A/N: This is really a Quinn/Rachel/Santana, but doesn't allow more than two characters to be listed. I sure hope you like polyamory!
It's Rachel's twenty-fifth birthday and the goal is to take her out and get her totally trashed.
If they can make it out of the bedroom.
Technically, it's Santana's bedroom, though there are touches of both Rachel and Quinn everywhere, like the Playbills to last week's performance Cabaret on the dresser and the dog-eared classical monologues book balanced on the arm of the leather chair in the corner of the room.
They've pre-gamed a little, which is why Santana has her top off in the first place. Body shots are a birthday tradition that extends all the way back to high school. Only now, things are much different. Now, Quinn knows what Santana looks like when she comes. Now, Rachel knows that Quinn's fucking amazing at giving head. Now, Santana knows she was right when she imagined Rachel was the kind of girl who leaves nail marks down your back. They both know Quinn's a champion dirty talker. She also likes to watch.
Which is what's happening, right now.
Santana's on her back, because that's the standard position to take when someone else is licking salt off your abs. Except after the second shot, when Rachel's done with her lime, she climbs right on top of Santana and kisses her, bracing her hands against the mattress above Santana's head.
Quinn sits on the edge of the mattress and rolls shot glass between her fingers, but her eyes are fixed on the two women next to her. Rachel's still in the skirt and sweater she wore to work, because she hasn't changed for the club, yet. She'll have to get undressed, anyway, so Quinn sets the glass on the nightstand and moves behind Rachel, gripping the bottom of the sweater and pulling it upward.
Rachel is currently occupied with Santana's mouth, as the kissing progresses to include a little grinding, at least on Rachel's part. Quinn manages to get the sweater up to just under Rachel's arms, then she grabs one of Santana's hands and places it on the garment.
"Deal with this."
Santana's on the same page, because she tugs it further and Rachel responds, groaning a little in disappointment as she sits up to remove the top. As soon as she does, though, Quinn's arms are around her, hands cupping her breasts through her bra. Santana's upright in a heartbeat, lips pressed to the span of Rachel's skin, just above Quinn's fingers.
"Rach," Quinn's voice is low, almost purring in Rachel's ear. "We have a reservation in about an hour. You still have to shower. Which means you have maybe fifteen minutes to come as many times as you can."
"I don't... have to shower before we go," Rachel counters, though her voice is shaky, almost uncertain.
"Yeah, you will." Quinn's mouth drops away from the ear to suck on the space where Rachel's neck and shoulder meet. Santana's fingers wrap around Quinn's wrist and pulls her hand away. She takes that as a cue to unhook the bra and the action is almost immediately followed by a squeal from Rachel as Santana pulls a nipple between her lips.
Quinn knows Santana needs to reposition herself for this to really work, so she maneuvers her way around the both of them, pulling off her own shirt in the process, then settles behind Santana where she has a clear view of Rachel's face. She brushes Santana's hair aside and drops kisses along the tan skin of her shoulder. "It's eight forty-five, babe," she murmurs.
Santana grunts in responds, but ups her game, because they're on a schedule. At least for now. Later, though, when they're all drunk, things like time will be fucking irrelevant. Her hand disappears under the skirt and shoves Rachel's panties aside. She can't even see them, but she can tell they're the lace purple pair. Rachel loves those goddamn panties, which sucks because it means she can't just rip them off.
That's happened before. Quinn was really pissed about ruining her favorite pair of red boy shorts... for about thirty seconds. Santana's really good at making both of them forget a lot of things when she's knuckle deep and making them scream her name.
"What do you think, Q? Twice?" she asks, fingertips already slick, because it seems like Rachel's always turned on.
"Mhm, at least." Quinn's mouth is on Santana's neck, but her eyes on are on Rachel.
Rachel's lips are parted and she's fighting to keep her eyes open, but she's definitely maintaining eye contact. "I can hear you two."
"That's funny. Because we can't really hear you," Quinn says. Santana pushes two fingers into Rachel making the woman above her moan and rock her hips downward. Quinn smirks. "That's better."
Rachel leans forward and grabs a handful of Quinn's hair, "I'm totally fucking you in the bathroom later."
"That's filthy," Quinn manages to say before Rachel's lips crush against hers and their tongues meet. That always elicits a low vocal reaction in the back of Quinn's throat.
"Whatever," Santana mumbles, her own mouth taking a break from leaving hickeys that will hopefully remain out of sight in Rachel's little black dress, "At some point, one of you is sitting on my face while the other goes down on me. I don't give a shit who does what, but it's happening." She puts her thumb to work, slipping in tight circles around Rachel's clit.
"Fuck," Rachel breathes against Quinn.
Quinn laughs. "That was quick."
"I didn't come, yet," Rachel replies.
"No, but you're close." Quinn leans back so she can see Rachel again.
Rachel wants to object, but Quinn's right. Santana can draw something out for hours or she can get Rachel off in less than five minutes. Quinn's a little more difficult, for whatever reason, though Santana's record with her is twelve minutes and she's always trying to break it.
"Santana..." Rachel drops her forehead to Santana's other shoulder and works her body in tandem with the rhythm that's been set. "Fuck," she repeats, though her voice is higher than it was the first time. Her body shudders as she comes, her eyes shut tight, mouth open as she pants against Santana's chest.
"Again," Quinn orders. It's directed at both of them. "Rach..."
Rachel lifts her head, though it isn't easy. As soon as she locks eyes with Quinn, though, she knows she's about to have another orgasm in record time. It takes about ninety seconds and the best of Santana's manual dexterity to make it happen and this time Quinn doesn't let Rachel look away.
"If you... want me to be functional at this thing, we have to stop..." Rachel finally says as she limply rests against Santana.
Quinn kisses the top of Rachel's head, then Santana's cheek. "You win. For now. But only because we don't have time."
"Jesus, Q, you sound like her with the timekeeping and shit." Santana wraps both arms around Rachel, then leans to her left, pulling both women with her as she collapses onto the bed.
"Santana!" Quinn loops an arm around Santana, then spoons her from behind once they're horizontal.
"You know I'm right," is the reply.
"I can still hear the both of you," says Rachel.
Quinn nuzzles the back of Santana's neck. "Maybe we have time for one more."
"It's not like she has to walk or anything at this party, right?"
"Okay, no. I am going to take a shower. I'm not missing my birthday party just because both of my significant others are unable to control their lust for me."
"You hear that, Quinn? We're unable-"
"- to control our lust for her. Yes, I heard."
"Typical performer type. Thinking everyone wants their ass."
"Well, have you seen her?"
"I've seen her ass."
"I'm ignoring the both of you. If you need me, I'll be in the shower. Naked and alone."
"Happy birthday, Rach."
"Yeah, what Quinn said."
"Yeah, yeah. Because it's my birthday, I claim the face sitting that's happening later."
"Good, you can have it, because I forgot to buy you a present, anyway."
Santana sits up a little. "Shit, I could have just given her sex as my gift? I dropped, like, five bills some bling."
Quinn pulls her back down. "San, she has us on each arm wherever she goes, she has all the bling she needs."
Rachel smiles to herself as she drops her skirt in the hamper. Sex, a party, presents, and two of the sexiest girlfriends she could ever want.
Things have been great up until now, but twenty-five is going to be a fucking amazing year.