The only sound is the shuddering breath in her ear and the only motion is the friction of two bodies moving against each other. She can't see past the darkness but Quinn knows this sequence all too well. The pressure of her lover settled on top of her in her seat, the feeling of fire straight from her bones to her nerve-endings, the subtle fragrance of vanilla and the twist that starts in her chest and ends in her core; it's all too familiar. She digs the fingers into the skin just under her lover's hipbones in an attempt to stay as close as possible for as long as possible. Something this sweet can only last for so long.
Quinn's eyes open to dark eyes filled with lust that clearly state:
"I need to taste you."
With that Quinn finds herself alone in the darkness, afraid for only a moment until the slight press of nimble fingers pushing her knees apart becomes the only thing she registers. As the tips of her lover's fingers ghost up and down her thighs, Quinn pleads, "Don't tease. Not tonight. Please." Her more cognizant self, of course, prays the teasing never ends. The sooner it ends, the sooner her lover leaves her, and the sooner she is alone again.
Quinn doesn't know whether to cry of appreciation or of grief when she is put out of her misery by the tip of a tongue running swiftly through her drenched folds. However, her rational thoughts seem to disappear as the tongue flattens and curls over her clitoris. Quinn immediately shuts her eyes and reaches to hold her lover in place; murmurs of "I love you" and "Oh god" escaping her lips. She's almost embarrassed at how close to the edge she already is when her lover's tongue leaves her. Quinn opens her eyes to see her lover's dark ones staring straight back. Again, with an obvious message in their irises:
"I know you're close, Quinn. I can feel it. Look at me when you cum. I want to see it in your eyes, what I do to you."
Quinn forces herself to open her eyes and look down; the sight almost instantly pushes her over the edge. Her lover's lips are sucking hungrily on her clit. Her lover's arms are possessively wrapped under her legs and over her hipbones. Her lover's slick dark hair is messed from where Quinn's fingers were just holding on for dear life. The most erotic image, though, is the pair of perfect chocolate eyes staring up at her knowingly, silently giving her permission to let go.
"Babe…" is the soft utterance she gives as she releases. "Babe, I…" as she tries to regain her breath." "Babe, I love you." Just before her alarm goes off.
Quinn barely registers that class has been dismissed and people are gathering their books. She's much too transfixed on the sole subject of her fantasies. She is dressed in simple jeans, a baggy gray zip up, and a pair of Buddy Holly glasses, her hair's clipped on her head and her bangs are messily hanging around her perfect face as she pulls her bag from the floor and pushes her chair back to get up. Quinn knows little about her other then she speaks only when necessary and that she has a small tattoo of a lily just behind and under her right ear, but that doesn't stop her from believing whole-heartedly that this girl in her argumentative writing class is the love of her life.
Marley nudges Quinn and tells her to pick up her stuff so they can leave the lecture hall. Quinn immediate grabs her books and rushes after the brunette she knows will be heading to the library like she does after every class. Finding her at the back tables, Quinn sits across the room so she can stare unashamedly at the girl. She wonders why the brunette is so quiet, and what she would say if she spoke more. She wonders why whenever she sees the brunette on campus, she is alone. She wonders what the tattoo means and she wonders if the girl dreams about anyone the way Quinn dreams about her.
Quinn's wonderings dim when chocolate peers up at her through thick glasses. The knowing look that's always present on the girl's face has no emotion. It's as if with a glance, she can read every thought Quinn's ever had. She holds Quinn's eyes (and her existence) captive for a moment more before looking back in her book. Quinn releases the air that had hitched in her throat moments ago and wonders when this torture will end.
It's been like this seen the first day of the semester a few months back, this game of looking but not speaking. It's been slowing driving Quinn mad that she knows next to nothing about this girl and yet can be so controlled by her. Never before has Quinn been so instantly and completely enamored with someone, not that's she's complaining. These past few months have been filled with more happiness and hope than Quinn's ever felt in her life. Of course, these all come with the raw emotion of frustration when their dynamic stays strictly the same day in and day out. She's been trying to come up with a way to approach the girl, but every scenario she comes up with is too desperate or creepy.
It's not out of ordinary when the brunette takes off her glasses to rub at her eyes to stay focused on her studies, or when suspends the cap of her pen between her perfectly straight pearly whites while she writes furiously in her small spiraled journal. It is very out of the ordinary, however, when the girl picks up her things to go, but leaves a few papers on the table. Quinn waits for the brunette to exit the library before making a beeline to her table to the forgotten sheets. The first is a slightly crumpled version of a rough draft with the name Rachel Berry typed in the top right-hand corner. Quinn plays with the name inside of her mind, imagining how is would sound on her tongue. She sifts through the sheets to find a ripped out journal entry entitled "Hazel Eyes." Quinn holds her breath and reads:
Hazel Eyes watch me when I study. They watch me in class. I'm sure they watch me while I dream. Hazel Eyes are so intently focused on me that I don't know how to handle it. Hazel Eyes speak volumes but don't say much. Hazel Eyes that I'd wish would either indulge me in a name or leave me alone so I can try to forget the Hazel Eyes. Hazel Eyes.
It takes a few moments to still the chill in Quinn's spine, but she gathers her things and heads out of the library with the sheet in hand. In her room, she tries to write down all of the things she wishes to say to Rachel, but nothing sounds as hauntingly beautiful as the words written in front of her. After 14 drafts, Quinn believes her note is sufficient and rushes back to the library with her note and some tape. She carefully tucks the note under the table Rachel was sitting at and tapes it securely before returning to her dorm with a skip to her step and a foolish grin.
Quinn is wrapped in an extra large gray zip up, but it's the slim toned arm wrapped protectively around her waist that fills her with the warmth she needs. She feels herself relax completely into the smaller girl when she feels a pair of plump pink lips on the skin just under her right ear. In an instant Quinn feels arousal take over her as she releases a guttural moan and arches back into the body behind her.
"Rachel." She moans as she turns to face her lover.
Rachel is looking at her with the warmest gaze Quinn has ever felt. This time will be different. Quinn thinks. This will be 'making love.' This must mean she loves me, too.
As Quinn is pleasured by Rachel's talented tongue, Quinn looks down to see her lily tattoo and lovingly traces over it with her finger. Suddenly the lily grows to consume Rachel's shoulder, and then her back. Quinn watches helplessly as the lily devours Rachel until her alarm blares.
Quinn shoots up from her covers in a cold sweat. As she unsuccessfully tries to decipher the meaning behind her dream, she comes to one overwhelming conclusion:
She must know Rachel. She must know all of her. And she must know the reason a tattoo so small can seem to define and consume Rachel when Quinn knows she must be so much more than that.