that nearly took Quinn's breath away, and in that moment, Quinn swore Rachel was going to kiss her.
The strains of "Sweet Caroline" blared out into the room, jolting them back to reality. Quinn jerked backwards and blinked—her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.
"You should get that," Rachel breathed out.
Quinn swallowed and nodded, scrambling off of the bed and away from Rachel. With shaky hands she picked up her ringing phone, glancing at the caller ID. "Hey, Dad," Quinn greeted him, grimacing slightly at the tremor in her voice.
"Hey, Quinn!" he replied excitedly. "How about our Red Sox? What a game!"
"It was," she agreed, watching Rachel head into the bathroom out of the corner of her eye and wondering what might have happened had her dad not decided to call.
Wednesday night found Quinn and Rachel in the same spot as the night before, only this time, Quinn was in a miserable mood. It was the top of the sixth inning, and the Yankees were currently trouncing the Red Sox by the score of 9-1.
"These announcers are awful," Quinn complained. "I wish we could watch this game on NESN instead of having to listen to these morons."
"I'll have you know that these 'morons' have won Emmys for their work," Rachel countered.
"Are you kidding me?" Quinn asked incredulously.
"I'm completely serious," she replied. "Stop being such a sore loser."
Quinn glared at her roommate. "Like you're one to talk. You wouldn't even let me watch the post-game show last night."
"I was doing you a favor, since you apparently hate the YES team."
"Hmm, good point," Quinn agreed, a slight blush creeping up her neck due to thoughts of what else almost happened last night. She wanted to ask Rachel about it, but she didn't quite know how to go about it. There was definitely something more to their interactions, Quinn knew, but she was still a little out of her depth—not unlike her Red Sox currently were, she mused.
Thursday night was the rubber match of the series, and as had been the case for game one, Quinn arrived to her room after class to find Rachel sitting on her bed watching the pre-game show. Only this time, she wasn't wearing her Cano jersey.
Quinn put her bag down and eyed Rachel's shirt with disdain. The words "Hey, Red Sox, who's your daddy?" over a pacifier donning her favorite team's logo were emblemized across the girl's chest.
Rachel smirked up at her as Quinn approached her bed.
She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you would actually wear that after the Yankees choked away a three-game lead in the 2004 ALCS to the Sox."
"That's ancient history, Quinn. Since then, I seem to recall your team choking in spectacular fashion. Why just last season, the Red Sox blew a ten-game lead in the standings and didn't even make it into the playoffs. They'd rather get fat off of beer and fried chicken than win games."
Quinn clenched her jaw, hating the fact that she couldn't refute the Sox's embarrassing September 2011 collapse. "Whatever. The Sox are going to win it all this year. And we've dominated you all season, so you wearing that shirt is still ridiculous."
Rachel pouted, and Quinn smirked in satisfaction. "You know, I have a Yankees Sucks shirt that I've been nice enough not to wear in your presence. I think now is the time to change that," Quinn said before going over to her dresser to get said shirt. Quickly finding it, she took off the shirt she was currently wearing, making sure to give Rachel a nice view of her back, especially since she had foregone wearing a bra today. Quinn then pulled her Yankees Sucks shirt over her head and turned back around to face her roommate.
"Now who's being ridiculous," Rachel said, rolling her eyes, but Quinn didn't miss the blush that colored her cheeks. "If you're going to hate on us, at least make sense. 27 world championships is practically the antithesis of sucking."
Quinn let out a frustrated breath. Rachel could be infuriating at times. "How about a little wager?" she asked, as an idea came to her.
"What do you have in mind?" Rachel asked, looking at her curiously.
"If the Red Sox win tonight—thereby winning the series—you wear my Red Sox cap tomorrow. And if the Yankees win, I'll wear yours."
"You're on," Rachel agreed with a confident smirk.
Quinn sat back down on the bed beside Rachel, assuming the same position she had the previous two nights.
"You're going to look good with an interlocking NY on you head," Rachel added as she gazed thoughtfully at Quinn.
Quinn just shook her head. "In your dreams."
Rachel hummed a little, and, out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw her smirk grow a little more impish. It sent a thrill through her, having Rachel look at her like that. But a part of her still couldn't wait to make that smirk disappear.
The game was a stalemate through the first eight innings, and both Quinn and Rachel were on the edge of their seats the whole time. The pitching was stellar for both sides, and while both teams managed to get men on base, they had trouble driving them in for runs.
Quinn was beginning to think that they would be going into extra innings at this rate, when Alex Rodriguez managed to actually hit the ball—albeit weakly—with a man on third. It was a footrace to first base between Adrian Gonzalez and Rodriguez, in which Rodriguez barely made it there first and drove in the Yankees first run.
"Dammit," Quinn muttered while Rachel clapped happily next to her.
The Red Sox manager took issue with the call on the field, and soon enough, he was running out to argue with the first base umpire.
"Your manager is a jackass," Rachel commented as the camera focused in on Bobby Valentine.
"And your third baseman is a prima donna," she shot back, sneering at the mere sight of Alex Rodriguez standing safely at first with that stupid smirk on his face.
"At least he doesn't whine like yours."
Quinn turned her head and narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "I am so going to enjoy seeing you have to eat your words and wear my cap."
Rachel just looked back at her amusedly. "Not happening."
Fortunately, the Yankees didn't do anymore damage in their half of the inning, and the bottom of the ninth got off to a very promising start—a Jacoby Ellsbury walk followed by a weakly hit ball by Dustin Pedroia right back at the pitcher. Then, to Quinn's relief, what should have been an easy out turned into an error—Rafael Soriano threw the ball into the outfield trying to get Ellsbury at second.
"Yes!" Quinn exclaimed while Rachel grumbled next to her. "That's some solid defense you guys have there."
"I hate you," Rachel said, shoving Quinn lightly on her shoulder.
Quinn laughed, turning her attention back to the game.
"Ellsbury at third; Pedroia at first," the announcer stated, and Quinn and Rachel both leaned forward anxiously. "The 3-2 to Gonzalez."
Gonzalez swung the bat, driving the ball to dead center—the deepest part of Fenway Park—and Quinn jumped up from her seat on the bed to watch as Curtis Granderson tried to chase it down, but Quinn could already tell that he misplayed the ball. "Come on."
"Stay in the park, stay in the park," Rachel pleaded behind her.
"The ball goes over Granderson's head! Ellsbury scores! Here comes Pedroia!" Quinn watched with wide eyes as Granderson threw the ball to Cano, who then made the relay throw to the Yankees' catcher, Russell Martin. His foot was there to block the plate, but the ball hadn't gotten to him just yet. Just as Pedroia slid headfirst into home, the ball arrived. Martin applied the tag, but it was too late.
"He is… safe! And the Red Sox win it again in walk-off fashion by the score of 2-1!"
Quinn clapped and cheered at the sight of the Red Sox once again taking it to the Yankees as she watched them celebrate on the field. Gloating, she turned around to face Rachel, who was sitting on the bed stewing angrily.
"Like my shirt says and your team just proved—Yankees suck," Quinn taunted Rachel while pointing at her shirt.
Rachel's eyes narrowed as she swiftly moved off the bed to stand in front of Quinn. "My team does not suck," she argued, eyes flashing as she stepped into Quinn's space and swatted at her hand. "And you did not win—the Yankees were robbed. That umpire is blind!"
"Now you're just deluding yourself," Quinn shot back with a shake of her head, loving how riled up Rachel was getting. "We both saw the replay. Pedroia was safe. That is an indisputable fact."
Rachel scoffed and let out a frustrated breath.
"What's the matter, Rachel?" Quinn asked with a growing smirk, boldly taking a step closer to Rachel so that she was now mere inches from her. "Can't handle the truth about how my team is superior to yours?"
"Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?" Rachel asked, her voice tinged with frustration—although at this point Quinn honestly couldn't tell if it was annoyance or sexual frustration. However, Rachel's close proximity and passionate display was affecting Quinn's ability to tell the difference.
"Has anyone ever told you how hot you look when you're angry?" The words were out of Quinn's mouth before she could even think to hold them in.
Rachel's eyes flashed again and before Quinn knew what was happening, a small hand was fisted into the front of her shirt, and she was being pulled into a heated kiss that shot through Quinn like an electric jolt.
She moaned at the feeling, and Rachel took advantage, sliding her tongue inside Quinn's mouth. Quinn's hands landed on Rachel's hips as she tried to gain control, kissing Rachel back hungrily. Rachel's other hand soon twisted itself in Quinn's hair as she pressed herself further into Quinn's body, making Quinn's head swim and her body thrum with arousal.
Quinn pushed Rachel backward until the backs of her legs hit her mattress. Her fingers grasped at the edges of Rachel's shirt, wanting to get at what was obscured by the offending piece of clothing. She drew back, breaking their kiss as she pulled at Rachel's shirt.
Rachel gazed up at her with dark, intense eyes as she panted slightly, and the feeling of her warm breath against Quinn's mouth did nothing to quell her desire. If anything, it just made her want Rachel more.
She licked her lips as she tore her gaze from Rachel's, wanting to see the rest of her. She chuckled breathlessly then as she looked at the words on Rachel's shirt before sliding it up Rachel's torso, exposing the soft skin of her belly and her bra-covered breasts.
"Who's your daddy now?" Quinn teased as she slipped the shirt over Rachel's head, tossing it on the ground before pressing Rachel down onto the bed—her strong thigh slipping between Rachel's legs.
Rachel moaned at the contact, and the sound sent a pleasant fluttering through Quinn's belly. "Fuck you," she gasped out, making Quinn clench.
Quinn smirked, brushing her lips against Rachel's as she gazed unwaveringly into brown eyes blown with desire. "Gladly."
She crashed their mouths together again in another fervent kiss, sliding her tongue between Rachel's lips. Rachel's hands landed on her ass, squeezing roughly and causing Quinn to press Rachel further into the mattress as she gasped into her mouth.
Slipping a hand between their bodies, Quinn brushed her fingers along Rachel's ribcage before squeezing one of her breasts through the thin material of her bra. Rachel moaned at the contact as she slid her hands beneath Quinn's shirt and up her back—scratching along her skin and causing Quinn to hiss at the sensation and break their kiss.
Rachel lifted her thigh up then, pressing it against the seam of Quinn's jeans. She moaned and jerked her hips against Rachel before trailing a line of soft bites along Rachel's jaw and down to her pulse point. Latching her mouth to her neck, Quinn began to suck lightly at the skin there as she tweaked Rachel's nipple, causing Rachel to whimper as she dug her fingers harshly into Quinn's upper back.
She continued to place bites and open-mouthed kisses to Rachel's neck and collarbone, as her fingers twisted Rachel's nipple, causing her to squirm beneath Quinn as she let out pleasured gasps.
"Take this off," Rachel said with a pant, pulling at Quinn's shirt and forcing her to pause in her exploration of Rachel's body. "Now."
"So demanding," Quinn replied with a teasing half smile, but she helped Rachel remove it before tossing it somewhere on the floor.
Rachel palmed Quinn's breasts, causing Quinn's mouth to fall open in pleasure as she pressed herself against Rachel's hands. She leaned down then, resting her forehead against Rachel's as she braced her hands on either side of her body, slowly beginning to rock her hips against Rachel's thigh.
Rachel eagerly matched her movements—her thigh rubbing against Quinn just right. Rachel's lips curved up into a mischievous smile as she pinched Quinn's nipples.
"Fuck," she panted out before biting her lip—her hips once again jerking against Rachel.
Rachel leaned up then, recapturing Quinn's mouth as one hand slid up into Quinn's hair and the other down along Quinn's stomach—making her muscles quiver at the touch. Her fingers played with the button of her jeans before finally undoing it and lowering the zipper, causing another fluttering in Quinn's belly in anticipation of where Rachel was going to touch her.
Quinn's lips faltered against Rachel's as her hand dipped inside her panties, fingers brushing against her clit.
"Hmm, you're soaked, Quinn," Rachel murmured lowly as she slid a finger through wet folds, causing Quinn to whimper slightly as she bucked against Rachel's hand, seeking more contact. "Take off your pants," she whispered before releasing her hold on Quinn.
Eager to comply with Rachel's request (command), Quinn shakily pushed herself onto her knees and lowered her jeans and panties down to her knees, loving the way Rachel's eyes raked over her mostly naked body. Rachel's eyes grew impossibly darker as she drank in the sight before her—her face and chest flushed.
"I think it's only fair if you return the favor," Quinn said with an impish smile, eager to see and touch more of Rachel's body.
Rachel pushed herself up to sit then, reaching around her back and unclasping her bra. Quinn swallowed as she removed it and tossed it away, revealing perky breasts. Impulsively, she reached out to touch them, eliciting a soft moan from Rachel, who pushed herself further into Quinn's touch before once again gripping the back of Quinn's head and kissing her—hard.
Rachel's free hand wasted no time traveling down Quinn's body and between her legs, once again sliding through wet folds. Suddenly, the hand in Quinn's hair tightened as two fingers roughly slid inside Quinn, making her gasp. Rachel immediately set a quick pace, her fingers relentlessly moving in and out of Quinn as she bit down lightly on her pulse point and sucked. Quinn swallowed and began to pant softly, loving the feeling of Rachel being inside of her like this.
Quinn squeezed Rachel's breasts roughly as she hit a particular spot that made Quinn's toes curl. The sound Rachel made in response had Quinn clenching around her fingers and intensifying her desire to touch her everywhere.
But it was so hard to think with the way that Rachel was touching her right now—claiming her with her mouth and hands and making her entire body alight with pleasure. And then the heel of Rachel's hand hit against her clit with every thrust, and Quinn knew it wasn't going to take much longer.
Her body began to tremble, and she wrapped her arms around Rachel's smaller frame. A wave of pleasure surged through her as she clenched around Rachel's fingers one last time—her hips bucking against Rachel's hand as her mouth fell open in a breathless cry.
Boneless, she slumped against Rachel, panting as her body slowly recovered from how hard Rachel had just made her come—her entire body was still tingling from it.
"Holy shit," she panted, opening her eyes and staring at her roommate, who looked at her with a hint of self-satisfaction.
"You okay?" Rachel asked, her eyes dancing with mirth.
"Never better," Quinn replied, her lips curving up into an impish smile as she easily pushed Rachel down onto her back and kissed her deeply.
Rachel moaned as she moved her mouth against Quinn's just as intensely.
"Your turn," Quinn said after finally breaking their kiss—her mouth eagerly making its way down Rachel's body, determined to make Rachel come even harder than she had.
The next morning, Quinn woke up to warmth pressed against her back, legs tangled up with hers, and fingers tracing her ribcage. She hummed lowly and smiled as thoughts of last night began to trickle back in.
After blinking the sleep from her eyes, Quinn slowly turned over to face her roommate.
Rachel looked at her with sleepy eyes and a content smile. "Morning," she murmured, before brushing her lips against Quinn's collarbone.
Quinn wrapped an arm around Rachel's back, enjoying the feeling of their naked bodies pressing together. Her eyes flitted over to her nightstand and her lips curved down into a frown. "Dammit," she grumbled as she took note of the time.
"What?"
"I have class in 25 minutes," she explained with a pout, reluctantly extracting herself from Rachel.
As Quinn climbed out of bed, she stepped over the pile of discarded clothes from the night before. Her lips curved up in amusement at the sight of hers and Rachel's shirts tangled up together. She glanced back at Rachel, who was watching her from the bed with unbridled desire, which caused Quinn to flush slightly.
After quickly showering and getting ready for the day, Quinn emerged from the bathroom to find Rachel exactly where she'd left her.
Noting the time, Quinn walked back over to her bed. She reached over to her nightstand and snatched up her Red Sox cap before holding it out for Rachel to wear.
With a scowl, Rachel took it from her.
"Come on, put it on," Quinn said playfully. "I want to see you wear it."
Rachel eyed the cap with disgust. "Isn't there something else I can do."
"Nope," Quinn replied, shaking her head. "You agreed. Now put it on."
"Fine," Rachel huffed as she reluctantly pulled the cap onto her head and looked up at Quinn. "Happy?"
Quinn smiled, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at winning—but also, the sight of Rachel in just a Red Sox cap and nothing else sent a fluttering low in her belly.
"Very," Quinn replied lowly before leaning down and pressing her lips to Rachel's.
Winning had never tasted so sweet.