A/N: WOW, okay, so I know that this took a million years and for that I apologize HEAVILY. I just didn't know whether I should continue this with relevance or just move on to write other one shots that had absolutely nothing to do with this saga, which I did end up doing anyway cause I'm a jerk. WELP! So glad that Luckypressure decided to ruin my life with the Jacket drawing because it was that very piece that inspired me today. Aly (lellolamb) also enabled this ridiculousness, as well as Skywarrior108's prompt of: Quinn teasing the hell out of Rachel in her new Cheerios uniform. It ends in them dry humping in the Cheerios locker room (possibly in the shower). ^_^
I also dedicate this to Marley and PC because reasons.
ENJOY?
Her hips swayed effortlessly from side to side along the tempo. Instantly, I felt my mouth water, as did my eyes. The pounding between my legs hadn't ceased since I woke up from yet another sex dream. Can you believe that? I mean, I was the first to mention that girls want sex just as much as boys do, but this is absurd. We've been 'hooking up' for the past month, on and off, whenever it pleased us. How is it possible that my body craves her this much?
My mind cannot possibly think it can control these urges, which absolutely upsets me. I should be able to pretend I'm alright in the least, right? My career depends on it! I am an exceptionally great actress, and no one can take that away from me. Except for one certain blonde in a cheerleading uniform, dancing and singing centre stage in the choir room. It is totally and completely unfair!
God, those legs.
Stop it! Stop that right now!
Oh, but she's so delicious.
RACHEL!
Alright, concentrate on something else. Concentrate on her voice. Okay, perhaps that was not a good idea. She's surely been practicing this number because she's precisely on key, pitch, and harmony. Nothing sharp, nor flat, it is just…perfect. Oh, Barbra, I'm in trouble.
Her hazel eyes sparkle when they look my way. Maybe I'm imagining things. But, wow. They look like diamonds in sunlight. Her lips curl up at the end in that awfully devious smirk she sometimes pulls. Her tongue moves swiftly behind her lips and teeth and for a second my mind drowns in memories of them on my flesh, dragging and tugging and biting and licking and…
She twirls. She twirls across the floor and her skirt waves at me hello. I almost wave back in a state of trance, but thank God I didn't. That would've just been a disaster. Her butt looks really darn good in those spanks. Oh, my… I cross my legs and pull at the pleats of my own skirt in an attempt to ignore the throbbing.
You can do this, Rachel. And since when do I need to pep talk myself? I shake my head. She is now biting her bottom lip and I feel myself pool. Somehow I have a feeling that this is the hundredth pair of underwear I'm going to have to throw out. She so owes me a shopping trip to Victoria's Secret. Though, the way I'm beginning to plan that out, it won't be much help, at all.
Everything I see just puts my mind in the gutter. Each and all surfaces are a new place to lay her. Things like scarves are thought of to tie her or have her tie me again. That dress is something she would like seen on me. Or off me. Wearing my hair down today will be easier to tame if we decide to find our way to a janitor's closet. It's like being on the look out for slushies again, except it's hands up my skirt or down my pants, and, God, please don't let me be so loud this time.
Before any assumptions are made, I affirm that I am by far not complaining. This is the most excitement I've gotten in the past month since Funny Girl was on AMC 5 weeks and 2 days ago. Silly to think about that now, actually, because I do own the film in VHS, DVD, and Blu-Ray, but every chance I get, the popcorn is readily at a sensible reaching spot for someone my size in the kitchen. Anyway, complaining? Me? No. Absolutely not. But this is not to say that I enjoy being tortured in this new and erotic way-Oh, the dip of her back there-
I look to my right and notice Tina urgently averting her eyes. A rush of heat flushes my face and I side-eye the still smirking blonde. Suddenly, I feel as if everyone knows that I can hardly control myself. Anger begins to bubble and my little body just does not know how to handle so much at once. As if by miracle, the music finally ends with a sultry note from you-know-who, and that's it! I've had it! In a typical diva storm off, I ball my fists, stand erect, and stomp my way out the door.
Shortly after I exit, the Glee club was dismissed. I can hear the distant pattering of my fellow members walk off in the opposite direction, however, that of a pair of tennis shoes has become increasingly louder behind me. I smile internally. I really just want to get her alone.
To talk.
With my hands.
RACHEL!
Oh, my God, shut UP. I can't ignore this feeling any longer. My hands are starting to shake a bit from frustration. I need to calm down. Breathe. Think of the sound of your shoes against the floor. Think of open fields. Think of bunnies! Okay, no, not bunnies. Think of-the locker room.
In plain sight, like a message from the heavens, I could have sworn I saw a beaming light shine upon the girl's locker room sign. It's a Friday afternoon and no one is within a mile of this place. It is proper to assume that Coach Sylvester has called it a day since Quinn, Santana, and Brittany were all at Glee club after school, so the coast is most certainly clear. Jackpot.
I shove the door ajar and step inside, moving over to the right and accidentally slamming my head against the tile. OUCH. Whatever, that doesn't hurt nearly as much as the ache I'm feeling between my legs. It's like an anvil is hanging from my center and pulling to a magnet on the floor. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world, to be quite frank. Now, what is taking her so long!
"Rachel, are you alr-"
The sound of the door initially scared the wits out of me, but somehow I was able to grab her by the properly primed sleeves of her uniform and switch positions. In a flash, my tongue was halfway down her throat and she'd released a low groan. My hands snake behind her neck and pull her unbelievably closer. I have no idea how much nearer I plan to get to her without having us actually morph into one person, but I sure as hell am trying.
Our teeth clank in the messy kiss, but, God, I cannot possibly care less. The taste of her mouth is something I simply can never get enough of. My breathing had at one point completely lost its cool. I sound like a panting dog. And is that really what I'm concentrating on when her hands are firmly planted on my butt? Exactly.
A squeeze there and I break the kiss for a light gasp and my ears catch the faint giggle that rolled off her lips. I can't help myself, "God, I've missed you." I dive in full force and don't even give her a chance to reciprocate the feeling. Which is fine, because her tongue slithers against mine and they fight for who's boss. She wins this time. I'm basically butter right now. Another squeeze. Another moan.
She breaks the kiss, "I've missed you," that is a much lower tone than I expected to hear. What was I even expecting? I don't know, but her tongue just flicked my ear and I sigh heavily against her jaw. Some kind of incoherent agreement to her statement happens to be expressed on my behalf even though I initiated the comment. Whatever, her teeth are now tugging at my earlobe and my nails dig into her uniform. Her lips moves down my neck in open-mouthed, elaborate kisses and my chest feels as if it'll fall off of me very soon. I try to shift and I get a sense of just how painfully soaked I am.
"Oh, my God."
Teeth rake over my skin and, my, oh my, nibbling on my collarbone. "What?"
"Oh, Quinn," I'm moaning now, there's no need to deny it, "I'm fu-I'm dripping."
Her forehead drops to my shoulder as I hear her whisper some obscenity. Her knee knocks mine apart and climbs up to feel me through my underwear. "Sweet, Jesus, Rachel." My head lulls back and I gasp at the contact. There is no way. A panic settles in my stomach, like I'll never rid this intense need for satisfaction. My actions suddenly become desperate.
"Quinn, I need you," I breathe against her. I hear her groan, pulling me closer. Please, Quinn, please. Her thigh is still positioned between my legs. My knee rises, holding me up on the wall, and I lean into her. The shift causes marvelous friction and she whispers, "rock against me," she grabs my hips and begins to rotate them forward and back. Yes, oh my-the friction again-God, this feels amazing.
I begin to motion my hips, the material of my panties rubbing against my clit, the sound of me spreading over her was embarrassingly audible. She didn't seem to care as she was too busy unbuttoning my blouse and had somehow magically undone my bra. My chest now exposed and her lips were there to cover every inch. Her hands roam across my back, holding me up as I rock onto her slowly.
I hold onto her for dear life. This feels... so good. All of my energy being focused on keeping me as close to her as possible. I needed her heat within reach. I wanted her skin against mine. I craved her lips on my own. Teeth are now tugging at my nipple and just when I thought my underwear couldn't take anymore-"Oh, God, Quinn!"
"Come on, baby," she purrs, "don't hold back."
I sink roughly onto her thigh. Oh, right there. Yeah, right there. If I pull any harder on her uniform, I'm afraid I'll turn into the hulk and rip it off her. That really wouldn't be a good idea since she just got it back. Instead, my right hand held refuge behind her neck and my left stamped on the tile next to her head. She leans toward me and catches my lips. The kiss is smooth. It feels almost like a puzzle piece; our lips match perfectly, and even when our lips part and we don't pull away, the feeling of standing on the edge of a very tall building bottles up in our stomachs and we wait until the second we reconnect. Instantly, we take in deep breaths from our noses and 'mmm' a couple of times here and there. The sound of our lips smacking seems to ring in our ears, but who cares when it feels so good. Her grip around my back tightens. I finally come to acknowledge the fact that I stopped moving my hips when the throbbing intensified.
Slowly, I regain motion. My hips roll forward at a steady pace, building back what I'd lost track of. Her lips travel down my neck again. Painfully sluggish kisses that make my breath hitch. Once again, she's at my collarbones, sucking away. I'm sure to bruise, so that'll be fun to cover up later. Before I know it, her teeth are latched onto my right nipple and I feel a sharp tingle between my legs, making me drag along her thigh a bit harder. A low moan bubbles up my throat; my hand now deeply interwoven in her blonde ponytail. Another bite. Another stifled moan.
"I said: don't hold back, Rachel," she growled. My head falls back when I feel her tug at my other nipple, far more roughly than she did before. I hiss loudly and tighten my grip of her hair.
"Fuck."
She lays a soft kiss on the erect nub as an apology, I'm guessing. God, it doesn't even matter because the harder she does it the more I want it. "Bite them again," I sigh. I cannot tell you what's possessed me to say such a thing, but my body knows what it wants, and it wants that delicious pain again. She didn't think to hesitate and kindly (or not so kindly) obliged. Teeth bit down gently at first, pulling back until it slipped from between them. Then with full lips, she sucked on my breast aggressively causing me to cry out, "fuck, Quinn!"
She repeated her actions upon my left breast as my hips began to pick up pace. All kinds of moans escaped me, but I no longer care. I have completely drenched through my underwear and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady with such a messy situation, but I am so close that I need to get off, and I need to get off now. I am now writhing against her thigh at such a pace that I can't help but begin to pant again. Like she read my mind, Quinn's lips attacked mine; her tongue lashing at my own, slippery but demanding. A mixture of whining and whimpering and moaning fill the walls of the locker room, neither of us knowing or caring from who's throat they were being expelled.
She breaks the kiss, "say my name, Rachel. I want you to say it."
I can hardly think at all. Everything in my brain is like a flipped over game of scrabble. There are letters and words that make absolutely no sense whatsoever. My eyebrows furrow and my hands grip whatever is within reach. My bottom lip is suddenly caught between my teeth before I release it to try and get any words out of my system. But then that feeling comes rushing in; the same one from the first time we did it, that of the elevator falling just a little bit too fast. There's a tingle, like I'm going to sneeze, and my body fills with anticipation. I'm at the edge of a cliff and I am about to jump. There's no ground to fall back on, there's no support except for her grasp on my waist. I arch my back and grind hard against her one more time, and, "Quinn!"
There it is, suspended in midair, the free fall feeling and I want to cry from how incredibly frightening and terribly satisfying it is. My entire body tightens; my breath hitches; my legs quiver; my back twitches and I come hard, so freaking hard. Instantly, I feel like a noodle. My heel drops to the floor and she grips me twice as hard. Her lips are softly caressing my neck as my head is still lulled back. My vision clears from the black with random sparks of color and my breathing takes a good five minutes to return to normal. It's painful to bring my eyes back to hers, but as soon as I do, I melt within the ocean of honey.
She holds me close with a smirk on her face. My eyelids droop. I can't help it, I'm exhausted. She chuckles at me, then slides her tongue over my lips. We kiss once. Twice. Three times. Her tongue slithers up against mine, and I massage it back tenderly. She moans softly between kisses. And, God, I think I could love her. And, it really scares me. But this moment is so perfect. No words. Just being.
Just being.