Important: This is the Faberry side of the first installment; everything from Quinn's POV. Enjoy it!
FABERRY
She's not gay. Really.
She thinks of a lesbian cruise because Santana is either depressed watching Mexican soap operas or she's throwing herself in 16-hour shifts at work.
This has to stop.
Santana is a lioness with enough sexual energy to fuel Manhattan for days. A change of scenario would turn things around.
She opens an anonymous window on her chrome and searches for lesbian cruise.
—
There's one that leaves in two weeks.
She buys their most expensive suite and makes reservations.
She hasn't taken a vacation in three years, so she's granted these weeks off in a heartbeat.
She kindly informs Santana they're leaving for a cruise and she better buy a new bikini.
Santana says there's no way on Earth she's going, cruises are for lame old lesbians, she hates boats, she doesn't want to be stuck with Quinn for two whole weeks and she doesn't need this "kind of shit."
Quinn takes it, impassible.
They are going on a cruise, and Santana will like it.
Quinn's not gay, though.
—
She knows Santana like the palm of her hand.
It comes from becoming friends in preschool and learning how to read Santana inside out.
She tells Santana there's a bet and she tells Santana she'll be drunk and Santana dives right in.
She helps Santana pack and they go to their destination.
—
It's the kind of gorgeous, sunny day, and she's drunk.
Eight beers and she's laughing with Santana as they look around the deck.
So many women. Someone is going to have a field day. Quinn looks at Santana, happy to see those worried lines in her face softening, her eyes wide with surprise and appetite.
Santana disappears, leaving Quinn to take their luggage to the room, but Quinn doesn't mind.
Santana deserves this.
—
She really has no intention of hooking up with anyone.
She's just in for the ride, chilling on a deckchair and getting her tan on.
Santana's flirting with two women at the same time, and the two mojitos on Quinn's blood are making her sleepy.
A brunette appears by her side, her smile big and white, and offers Quinn a mojito. "Your drink was almost over, so I got you a refill."
She's crouching by Quinn's side, her arms on Quinn's armrest. Quinn looks at her: olive skin, long brown hair, jean shorts and a tank top insinuating a delicious body.
Quinn clears her throat and sits up a bit. "Thank you," she says, noticing how the brunette licks her lips in satisfaction.
"I'm Rachel," she says, not moving away. She smells like sunscreen and something sweet.
Wind blows her hair and it brushes on Quinn's arm. "I'm Quinn."
They're so close. "Won't your girlfriend be mad we're talking, Quinn?"
"She's not—" She points her thumb to Santana and laughs a little with the idea. "I'm single."
"I'm glad," Rachel says, sipping her own drink and sitting on Quinn's deckchair, by her legs.
—
The thing is that, when you're in a lesbian cruise, you can't really say you're straight.
It would be just absurd, so Quinn doesn't say it.
Her stomach is in knots. Rachel gives her a rush of adrenaline just by being there.
Rachel plays with Quinn's fingers as she makes small talk, and Quinn wants her to come closer.
Gosh, her mouth feels so dry. She sips her mojito a little faster than advisable, and Rachel laughs when Quinn chokes a little and coughs, her face going warm with embarrassment.
"Let me get that for you." Rachel's hand shots up, thumb cleaning the droplets of run on the corner of Quinn's lip.
Quinn feels like she's burning.
She holds Rachel's hand in place, locking their eyes, and palms Rachel's forearm slowly. She stops at Rachel's elbow to pull her close.
Rachel happily complies, crawling towards Quinn – it's sexier than it should be, damn – until their lips meet and she's straddling Quinn's lap.
—
Rachel's lips, they're something else.
Her fiancée had been hard and demanding, all teeth and bite, scratching her skin with his stubble.
Rachel, on the other hand… She's full lips enveloping Quinn's lower lip delicately, pulling it a bit, her soft hands holding Quinn's face.
Quinn sighs, wrapping an arm around her to pull her close. Rachel's tongue runs over Quinn's upper lip before she kisses it like she's in no rush.
Rachel arches into Quinn, pressing their bodies together gloriously under the sun, cotton against Quinn's skin. Rachel tilts her head and deepens the kiss wet and hot, her tongue entering Quinn's mouth and sliding against Quinn's tongue.
Quinn feels hot all over; when Rachel moans in her mouth it shoots straight to her core.
It's with the same slow and deliberate pace that Rachel begins a trail of kisses on Quinn's jaw, reaching the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.
Quinn whimpers, helpless. Rachel smiles against her skin and draws a breath before her lips meet Quinn's neck again, between wet kisses and small bites.
Quinn's hands sneak under Rachel's shirt, marveling with Rachel's skin on her palm and the way her muscles answer to Quinn's soft scratching.
"You're a very good kisser, Quinn," Rachel says, almost a purr. She moves her leg so she's sitting on Quinn's lap, her right turned to Quinn.
Quinn wants to kiss her again.
—
She's not usually like this.
She doesn't hold girls in her arms and asks them about their life and has long and intense make out sessions.
It's not like she's gay.
Her lips are sore and sensitive, and Rachel looks even more tempting than before.
She runs a thumb on Rachel's cheek before she uses her hand to pull her in for another kiss. Rachel's lips part promptly to her tongue, and she moans when Quinn pulls her hair and explores her mouth thorough and slow.
"I think we should go somewhere else," Rachel says, her voice raspy and low, "so I can do things to you."
Quinn catches her breath, her lips brushing against Rachel's, and nods. "I think you'll like my room."
—
It's like Rachel owns the place.
She arrives and takes a casual look around, touching the furniture with the tip of her fingers as she passes by. She takes off her earrings, her necklace, her shoes, and leaves them on the bathroom sink.
Quinn watches and swallows dry.
Everything about Rachel is sexy.
"Take off your romper," Rachel says simply, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.
Undressing for Rachel is thrilling; Quinn feels hyperaware of everything. Her clothes falls on the floor.
"Lay down," Rachel says, moving towards the bed as well.
Quinn complies, and Rachel smirks at her obedience before lying on top of her.
"You're wearing too many clothes," Quinn says, tugging at Rachel's shirt.
Rachel kisses her languid and hot, running her hand over Quinn's clothed breast. "One thing at a time, love."
There's nothing to do but agree.
—
Of course she has slept with women.
She went to college, after all.
Maybe a few times after that, too.
—
Rachel moves at an excruciating pace.
She kisses Quinn collarbone, getting rid of Quinn's bikini top. She palms and cups Quinn's breasts, enclosing her perfect mouth around a nipple and sucking.
"S-shit," Quinn groans, her eyes closing because Rachel's tongue is doing something incredible and arousing and she's pulling Quinn's other nipple so hard it almost hurts.
Rachel smirks, staring right into Quinn's eyes as she lets go of one breast to proceed to the other.
Bitch is enjoying watching Quinn whimper and squirm.
She bites Quinn's breast, sucking the same spot afterwards. Quinn groans and scratches her back up to her shoulders, savoring the hiss Rachel makes.
Rachel turns Quinn on the bed. "No more marking," she says, beginning another path of long, tortuous kisses on Quinn's back.
Quinn's so wet already, so wet.
She buries her face in the pillow, catching her breath when Rachel goes lower and takes off Quinn's bikini.
"Please," Quinn breathes, her back arching and her legs spreading. "Please, Rachel, I need—"
Rachel grabs a fistful of Quinn's long hair and pulls it towards her. "Fine, Quinn, let's have it your way," she says flatly, entering her with two fingers.
Quinn moans loud, spread on all fours, hanging on to the headboard for balance, head thrown back.
Rachel curls her finger the exact angle Quinn needs her to, and she starts a relentless pace of taking it all out and shoving it all in, hitting Quinn's spot like she was born to do it.
She pulls Quinn's hair until Quinn's back almost meets hers and Quinn has to place both hands high on the wall for support. "You like this, Quinn?"
Quinn whimpers loud and clear, eyes shut close and mouth hanging open. "Just like– just that, God—"
Rachel wraps an arm around Quinn, her front meeting Quinn's sweaty back. "I think you want more," she groans, adding a third finger.
Quinn moans Rachel's name again and again, panting because she can't take it, she can't possibly take this, her entire body electric and shaking.
"Touch yourself," Rachel orders and Quinn eagerly obliges, her thighs tensing when she reaches her clit the first time.
Quinn's almost screaming now; she can't stop herself, not when she's almost there, her muscles contracted, her entire body aching and glistening with sweat.
She touches herself with a frenetic pace, rubbing her clit just the right way, until she's coming hard around Rachel's fingers, clenching around them, cursing and moaning Rachel's name.
She collapses on the bed, eyes closed, and she smiles when Rachel snuggles by her side and kisses her shoulder.
Rachel kisses her lips softly. "Had you ever had roommates?"
Quinn frowns, not sure what this is about.
"You're loud, love." She makes a sexy face. "Really loud."
Quinn laughs and pulls Rachel closer. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Rachel makes this delicious amused face, and Quinn has to kiss her.