A/N #1: Night Two comin' atcha. For all of the nice reviews and your patience, I thank you sincerely. This installment has a bit more angst and fluff in the plot for those of you who appreciate some feeling to your filth. If not, too bad, you can skip to the middle.
A/N #2: WARNINGS: food, feelings, fucking, and fluff.
A/N #3: I do not own these characters or Funny Girl. Sadly, all I own are mistakes.
Chapter 3: The end of Funny Girl – Night Two
And now, the conclusion of… "My Man"
Funny Girl was now playing in the background, projected on the screen behind me. I couldn't place the location from where it started playing, but it seemed that it was somewhere near the beginning. My mind flailed as I took in the sight before me and tried to gain even a thread of sanity. Rachel was standing in front of me and looked as though she was waiting for a response. I strung together some syllables as best as I could in that moment.
"Hhomm-kay." I blinked rapidly, hoping that action would push away the haze in my head.
Rachel shook her head at me and giggled softly. Fixing her eyes on mine she smiled brightly and said, "That good, hmm?"
To my surprise she walked away from me like she wasn't half naked with a strap on standing at attention and headed behind the bar. Her confidence was dangerously high and that meant tonight could potentially be volatile. Of course, I didn't know how much more wild tonight could be compared to the sexual rapture we experienced last night. All I knew was that sometime in the next hour, I would be making good on the second night of my consequence.
When she returned, she was holding two covered platters—one she placed in front of me and the other at her place setting.
"Hungry, Quinn?" she voiced with a sexy smirk.
I nodded in the affirmative and she tilted her head and raised her eyebrow at me pointedly.
"Yes, Rachel, I am."
"Good girl."
With a curt nod, her face returned to Pleasantville and she lifted the cover off of my plate. There sat the most delicious looking double bacon cheeseburger I had ever seen. In fact, it looked a lot like the same burger straight out of that fantasy I had that one time where Rachel and the cheeseburger were on top of… um, never mind… (Don't judge me; I see you judging!) The resemblance of the two burgers was uncanny and I shook off the ridiculous thought that perhaps Rachel had snuck into my psyche once more with her freakish psychic powers. No… just no…
My face lit up as I looked at the whopping sandwich in front of me and I beamed pure joy at my girlfriend who, from what I could see in her eyes at that moment, loved me more than anything else.
"My goodness, Quinn, you're beautiful."
I blushed as she raked in the sight of me sitting across from her. Fully clothed (almost), I felt so exposed and so completely vulnerable under her gaze and my eyes retreated to the plate in front of me. When she looked at me like that, I felt like the purest of saints and the worst of sinners.
"Quinn…" passed her lips in a pleading, breathy tone, "please don't hide from me."
I swallowed thickly and met her darkened stare. Smiling at her with my best attempt of confidence, I changed the subject.
"Shall we eat? I'd really hate to waste such a tasty masterpiece."
Out of what I imagine was compassion, she smiled again and answered me.
"Yes, we should. I've been thinking about this vegan lasagna all evening. Would you like a bite before you devour the poor beasts on your plate?"
We continued dinner much in the same fashion as Funny Girl continued to play in the background. We laughed about the attendant in the dressing room and discussed her new outfits and talked about National's and had lovely conversation as we enjoyed our meals. I was so engrossed in our time spent together, I had practically forgotten about the bet, that is until Rachel stood to clear the plates and place them behind the bar.
Barbra's voice came crashing into my utopia and the warm fuzzy feelings were ripped from my midsection while simultaneously being replaced by a sexually charged tension in my lower abdomen. Rachel still had something planned for this evening and other than the silicone between her legs, I knew nothing else of what was involved. As she rounded the bar, she brought with her a simply wrapped package. It was covered in glossy white paper and was topped with a single gold bow. She stopped next to me and placed it on the table where my place setting had been.
"Open it, Quinn."
I obeyed. Not wanting to make a mess of the paper—it was never allowed on Fabray Christmas mornings—, I carefully pulled through the paper and was presented with a small rectangular, unmarked box. I lifted the lid and there sat on white satin, a harness and an attached 7-inch dildo, gold glittered. Are you kidding me? Only Rachel… I furrowed my brow at the items and looked up questioningly at Rachel. What the fuck was this? Ohmygod, was she going to have me wear this? I'd never… we'd never… oh help me.
About that time I hear the opening notes of Barbra's "My Man." That's what this was all about. I was going to wear a strap-on for the first time in my life and it was going to accompany a musical number from a Barbra Streisand movie. Well, fucking hell. About that time, the movie stopped but Rachel's voice continued.
"Oh my man I love him so," with that she took my hand from the edge of the box and lifted it gently, raising me to my feet. Running the palms and pads of her fingers over the skin on my arms, she sang looking directly into my eyes, "He'll never know…" I gasped gently at the fucking clarity of her voice. She wanted me and her voice made me want her, whatever the stipulations.
She trailed off, lifting the yellow dress up and over my head then reaching into the box that lay open on the table. She pulled the harness from the satin and kneeled slowly in front of me. This cannot be happening! I don't even know what to do with this. My nervousness must have been apparent because Rachel looked up at me and cooed slowly, "Relax, Quinnie… trust me." Hundreds of scenarios raced through my mind, but the biggest question was, "If she's putting this on me, why is she wearing one?" She lifted my left foot and then my right into the harness. As she dragged the straps up my thighs, she sang again.
"All my life is just despair,
But I don't care…"
Satisfied with the placement of the straps, Rachel skimmed my appearance hungrily. I felt so incredibly awkward with my pseudo-appendage leaning out away from my body. The straps felt odd around my hips and the material that was brushing my clit felt foreign and dirty. Whatever insecurities I was feeling seemed unimportant when my girlfriend assumed her position of authority and spoke.
"Sit down, Quinn."
I stepped back to sit in my dinner chair, but her hand caught me. "No, not there. That chair."
I hadn't noticed the single wooden chair sitting alone in the middle of the stage. How did I miss that earlier? I really need to learn how to pay attention to detail. I scolded myself until Rachel's voice interrupted me.
"Now, Quinnie. Please don't make me wait. As you know, I'm very impatient when it comes to things I want."
"Yes, Rachel."
She smacked my ass as I walked toward the stage.
"Aah!"
The action made me jump and my hand automatically went to soothe the still tender flesh. I looked over my shoulder at my girlfriend and saw a playful smirk taking up residence above her chin. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. Playful and seductive—that's what her eyes were telling me tonight.
My mind brought me back to the first time I experienced this side of her. It was about two months into our relationship and her fathers were at a Christmas party for her Daddy's office staff. They planned on being out very late. Rachel invited me to hers for the evening, and we watched all of the classic cartoon Christmas programs, enjoying some holiday cookies and eggnog—the non-alcoholic kind of course for Berry-two-shoes. Even though they were Jewish, they still participated in the secular aspects of Christmas. After the shows, we turned on some holiday music and opted for some Scrabble. I was just about to clench victory when a familiar tune wafted from the speakers of their sound system.
"Santa Baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl…"
Rachel squealed, "QUINN, oh my goodness, I love this song! Go and turn it up."
I humored her clear delight at hearing the song that played everyhour on our local radio station during this time of year. Making my way to the stereo, I heard Rachel rustling in the background and already singing along to one of her obvious favorites. I smiled to myself, and as I spun to return to my place at the table, my jaw dropped upon seeing Rachel minus her reindeer sweater, wearing only her red bra and matching plaid skirt. She curled her finger at me and placed a Santa hat atop my head as I took a place of honor. She continued to sing along sexily with the lyrics as she caressed this bit of skin and pulled at that handful of hair while dipping and rolling her body over mine as if it were a prop.
"Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring."
A tiny flicker of seriousness flashed through her eyes at this lyric. It was definitely too soon to discuss in our relationship, but my heart fluttered at the thought of being connected to Rachel for the rest of my life. In response, I pulled her down into my lap and as she finished the final verse of the song and wrapped her arms around my neck, I thought about those three little words and how, for the first time in my life, saying them to the girl in front of me, they would be true.
When my expression changed, Rachel trailed off, glancing downward, "So hurry down the chimney tonight…"
"I love you."
Her eyes snapped back to mine, littered with confusion and hope. "What did you say?"
"I love you."
She smiled so sincerely and whispered out, "I love you too, Quinn."
That night, Rachel and I made love instead of fooled around. It was probably one of the only nights in our whole relationship where I took the lead in our activities. I know now that she was ultimately the one allowing it, but I savored it and still thought of it often. That night, I fell in love with sexy and playful Rachel Berry.
Breaking away from the happy memory, my mind focused on the situation at hand. I sat gingerly in the chair on the stage. I could see the version of "My Man" continuing in slow motion on the screen in the distance and as I looked back to where I had left my sexy girlfriend, all lights were extinguished, even Barbra. A spotlight suddenly landed against my pale skin and the glittering appendage that sat at attention in front of me. Damn the Berrys and their need for everything Broadway. Of course they would have a blinding spotlight! I couldn't see anything among the shadow and squinted my eyes, calling for Rachel.
"Um, Rach? What's go—"
I was cut off as a blindfold fell over my eyes. My instant reaction was to bring my hands up to the cloth, but they were halted when a voice tickled the shell of my ear.
"Uh-uh, Quinnie. Put your hands down to your side and keep them there. No touching until I say so."
"Yes, Rachel." The words that had fallen from my mouth so many times in the last 36 hours, automatically sounded off of my tongue. (I know I'm whipped, but can you blame me?)
With one more tug at the knot behind my head, the blindfold was secured and all contact lost. I sat there a few moments trying to hone in on any movement, but with the quality of the wood used for the stage, there were no squeaks to hear. My ears were put on high alert, however, when I heard the distinct contact between what I assumed were high heels on the wooden floor. They were behind me and very quickly were accompanied by soft, but clear singing.
"When he takes me in his arms…" She was behind me now and her fingertips traced random shapes over my forearms, her breath against the back of my neck, drifting to my left side as she began again, "The world is bright, all right."
Her touch was lost again as the sound of her heels circled around in front of me.
"What's the difference if I say, I'll go away?" She broke off and asked me with sternness in her voice, topped with a dose of curiosity. "What would you do if I went away, Quinn? What would you do without me?"
And suddenly, another moment of clarity hit me like a grape slushy. I definitely did not like where this was going. That's what she was going to push with me tonight. All of the times I was able to change the subject about how deep my love ran for her. My clever girlfriend was finally able to put me in a position where I had to answer her questions. It made me love her and hate her at the same time.
She walked to me and braced herself with her hands on my knees, her breath dancing over my face, no doubt bending at the waist.
"I asked you a question, Quinnie, and I want an answer."
"I-I… don't know, Rachel."
"Don't give me that ignorant bullshit, Quinn. The question is simple enough. What would you do without me?"
"I…," hesitating and racking my brain for some way out of this whole situation, I stayed silent.
"Quinn," her voice was right at my lips, "answer the question."
There was a silent request in her seeming demand. She needed to hear my answer just as much as I needed to say it.
"I think I-I would…" I stuttered once again and paused, hoping she would stop pushing me. Fuck, was she persistent.
"What, Quinn? You would what?" She seemed to be getting irritated with my lack of vocabulary and seemed to wait one last time.
I sighed in surrender, my chest heaving at the claustrophobic situation I found myself in. Fine! If she wanted to know that badly, I would tell her.
"I think I would die, Rachel. Without you I would… die."
It came out as barely a whisper, but Rachel and her bionic hearing, tensed her hands that were clasped around my thighs now and her breath hitched the way it did before she began to cry. At that moment, the blindfold was ripped from my eyes and I grimaced, thinking I would be instantaneously blinded by the spotlight. When no intense light hit the outsides of my lids, I opened them slowly. There was Rachel's face, near flush against mine and I pulled my head back slightly to see her in focus. When I did, there was an aura of spotlight outlining her hair and an intimate shadow across her face. The darkness, however, didn't deceive me as I saw the effects of my confession in her eyes. A single tear breached the confines of her eye and she wiped it quickly from her cheek.
As I opened my mouth to ask her if she was okay, she stopped my action by beginning to sing once more.
"… When I know…"
Keeping a tight grip on my legs, she lowered herself, spread eagle, sitting back against her heels. My eyes were glued to her position in front of me and my gold appendage. Fuck, no wonder guys want girls on their knees. Three words: Sexy as hell. The view from my position made me gush at my center as I felt the arousal drip onto the chair.
She leaned forward and slowly licked the tip of strap-on. It wobbled a bit from the force and due to its positioning against my bundle of nerves, the movement went straight to my clit as though it was an actual extension of my body. Shit. I never imagined it could feel this way. She pushed my knees outward roughly and, one knee at a time, knelt down between my thighs as she sang the next line.
"I'll come back on my knees someday…"
Fuck, really, Barbra? Dirty… Scraping her fingernails along the skin of my calves, most of the tenderness from moments ago had been replaced in her eyes by hunger and want. She spoke to me in a voice I don't ever recall hearing. It was deep and dark, soft and controlled and dripping with arousal.
"I seem to still be hungry, Quinn. Feed me?"
She adamantly kept her eyes trained to mine, now overthrown by damn near animalistic instinct. I wanted her, but more specifically, I wanted her on my cock however I could have her—sucking me, riding me, anything to recreate that friction. And slowly, my desire was sated. Rachel's lips parted sensually, her eyes never leaving mine, as she lowered her head to just above the tempting member.
I blinked twice before I realized what she wanted. I gasped for breath, more forcefully as a second gulp was swallowed when I realized I had stopped said action as she lowered herself to her knees. Tentatively, I raised my right arm observing her reaction to see if this was, in fact, what she wanted. A quick side glance to my rising hand and an increase in her already steady panting told me my thought was correct. Damn, she was kinky. I couldn't stop from licking my lips, and I felt a sense of uneasiness come over me. I couldn't believe what she was going to have me do. When I hesitated with my hand at the back of her head she reminded me who was in charge, despite the current position.
"Quinnie, put your hand on the back of my head. I'm hungry for your cock, and we've well-surpassed the point of timidity. Don't you think?"
"Yes, Rachel." I hated how shaky my words were as they left my mouth. Damn it, Fabray, get it together and please your woman.
I tangled my hand in her shiny chestnut mane as I brought her lips down around the head of my silicone cock. The imagery was enough to soak the chair under me—darkened chocolate eyes on mine, my hot girlfriend in nothing but a white dress shirt, blue strap-on jutting from underneath and black heels, kneeling in front of me sucking on my golden dick. Now, that's an unforgettable evening!
Keeping my hand still, she lowered more of her mouth around my member and the movement caused the most delicious friction on my clit. I moaned in response, "Ooohhh, fuck."
"Nnnnnhhhh," she responded as her head sunk lower in my lap. Shit, is she going to take all of that? And the answer to that question was a "Fuck yes, she is!" She broke eye contact as she swallowed it to the hilt at the harness. The angle at which she held it there kept a constant pressure against my bundle of nerves . Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone and so was Rachel's mouth.
"You seem to like this, Quinn. Do you want me to suck your cock?"
She dipped all four fingers between my soaked lips beneath me, gathering my wetness on her hand. All verbal abilities were completely lost on me as she used my own arousal to stroke my appendage. My eyes were mesmerized, following the pattern her hand used up and down the golden dick. I found my body was focused, however, on the steady pattern of the much needed friction being produced between my legs. Before I realized my mistake in not answering, Rachel pulled her hand back and delivered a stern slap to my cock. A sharp jolt of pain layered with pleasure surged through my hooded bundle of nerves as I seeped more of my wetness to the pool gathered on the chair.
"Answer my question, Quinn! Do you want me to suck your cock?"
"Y-yes, fuck, yes, Rachel."
She resumed her stroking and prompted me again, lower and calmer this time, "Yes, what, Quinn?"
"Yes—"
Before I could finish my sentence, Rachel's mouth sheathed me once more.
"Pleeeaaase," I moaned. "Shit, Rachel. Baby, so good…" I continued as her head rose again before slamming down against my lap.
After repeating her actions three or four times—at this point, who the fuck is counting? She raised up again and said, "Mm, baby, you taste so good. I'm sooo hungry."
At that moment, I remembered that she had coated my cock with my cream and she reminded me of that as she gathered more to slather the appendage with. My pussy clenched as her fingers swirled and an involuntary sound escaped my jerking body.
"A-ahh! Fuck, Rachel, please!"
I had no idea what I was asking her for—to keep sucking me or to keep sliding her fingers at my slit. All I knew in that moment was that I needed more of whatever she was going to give me.
"Quinnie, don't beg. Clearly, I'm the one on my knees." I looked at her, stunned by her words. There was Rachel pulling off her "Dom from the bottom" bit, quite successfully I might add, while stroking my dick with my own juices. She continued her verbal assault on my self-control, while looking up at me with her best "I'm-so-innocent" eyes, "So, like a good slut, I'm begging you—Quinn, may I suck you? Please, baby?"
Well, fuck me. How do I play this game? Once again, plagued with a monosyllable vocabulary, I responded in a flat voice, "Yes."
"Oh, thank you, Quinnie. I promise I won't disappoint."
Holy shit. Was she serious? I'd never been disappointed with her a day in our relationship and today was definitely not going to be any different. Her head dipped lower, my hand guiding her, as flushed lips sucked in the tip of the cock. My head rolled back at the sensation, once more reveling in the fact that this golden glittered silicone seemed to become an extension of my own anatomy. I told her so.
"Fuck, Rach. I can feel everything."
She smiled as best she could while her lips were wrapped around gold, and she began a steady pace, sucking and bobbing, pulling off every so often to trace her tongue down my length and swirl it around the tip. With every tug and lick she made, I felt my orgasm building.
"Rachel, I'm… shit… I'm getting close…"
When the movement halted, I snapped my head back to see nothing short of a sex goddess staring back at me. Her hair was tousled, her lips were colored a flushed pink that seemed to match her cheeks, and her eyes were black as night. She had stopped because she didn't want me to come yet. Not this way, at least. I saw it in her expression.
"Quinn, I want to keep swallowing your cock if you'll let me, but if you think I've been good enough, I'd like to have you come around my fingers while I suck you down. Can I, Quinnie? Pretty please?"
Whatever this game was that Rachel was playing, I liked it. I liked it very much.
"Yes, Rachel, fucking yes."
"Thank you, baby. Oh and Quinn, I think good cocksluts deserve to have their hair pulled and to be told to suck it."
There were the instructions on how I was going to reach the Promised Land. I was to grab and pull at her hair and tell her to suck my dick. I hesitated all of one fraction of a second, but the HBIC that had been excluded from our previous encounters suddenly surfaced with no thought of consequence later. So, in a startling new development, my dominance that I once held in other relationships broke free and ran wild. My hands gripped her hair roughly and my name as a moan escaped her as a question from her lips.
"Qui-inn?"
"Enough talking, Rachel. Suck it."
Her eyes recognized the shift in dominance and she looked –what was that? Excitement? Fear? Maybe, a little of both? I didn't care in that moment as my alter ego took the reins.
"I don't think you heard me, Rach. I told you to… Suck." I pushed her lips over the head stopping about half-way down the shaft before bringing them off again. "My." I repeated the action. "Cock." I brought her down to the hilt this time and heard her moan when hit bottom. She wanted this and so did I. She began a rhythm that was completely made better when I barked another command, grabbing her hand from my thigh and shoving it at my core.
"You wanted to fuck me so badly you were begging me for it. Now use those slender little fingers of yours to fuck my pussy while you suck me. Don't make me tell you again."
Her actions told me she was aiming to please—whether out of arousal or obedience or fear. She was looking to get me off fast. My inner bitch in charge was taking over and seemed unaffected by the warning playing over and over in my head. You don't want to do that… Really… You really don't want to do that. Fuck. Yes, I do.
"Feel how wet I am, Rachel? It's only fair that you get me off after making me so wet. Taste that cock, Rach. Feel that pussy clench on your fingers. Did I ever tell you how good you look on your knees and begging for me? So good, Rachel."
She was bobbing her head at breakneck (sorry, it I couldn't resist…) speed, creating a suction that managed to stroke my throbbing clit. Her fingers scissored inside of me alternating their assault on my rough spot.
"Fuck, I'm almost there, baby. Don't you dare stop. Take it! Make me come, Rachel!"
With that, a particularly harsh tug from her teeth, and a precise thrust of her fingers, I came hard. Really hard. Shuddering in the chair, she slowed the movement of her head still swallowing me up and down and made deliberate strokes inside my pussy to calm the waves. I breathed out shakily and released my hands from her hair. I didn't want to open my eyes because I knew that little display was going to have me in trouble. I savored the moment, gearing myself up for whatever punishment I was going to receive. Cracking my eyes open slowly, the inner head bitch retreated like a coward, but not before throwing Rachel Berry's bitch in front of her to grovel.
"R-Rachel… I am—"
"For whatever my man is," she stood, singing in front of me pushing every emotion from her being into her eyes—love, lust, anger, excitement, arousal, confusion, and intrigue—all staring at me as she stood over me. She lifted her left leg over my right, "I am…" Her right leg hooked over my left as she grabbed the backrest of my chair at my shoulders, "his…" And as if it was happening in fucking slow motion, she pushed herself down onto my head of gold.
"Oh, damn, baby." I looked down at the sight of her… the dress shirt slightly open for me to see the valley of skin between her breasts and her hard nipples that peaked through the shirt; the crisp white cotton flanking her perfect tanned thighs that draped my pale ones; and the bright blue cock forgotten, propping snugly against my abdomen.
"Foree-evveermore." Her breath fought to stay even as she moaned out the last of the lyric, lowering herself onto me completely, the harness putting pressure on my still recovering slit.
The feeling was too much and my mind blurted a string of nonsense before it found a word to comprehend. "Oh, a-ah, mmh, sh… fuck!"
Rachel raised up, dragging my length from her tight channel, fingers curled at the base of my neck. My hands found a home high on either side of her waist, and I gripped her sides, aiding her in her movement. And as she sheathed herself once more, Barbra's words fell from her lips again in a steady seductive tone.
"Oh my man, I love him sooo, " she rolled her hips and raised up and clenched, pulling my cock with her before slamming down on it again. "He'll never know…"
Wanting to be an active participant in this performance, I responded to her line as she rocked against my body with vigor. "I do know Rachel, I know." My hands found her breasts against the stark white shirt and a I kneaded them with every ounce of emotion I could as my hips bucked in response to hers. I was officially addicted to the feeling I had surging through my body. I wanted nothing more than to fuck my girlfriend and to make her feel every inch of me inside and out. I wanted to put my hands on her and I wanted hers on me. A moan escaped her as we moved in sync, everything now becoming about need and desire. It was fucking delicious.
"All my life is just despair," she sang with her eyes shut and a look of pure agony on her face—the kind of agony you feel when everything is throbbing, pulsing and all you're seeking is a release. "But I don't care," she continued, increasing her pace. "When he takes me in his arms…" She trailed off and snapped her eyes to mine. I understood her gaze and ran my arms around her slender waist, using my flattened palms to draw her closer to me and pressing hot open-mouth kisses to the skin of her exposed chest.
She trembled as my hands continued to grip at her back and my lips skimmed her chest. She sang again then spoke evenly, "The world is bright, all right... I love you, Quinn." She paused then continued, "Fuck me. Do it, Quinnie. Make me all right."
I bucked my hips dramatically at her words and she moaned out my name. I met her rapidly moving hips as the muscles inside her managed to stroke the appendage attached to me. I felt the building of something amazing in the pit of my stomach as the harness intensified its assault from Rachel's downward thrusts on my clit and the wetness between my legs slopped between my pussy and the wood of the chair. I was getting so close and my now sporadic thrusts proved that.
Sensing the onslaught of my orgasm, Rachel slowed her movements and locked eyes with whatever sanity she could find in mine. Her recently powerful voice sang to me now in a clear wanting tone , "What's the difference if I say, I'll go away…"
I interjected, "Don't. Don't ever go away."
She smiled with all of the love in her heart and sang on with a reassuring smirk, shaking her head knowingly, "When I know I'll come back on my knees someday."
I matched her smile at this and our movement began again. I took the break in her singing as an opportunity to tell her how I was feeling, what she was making me feel.
"Ohmygod, Rach, I love you so much. You make me feel so good, baby. Keep fucking me, please! I need you. I've always needed you. Come with me, Rachel. Let me make you feel."
Answering my plea, she immediately rolled her hips as she raised and lowered herself on my dick, tugging at the appendage with her wet heat.
"For whatever my man is…"
Instantly, my mind grasped the familiar feeling from the night before. This was our climax. It was our show and it was time to bring it home.
"Please, Rachel, Oh god…"
She pounded with abandon against my lap as my orgasm bubbled its way up.
"I am his…"
"Oh, fuck, please! Fucking shit, o-oh…
I thrust hard into her. "AAAHH, Yes! Quinn! I'm coming! Fuck baby… all yours!"
Her body shook from her release and her pussy clenched down on me. I was too far gone to notice she and my brain finished out the lyric.
"FOREVER!" I cried out as I slammed into her one last time for my sake, sending my orgasm in waves over my body and pulsing inside hers. And when her spent body slumped against mine with her lips to my shoulder, I turned my head and whispered the final syllable of the word, "more."
Using the last of my strength, I wrapped my hands firmly around her backside keeping her snug tightly on my golden appendage. I lifted both of us from our seated position and was never more thankful for my Cheerios training. Stepping out of the spotlight, I paused and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the basement. When I could see my destination, I walked carefully to the plush couch and gently raised Rachel off of me. I laid her down and covered her with a blanket off the back of the chair next to me. Trying to remember how Rachel put the harness on, I went to remove it. A few awkward trials later, I stepped out of the contraption and slid behind my girlfriend under the blanket. And with sleep coming to me quickly, I whispered a heartfelt monologue to the love of my life that would have hopefully made Barbra proud.
"I'm always going to be yours, you know that? I will always need you, Rach." I stared at the beauty spooned tightly to me. "My god. The hold you have on me? It's epic. It makes me feel wanted and secure, like you need me just as much as I need you, like the place where we belong is only with each other.
" I've only been with you six months, but I know you're the only one I will give everything to—my heart, my dream, my voice, my body. You have complete control over my past, my now, and my future." I paused as my hand began to stroke through her hair gently. "So, take it, Rach. Please. It's yours. I know now that it's always been yours. I guess I should've realized it just by the names I used to call you—every single one masculine—RuPaul, Treasure Trail, Manhands." I always hated that I had called her those things. It weighed on my heart and I think Rachel knew it. Feeling empowered by the silence, I admitted it for the first time to anyone and no one, but most of all to myself.
"I fucking gave you a masculinity to have power over me, and I didn't even fucking know it at the time. I wanted you to be that man, that man that could have control over me. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that you were never going to be that man. Instead, I realize it now. You're forever going to be that woman, that woman that has control, and it scared the shit out of me." What a fucking epiphany. Quinn fucking Fabray was scared. "I wasn't scared of men but I was scared of the fact that those names couldn't be farther from the truth, from what I want now." I stopped anxiously as it seemed her body shifted. Seeing no other movement, I continued on only having the courage because she was sleeping. "I won't ever want the clumsy hands, or the treasure trail, or the flat chest, or even the dick of a man because you're more than enough for me. You're the only person I want, Rach, man or woman, and I love you with everything I fucking have."
After I finished that particular part of my speech, I for some reason stopped and thought back to the events of the day—the dressing rooms, specifically. Fuck. All of those terrible excuses to get me to touch her—'my hands seem to be too clumsy' with her skirt, 'if I lift my shirt up' with the zipper in the front, 'my breasts are lost in this oversized sweater,' and 'too tight on my womanhood…will you slide your hand here' with the too tight pants. Fuck me. Rachel had all of that planned. She'd always been insecure that I would leave her for a man due to "my tendency as a once-religious Catholic to revert back to my former beliefs in a moment of gay panic." That's what her dominance has always been about in the bedroom—not only my fear, but hers—the chance that I would leave her. And why would she do all of that? Because my fucking mind was still stuck on the image of me having a man.
At that moment, I had a fucking epiphany. She dressed up for me in a man's shirt, she had a cock attached to her the entire evening, and she chose "My fucking Man" as the Barbra number. Rachel knew what I needed until I somehow figured this out. It became clear that she wasn't necessarily always a top in the bedroom, but she knew that that was what it would take to get me to this point. This point of me fucking her. This point of me taking control. That's why she didn't react as my head bitch surfaced. That's why she put the strap-on on me. I didn't even touch hers. I didn't want hers. I wanted the control tonight. For the first time, I wanted it and I wanted it over a woman. And fucking hell, I took it. That sneaky woman.
I shook my head in hopes that all of that would fall nicely into well-organized piles that I could sort later. As I did, however, the files scattered when I heard someone speaking that didn't sound like my self-conscience.
"Quinn?" Her voice was shaky like she was fighting with her tongue to keep it from leaving her lips.
Fuck. She was awake? Shit. Gay panic, gay panic, gay—You know what? No. No fucking way. I wasn't running from it anymore. Quinn fucking Fabray was going to take a stand. Steadily, I calmed my breathing. I swallowed with difficulty and answered her.
"Yes, Rachel?"
"Do you mean that?" Hope and fear and want laced her words.
"With everything I am, Rach." I squeezed her tightly to me and we laid still as the spot hummed still lighting up the stage.
"Did I push too much? I always seem to want everything too much," she whispered.
"No, Rachel. I believe for once you wanted it just enough. Once again, you did what I couldn't do—tell the truth. I'm sorry I've been a coward. I know what I want now, Rachel. I want it forever, and it's because of you."
"What is that, Quinn?"
"You."
I knew this exchange wouldn't change everything. There was no doubt that I still liked to be dominated by Rachel, but the epic proportions of this event now told her that she was now going to have to share the stage every once in awhile. As I thought of this, my mouth worked itself into a smirk and we fell asleep on that basement couch.
A/N #4: Love it or hate it. I merely try to please…