Title: Don't Hide Your Love
Author: Frensayce
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Spoilers: Everything prior to "The First Time" but kinda AU
Disclaimers: Not mine.
A/N: Halloween prompt from forever ago. From my livejournal, here for you. :)
Rachel wasn't the greatest dancer—a fact she was well aware of. She didn't have the hip-hop technique like Mike, or Santana's almost spellbinding seduction, and no one else on Earth could move like Brittany; that girl was in a category all her own. Rachel's dancing was technical and sometimes stilted, usually because of her history of ballet and need for structured choreography. Flawless lines and quiet grace were the frames of her art; she could translate only stories, not feelings. No, her feelings were shared through voice and lyrics, not by the lexis of her body. Unless it was dark. Unless she was alone in a sea of people and no one knew who she was. Like now.
Noah's basement was dark. Other than a few colored spotlights surrounding the makeshift dance floor and the fast blinking strobe overhead, it was shadowy and loud and sweltering, the perfect locality to lose oneself. Dancing alone in the throng of costumed young bodies, Rachel felt good. She felt free.
A Playboy Bunny she vaguely recognized as a Cheerio was dancing in front of her, some parts of her swaying and other parts bouncing. Rachel was okay with that. She was even okay when she felt the muscular body of what had to be a football player against her back as the two athletes sandwiched her. She was more excited by the cheerleader, with her blonde hair and flushed skin, but the strength of the body behind her did not go unappreciated. Neither one was who the singer really wanted, however: she wasn't the right cheerleader, and the he wasn't the young man Rachel saw earlier tonight.
That young man was dressed as a character from probably the greatest romantic movie of all time. She remembered watching it almost as much as she watched Funny Girl and easily identified him as the Dread Pirate Roberts. But that's all she knew him as. From what she could tell, he was lean and tall, close to Sam's height, and moved with a grace she wouldn't have expected from a man. And the sword at his side made him dangerous, adding to his allure. It'd been a long time since she really noticed anyone other than Quinn Fabray, and even longer since she'd noticed a boy. But there was something about the stranger she couldn't ignore. The low pull in her belly when their eyes met was fierce and somehow familiar. There'd been a bit of a distance between them at the time, too. She was heading to the kitchen for more alcohol, and he was leaning against the fireplace near Brittany and Santana. Like every other guy in the room, he'd seemed absorbed in watching the two girls making out on the couch, but the instant Rachel saw him, his head turned toward her as if he knew.
The look was piercing and she swore she actually felt his gaze climb from the tips of her ballet flats up to her eyes like a lover's caress. It was slow and attentive, like he was trying to take in every inch of her. Sadly, it lasted mere seconds until Super Girl's red cape flagged into view when Brittany dragged her girlfriend off the couch and the two sprinted upstairs. She caught his stare multiple times after that—across a room or when they happened to stumble into the kitchen at the same time for refills. Yet something always separated them, like Blaine attempting to hit on him because he "just loved" pirates. Rachel had stopped her snicker by doing another shot. Foppish to the point of absurdity, Captain Hook looked thoroughly pissed at the man who'd caught his boyfriend's attention and poor little Peter Blaine Pan didn't have a clue. The Dread Pirate Roberts, however, shook his head and politely left without a word, but not before shooting a wink toward Rachel. She loved the thrill it'd sent speeding through her. She wanted to feel it again, this time without interruption.
Her dance partners faded into the crowd and Rachel was lost to the music once again, carrying on. Despite lacking more modern dance moves, she had rhythm. It was easy for her to find a tempo and hold it, to rock into it and never let go. She could bend when the music dipped, and float along as it swept her away. And right now, with the thumping bass line in the near blackness of the basement, and what seemed like a hundred hearts drumming with hers, Rachel found her beat as sweat sluiced down her spine and her hair fell from the coiffed bun Kurt had so fashionably styled.
Out of the dark, strong arms wrapped around her waist and a different warmth pressed against her from behind. Her head instantly fell back to rest on a soft shoulder, and her eyes closed as the new arrival met every roll of her body; unknown hands splayed over her stomach, then down to hold her hips. She didn't really care who it was, the shots of tequila had long since dispersed any concern she should have had. Instead, she kept dancing. They moved together, bodies fitted tightly, soft and hard in the all the right places while their heavy breaths matched the music reverberating in their chests. The beautiful thing about common-time rhythm was its primitive nature and how humans were built to respond to it. It was sensual and sincere, it was the instinctive reaction of sex and pleasure, and it was why she was securing a stranger's arms about her middle, relaxing into the foreign but welcome touch.
This was so different than the football player from a moment ago or any other boy before. This felt right.
Warm air puffed over the already heated skin of her neck and soft lips grazed kisses across her bare shoulder. She giggled at the tickle of a trimmed moustache then groaned when the identity of her mystery partner dawned on her. Throughout the night she'd only seen one boy with facial hair in that specific style. Grinning, she reached down and grabbed the back of his thigh in encouragement, the muscle flexing under her hand. It worked: the pirate held her closer, grinding now, and Rachel swooned at the sensation of his flat chest plastered to her back.
Biting her lip, she released young man's leg to reach up and catch her hand around the nape of his neck. Short strands of hair inched from underneath his bandana, and she wished to tangle her fingers in the rest of it. She couldn't resist tugging the ends just a little. The harsh grunt in her ear echoed throughout her body, shaking her loose and flooding her panties. One song faded into another and they easily met the downbeat of the increased pace. She couldn't name the synthesized music pouring from the giant speakers around the room because the acceleration of her heart and hips wouldn't let her head remember what she was falling into. She forgot everything that had nothing to do with the man rocking against her.
Teeth nipped behind her ear, and the formerly tame hand on her stomach strayed. She moaned as gloved fingers skimmed the edge of her skirt and those teeth latched on to the back of her neck. She shouldn't be doing this—he was a complete stranger—but she couldn't find the will to give a damn. Nope, it just wasn't there. Tilting her head in invitation, Rachel sighed as he took it, dropping more open mouthed kisses over her shoulder and up her neck. She hissed, her hips snapping backward at the stinging bite to her pulse point.
He moaned, too. It was high, almost a whimper. The timbre of it carried a known husk, but the sheer volume of the music made it impossible to pinpoint. Back arched, her hands fell to grip his forearms for support when his wet lips sealed over her neck and sucked hard, marking her. With the alcohol streaming in her blood and the music pounding her body, Rachel had been aroused before this dance began. Now she was ready to let this stranger take her right here and now. Long digits laced with hers and their joined hands slid up her torso, cupping her breasts then skating back down. Her whine stuck in her throat, and she again dropped her head back, turning slightly to nuzzle into a sweat slicked neck. His skin was so soft, no hint of stubble at all. Was the rest of him this soft? His stupid mask and all their clothes prevented the skin on skin contact she craved and the scent rolling off him intoxicated her better than the tequila. It teased her with its familiarity, which served to frustrate her more before retreating to the far reaches of her mind.
As their hands traveled together all over her body, rubbing lightly down her sides and scraping the tops of her thighs, she did her best to critically assess the situation. Her mind was fuzzy with Patrón and her body hummed with electricity, but she managed to focus on the discovery that she was actually being groped, in public, by a stranger. Worse, she couldn't wait. As those arms returned to her waist, she spun to face him, hoping she wasn't about to scare him away.
This boy was handsome, from what she could see. Beyond handsome. Almost pretty. His eyes were practically black but a hint of green flickered with the strobe light. Rachel trailed her hands up his arms to lock behind his neck. No, he wasn't going anywhere, not without her.
Their dance continued, their new position turning it from risqué to naughty. He managed to wedge his leg in between hers, which was all well and good, until he pulled Rachel down to meet his thigh. She gasped, loud. Immediately, he stilled. Rachel couldn't take it. She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. They restarted their grind while the boy's hand skidded down to her ass and drew her closer, tighter. Their kiss turned rough and hungry. Her tongue delved into his mouth, stealing small groans from the back of his throat. He tasted so sweet, with just the right amount of spice.
How long they stood there kissing in the middle of the dance floor, she couldn't say, but it wasn't nearly enough. There she was, drunk at one of Noah Puckerman's infamous Halloween parties, making out with a strange boy whose hands on her hips encouraged the rocking of their bodies until Rachel couldn't take it anymore. She was burning for him; surely even through their clothing he could feel how wet she was. Needing air, they broke apart and she wasted no time, dragging him by his shirt from the basement to the main floor then upstairs where the bedrooms lived.