Oh you lift me up to the crucial top, so I can see
Oh you lead me on, till the feelings come
And the lights that shine on
But if that don't mean nothing
Like if someday it should fall through
You'll take me home where the magic's from
And I'll be with you
-Alive and Kicking
Bless you, Emily.
That was her fleeting thought.
Using her wrists for support while bent over at Quinn's apartment bay window, Rachel saw stars the moment she felt two slender fingers enter her from behind. She felt the other hand slither upwards from her abdomen to her left breast and cupped it for leverage.
Quinn was in the zone and in control like nothing Rachel had ever encountered before.
It wasn't vanilla.
It was more like a modern version of Aztec chocolate.
With all the goddamn spices.
And Rachel is drinking it to the last drop.
Ah, yes. Bless all of you anonymous girls.
Another fleeting thought the moment she was turned around and heaved on the window cushion. The brunette hooked her legs around Quinn's hips to pull the blonde closer until their faces were mere centimeters apart. There was something very erotic about keeping eye contact while the blonde's fingers trace along the diva's wet slit several times, teasing and building up the anticipation once more.
"Quinn", the brunette mumbled. It was the only thing Rachel could say, and the only thing that mattered to the taller girl.
"Quinn", the brunette gasped again, then moaned when the blonde started massaging her clit between her thumb and finger.
"Quinn", she panted when she felt two, no, three fingers taunt the entrance of her wet core.
Third time's a charm.
There's that lopsided smirk that told her to get ready. She held her breath, clenched her fists and parted her legs as wide as she could.
Rachel's more than a year of celibacy ended that day. It also marked the first time in almost a year and a half of not being with Quinn in an intimate manner. She felt nothing short of being a dormant volcano that suddenly erupted.
It wasn't really sudden though. As in volcanic activities, there were ominous rumblings, minor spewing of lava and smoke as nature's warning for a cataclysmic event. Only this wasn't dreadful.
This was something both wanted and part of what they needed.
The Glee reunion reignited the spark. But they left Ohio still uncertain of how they were going to push through the doubts and reservations that hung over their heads. On a more positive note, at least Rachel was now sure they were on the same page. No exploring other options, and by that they meant other people. Santana called it bullshit—complicating matters by keeping things "undefined" when it was obvious as day that they can't stand being apart from each other.
Maybe so, but both weren't keen on the pressure of creating an artificial setting for them again. There was certainly no talk about a particular blonde moving back in Upper East Side. Bronx was Quinn's natural habitat and the brunette loved that her not-really-girlfriend-as-of-the-moment found her place in New York. She can't whine or wish for anything better because she might just piss God off and convince Quinn to move somewhere else. Like Japan or Costa Rica.
If for anything, the commute from Manhattan to Bronx made Rachel fully appreciate what Finn said about Quinn. It was a special kind of love. She wasn't even claustrophobic; yet when she emerged from the tunnel to visit Quinn, she felt an overwhelming relief that took over her whole being. Rush hour had always been a bitch.
That didn't matter though. Because Quinn introduced the brunette to her kids at the youth center as her special friend, and she witnessed how the blonde made an impact on somebody else's life beside her own. She was even more than thrilled as she was able to perform a couple of songs.
She was not, however, thrilled that she was introduced to someone who made moon-eyes at Quinn. She had to remind herself once more than she lost Quinn for more than a year. She would not have been able to keep track of Quinn's interactions.
Not that she would this time.
She's curbing her jealousy. Really.
One month into their "open-ended" relationship, Quinn agreed to go back to Rachel's apartment for a dinner. It was endearing to see the blonde surreptitiously check out the diva's pantry and refrigerator.
"I learned to take care of myself, Quinn", Rachel chuckled. "It's not all canned soup in there."
The blonde smiled bashfully and closed the pantry. "Just checking …you lost a lot of weight."
"That's not because I haven't been eating."
Quinn pressed her lips and smiled. "Come here."
Rachel obediently followed and took a few steps closer. "Is the worst really over?", she mumbled while hugging Quinn back.
"I think so"
"Well…that might change once you've tried what I made for dinner."
The food was delightful, contrary to Rachel's warning. The make-out session was lovelier. Rachel felt as if they were once again teenagers, curious about intimacy but scared of going deeper. Rachel immediately noticed a change in Quinn the moment their kisses became more heated. There wasn't a moment of dithering, then surrender or retreat that usually happened when Rachel became more aggressive. Instead, the blonde battled—challenged her—for dominance. It was different but the transformation was exhilarating. This was Head Cheerio Quinn Fabray as Rachel had always imagined.
Maybe Quinn had kept her uniform so they can use it later on.
Or they can find a new one. Can be generic. No big deal.
Did she just pin my wrists over my head? Oh god, she did. Why didn't she ever do this before?
The un-couple's new found courage to be handsy extended to full on public displays of affection that scandalized even the likes of Santana—champion of the right to kiss your girlfriend anywhere you want—to the point of literally dragging them apart.
And because they lived tragically far away from each other—Rachel's words, not Quinn's—they often found themselves teasing one another on the phone.
All those questions answerable by dirty words.
"What are you wearing?"
"A disgusted look on my face."
"Santana? What the hell are you doing in Quinn's apartment? And why are you answering her phone? Is she okay?"
"Chill, Berry. Your woman's heating up my casserole."
"…I beg your pardon?"
It wasn't all about rounding up the bases.
In fact, if you ask Quinn, she was proud of their self-restraint and keeping their priorities in place. Before they got really frisky, they started like any new couple would. Dating in its most basic form. In the three years they were together, they hardly went out on dates.
Quinn brought her once to Washington Heights on their first date, much to the diva's apprehension. It's one of those places that were in her permanent list of "do not venture out for any reason". The blonde kept reassuring her that the place had already been gentrified. They weren't there anyway to hang out at the 'hood.
The blonde took her to Fort Tryon Park and Rachel changed her mind about the place immediately. It used to be a real fort used during the American Revolution but now filled with gardens and flowers that made Central Park look dull and dry.
Then it was Rachel's turn. She asked Quinn to fulfill one promise that got lost a long time ago.
Rachel felt anxious when they entered the Peculier Pub at the Village. It was the first time she had gone out with her NYADA friends and with Quinn in tow; naturally so many people paid attention to the gorgeous blonde attached to her hip. There was no time for insecure and jealous Rachel to take over though, because the first thing Quinn did the moment they joined their intended company, was to stand behind her and possessively wrap her arms around the brunette. And thank Moses for a crowded night, the blonde took the only seat available, sat down and pulled Rachel to sit on her lap.
Talk about marking one's territory.
And she couldn't help but believe she was the most beautiful girl in the whole establishment. It was all that Quinn kept whispering in her ear all night.
You know what they say about lies repeated so many times; you start to think it's the truth? It was something like that.
This time, however, the way Quinn's voice gushed, or the way the blonde breathed deeply and intensely gazed at her, Rachel knew that it may not be true for other people, but it was for Quinn.
So, to hell with everyone else that night.
She was Quinn's shining star.
She was keenly aware the blonde wasn't entirely comfortable with her classmates and their pretentious snooty attitude towards popular arts and culture, or their general apathy towards intellectualism. She wasn't at all at ease with the bar scene, of course. Rachel tried to— hopefully—calm the nerves of her date in the best way she could think of.
And that didn't go unnoticed. Quinn appreciated the fact that Rachel didn't pressure her to join the conversation or put her on the spotlight, and just allow her to listen to them. This, while constantly rubbing the back of her palm and kissing her cheek every so often; asking if she's okay and cuddling up with her for the better part of the evening.
Yeah, it felt like they were new lovers. And there was a certain truth to that.
While Rachel was getting to know a new side of Quinn (or was it there all along, just hidden?) when they get a bit physical, it was a couple of months after they officially started dating that Quinn became extremely comfortable and took charge.
It was those little things that first drove Rachel nuts. The way Quinn would pay attention to certain spots on her neck and ears was enough to make the brunette's toes curl.
Quinn's past liaisons were the first source of their bickering (what? We're talking about Rachel and Quinn here. It'll never be as smooth as baby's skin). But both like to believe they handled the issue pretty well. It was an eye-opener. Rachel held high regard for the blonde. She was after all the poster child of celibacy. Girls grow into women, and to get from point A to B are a myriad of ways to define oneself. With all those experiences, Quinn had become confident but far from being arrogant. And that encouraged Rachel, instead of feeling inadequate.
She went head to head with Quinn.
Problem solved.
So, the restraint to take things slow, the undulated movements, and the sensual touches all produced one thrilling ride of sensory overload.
It was a cool March evening. Emily invited them for a dinner out and to say that the beginning was awkward was an understatement. It was hard for the diva to just erase the memory of Quinn's neck marked by the older woman. But Rachel understood how Emily had been a good friend to Quinn; and because the older woman was dating Santana, there was no way they could escape sharing space with Emily in the long run.
Rachel played with her table napkin, while Quinn and Santana spoke with their eyes, pushing each other to be the one to break the ice. Emily busied herself with the wine selection in the menu and wondered why, after all the good deeds she had done in her life, she was stuck with such juveniles. Hot and gorgeous. But extremely immature individuals. Maybe this was her punishment for grabbing Sister Tabitha's habit back in fifth grade.
Quinn took a glance at Rachel and knew what the brunette was going through. Things wouldn't be this awkward in the first place if not for her past trysts with Emily. She took Rachel's hand and squeezed it, cleared her throat and was the heroic sacrificial lamb. "So, Em. What's the occasion?"
"Yeah, what're we celebrating?", Santana asked curiously.
"You don't know?", the blonde chuckled. "What kind of girlfriend are you?"
Santana narrowed her eyes at Quinn. "The kind who has a life separate from her, unlike certain people whose names we shall hide as Rachel and Quinn."
"Oh, here we go again.", Rachel mumbled.
"Have they been this way since high school?", Emily asked Rachel directly while the two former Cheerios squabbled.
The smaller brunette nodded. "I'm afraid so. Well, no. They were a lot worse back then."
"How worse?"
"Like hallway fisticuffs"
"Oh. Wow."
"Yes, and well. They find themselves in a very odd situation right now where they aren't fighting for one thing. Not boys—or girls in this case—or reputation and position in the social ladder."
"So…they have to find something else to establish who's more dominant"
"Yes", Rachel genuinely smiled at Emily for what may have been the first time. "Who's the better girlfriend. Although", Rachel cleared her throat, "Excuse me, Miss Fabray?" , she said then poked Quinn's shoulder.
"I—yeah?"
"Are you my girlfriend?"
Quinn frowned. "Of course I am, what kind of a question is— oh. Uhm"
"Hah!", Santana laughed. "I thought it was…", she rolled her eyes and air quoted, "undefined." Clearly it's not. "
"Anyway", Emily interrupted before Quinn could explode for being cornered. "I just wanted to celebrate my victory over Layla's lawsuit."
"Oh, hey. That's amazing, babe", Santana grinned then pecked the other woman's lips.
Quinn smiled widely then turned to Rachel. "Layla is Emily's sister who can outbitch anyone in this table. She sued Em last year for inheritance issues."
"That's…tactless."
"Oh, please. You're nice, she's a woman without shame", Emily chuckled. "But anyway, I am just glad it's over. So there's no better way to commemorate this event than being with friends and by Santana treating us to dinner."
"Yeah", Santana nodded solemnly then furrowed her brows. "Wait, what?"
"What? You're an amazing girlfriend, aren't you?", Emily chuckled then winked at Rachel who, in return, looked down and bit her lip to suppress a laugh.
"Of course. But I'm not the one who has like, a bajillion pounds in my bank account."
"I don't have a bajillion."
"Yeah, but you can at least afford to take Q to a five star hotel in London. Which, you have not done for me, by the way."
"All you need to do is ask."
"Well I'm asking."
"Then we're going. But you're still paying for this dinner."
Rachel tried to hold back the urge to cough "whipped" and was saved by Quinn from Santana's murderous tendencies. While the couple in front of them playfully argued, the blonde used the opportunity to kiss Rachel and whisper, "You want to go to England, too? We can do this after your graduation."
Rachel grinned. "British Isles backpacking?"
Quinn nodded then kissed the back of Rachel's hand. "No five star hotels."
"Just cobblestone houses and B&B's"
The dinner was a prelude to something greater. Rachel knew it because of how amazing it felt to be in the company of two of her best friends (if only Kurt wasn't too busy with his new boytoy, the night would have been complete). She glanced at Emily whose eyes stared at Santana with affection and tenderness. She breathed a sigh of relief.
One of the reasons why she hated seeing Quinn with the older woman—and this she would later divulge to Emily—is because when she looked at the blonde before, it wasn't fondness that Rachel observed, it was playfulness and amusement. She never liked the idea of anyone toying with Quinn's feelings, simply because the diva knew the most how horrible it felt for the blonde.
Because Rachel did just that.
She saw herself in Emily, albeit in a less direct way.
And she swore she would never do that to Quinn again no matter how their relationship would end.
Santana and Emily dropped off Quinn in her Bronx apartment, but before the blonde got out of the car, she took Rachel's hand and tugged it. "You don't need to pass by Upper East", Quinn smiled at Emily.
Rachel's mouth was left hanging for a few seconds and stared at Quinn for confirmation. Another tug and that's all she needed. She slid out of the backseat swiftly and thanked the other couple.
"Quinn" Rachel gently touched the blonde's arm after they reached the apartment door. "Are you sure about this?"
"You don't want this?", Quinn asked quietly. "I'm sorry, I just thought—"
Rachel placed a finger over the blonde's mouth. "I do", she breathed out and smiled. "I've wanted this for a long time with you. I just want to be sure that we're on the same page."
"Yeah we are", Quinn husked with an expectant look.
Rachel nodded then took the blonde's hand. "I love you"
"I love you, too"
"Are we…are you…would you like to be my girlfriend?"
"Yeah…Yeah I would love to."
It was supposed to be gentle. A night full of promise and show of devotion.
But there was nothing tender about their first time in a long while. All the lust, sexual frustrations and perhaps even residues of anger and hurt collided right at the moment when Quinn's hands glided dangerously close to Rachel's ass.
The taller girl would maybe have to deal with potential neighbor complaints of banging walls in the midnight hour.
Sucks to be them.
Awesome to be Quinn.
Not too good for clothing expenses.
Because, oops, there goes the buttons off the blonde's top.
They were naked before they reached the living room; had gone over twice before the bedroom.
Quinn had not made this intentional.
It was in fact Rachel that pointed it out later on.
There was some poetic justice to Rachel calling out Quinn's name over and over while being taken on a window overlooking Hudson River.
Ah, the games they play. The many ways to express one's hold over the other.
The blonde was bruised. From her neck down to the underside of her breasts and several more on her inner thighs. There was no way to hide it given her skin tone. And there was no stopping Rachel from topping Quinn and taste every inch of the taller girl's body.
Most importantly, there was no stopping the diva from making the whole world know this woman beneath her, writhing and moaning in pleasure was hers and only hers.
The heat will die down and the passion will subside.
They might even go back to wholesome Quinn and Rachel the next day.
But that night?
That night was all about possession.
A/N: It ain't the end, it ain't the ding-dong end. A couple of more to go, I suppose. Drop me a line. Love you all.