Ok, I'm having great fun reading all your comments because I've never thought anyone would be so interested in this story to actually comment it so much and have so different opinions. I also realize, now, that I took you to this point on blind fate because the key (or at least, what I think i's the key) to this relationship will be explained in this and in the next chapter. I understand I've been asking you to follow me through this cruel world (because what I make you see it's cruel, I know) and I understand why some of you don't like Rachel, but I invite you to read at least untill chapter 11 and, if you still think that Rachel is just like the other dominants after that, well, it means I didn't make my point well.
Also, if you're so kind to read till the end of this chapter you will find a note to explain "I will claim her on my terms or nothing" Rachel said and caused so many comments.
As for this chapter in particular, it's a very long one. It's not my favorite but it scores a well deserved second place. It gives you many insights and finally you get to see Quinn's and Rachel past. I hope this will answer to someone's doubts about their relationship that, for me, it was always a loving one.
Just one last side note before starting: in this story Rachel is a domme and she acts like one with Quinn. Does it mean she's cruel? No. But is someone's else cruel? Yes. Does the cruelty I have described have a point... well, I think it does: not all dominants behave the same, not all slaves behave the same, not all relationship are the same... basically, it doesn't matter what it's your role, but it does matter what are the feelings and the people involved (think about San and Britt, think about Angela and her husband, think of the dominants Quinn dated before things went bad - dated, meaning willingly met with someone and maybe have sex with them... - think of Thomas, the guy who came to help Quinn's healing when her knee was injured. He was a slave and yet he had a professional and respecteful job, he was free to walk around, he wasn't injured... ). You've seen the bad side of this world I created because I've put Quinn in an extreme situation, but here and there I've tried to let you know that there was something else beyond cruelty for the sake of it. Anyways if you're still with me... have a nice reading and let me know what you think, whather it's good or bad I like to hear your opinion.
CHAPTER 10
Honesty
Quinn didn't even recognize the house until she saw the red headed slave walking toward her with a concerned look on her face. She had already lost count of days and places.
"Are you ok girl?"
No, she wasn't. She was tired, and hurt, and feverish and she was havin an hard time functioning in the most basic way. If she had a choice at that moment she would have chosen to die because, despite everything, it was simply too much for her body and mind to bear. She had no strength left.
Quinn took the blindfold the other slave was holding and tied it around her head, undressed, and knelt on the floor. Third time with this woman. Last time. Ever.
She felt her coming in and stop right at the door, looking at her. She heard her footsteps getting closer and then a hand took her chin, lifting her head up. She could physically feel her gaze and she had a clear picture of brown eyes staring at her with concern. She turned away.
The woman's hands slid down her arms as she moved around and, although it might have been just her imagination, Quinn thought that she heard the woman gasp when she saw her burned back.
The woman looked for Quinn's hand and helped her to her feet. Still holding her, she moved out of the room, up the stairs and into a part of the house where Quinn had never been before. She gently pushed until Quinn hit something soft with her knee and realized it was a bed. The woman guided her and made her lay with her belly down, then she took her wrists tying them loosely under the cushion and leaving her feet free.
For a moment the woman disappeared but then Quinn felt her touch on her calf. She was applying some sort of cream on her, that warmed her skin and made her muscle tingle in a good way. Her touch was strong but gentle. She took her time massaging every inch of her body and it felt so good that actually Quinn wanted to cry. It had been so long since anyone touched like that, not in a sexual way, not to inflict pain, just the simple, clean touch of someone who was taking care of her. It was so unusual and weird to her, now, that it scared her.
The woman brought a glass to her lips, making her drink. There was something in it, she could taste it on her lips, sweet in a bad way, like a medicine.
Her body slowly relaxed and her mind became blank. There were no thoughts anymore, no worries, no fears, no hopes; she was just glad to have a moment to rest and feel like a real person again. Minutes passed by; the woman's attentions were restless and gentle, and at every touch Quinn felt more like herself. She didn't know how long it would last but, as her mind started functioning again, she began to feel uneasy. She had come to a point where she could exist out of the real world, barely caring about what happened to her, but now that woman was dragging her again into a reality of pain and misery she was not able to face anymore.
It wasn't right.
She lifted her head, turning back as much as she could, as if to look at the woman. Even if she couldn't see her Quinn wanted to make it obvious.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was hoarse. She hadn't spoke in days except for screams. "Talk to me, please." A slap hit her ass but it didn't have any effect, at all: she was Quinn fucking Fabray, a slap couldn't really bother her. "Please, tell me why you're doing this…" Quinn was pleading, now, the need evident in her voice. She was confused, and exhausted and most of all she couldn't understand why that woman wanted to heal her. It drove her crazy, on the verge of tears. The woman left for a few moments and then came back, sitting again on her lower back, and tried to put a gag on Quinn, but the blonde fought, moving her head to avoid the gag. "No, don't! Please…" The woman grabbed Quinn's hair, pulling her head back, and as Quinn opened her mouth in surprise she quickly put the gag in place. The blonde screamed in it, frustrated, and when the woman let her go, Quinn's head fell, defeated, on the bed. She was sobbing, now, tears falling past the blindfold into the cushion. The woman gave her a few moments to calm down and then resumed her task as Quinn sobs quietly fade into silence.
This time a very cold cream was spread on her burned back. Quinn shivered at the contact but then the coldness made her feel better. She could almost sense the cream penetrating her skin, dissolve in her tissues and crawling in microscopic particles beneath the skin. Micro particles, white particles, with the smallest batons ever, walking around her system, kicking the asses of her red blood cells, shooting angry glances to the platelets, silently ordering them to move up, you shirkers, we need to speed up this healing process, ok?
Quinn smiled. This was so Brittany of her.
Should micro white particles have a name? They should. Bob. Or Bobby. Bobby was a nice name for particles right? BobbyOne, BobbyTwo, BobbyThree? How many particles there are in a cold cream? Probably too many. Could she count them? Maybe, if she had enough time to live she could count them all and know every single of them. Hello BobbyOne, this is Quinn Fabray, nice to meet you. Hello BobbyTwo, this is Quinn Fabray, nice to meet you. Hello BobbyThree... Ow, there was definitely something in that glass. It tasted like lemon. No, not lemon, medicine. Right.
The woman unchained her right wrist and brought her arm down, letting it rest on her side while she stroked her shoulder. Her gag had been removed too even if she didn't remember when, probably while she was meeting Bobby and his brothers. Quinn was too tired to keep her guard up, she closed her eyes and let the feeling in. Soon she started to doze off, and her next actions were purely instinctual.
When the woman realized the body underneath her was completely relaxed, probably even sleeping, she got up ready to leave the room. But in the moment she was turning around to leave, Quinn's free hand grasped her wrist tightly. She squeezed it, then she moved down, looking for the woman's fingers, interlacing them with her own. There was a moment of stillness, then the woman came closer, still holding Quinn's hand. She caressed the forearm a few times until Quinn's fingers lost the will to clench on hers, and then slipped away, leaving Quinn to her rest.
Quinn didn't know she was awake until she heard the footsteps in the room. She had a quiet and restful night unlike any other in the past months. She woke up by herself, with the tail of a dream in her mind.
She was in her teenage room and people were knocking at her door. She knew who it was before opening the door: it was her math teacher, then Sam, then Nicole, then the English substitute they had for a couple of months… She sent them all away without opening. Then someone else knocked at the door and Quinn didn't recognize who it was. She knew it was a classmate, she knew it was a female, and for a second she thought it might be Santana but that feeling… no, it wasn't her. She hesitated, hand on the door's handle, anxious. In the dream she kept repeating herself to open the door and see who it was, but she couldn't, she felt like she knew but she couldn't quite grasp it clearly her identity; it was there, just under the surface, and yet it seemed like some part of her was triying hard not to recognize her. Despite the fact that she didn't open the door, the woman came in her room, maybe passing through like a ghost. Quinn was so afraid to look at her she kept her eyes cast down, fearing if she saw her face would be so scary she would just die instantly. She was a ghost, after all.
By the time the ghostly presence approached her Quinn realized she was awake and conscious and what she was seeing in her mind was no longer a dream. Someone was getting closer; she was getting closer. Quinn opened her eyes to see the light hit her cushion and she understood, all of a sudden, that her blindfold must have loosen up during her sleep.
She raised her free hand, signaling the woman to stop, and when she did Quinn reached behind her head positioning the blindfold again on her eyes and tying a knot behind her head. It wasn't planned, it just felt right. Right because that woman took care of her and showed her some sort of respect. It was just fair to return her as much. If she didn't want Quinn to see her, Quinn would not.
Blind again she lowered her head on the cushion patiently waiting for whatever was coming which, in this case, was a kiss. A sweet one, slow and seductive, the woman's tongue parting her lips and invading her mouth, tasting it, making it her own. Quinn responded and, this time, when after a short break to breathe, the blonde looked for her mouth again, she didn't move back.
This was so wrong, and in so many ways, that Quinn was even tired of repeating to herself to stop it. Her rationality abdicated the moment her body took over and tightened the blindfold back in place. Some part of her was trying to tell herself to get a grip; another part was just telling her to relax and enjoy the ride, because who knew when it would happen to her again?
She moaned, pressing the woman's lips to her own. The woman tasted like yellow, intoxicating, electric, energetic; like the sun, illuminating, hot, gigantic, endless.
She pushed back to breathe, foreheads pressed together. Her mouth opened to say something but she stopped, remembering the woman didn't want her to. It was not because a dominant didn't gave her permission to talk, it was because that woman asked not to and she wanted to respect her desire.
The woman saw her struggle and deciding to obey to her silent order, and in that moment she knew it was time. She took Quinn's hands and lifted her up from the bed, making her stand in the middle of the room. She pressed a finger to Quinn's lips, reached for the back of Quinn's head and untied the knot keeping the blindfold in place. The blindfold fell down to the floor.
Quinn blinked a few times, then her eyes widen in horror. She stepped back, almost falling, turning around to run away, but the woman followed her and, grabbing her wrist, forced her to turn back.
"Let me go, now LET ME GO RACHEL!" she screamed, trying to free herself, but Rachel Berry didn't let her slip away. Instead she tightened her grip and forced Quinn to take some steps to the left, placing her with her back on the wall.
"Did I give you the permission to speak?"
It was the first time she heard her voice in almost ten years and it surprised Quinn how she missed that sound. It moved something in her belly, and a giant knot she hadn't even known she had, melt inside her, but that feeling also scared the hell out of her and she started to fight back, pushing and pulling, trying to get rid of Rachel.
The other woman pinned her to the wall, using her whole body, dragging their hands on the sides of Quinn's head.
"Please, let me go, Rachel, please!" Quinn's voice was softer now, a pleading whisper of pain. She had turned her head to avoid looking at her and was staring blankly at the room's door, hoping she could open it with her own mind and fly away.
"Look at me, Quinn."
"Don't... please..."
"Look at me." Rachel repeated. It wasn't an order, it was a request.
Slowly Quinn turned her face and when their eyes met something broke and Quinn started crying.
"Ok, she's cute, I get it, and if you wanna fuck around you have my blessing but, Rachel Berry? Seriously? Quinn, any girl in this school would be more than willing to try out a same sex experience with you: you could aim to something better."
"Shut up Santana."
"You're my co-regent, Q, we have to keep standards, you know that. An experimental phase is no excuse to lower yourself so much."
Quinn Fabray stopped in the middle of the hallway, hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"I'm not even gonna turn around, Fabray, if you're going to say that this is not a phase, this is love, endless love. Do you hear me?"
Santana kept walking and disappeared to her class.
Rachel released her and watched her falli to the floor, hugging her legs and hiding her face on her knees, sobbing quietly. She stepped back and sat on the bed, waiting for Quinn to be calm and in control enough. It took her a few minutes but finally Quinn's sobs stopped, although she didn't lift her head. Rachel knew this was the moment when Quinn was building up her walls again. If she succeeded everything would be more difficult than what it was already, and she couldn't let it happen.
She got up from the bed and went sitting on the floor next to her, shoulders almost touching. She knew Quinn noticed her because her breathe rhythm changed, but the blonde didn't move or acknowledge her presence. She was playing tough, as Rachel thought she would, but she was ready for it. She had been preparing herself for the past ten years.
"Why did you take my hand?" the brunette asked. "Yesterday, and this morning too."
"I don't know."
"Yes you do."
"Oh, of course, miss." Quinn stressed the last word, glancing angrily at the woman sitting next to her "I forgot, you dominants know everything, right? Even what I do or don't know!" Quinn had so many feelings boiling up that she was switching from one to the other: she was angry and she felt like a fool because even if some part of her tried to tell her, the whole time, that she knew that woman, she didn't listen to it, and now she felt overwhelmed and stupid because, of all the people in the world, Rachel Berry had always been the last one she wanted to see in her slave condition, and yet she was always the one person she hoped to meet again.
"I'm merely stating a fact. You know why you do what you do, you always did."
"What do you want Rachel?" asked Quinn, avoiding the topic.
"Answers. I've been waiting for answers for quite some time now."
"You could write me a letter."
"I did. And you never answered."
"I never got it."
"Liar."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because being a dominant has its privileges, Quinn, and I used mine to keep an eye on you."
Quinn pondered the idea of Rachel Berry quietly following her steps during the past years. She imagined her as a shadow on the nights she came back from her claims, an anonymous woman sitting on the bench while she walked around the park with B, a mysterious domme behind the mirror during her sessions.
"Have you been stalking me?"
"Like I said," she stated calmly, "I've been keeping an eye on you. I did care for you; you were my first girlfriend after all."
"We weren't, you and I..."
"What? What were we Quinn? Girlfriends? Friends with benefits? Frienemis with benefits? Occasional lesbian fuckers? What?"
"I don't know why you're bringing this up now."
"Because you never brought it up back then, or let me ask, or just, I don't know, thought about it."
"There was nothing to think or talk about."
"See?" Rachel's voice was higher now. "That's what I'm talking about: you, dismissing feelings like they mean nothing when, really, they mean everything, Quinn."
"I didn't have feelings for you, I'm sorry if you misunderstood my behavior. I was young and stupid, I guess. You were nice and, I don't know, I wanted to try it, ok? I wanted to try you. Sorry if I hurt you."
"Ok." Rachel's voice was calm and quiet when she answered.
"Ok?"
"Well, like you said, we were young, you were stupid. I can understand that."
"Good." Quinn was surprised by how quickly Rachel gave up and accepted her words but she wasn't going to complain. "So we're ok?"
"Yes, of course we're ok. At least for the teenager thing. You still have to explain to me why it felt right to hold my hand these two days if there were no feelings involved, though."
"Oh, knock it off Berry!" Quinn got up, yelling at the brunette.
"Language, girl." Rachel intentionally called her girl to remind her of their position and Quinn bit her inner cheek looking away. "I demand an answer."
Quinn breathed deeply. "Well, Miss," she said stressing Rachel's title with her voice "I don't know. I'm sorry if my answer displease you; if you prefer I can come up with a lie that will satisfy you, but if you want the truth you already have it: I don't know. Sometimes I just act and that's that, no reason behind."
Rachel smirked getting on her feet. "You're a terrible liar Quinn Fabrary, but luckily we do have 36 hours, more or less, to catch up on the past and fill in the blanks of the present. You do remember that, don't you?" Quinn's eyes hardened as her lips turned into a thin white line. If that was how Rachel Berry wanted to play, then fine, Quinn would play along. "Scared of spending a day and a half with me, Febray?"
"Should I be?"
Rachel smiled and turned around. "You can shower and dress. Open the wardrobe and take what you want." She said leaving the room. "I will be waiting in the kitchen."
"Can I use your shower?"
"Knock yourself out, as long as I can watch."
"Quinn!"
"Just saying." She smiled kissing her.
Rachel loved that playful side of Quinn-the-chosen-one-Febray. There was so much about her that the rest of the word wasn't allowed to see, and Rachel felt privileged to know who Quinn really was. She placed a book in Quinn's hands and went running the water for her shower.
Quinn tried to read it but it was useless. She was always a good student but, like any other student, she had an Achille's heel.
"Hey, can I peak at your chem paper?"
"No way, cheater."
"Come on, I won't copy, it's just to get some ideas."
"It's due tomorrow Quinn, you're were supposed to have ideas a month ago," Rachel called from the shower.
"Fine, I'll have Santana scare someone off so I can steal their paper," Quinn whispered, rolling her eyes.
"I hear you and no, you're not!"
"How come you have superhero hearing now?"
Rachel's face stuck out. "I don't need superpowers to know what you were going to say. I know you better than you do, Miss Fabray." Water was still dripping from her wet hair when she re entered the room with fresh clothes on.
"If you want me to study you shouldn't walk around my room like that," Quinn smirked, getting up and searching for Rachel's lips.
"Get away Fabray, time to get serious. Oh no, don't even try that puppy look on me."
But Quinn did try it, and she succeeded too, capturing Rachel's lip in a long, passionate kiss that made the brunette's knees go weak. The day after she got her first F ever.
As soon as Rachel left the room Quinn fell sitting to the bed, suddenly aware of everything, her nakedness, her wounds, her tired and abused body. She buried her face in her hands and breathed deeply. For the first time in her life she really couldn't see what was waiting for her.
She went into the shower, letting the water wash off some of the soreness of her body and twitching as the water hit her burned back. As she lay with her forehead on the tiled wall memories of her second claim with Rachel flashed through her mind. The whipping, the clamps, the hug. Every drop of water was helping her come back to herself after days (weeks? months?) when she wasn't aware of anything but pain and loss.
When she returned to the room, she took a gray sweater with a hood and a pair of loose pants. Somehow she didn't see Rachel in those clothes and she wondered who they belonged to. Did they belong to some of her subs? A former lover? An actual lover?
Exiting the room and finding herself in the hallway, she realized she didn't know the house and had no idea where the kitchen was. She walked around finding the room where she was first brought on her first day, the one with the loft and wooden stairs, then a multimedia room that could easily have been a small cinema, and a storage room full of food supplies. Then, as she approached the back of the house, she found the kitchen. It had brown furniture and a yellowish floor like she imagined.
"Oh, there you are. I thought you'd flushed yourself down the toilet, Q."
"What?"
"It's been more than an hour!" Rachel explained, pointing to the watch on the wall.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize."
"It's ok, "Rachel reassured her. "I was just worried for you. Now, to more pressing business: are you hungry?"
"No." But her stomach murmured in protest of her denial.
"That sounded more like a yes to me." Rachel laughed "Sit. I might not be an excellent cook, but I make decent meals." Rachel saw Quinn hesitate, and she dispelled her doubts talking to her gently. "Sit at the table, Quinn." Quinn blushed. Rachel knew she was wondering if she had to kneel on the floor, and the fact the other woman knew it made her feel vulnerable. More than ever. Rachel Berry could really read into her mind and Quinn had never been so naked in front of anybody else.
Rachel placed a plate of pasta in front of her, and the went to the other side of the table, sitting down.
"Stop. Quinn, stop!"
"What? Why? Are you ok?" Rachel's hands were on her shoulder pushing her away.
"I can't do this!"
"Why? Did I do something wrong?" There was real concern in Quinn's voice and usually that would make Rachel go back on her decision but, this time, she had promised herself she wouldn't.
"Yes, well, no. Sort of."
"I'm gonna need a little bit more than that, Rach."
The other girl sighed and licked her lips, trying to remember the speech she prepared for this moment. Of course she completely forgot it.
"I can't do this, I can't be the five minute break in the backyard, Quinn."
"Ok, let's make it ten minutes in the gym then." Quinn smiled, playful.
"I'm serious! I won't do this anymore; no more making out, kissing, sex, being your plaything, until you break up with Sam, Quinn!"
The blonde girl stepped away raising one eyebrow. "Ok, that I didn't see coming." She thought about it for a while. "Are you serious?"
"I don't see the problem, Q. Everyone knows about Santana and Brittany and there's..."
"No, no, that's..." Quinn raised her hands. For a second she hoped this was going to be some sort of sick prank, but Rachel was deadly serious. "I mean, it's not a problem that you're a girl."
"Then what is the problem? 'Cause I know you have feelings for me Q."
"Let's not start on the feelings thing, ok Rach?" The blonde girl was getting nervous now. Feelings talk wasn't her best topic and she definitely wanted to avoid feelings talk with the girl who turned her whole world upside out. "This, you and I, this is simply not meant to happen."
"But why?" Rachel's voice was high, right now, as she took Quinn's hands on her own, briefly, before the other girl escaped the grip, turning away.
"Come on Rach, I'm... me, and you're..."
"Me?"
"Don't say it like that, you're..."
"What? I am what, Quinn? A loser? An idiot? A plaything?"
"You're uncertain Rach!" Quinn yelled at her. "And I'm not."
Uncertainty was a really heavy weight to have on the shoulders when you reach the sorting age.
There were some people, like her, or Santana, who always showed the right attitude of their spirit and nobody ever doubted the group they belong to. They were natural dominants or submissive, and their sorting was going to be a really easy and predictable one. Then there were people who somehow showed both dominant and submissive traits in their persona, and although it might different from case to case, even in them, usually, there was a definite attitude, although less clearer than with the natural born ones. And then there were the uncertain.
It was fairly common to be uncertain until the age of 14 or 15 but usually, around that age, distinctive traits started to show. If you reached your 16th birthday without having a clear attitude then you were marked as "uncertain". The sorting of an uncertain was tough and tricky; the Central Direction officers, who were meant to see your real nature, took a lot of time to decide of your destiny; and since nobody really knew where you were going to end up, if you were going to be a slave or a dominant, you ended up being sort of an outcast. You were a black hole; rules didn't apply to you and therefore you were non-existent, and usually end up befriending other uncertains and forming a social class on your own, avoided by slaves and dominants equally.
"What if you end up a dominant Rach? We wouldn't be able to be together, there are rules!"
"But that's the beauty of uncertainty, Q." She took Quinn's hands "I can be whoever I want."
"That's not how it works and you know it."
"I don't care who I will be as long as I am with you."
"Don't. Don't say it, don't even think it Rachel. The sorting is meant for life and it has to reflect your real attitude. You don't want to be sorted into the wrong group for the rest of your life."
"There is only one thing I want: you. Everything else doesn't matter."
Quinn moved away, abruptly. "No. I won't let you do it."
"You don't let me do anything, I make my own decisions."
"And I'm making mine, Rach. This thing is over. Right here, right now. It was a mistake all along, anyway, a game gone too far."
"Ok, ok, I get it, you're upset, you don't need to be, if it bothers you..."
"No, what bothers me is that this thing is gone too far. I thought you knew this was a game, Rachel, you're not my soul mate or anything."
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"Are you an excellent cook?"
Quinn looked at her astonished. "Are we really gonna make some small talk like that?"
"Are we not?"
"I don't know, Rachel," Quinn answered, an annoyed tone in her voice. "You come back into my life after almost ten years and you tried to claim me. Do we need to talk about how I cook pasta?"
"So, you do cook pasta?" Quinn raised her eyebrow. "Ok, fine, I was just trying to make you more comfortable."
"You're failing," Quinn said coldly.
"Then you tell me: what do you want to talk about?"
"Why did you ask to claim me?"
"I don't know, Quinn. Usually why would you ask for a claim?"
"I don't need a savior."
"Good, 'cause I don't look good in a shiny armor. And besides, you're the one with the savior complex, not me. More pasta?"
"I've never been a savior."
"Sure, that whole thing you had during school, leaving me for Sam; it had nothing to do with the fact I was ready to give up my all life for you and you wanted to break my heart so I would stay away from you and get my sorting the way it was supposed to be, right?"
"They're called teenage hormones, Rach. He was cute, I wanted to fuck him, I did. End of story." She took her fork and forced some food down her throat.
"Oh, baby."
"Don't."
Sam looked down at his girlfriend perplexed. Quinn had just moved away from him after a long kissing session that got him moaning and hard. "What? What now? Are you gonna stop like that?"
"Don't call me baby, babe, honey or any of that. Do you get it?"
"I thought it was sweet."
Sam could have been a nice catch if only she was slightly interested in him. Blond, cute, fit, with a weird sense of humor and a big ego but, hey, nobody is perfect. He was in the football team, which was always a plus, and although he wasn't a natural as Quinn, he was probably going to be sorted as a nice and successful slave, destined for a career in professional sport.
Quinn started to date him when she found out Rachel was something more than a simple entertainment for her. With the brunette it was a game in the beginning: Rachel was a nice prey and Quinn had a lot of fun catching and taming her. She liked to tease her, boss her around, sometimes, take advantage of her soft lips and her beautiful body as much as she could. Their love session were quick and almost abrupt, at the beginning, with Quinn taking what she needed and not caring much about anything else: it was a game, after all, and she wanted to be sure to be the only winner. But as the days went by and Rachel's touch became more experienced and educated, something started to happen: quick and silent became slow and caring; selfish and practical turned into longing stares and breaths melted in endless kisses. Every time she had sex with Rachel it was like going backwards: she was supposed to be more and more confident and steady and, instead, she became more and more uncertain, her hands trembling because of some sort of weird respect and emotion every time she touched Rachel's skin.
"We're not sweet. We are..." Quinn tugged her hair behind her ear, thinking. "...fuck buddies, Sam. Try to remember."
When Quinn realized she was getting too attached she tried to back off. She had to prove to herself she was not addicted to the brunette and, to do so, she started to officially date Sam while keeping Rachel as a plaything she could turn to when she needed. And she needed her a lot.
"Is Rachel your fuck buddy too?"
"What?"
"I just wanna know. I really don't care what you do with her but..." Quinn looked at him shocked "Oh, come on, Quinn, everybody knows about the two of you. I really don't care about it, it's not like I wanna share my whole life with you or anything, just try to be a little more subtle, can you? Some people might see it as a sign of weakness for me."
"Wow, that..." Sam took her by surprise, leaving her speechless, "No, she's not," she answered after a while. "She's..."
"What?"
"She's nothing. She's nothing to me."
Maybe, if she said it enough times she could convince herself of it.
"Have you finished? Your pasta, I mean." Quinn pushed away the plate and Rachel took it to the sink. "If you need some painkillers or something, this might be a good time to take them."
"I'm fine." Quinn answered automatically. She was always fine.
Rachel put a white pill on the table filling Quinn's glass but the blonde move it away. "I said I'm fine."
Rachel walked past her, casually pressing her hand on Quinn's back, over her bruise, making her wince.
"Sure, that sounds like fine to me." Quinn shot her an icy and angry look. "You know a funny thing? If you were blinded, naked and on your knees, you would have taken that pill gratefully."
"Do you want me naked on my knees?" The blonde asked provocatively.
"I want you to think of yourself, for once, and do what it's best for you. You have a talent for always taking the wrong road."
"You don't have to agree with my decision, but they're still mine to take."
"Not now. For the moment you're mine and you will do as I say: take the pill."
"And if I don't?"
Quinn knew what usually came at this point: a slap, an icy look, someone would take her arms so she wouldn't be able to fight and then the pill would be showed down her throat, a hand covering her mouth and nose till she swallowed it.
"Take the pill." Rachel simply repeated "I'll wait for you in the lounge."
"What exactly where you thinking Rachel?" Quinn tugged the blanket around her shoulder. "Running in the rain? Come on!"
"You do it," she protested, eyes closed and cheeks red for the fever.
"Yes, but you should know I'm one in a million, right?" Rachel smiled even in her almost sleepy state. "Here, take this!" Quinn put a pill on her mouth and then brought a glass of water to her lips. Rachel drank quickly. "Do you need anything? Another blanket?"
"It's ok, I'm just gonna sleep it off. Go! You're late for practice."
Quinn shook her head. "I think I'll pass on this one today."
"Coach will have your head if you don't show up."
"Probably." She crawled up in the bed, lying on her side next to Rachel.
"Are you going all sentimental and caring on me, Fabray?"
"Don't flatter yourself Berry, I'm just tired. You being ill is an accidental coincidence."
Rachel smiled and moved a little closer to Quinn, feeling her arms close around her."If you say so."
Quinn looked at Rachel leaving the kitchen, the pill still on the table. She took it, reluctantly, and then followed the other woman in the lounge.
Rachel was going through some channels on the TV, searching something to watch. She saw her entering the room and pointed to the couch.
"Right corner, if I remember correctly, right? That's your spot."
Quinn sat silently and waited for Rachel to join her. This whole evening was bringing back so many memories she thought she had left behind and forgotten, but that were realer, more than ever. Quinn felt like she was spinning around, everything was blurry and there was simply too much to think about and no time to do it properly. She had to go one step at the time and she decided to ask what was bothering her since the beginning.
"Why didn't you ask Rachel?"
"Ask what?"
"The claim. Why didn't you formally asked me if I wanted to be yours?"
"If I did you would have said no." Rachel sat next to her "Look, this whole claim was about one thing only," Rachel tried to explain. "Honesty. At first I wanted you to be honest to yourself and with me, and you were. You gave me defiance when you thought I couldn't handle you, and you gave me respect when I demanded it. And you were honest to yourself too, when you acknowledged whatever feeling you had for me and kissed me back and looked for my touch."
"That was..."
"Let me finish Quinn," Rachel stopped her. "You kept your end of the bargain and I thought it was time for me to be honest with you too. That's why I let you know it was me, and that's why I'm answering and I will answer to whatever questions you have for me."
Quinn stayed silent for second, then turned around to look at her. "Is this the time when you make a dramatic pause and then say to me that if I became your slave you're gonna treat me like a princess and we're gonna live happily ever after?"
"That part, actually, you will never hear from me." Quinn raised her eyebrow. She was becoming a little bit more herself very moment she spent with Rachel. "I know you too well Quinn, and if I ever treated you like a princess you would take over in a matter of seconds; I have no intention of allowing that. No way." Rachel moved a little closer to her, almost touching her arm but not quite doing it. "But I will tell you one thing, though: if you became mine I would treat you like the person I love." Rachel leaned on, kissing her, and then letting her forehead rest on Quinn's.
"Rachel..." Quinn didn't really know how to finish the sentence.
"It's ok, we still have time. You don't have to say anything right now." She took Quinn's hand and kissed it lightly. "What about a movie? Are you up for it?"
"A movie?"
"Yep. Ice cream and a movie, a perfect couple. What do you say?"
"It's... ok, I guess."
Rachel smiled to her as she turned on the TV. Quinn sat, tensed, on the couch. Images of some old black and white movie flashed on the screen and every now and then Rachel commented about what was happening.
"Classic," she smiled, or, "Cecil DeMille as a guest star, can you believe it? This movie is just amazing," she said pointing at a bald man on appearing on the screen. Quinn couldn't concentrate on the movie, she was too aware of the normality of the evening, and normal, to her, meant extremely weird.
Was she really watching a movie on a couch? Were her legs stiffly still as if a simple movement could break them? Was Rachel Berry's head on her lap?
"Come on Quinn, you have to see this!"
"If it's black and white I'm not gonna watch it Rach!"
"You can't call it a black and white movie, this is Sunset Boulevard!"
"My objection remains."
"Fine!" Rachel Berry sighed, shaking her head."We'll watch one of your stupid horror movies."
"They're not stupid, they're funny. It's different!"
"Whatever! If I can''t sleep tonight..."
"You can leave out the "if" part, Rach. You won't be able to sleep tonight, but I'll promise it won't be because of the film." Quinn smirked.
"Very cocky of you, Miss Fabray. I resent the implication of your sentence. Do you presume I will... Hey!"
Quinn grabbed her girlfriend's waist pulling her closer.
"Yes, I do presume, Miss Berry."
Rachel closed her eyes, lips parted and ready for a kiss that never came. Quinn smiled and pulled away, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to her.
"You're a teaser."
"And you like it that way. Come on, Rach, the movie is starting."
Rachel climbed on the bed, lying with her head on Quinn's lap. As the first sequences of the movie showed a young couple being slaughtered by some sort of deformed humanoid form.
"If I have nightmares..."
Quinn soothingly stroked her fingers through Rachel's hair. "You won't."
For God's sake, she had brought that woman to orgasm with her own mouth, but that was when she didn't know who it was. Now it was different; now every touch was painfully conscious and it meant something. At the beginning of the movie Rachel was sitting next to her but as the movie went on she skipped over so naturally that Quinn barely noticed it. That is until she lay down, resting her head on Quinn's lap.
Quinn tensed but Rachel didn't notice, or else faked it very well. She kept on looking at the television like this was all normal, like that was how it was supposed to be. And maybe it was. That contact felt so natural to Quinn that, even if her mind screamed at her to stay on guard, to keep her walls up, to be defensive because she was a fucking dominant who was trying to claim her, she couldn't help it. And, as memories came back, her body started to react on its own.
She placed a hand on Rachel's hair, brushing it lightly.
"I like your hair."
"Mmm?"
"I said I like your hair. It's... beautiful."
"Thanks, I guess."
Rachel smiled. "Does it really feel so awkward to receive compliments that you don't know how to react to them?"
"People compliment me all the time, Rach, I'm Quinn Fabray."
"And yet my compliments make you blush," she smiled teasingly.
They were lying on Quinn's bed; it was late afternoon. It had been three months since their first kiss and, although Quinn didn't say it out loud Rachel thought that them going out for lunch together and the sweet and slow love-making after that, was a way to celebrate the event.
"I do not blush." Quinn turned around.
They were both lying on their side, now, facing each other.
"Your cheeks are red, Miss Fabray. That's called blushing. But it's ok, it's cute."
"And I'm not cute," Quinn pointed out. "I might be stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous... but not cute."
"Why is it a problem Quinn? Why don't you let anyone see who you are? Your weaknesses and soft spots make you such a wonderful person and..." Quinn moved away, sighing. "What now?"
"You don't get where I am by being soft or... cute."
"That's sad, Quinn."
"No, that's reality. You should know it too. You freak out when people try to make you do stuff you don't want to. You fight and even punch if it comes to that. You're not cute, Rachel, when they try to take something you want."
"But I never hide who I am," the brunette objected.
"I'm not hiding, I'm just... protecting something that it would be torn apart if people knew about its existence."
Rachel moved closer to her, pressing her body against Quinn, chin over her shoulder. "You don't need to protect anything from me, you know that, don't you?"
"Rach..."
"I wanna be your safe place, Quinn. Don't pretend, don't act, just be yourself. I won't steal anything from you, I won't break anything and I won't hurt you. I promise."
Quinn breathed deeply. She had already let Rachel in more than everybody else, and it scared her how quickly the other girl could understand her deepest thoughts and her moods. What would happen if she let her in more?
"And if you don't like what you will see?"
"There is simply no way in the world for me not to like you, Quinn Fabray." Rachel leaned over, kissing her gently on the lips.
As Norma Desmond went down the stairs, and "The end" writing appeared on the screen, Rachel got up and turned around to smile at her.
"What did you think?" she asked.
"About what?"
"The movie, silly!"
"I... I'm sorry, Rach, I wasn't really watching."
Rachel tried to hide her smile. Did she really called her Rach? That was a good sign. "It doesn't matter." She took her hand. "I just..."
"You just what?"
Rachel's jaw froze while she thought what to say. This was a once in a lifetime occurence, that Rachel Berry didn't know what to say, Quinn thought smiling to herself, but then she realized that the woman must be feeling the weight of something heavy on her soul.
"Just what?" She repeated more gently.
"If I tell you a story, a very long story, would you listen?"
Here we go. Now that you know that Rachel had no intention to stay anonymous to Quinn, I want to explain what "I will claim her on my terms or nothing" means. For me it was actually an act of love. Rachel doesn't want Quinn to be forced to accept her claiming, in this world, and most of all in this situation, Quinn is left with just one thing: her choice to accept or refuse a claim. Rachel knows this is important to Quinn and doesn't want to take away the only freedom she has left. She knows that having San and Britt around would put a lot of pression on Quinn and she doesn't want that, it has to be a free choice. That's what "on my terms" means: it means she's the domme, she's the one calling the shots and she doesn't want Santana and Brittany to interfere. Quinn has to be the one to decide. You might say it hell of a choice, submit or die eventually, and yes, I agree with you, it's a hell of a choice but in a good sense, because it's about will: even in the extreme situation we're always left with a choice. That was a very important point for me. Throughout all the story Quinn always choose: she choose not to submit, she chooses to defy authority, she chooses to forgive Santana, she chooses to give up the baby... it would be unfair, to me, that Rachel, of all people in the world, would take away this right from her.
Ok, enough of my ramblings. See you next week with my favorite chapter: Rachel's story.