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Fifty Words for Forgiveness

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Burning In Hell

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You wished that Friday night had been the only time the two of you had kissed. It would have made things so much easier. Sadly, that just wasn't the case. The following Friday found you both back in your bedroom, toying with the idea of more, of pushing the boundaries again, and going for a repeat performance.

Thoughts like that had been bugging you all week. You couldn't stop imagining all that Friday night could have been. You had stopped it before things had gone too far, but a part of you couldn't help but ask the question: what if you hadn't?

That was your problem, the unknown. You had your first taste of the forbidden fruit and you wanted more. Kissing those lips had sealed your fate, and you wanted to do it again and again and never stop. They had haunted you, the images replaying in your head, the sounds making you weak at the knees, and your hands mimicking hers on your body. God, it had been killing you, the mere thought of Quinn kissing you again, touching you, panting out your name.

You knew you shouldn't want her, you shouldn't be thinking about her that way, but you were powerless to stop it. So when she suggested that the two of you head back to yours for the night, to 'catch up', you knew the only thing that you could do was say 'yes'.

Denying her would be sacrilegious. Who says no to a fallen angel?

Quinn was flitting from one thing to another, and every so often she would glance over her shoulder at you. Her eyes, those gorgeous hazel eyes were teasing you, begging you to make a move, to kiss her, daring you to corrupt her.

You knew it was wrong. You knew you should stay away from her, keep it restricted to a 'friendship only' evening, but those lips, those eyes. They were calling you in, and with each passing second, your resolve was weakening.

You had tasted those lips and you craved to taste them again. You had felt her body beneath yours, had heard her panting and whimpering in your ear, had smelt fucking sunshine and fresh air overpowering your senses, and had seen her eyes grow heady with lust.

Lust- one of the Cardinal Sins.

It was only fitting that you, Satan as you had so aptly been called, had corrupted the fallen angel. It felt natural to corrupt someone so pure, so innocent. So, you weren't doing anything wrong when you decided to stop this tantalizing dance the two of you were in and approached her, your body pressing into her back. No, you were doing everything right. She knew exactly what would happen the minute she walked through your door, and there was no way you were going to put the brakes on things tonight.

This had been her call; you were just answering her plea.

You wanted her, you needed her. You could not be blamed for your next move, your hands landing on her hips and pulling her body closer. Nor could you be blamed for grazing your teeth along her neck, which she so thoroughly exposed for you.

You were powerless.

Quinn had been teasing you all week, with lustful looks across corridors, gentle touches that lasted a few seconds too long, slight moans when she brushed passed in the hallway. All of it. All of it had been driving you insane. You wanted this, she wanted this. It was time.

To hell with the consequences. To hell with the ramifications. To hell with the fallout. You wanted her. You needed her. It was as simple as that. And as she raised her hand into your hair and pulled your mouth onto her neck again, you knew that she wanted and needed you, too.

"San." Her breathy little moan was the starting gun firing, initiating it all. How were you meant to control yourself when she panted out your name like that? How was anyone meant to control themselves when she did that?

Gripping her waist tighter, you ground yourself into her and began sucking, hard, on her neck, desperate to leave a mark. If she was going to fall from grace, you were damn well going to get the credit for it. There would be no way for her to hide the marks you'd leave on her skin, claiming her as yours. Everyone would know on Monday, and it would be beautiful.

Fallen angel, Quinn Fabray, marked up by Satan herself.

Smirking against her neck, you kissed the purple and red bruise, and turned her to face you, ready to move things on. Quinn was like putty in your hands, completely pliant to your every touch, letting you dictate where her body moved to next. Looking her over, you saw her pupils were blown and she was biting on her bottom lip, all the while her hands were on your waist, playing with the hem of your top. Her back was pressed against the desk, your body trapping her there, and you briefly considered pushing her up onto it and dropping to your knees, but she seemed to be preoccupied on the bed behind you.

"Please," she whispered, leaning forward to catch your lips in hers. It was soft, gentle, and it dulled some of the raging fire burning beneath your skin. Lust was clogging your brain, making you oblivious to everything she was asking of you, and you did the only thing you knew how.

Leading Quinn to the bed, you kissed her hard, demanding her to meet your need half way. She wanted this, that's why she was there, to fuck you. Those pleading hazel eyes were partly filled with lust, and that's all you could understand. Sex, she wanted sex. You could do that. That's all you could do.

Her lips eventually responded, kissing you back with as much force as you, and you groaned at the thought. She had caught up to you, had met you half way, and was ready to move onto the next step. Reaching out, you found the edge of her cardigan, and started to push it off her shoulders roughly, desperate to free her of her clothes.

Leaning her forehead against yours, Quinn broke the kiss and cupped your cheek in her hand. It halted your movements, and you frowned. The fire was still raging, burning you up and consuming you, but she was like water and ice, freezing you and putting it out.

"Please," she whispered again, pecking you on the lips. "Please, San."

You didn't know what she was asking you. You couldn't work it out. She wasn't making any sense. You were giving yourself to her, letting her fuck you, letting her use you for a release, and she wasn't taking you up on it. Nothing made sense. This was what she had been leading up to all week, this was what she wanted. So what was wrong?

Your hesitation gave her some sort of green light and she cupped your other cheek, cradling your face in her hands, before kissing you again. Her lips were soft, undemanding, and so gentle against yours. It was careful, and almost intimate.

That realization had your breath catching in your throat and you clamping your eyes shut. You had worked it out. You knew what she was begging for, and you hated her for asking that of you. It was unfair. It was completely unfair. She had tricked you. She had led you into a trap where there was no way out.

All this time, you thought you were the predator, when in fact you were simply the prey.

She wasn't just wanting sex. She wanted it to mean something. She needed you to open yourself up and let her in. That was the only way things were going to go anywhere.

She needed you to drop the bravado, and let her see that carefully masked vulnerable side you had carefully hidden away. She needed you to open the locked door your feelings were behind and let her walk through it. She needed this to be more than some fuck to pass the time away. She needed you to care about her, as more than a friend, and make this something more than what it actually was. She needed to feel loved, so that this didn't replicate her night with Puck.

You had only shown that side of you to one other person, and she had left you for some cripple in a chair. Handing that power to Quinn had your stomach in knots, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and every muscle in your body ready to fly into action. But, it was those eyes, those goddamn hazel eyes that had you nodding and tearing down your mask, blowing open the door for her to waltz through. They were safe. She wouldn't hurt you.

"Okay," you whispered, trusting her completely.

Quinn leant back and took a careful look in your eyes, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so. The worry lines on her forehead disappeared after a few seconds and she had a small grin playing on her lips as she came in to kiss you again.

This kiss was much more to your liking. It cooled the fire to a bearable temperature, and had you dropping your defences. Where before you would have continued to undress her, as fast as possible, and show her a good time; now you wanted to take it slow, to kiss every inch of skin as it was exposed, and to show her that you were capable of loving someone completely.

It had been Brittany, it had always been Brittany, but now it was Quinn, and you were giving yourself over to her, letting all those hidden emotions seep through your kiss and into her. She didn't want this to just feel like sex, so you were going to do everything to give her exactly what she wanted.

Pulling back from the kiss, you moved the two of you onto the centre of the bed and captured her cheek in your hand. Caressing it with your thumb, you gave her a soft smile, which she returned, and then leant down to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder. Her yellow cardigan was down by her elbow, and you slowly peeled it off, trying to kiss as much of her skin as possible.

You didn't care that this felt more intimate than any of your times with Brittany. You didn't care that you were giving everything you had to someone who had stabbed you in the back before. You didn't care that you were risking so much heartache by doing this.

All you cared about was ensuring that she left your house tomorrow morning feeling as though she hadn't been used, that this wasn't just you replacing Brittany, that you actually wanted her for her. And you did. You didn't want Brittany, you wanted Quinn, and not as a stand in. You wanted her completely.

Taking her arm out the other sleeve of the cardigan, you kissed up her arm and suckled on her shoulder, leaving a little mark behind. The bruise on her neck was a claim, a very public one, but the ones you were going to litter on the rest of her body were your private way of worshiping her.

With the cardigan out the way, and you lips showing their appreciate to her collarbone, you felt her fingers pull at your t-shirt, trying to get it over your head. Breaking away, you let her pull it off, and once again, her eyes darkened at the sight of you. That thought was like a dash of alcohol being dropped in the fire, igniting it further.

Reaching round, you found the zip on her dress and slowly pulled it down, continuing to kiss your way up her neck. Once the zipper reached the bottom, you took her hands in yours and pulled her up onto her knees. From there, the two of you pulled the dress up over her head and dropped it to the floor.

Despite having seen Quinn in less in the locker room at Cheerios or during the many sleepovers you used to have with Brittany, you were still caught staring at the sight before you. She was beautiful. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her pale skin was so striking, completely unmarred, and looked so soft to touch. You couldn't help you hand from reaching out to lightly run a line from her navel up to the middle of her bra, revelling in the feeling of her skin.

Quinn watched your movements, her skin breaking out in goose bumps at your touch, and she whimpered, shuffling closer to you. You felt, rather than saw, her hands start to undo the buckle on your belt, and you fought the hitch in your throat as she worked your jeans off you.

The two of you were left in only your underwear, kneeling on the bed facing one another, waiting for the other to make the next move. She was still looking at you with complete trust and adoration, and you wondered if her mask had come off, too.

Not wanting to face the reality of those emotions just yet, you took her face in your hands, leaning your forehead against hers, and kissed her softly. It was slow, careful and void of any of your darker intentions. She kissed you back with equal tenderness, and mewled when you pulled back.

You wanted to see the next part, to watch her as you moved your fingers down each side of her neck, see her reaction as they moved along the tops of her shoulders and stopped under her bra straps. You were asking permission, looking at her longingly, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

Quinn's hazel eyes were darker than before, watching you the entire time, and with a slight nod of her head, you pulled the straps off her shoulders, and let them hang loose over her arms. The other you, the masked you, would have unclasped the bra first, but the unmasked you wanted to take your time. There was no need to rush, you had all night.

You kissed the newly revealed skin, and furrowed your brow when Quinn reached behind her to take her bra off. She unclasped it and let it fall right off her arms, into the gap between your bodies on the bed. Shifting closer on your knees, your stomach touched hers, and you hissed at the heat radiating off her body. She dropped her head onto your shoulder, looking downwards at your hands, and you so desperately wanted to look down, too.

You were behaving yourself. You weren't going to leer at her. That would certainly kill the mood. You wanted to worship her. Gawking at the breasts you had been checking out long before the two of you had ever kissed was not worshiping. That would be rude, and tonight you were going to be anything but that.

Quinn seemed to be aware of your internal debate and softly planted kisses on your neck, working her way upwards. You dropped your head backwards, to grant her more access, and then scolded yourself for doing so.

Tonight was about her. It was all about her. She needed to feel loved, to feel special. This was not about you.

Turning her head, you kissed her harder than before, and finally let your fingers graze their way up her navel. She groaned into your mouth, her tongue gliding against yours, as you cupped her in your hands. Squeezing your thighs together, you let out a low moan, and kissed her again, desperate for more. Lowering you head, you took her in your mouth, the other hand worshiping her other breast, and sparks shot straight down your spin when she cried out above you.

"Fuck, San, please," she whimpered, her fingers threading in your hair, tugging on them as your tongue flicked against her skin.

Quinn's hands wasted no time running from your hair down your back to your own bra strap, and she had it off you in seconds. You would have been impressed if it wasn't for the perfect sight before you. She pulled you back up to her lips, kissing you with force, demanding you to kiss her back with equal fever, and her hands immediately went to your chest.

She was exploring, testing, teasing you, her nimble fingers working you over, and once again you had to remind yourself that it was about her tonight. It wasn't about you. Your realise was inconsequential. Hers was what mattered, and you needed to get back on track.

"Q," you moaned, trying to get her attention again. Her eyes were mesmerized, watching her fingers and hands cup and grasp you, and you were desperate for her to continue, but you needed to stop. You needed to take control again. "Q, please."

She looked up at you, worry flashing in her eyes, and you mentally kicked yourself for making her think she'd done something wrong. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was doing everything right, and that was the problem.

"Let me…please, let me…" You tried to finish your sentence, but you didn't know what the words were meant to be. What were you trying to say? Let you do what? Make love to her? Fuck her? Ravish her? Worship her? What was it going to be?

Unable to answer your own question, you ploughed on ahead, taking Quinn's hands in yours, entwining your fingers together, and you shuffled your body closer. Your stomachs were pressed together, and the more you moved, the more you felt her skin touch yours. Her breasts, those goddamn perfect breasts, brushed against you, and you bit back a moan. She seemed to be doing the same, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop the groan vibrating from her chest. It was sexy as fuck to see her try and restrain herself like that, but you wanted her to break free, to cry out, to whimper and whine, to moan and groan beneath your fingers, your lips, your tongue.

With little effort on your part, you managed to get the two of you lying back on the bed, your body lying over hers. Your hands were still entwined, and you had her pinned. Given Quinn's need for control, you expected her to fight you on this, but she didn't, she seemed to enjoy it. Her breathing picked up, her chest panting wildly beneath you, and you were transfixed.

"Kiss me," she cried, gripping your fingers tighter. "Please, kiss me."

You dropped your head so your forehead was leaning on hers and ghosted your lips over her own. She tried to reach up to kiss you, but you pulled back, teasing her. You wanted to work her up, to have her ready and willing before you moved on to taking off those last two scraps of material keeping your lower halves apart.

"Stop teasing me, please, San. Kiss me." Those hazel eyes were seeking you out, begging you to do as she'd asked, and you licked your lips slowly, watching them darken as you did so.

This kiss, this next kiss was going to start it off. Yes, you had gotten this far, but there was still time to stop. When you kissed her, there would be no stopping. One kiss, one touch, and you would be handing yourself over to her fully.

"You're sure?" It was considerate of you to ask, something you never did. Your masked self was shaking her head at you, grimacing at the thought of asking such a question, but you had to. You needed to know she was ready to do this. Her body may have been ready, but mentally, she might not have been.

"Positive." If it wasn't for those hazel eyes, completely certain in their gaze, you would never have gone ahead. Nevertheless, you saw the trust in them, and you knew she was just nervous, rather than scared. She wanted this, she was just not sure what to expect.

"Tell me to stop," you pleaded, unable to hold it back. Those words had been sitting in your throat, desperate to get out. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

You wanted her, you wanted her so fucking much, but this was going to change things. This was going to destroy all hopes of friendship. This was going make it impossible to go back to what you once had. You didn't want to lose that, you didn't want to lose her.

If you lost Quinn the same way you lost Brittany you'd never forgive yourself. These were your friends, you weren't meant to fuck them. But then again, this wasn't fucking. You weren't fucking Quinn. No, you were doing something so much more intimate than that. You were offering yourself up to her, giving her everything you had.

She had the power to make or break you. She had all the power. When all was said and done, she had a piece of you, a piece no one else would ever get. Brittany wormed her way through your defences, but Quinn asked you to take them down for her, and you did.

"Don't stop," Quinn whispered, shaking her head. She leant up, closing the distance between you, and you closed your eyes, just waiting to feel her lips on yours. You weren't disappointed.

She started slow, waiting to see if you'd respond, and it only took a second for you to kiss her back. Her lips, wet and warm to the touch, softly kissed yours, tenderly gliding over them, and every so often she would lick at your bottom lip. It was enough of an incentive to let yourself sink into the kiss, and give her everything she wanted.

Her breath ghosted over your face, and her eyes shut as you moved to kiss her jaw. You licked at her skin, enjoying the feel of her wriggling about beneath you, and continued downwards. You tried to lick and kiss all of her, each and every part of her skin as you moved lower, coming face to face with her breasts again. You wanted to burn your lips into her skin, have her never forget where you had been, where you had kissed her. You wanted her to think about your lips on her, later, when this was all over. You wanted her to imagine it, again and again and again.

You kissed each and every rib, and then left a plethora of kisses down her sternum as you sunk lower. The lower you went, the more her body twitched, her muscles quivering at your touch, and the more she whined. She was watching you, taking shallow breaths as she did so. Her hair was messed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark, and you were fighting the urge just to take her right there. You could get her off without even removing her underwear, it was definitely possible, but she wanted special, and you did, too.

Peeking your tongue out, you licked your way along the top of her underwear, starting at one hip and going to the other. Her hips jerked upwards and her legs widened, welcoming you in, and it took all your self-control to stay focused. Your fingers hooked under the edges and ever so slowly, you began to pull her underwear off her, kissing each inch of skin that was exposed.

You bypassed the one destination you were desperate to kiss, to taste, to lick, and made your way down her thighs, stopping at the top of her knee. Leaning back, out of the way, you pushed her legs together, groaning as you watched her squeeze her thighs tightly and drop her head backward on the pillow, and dragged her underwear the rest of the way. You dropped them behind you, completely uninterested in them now that they were off, and turned back to the blonde lying naked on your bed.

Deciding to even the scale, you removed your own underwear, watching her watch you. With your underwear joining hers on the floor, you turned back to give her all your attention. How could you not? She was perfect, absolutely flawless, and she was waiting on you to make the next move.

Running your hands up her smooth legs, you stroked her skin and pushed them apart, moving your body in between them. You kissed her hip bone softly before grazing your teeth downwards and heard her cry out. Caressing her thighs, your fingers moving higher and higher with each intake of breath, you kept your eyes glued on hers. She was waiting for you to glance down, to look at where you were so desperate to look, and you swallowed thickly, your breath picking up.

It suddenly felt like your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest, trying to break free from the chains you had it wrapped in. Each thump was resonating in your ears as you looked at her, and you counted to ten, trying to stop the shaking in your hands, trying to calm the nerves, before glancing down.

"Oh God," you groaned, your chest heaving as you dropped down, your forehead resting on the inside of her thigh. She was beautiful, so fucking beautiful. So beautiful that your thighs clenched together in need and you had to fight the urge to grind into the bed.

"You're perfect," you whispered, unable to stop looking and stop licking your lips. You wanted to taste her so fucking bad, to touch her. She was right there. She was right there and her hand was entwining itself in your hair, and then your lips were kissing the inside of her thigh and you felt like you were going to come from just looking at her.

You moaned deep in your throat when you finally closed the distance, your tongue touching her first. Her legs clamped round your head, and her fingers tugged harder on your hair, her panting and whimpering growing with each flick and lick of your tongue. She was canting her hips, and you had to try and hold them down, keep her steady, as you fully immersed yourself in her.

She tasted fucking amazing. Fucking fresh air, sunshine and amazing. That's what she was. That's exactly what she was, and you couldn't get enough. You licked, nuzzled, enticed and teased, all the while listening to her respond accordingly. It was fucking beautiful, hearing her lose herself like that.

The restraint she had earlier was gone, and she was crying out with each flick of your tongue, moaning loudly with each slow stroke, whimpering with each kiss, and panting every time you stopped teasing her. She was like your own personal orchestra, tuned to perfection, with the crescendo building and building after each touch.

Tugging on your hair harder, she dragged you up her body and kissed you quickly. She was everywhere, her hands on your body, caressing your skin, her tongue in your mouth, licking your lips, her legs wrapping round you, pulling you closer. She was everywhere.

"Please, God, please, Santana," Quinn's words were husky and breathless, her lips continuing to ravage yours.

You couldn't take it anymore. No more begging. You had to give her what she wanted. While you wanted to drag this out as long as possible, you knew you couldn't. She would grow impatient, she would become angry, and it would ruin everything you had worked so hard for. You needed to give her exactly what she wanted, no more stalling.

You nodded into her kiss, your lips meeting hers with as much passion as she was. The kisses were wet, sloppy, and consisting mostly of tongue and teeth, but they were filling the desire you both had to consume the other. Neither of you could get close enough, kiss hard enough, fill the need you had for one another, and it was driving you both wild.

Putting an end to all the teasing, you wasted no time in letting your fingers seek her out, groaning loudly at how wet and warm she was. Fuck. She had you whimpering, matching hers as your fingers sought out exactly where she needed you. You had kissed her, you had tasted her, you were touching her, and in a moment you were going to be inside her. She was giving you everything. She was giving herself to you, and you fought back the tears at such a thought.

Quinn's hips bucked against your hard, desperate for you to finally do it, and you took one more second to look at her. Those eyes, Christ, those eyes. They told you everything you needed to know. So many emotions were swirling in them, but none of which said 'don't' or 'stop'. She really wanted this, she really wanted you.

You cried out with her, lost in the feeling, the mere thought of her, her around you, her moving against you, her crying out your name. So fucking warm. So fucking wet. Everything you'd fucking imagined and more. She felt fucking unbelievable. She looked fucking unbelievable. She was fucking unbelievable.

You told her so. You whispered it against her skin, on her lips, in her hair, into her ear, across her neck. You told her. You told her how beautiful she was, how gorgeous she looked, how fucking stunning she was.

She met your words with moans, whimpers and groans. She replied with her body, canting upwards into your hand, kissing your lips, biting your shoulder, licking your neck, sucking on your skin. She whined for you. She panted for you. She gave herself fully to you.

You felt her tightening, her hips losing their rhythm, and then her hands gripped your neck and her lips were kissing you hard, biting at your bottom lip. She threw her head back, letting your lip go, and her moan vibrated from her throat, loudly filling the room. Her body continued to cling to you, her legs keeping you in place, and her arms holding you tighter.

You were completely mesmerised with the sight before you, the sound of her moaning out your name, the feel of her pulsating around you; it was killing you. It was driving you closer and closer to the edge, and if you just moved your leg slightly you would follow.

God, you wanted to, so badly, but you couldn't. This wasn't about you. This wasn't about your release. This was about her. It was always about her. Following quickly behind her, while it would feel amazing, would be selfish. She wanted this, she needed this to expunge all memories of Puck and his pathetic attempts at making her come. You needed to let her have this, this untainted memory.

So, rather than shift your body closer to hers, you rolled to the side, bringing her with you. She had untangled her legs from yours, but was still holding on tightly with her arms, keeping you close. You didn't mind. In fact, it felt nice, leaving a warmth burning in your chest.

Quinn's eyes were closed, her lips parted and her breathing was still erratic, but she was coming back down from her high. You could feel her body relaxing, her muscles loosening, until she was lying almost dazed next to you.

Seeing her like that, so vulnerable and so trusting, had your heart picking up speed again. She trusted you to make this something special for her, and you prayed to God that you had. You wanted her to think back on this as a good moment in her life, not something to be ashamed of. Yes, you were the school bicycle, and Satan, but you did have the capability to think past yourself and unto others.

You continued to watch her, her chest rising and falling under the harshness of your black sheets against her pale skin, and you wanted to detach yourself from the situation. You wanted to close the door inside your head, lock it shut and pretend it had never been opened, but those hazel eyes were on yours again, and she was leaning over to kiss you.

"Thank you," Quinn whispered, nuzzling into your neck. "I wish my first time had been like that," she confessed, nestling in further. "I wish it had been with you."

The weight of those words hit you like a battering ram to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. You couldn't even begin to process what she had just said to you. It was too much. You wanted this evening to be special, but for her to wish that...you couldn't, you just couldn't deal with what that meant.

As if she knew what she'd done, she began to distract you. Her hand was suddenly running through your hair, her lips ghosting over your skin, and you arched into her touch, unable to stop yourself.

You wanted to reply with some flippant comment. You wanted to put a stop to her looking at you that way. You wanted her hands to stop their tender perusal of your body. You needed her to go back to being your best friend, Quinn. You needed her out your head, your heart, and everywhere else she looked to be taking up residence.

Instead, she kissed your collarbone and worked her way up to your jaw. You thought she was going to kiss you goodnight, leave it at that, but her kisses changed direction and went back the way she came. They didn't stop at your collarbone, though. Continuing down your chest, you felt Quinn's body saddle up to yours, one of her legs hooking over your own, and her hand run over your abdomen under the sheet.

She was doing what you never expected her to do. She was going to touch you. You had tried to make it all about her, so that she wouldn't return the favour, as it were. You had tried so hard to tire her out, to ensure she would keep her hands to herself. The determination in her eyes, though, told you she was going to do this regardless of her fatigue.

You had opened yourself up, she was through the door, but now she was locking it from the inside. You couldn't have her doing that. You couldn't have her getting in your head like that. It was fine for you to kiss her as though you loved her, worship her body as if it would grant you forgiveness for your sins, and bring her closer to heaven than ever before. It was fine for you to do all that.

It was not fine for her to do the same to you.

Things had been going so well, you had kept yourself in check, just allowing your emotions, your heart, to lead you, but now was the time to give your head control again. You battled with the thought of removing her hand from your navel, and you fought with the idea of pushing her body away. However, your heart won each and every time. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

There she was, the fallen angel, touching you, looking at you as though she loved you. Why would you turn that away? How could you even think of doing so? She cared, on some level she cared, and she was showing you just how much. She wasn't fucking you like you were some cheap whore. She wasn't using you to get herself off. She wasn't pretending you were someone else. She was giving herself to you.

You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve her. You were never going to be good enough. Yet, she wanted you. She wanted you and all your flaws at that very moment and for that reason alone, you let her hands continue their path along your body.

You let her fingertips graze lower and lower while her lips left open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You let her nip at your neck, leaving a mark just like you had left on hers, as she descended past where you wanted her most and began lightly glossing over the insides of your thighs. You let her chuckle into your neck as you bucked your hips in aggravation. You let her bite your lip and tug, turning your head to face her, while her fingers travelled higher and higher. You let her smirk like a cocky bastard when you groaned out at the first touch.

"Fuck," you whimpered, shuddering against her body.

It was too much. The fire was back, burning hotter than ever before. It was too hot, too wild. You couldn't control it. You couldn't control the need, the flames, from travelling further, taking over. You were alight with need, desperate for release, bucking shamelessly into her hand. She was ice and water, the only thing that could put the fire out. She had the power to stop it, to turn the sweltering heat back down to a cool temperature you could handle.

"Please," you moaned, catching her lips in yours. She nodded against you, kissing you back, and moved her body over yours, settling between your legs. You wasted no time wrapping them around her, pulling her closer, kissing her harder, whimpering for her touch.

Her mantra of teasing and no pleasing was out the window. You had set it on fire and were watching it burn with a satisfied smile on your face.

Biting her lip, you tugged harshly, and she hissed in return. Her eyes were dark, the familiar warm hazel gone, and you couldn't tear yourself away from them, watching as she rocked into you, bringing you closer and closer. Those eyes, those goddamn eyes reflected every emotion crossing your face, every crease of your brow, every heady look, every flick of your tongue against your lips.

Among the flames, you saw it. Everything was burning down around you, but it was clear as day, untouched from the fire you had unleashed.

You felt the tears gather in your eyes, the fire burning you too much to take, and that look, that look haunting you. This had to stop. You couldn't. You couldn't see that and then continue like everything would be back to normal tomorrow. It was in your eyes, it was in hers. Everything had changed. You were exploding, the fire hitting volatile emotions, and you cried out, only to have her lips quell it.

Quinn suddenly increased her pace, her body rocking harder and faster against yours. Her fingers- God, her fingers- sought out exactly where you needed her, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, working in complete sync with the rest of her. Your body was alight in anticipation, your hips bucking wildly against hers, your nails scratching at her back, and your throat panting out incomprehensible words.

The fire, once a small flame, had turned into a great wild fire, completely demolishing everything in its path. Your body was burning down, caving in on itself, and her touch was acting like lighter fluid, making it worse. You needed it to end. You needed release. You were so close, so fucking close. Only a few more rocks against you, just a few more and that would be it.

Bucking harshly, you felt it, and the fire became a raging inferno. Ducking down, you felt Quinn's lips kiss yours harder than before, and then she rocked against you one last time as you fell apart.

Wave after cool wave hit you, producing a guttural moan from your throat, and the fire was washed away, completely gone. You were no longer burning, but drowning. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You were awash with euphoria. She had saved you from self-combusting, but had thrown you in the ocean with an anchor round your ankle.

Gasping for breath, you latched onto her like she was a life raft. Your hands wrapped round her neck and you kissed her again, your tongue gliding against hers. You took a breath, breathing in the air in her lungs, and moaned low in your throat.

Intense, that was the only word you could think of. It was intense. She had built you up, set you on fire, watched you burn, and then put you out, almost drowning you in the process. She had thrown you over the edge of the cliff, and pulled you from the crashing waves below.

Quinn's body lay motionless on top of yours, and you felt your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest again. She had to feel it, too. She had to have seen what you had. She just had to. Not wanting to see that look again, you closed your eyes and sought out her lips again.

She kissed you back, lightly brushing her lips against yours, and it was enough to light a new flame. This one, though, was one that would land you in trouble. It burnt deep in your chest, and with each tender kiss, it grew in strength. Unlike the last one, this fire didn't need to be put out suddenly. Instead, it needed to be unleashed, let out, where it could burn freely. You were never going to do that. You were never going to give it the light of day. Instead, you were going to starve it of oxygen and wait for it to die out.

You couldn't, you just couldn't fall for your best friend. That wasn't in the cards. Sex never made you sentimental, which meant whatever you had buried last week had reared its ugly head, and wherever these feelings were coming from, they weren't new. No, they were familiar, and warm, and didn't look to be going anywhere.

Quinn rolled onto the bed next to you, and pulled you closer, so that you were nestled against her. Cuddling, you were cuddling. This wasn't what you did. You never cuddled. Only Brittany was fortunate enough to cuddle with you. It was Quinn, though, and that was reason enough to wrap your arm over her waist, bury your head in her neck, and close your eyes.

You trusted her, with everything. The door was locked from the inside, and she was standing in the room with your deepest and darkest emotions. It was over. The fire inside your chest was roaring with each touch her fingers made, caressing your bare hip, and you knew you had lost.

Every fight, every battle, it had all been futile. The war was over, and you had lost, severely. You liked her. You liked her as more than a friend. You were on that slippery slope, close to falling. You had shown her your most vulnerable side, and she had kissed you softly and held you. She had made you feel loved. She made you feel worthy. It had cemented those feelings, making your chest ache at the very thought. You liked her, so fucking much.

Lightly kissing her neck, the skin warm and soft to the touch, you inhaled fresh air and fucking sunshine, and allowed yourself one small smile.

It would be over tomorrow. Reality would make itself known, but for tonight, for just one night, you could lie in her arms and pretend she liked you back. When tomorrow arrived, your mask would be back up, as would hers, and you both would pretend this never happened. But, for tonight, you could let yourself admit what you never wanted to.

You liked her, you were falling for her, and you would do anything she asked of you. She had you, completely, and she didn't even realise it. She would never realise it. If she asked, if she asked at that very moment, you would confess everything. You would tell her, with no thoughts of the consequences.

She would need to ask, though. You could never tell her otherwise. You could never say those words without prompting. You could never admit to having made the same mistake twice, and this was a mistake. You had only guaranteed yourself heartache, but with her arms wrapped around you, it seemed worth it. She was worth it. She would always be worth it.

You wanted her, as more than a fuck buddy, as more than a best friend. You wanted to fall in love with her and you wanted her to love you back.

Right then, it felt like she could love you, and that was enough to keep you from facing the truth.

*0*0*