Shorter than usual, but the next chapter will be a 6k beast, so look out for that :)
Special thanks to all those who reviewed, and happy Pride Month, everybody!
X-X-X-X-X
When it finally rolls around to lunch and Rachel goes to her locker to retrieve her (berry nutritious) vegan salad as always, she spots a note placed on the top of her books, and she instantly feels a sense of giddiness envelop her, knowing that it has to be Quinn.
Picking up the folded note that has a sparkling gold star on top – oof, that's her heart swooning like crazy, help – with a languid yet enthusiastic pace that can only come out of a romantic comedy, she opens the note with tingles through her fingers, biting down at her lip gently in nervous anticipation.
I'm having lunch in the auditorium. Join me?
-Q
The neat and pretty sight of Quinn's slight cursive consumes the brunette with abandon, the simple words somehow able to cause little bursts of fireworks to rage behind her eyelids, and Rachel holds the note to her chest as if she's cradling it, a bashful smile appearing on her lips as she internally does a little twirl of happiness.
The voice in her head is screaming at her to listen, but she's too enamored by the note to even remotely care. Quinn Fabray wants to eat lunch with her!
There's a very noticeable skip and chipper to her step as she goes to the auditorium to meet Quinn, and Bi-rry calls for her attention to no avail.
So much for being self-aware, Rachel feels the voice grumble in her mind, but the petite singer ignores the definite shift in her heart that tells her this is going to end badly, because there's no way she's going to unpack that today.
Or probably the next ten years or so.
All her raging thoughts cease to a halt when she catches a glimpse of Quinn as she reaches the auditorium, the blonde sending her a smile at her arrival that has her stomach doing somersaults. "Hey Rae."
"Hello Quinn," she greets back with a beaming grin of her own as she places her lunch on the chair next to the cheerleader. "I trust the day has been better to you."
The honor-roll student smirks, dangerous and thrilling. "Better now that you're here."
Her heart palpitates, and she's unable to hide her fond smile as she complains, "I must applaud your idea of comedy, but do you have to use such a corny line?"
"I'll try harder to be smoother next time," Quinn promises with a crinkle in her eyes that tells the brunette that she's trying hard not to laugh. "You can come feel me up to see just how smooth."
"Quinn!" Rachel, cheeks flushed in pink, swats at the cheerleader's arm, who's now waggling her eyebrows at her absurdly in an obvious imitation of Puck. "That was horrible!"
"What?" the taller girl laughs, before bringing up her arm to flex it, the muscles rippling. "There's no way you can look at these and not say that they're awesome."
Rolling her eyes and totally not resisting the strong urge to take Quinn up on her offer to touch, Rachel forces her eyes to dart away from the taunt muscles of the blonde's biceps, and she huffs, hoping to distract herself. "I'll have you know that I do not find arrogance to be appealing, Quinn Fabray!"
"This is confidence, Berry, and don't pretend like you don't totally get off of it," Quinn smirks even wider, and Rachel feels the inferno in her lower stomach fan hotter, to an almost unbearable degree. "What, you tired?"
"Of your lame pick-up lines?" the singer tries to sound indifferent (and most likely fails). "Yes, very much, and I'd appreciate if you'd cease and desist this right this instant!"
Or she'll most likely jump the blonde.
Actually, scratch that, at the rate Quinn's hotness bar is raising like a fucking skyscraper, Rachel will probably end up jumping her regardless, but that tidbit is swiftly ignored and compartmentalized as Quinn continues, "Well that's not a surprise – you've been running amok my mind all day!"
Rachel groans, exaggerated and playful, and she gets out of her seat to pretend to leave, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting.
Chuckling, Quinn grabs her by the waist and tugs down with a strength that only a Cheerio can possess, and within a beat, Rachel is half on top of Quinn's lap, stuck in place.
With her line of sight directly level with the girl's chest.
Her face quickly reddens with a mortified look, and Quinn laughs lightly, breathy and amused. "Hi there."
Rachel desperately tries to get her throat muscles to work, but all that comes out is a few croaks and whimpers of embarrassment as she squirms lightly – which, really isn't making anything better – because she's paralyzed on Quinn Fabray's lap, and ohmyfuck I'm paralyzed on Quinn's lap look at those boobs they're-
Her brain short-circuits somewhere around lap and she practically drools at boobs, her mindset regressing to a mix of Puck and Jacob Ben Israel in two seconds at the thought of Quinn's…assets.
Look, it's not her fault she can properly appreciate the female form, okay? Teenage urges and other…things are perfectly normal, and any sane person who likes girls even a little bit can't deny that the honor-roll student is the epitome of every wet dream ever, so she can't be faulted for being hot for Quinn Fabray.
Quinn Fabray and her perfectly arched eyebrow, and her husky voice, and her smirkity smirky smirk, and-
She reverts to teenage-boy mode again.
"I think I broke you." Quinn's amused voice rings out, and Rachel jerks away and falls to the ground, squeaking.
Only to be met with the utterly mouthwatering sight of smooth pale legs.
God is really testing her, isn't he?
Well too bad, she's going to hell then, because damn, look at those legs, and is she actually going to hell, because is it just her, or is it getting hotter and hotter?
"Yeah, I broke you, didn't I?" Quinn arches her brow.
Red from her neck, Rachel manages to croak out a horrified, "Pretty much."
The taller girl hums her quiet laughter and grabs the diva's hand to pull her up, making Rachel heat up even more at the contact. "Eat your boring salad food, Berry."
Maybe if this were a few days ago, she would've taken it as an insult, but she feels relaxed instead now, as if she's been friends with Quinn for ages, and still red in the face, she's comfortable in bantering back, "Better than your pig corpse, at least."
The blonde mock-glares at her, pulling out a wrapped sandwich as she huffs, "And to think that I made a vegan sandwich just for you! Really, I should just stuff it with real bacon instead and eat it myself, you-"
Rachel makes a grab for the sandwich, gets tripped over, and ends up in Quinn's lap again.
This is going to be a loooong lunch.
X-X-X-X-X
"Wait, Quinn Fabray did what?"
"Shhhh," Rachel frantically shushes Kurt, looking around their sixth period classroom anxiously.
"Don't hush me, woman!" Rolling his eyes, Kurt's eyes gleam eagerly in his typical gossip queen fashion, and he leans in closer with a hungry scheming look. "First she defends you against Karofsky, and now she's saved up the best seats for tomorrow's football game just for you to watch her cheer? I just need to hear all the juicy deets!"
Somewhat reluctantly, Rachel gives in, and she spills all that's happened since school started, and the boy seems to get more and more interested with every detail revealed, almost bouncing with excitement by the end when Rachel finishes.
"This is like watching a teen drama unfold right before my eyes," he practically squeals as his face dawns with a realization. "Quinn Fabray makes so much more sense now."
"What?" Rachel asks, brow furrowed as she tries to work out what Kurt's saying.
If anything, Quinn's so much more baffling these days, and when Kurt sees that she's genuinely confused, he shakes his head in disbelief, "Oh you poor baby."
"No seriously, what?" the brunette repeats in confusion, the words coming out more like a whine this time.
"I'm afraid you'll have to figure this one out yourself, Rach," Kurt offers her a sympathetic smile as he changes gears, "So are you going or not?"
"Of course I am, it's just that, well…" she trails off, a small blush making its way across her neck. "Quinn said she saved two seats, and I'm kind of afraid to go to a football game alone, so-"
"You want me to be your fairy godfather," the boy sitting next to her deduces.
Rachel smiles sheepishly as she bargains, "There's going to be lots of sweaty boys running around."
"You don't have to bribe me, but that does make it sound even better," Kurt chuckles, before he lets his face set in a more serious manner. "Promise me you'll look out for yourself. Not like when you let my moronic soon-to-be step-brother step all over you."
The petite singer swallows, throat suddenly dry, "I don't understand, what-"
"Just…don't let your heart overrule your head, Rachel," Kurt evenly says. "You have a…tendency to feel too much too fast."
"Isn't that what love is supposed feel like?"
"Wait, you're in love with Quinn Fabray?" the flamboyant countertenor gapes at her, and she goes red in the face immediately.
"N-No, I'm not!" Rachel splutters in response, "I was just referring to love as how I believed it to be, and-"
"Okay, okay," Kurt evidently decides to switch tactics, and rephrases, "So do you like her?"
"Why wouldn't I?" the diva puzzles. "She's kind, sweet, thoughtful, and the most wonderful friend to me – I'm sorry Kurt, but she made me a four-layeredvegan sandwichwith vegan bacon! Vegan bacon, Kurt!"
The pompous boy, for his part, only looks upon her with an expression akin to amused fondness, though Rachel's still faintly reminded of a bird with ruffled feathers. "While I'm a bit miffed that I've apparently been replaced, and due to a pretend-pig no less, that's not what I meant," he clarifies. "I meant to ask if you like like her, in a more than platonic way."
Rachel feels her face heat, and she hides herself in her textbook. "What, of course I don't like her!" she hisses, unable to stop the rising flush spreading across her face. "Actually, I kind of do, because she's endeared herself to me rather quickly these few days, but it's completely platonic, like how I love the Glee club, and I don't harbor any romantic feelings towards her, okay? She's just a dear friend to me and it would be awkward if I liked her, considering that I've just settled things with Finn, and I'm offended that you would even ask that!"
"The lady doth protest too much," Kurt sings haughtily, and when Rachel protests, he simply gives her an unimpressed look. "Picture her in the tightest tank top and booty shorts you can imagine."
At his words, she can't stop the assortment of mental images that flood her brain, and the absolute delectable picture of a barely-clothed Quinn Fabray with hooded eyes and a confident smirk sends intense pangs of desire from her lower belly to her wetness, and she presses her thighs tightly together unconsciously in an attempt to bring some relief to her suddenly aching core, the images igniting a flame in her that spreads across her entire body.
"Something you wanna share with the rest of us, Rach?" Kurt raises his brow, and Rachel thinks that Quinn does it much better, her brain conjuring up that perfect arched eyebrow as the cheerleader whispers dirty things in her ear, nipping at her earlobe and tugging sensually – fuck, now her panties are ruined, soaked and practically dripping.
"Okay, so maybe she turns me on a little…or a hell lot," she admits, heat radiating off her in waves from both arousal and embarrassment. "But she's Quinn Fabray, who wouldn't be physically attracted to her?"
"I'll give you that at least," the porcelain-skinned boy agrees, "I'm probably the gayest stereotype ever and I'd still go straight for her."
"Plus, it's not like she'd ever reciprocate if I did end up having feelings for her," Rachel shrugs quietly.
"Her best friends are Brittany and Santana, maybe she'll surprise you," Kurt answers with a soft lift to his voice, and when Rachel gives him a doubtful look, he looks as if he desperately wants to add something, but then he shakes his head and says instead with a small smile, "Anyways, what do you think is the appropriate attire for football-going?"
That just sets her off even more, because oh god what is she going to wear, and more importantly, how the hell can one possibly impress Quinn Fabray?
X-X-X-X-X
It's not even a few minutes into the game, and even with her mediocre knowledge of football, Rachel can already tell that their team sucks.
She doesn't really have any idea what's going on, but Kurt is shouting demeaning things along with the crowd, and she's pretty sure that Finn shouldn't be crushed under two guys already, so she sighs and pats down the wrinkles in her black dress.
At least Kurt had helped her to find something that he said made her look really good, so that's that, as it's probably one of the only dresses in her closet that isn't argyle or plaid.
She doesn't really have an interest in football, and she never did understand what Finn had told her, but she makes do by making conversation with Kurt, and pretty soon, it's half-time.
The crowd suddenly goes silent, as if they're all awaiting the Cheerios to run out onto the pitch with anticipation, and it's clear to Rachel that most of them are just here to see them, because the second Quinn bolts out leading her squad with a pearly grin, the entire stand roars with cheers and hoots.
Girls start doing backflips and handsprings, skirts flying up as they twirl in perfect sync, but Rachel only has eyes for Quinn, and she barely registers the others as they hoist her up.
There's an underlying current of fear rushing through her while watching the blonde do death-defying stunts, but it's overshadowed by her eyes rapidly honing in on Quinn's every move, moving with such grace and fluidness that it leaves Rachel breathless and her mouth dry, enamored by the display.
Quinn is flexible, bending down and doing god knows what with practiced ease, and the brunette feels the inferno in her stomach start to fan hotter and hotter, the heat spreading towards her entire body and settling like a second layer of skin.
Just when she thinks that she can't possibly get more turned on, Quinn, now at the top of the pyramid for the grand finale, gets boosted up into the air, and terror that the head Cheerio is going to fall envelopes Rachel.
Until Quinn's thighs part into a perfect spilt, creamy skin all on display, and the singer feels herself clench, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat so hard that they turn white in an attempt to stop herself from rubbing her thighs to cause some friction. Sky Splits indeed.
The honor-roll student's MySpace name holds a whole other meaning to her now, with a visual going with it to boot, and Rachel barely stops herself from letting out a choked noise at recalling Quinn's legs parting and her Cheerio's skirt barely covering the red spanks underneath.
"Holy shit," Kurt breathes next to her, "Now I kinda wish that I was straight."
Rachel doesn't reply, knowing that if she tried, all that would come out would be a few strangled croaks, and her brain barely functions enough to stop her from drooling a puddle.
Abruptly, she's regretting not coming to Mckinley's other games, because who knows how much she missed, but then, she thinks of how many have already watched that very scene of Quinn being tossed into the air, and she growls, jealousy rushing at her out of nowhere at every direction.
She doesn't bother to provide the excuse that she's just 'looking out for a friend'.
X-X-X-X-X
The rest of the game slowly passes by, with every second just heightening her pent-up feelings, and when it finally ends with them inevitably losing, she tells Kurt not to wait for her and marches to the Cheerios' locker room, her gut urging her to find and see Quinn.
When she opens the door, she's met with the horrendous sight of Santana and Brittany making out like no tomorrow, with the former barely clothed and the latter not wearing anything at all, and thankfully, their lewd noises are blocked out by the running showers a few rows behind them.
Yelping, she covers her eyes to block out their indecency, which draws their attention to her, and Santana groans, "What are you doing here, hobbit?"
"I bet she's here because she saw Q do her totally sexy splits, and she wants to be a bicorn too," Brittany pipes up, and when Rachel chances a glance through her fingers, she breathes a sigh of relief that the ditzy blonde had used a towel to cover herself up for now, not really listening to what Brittany had said.
Dropping her hand down, the diva opens her mouth to respond, but then Santana cuts her off, yelling further into the locker room, "Hey Immaculate Conception, the prude's here for you!"
With that, the Latina drags her girlfriend (everyone knows at this point, really) by the hand to the direction of the shower stalls where Rachel assumes that all the other cheerleaders are, and she shivers to clear the image of what she had walked in on earlier.
"Hey," a voice sounds from her other side, and the singer only just contains her nerves by sharply inhaling, skin lit aflame by the steam coating the atmosphere of the locker room.
"Hi Quinn," she says right as she turns to see the blonde, and she's very much not prepared for the sight that greets her.
Quinn Fabray, in only her red bra and Cheerio's skirt.
Rachel's eyes rake across the cheerleader's form without prompting, and the diva's nipples harden and strain against the suddenly constraining material of her bra at smooth, hard abs and small, perky breasts, her fingers itching to reach out and touch, to run over muscles and feel them flex.
"My eyes are up here Berry," Quinn smirks, tone teasing, and Rachel flushes in embarrassment, stuttering out apologies as she darts her eyes away.
"I- I um, I wanted to tell you how good you looked out there," she manages, and at how weak it had sounded, she cringes, eyes still resolutely concentrated on the red locker right in her peripheral.
Quinn hums in response, lips rubbing together, and slowly strides towards her in measured, careful steps, and Rachel is reminded of a feline stalking its prey, confident and assured.
The blonde's abs flex as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and Rachel finds herself dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, throat unbelievably parched as she backs a step, her back meeting the cold metal of a locker, causing her to release a soft hiss at the contact with her enflamed body.
"I could give you a private performance, if you wanted," Quinn tempts with a lazy drone, leaning in closer and closer, so close that she's whispering in the brunette's ear, and with one final step, their bodies are fit snug together, pressing against each other in all the right places.
Feeling the cheerleader's bare stomach through the thin material of her dress, hard abs pressing against her, Rachel rasps in a breath, both mind and body overclocked as she's assaulted by all the electricity buzzing through the air, and she whirls to life at the sensations.
Quinn arches her brow, and in a quiet yet commanding purr, drawls, "I'm waiting, Berry."
It sends pleasant rolls of shivers up the diva's spine, and out of breath, she closes her eyes with a silent gasp, Quinn's hot pants still against her ear.
She's clenching hard, so wet she's afraid that the blonde can smell her arousal, and she so desperately wants to rub her thighs together or jerk her hips to cause some friction, anything, but Quinn is right there, leg between hers, and Rachel knows that if she even moves a little, the cheerleader will feel it, and even worse, the singer's not sure if she can bring herself to stop if she does.
An almost pitiful whimper makes itself out of her throat, and Quinn takes mercy on her, a low chuckle filling the brunette's ears. "Don't worry, I've already saved you a dance," she sends another smirk Rachel's way, before letting her eyes drag across the petite girl's frame. "Nice dress by the way."
And with that said and done, Quinn doesn't wait for a reply and pulls back swiftly, zips her skirt down, and lets it fall to the floor, revealing the red spanks underneath matching her sports bra.
Rachel's chest contracts even more, eyes unable to keep from roaming the amount of porcelain skin on display, and she can only watch as Quinn walks away to the showers with her hips swaying, disappearing into the thick steam that fogs the room as if she was never there in the first place.
The brunette expels a breath she didn't know she was holding, heart beating out of her chest with rapid rise and falls, and she throws her head back to rest against the cold red locker, the cool metal doing nothing to calm her raging heat.
Letting herself slowly slide down to the floor, Rachel's heartbeat doesn't slow down for a second, pounding loudly in her ears along with the ache in her haunting her lower body, and it takes a good five minutes for her to get herself together enough to stumble out of the locker room with an intense flush on her face.
Well, at least she can confirm what she had told Kurt earlier.
She's definitely physically attracted to Quinn Fabray.
Fucking lust.