Title: Luminous Flux
Spoilers: None, totally AU
Disclaimer: I own neither Glee nor Marvel Comics.
Summary: Glee/X-Men crossover. Filled for a prompt at the glee_kink_meme. Rachel's a telepath.
A/N: This has been on my livejournal for close to a year but a friend prompted me to post it here as well. Hope you like it.
There weren't many things in the world that Quinn Fabray was sure of — except that Rachel Berry was a mutant.
She had to be. There was no other explanation for the diminutive girl's powerhouse voice, unstoppable talent, or ability to invade Quinn's dreams and every waking thought. And while Quinn herself didn't have much of a problem with mutants, per se (unlike her father who ranted on and on about how they should be sniffed out and exterminated like the vermin they were), she did have a problem with Rachel Barbra Berry. Her problem wasn't that she hated the girl, no. Because she didn't, not really. While Quinn was still learning to accept that she wasn't completely heterosexual, she was having difficulty accepting that her gay-type feelings were for McKinley's resident social pariah. It was terrible and would destroy her reputation if anyone found out. However, it seemed that someone already knew. And was using it against her.
The dark haired diva was a constant thorn in her side, torturing Quinn day and night with thoughts and visions of the two of them naked and writhing as tangled sheets clung to their sweat soaked skin. She'd wake up panting and wet and unable to sleep. Or unwilling. She couldn't risk it even if no sleep meant poor cheerleading practices and an addled brain. Her grades were slipping. She'd always been on the honor roll without any problems, yet lately she felt like she was hanging by the skin of her teeth. All because Rachel was projecting these images into her mind as a way of having power over her, showing she knew about Quinn's crush. Or obsession. Whatever. The point was that Rachel was doing this on purpose to hurt her. Without a doubt, the girl was a telepath of some kind.
Nervously bouncing her knee to stay awake and avoid the dreams of the flushed brunette begging for her touch, Quinn leaned back in her seat and surveyed the empty choir room. Her free period had just begun, and she fought off the urge to nap in favor of finishing her calculus assignment. The last thing she wanted to do was lug home that damned heavy book. The door creaked open and she corrected herself. Oh no. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Rachel Mind-Reader-Lesbian-Seductress Berry.
The teen in question stood frozen in the doorway, music books clutched to her chest and brown eyes as big as Mercedes's hoop earrings. The normally hideous attire was replaced by a simple long sleeved top and a pair of dark blue, bootcut jeans encasing gorgeous legs that wrapped around Quinn every night in her dreams. The cheerleader crossed her arms over her chest to hide her rapidly firming nipples, ashamed at how her body responded to Rachel. Who looked good. She licked her lips. Good enough to eat.
Before her mind could continue down that path, a path that usually ended with her head between those spectacular legs and had obviously been forced into her thoughts by the tiny telepath, Rachel cleared her throat and spoke.
That mesmerizing voice had to be part of her arsenal of mutant powers because the blonde could never ignore the sound, either singing or talking. God, even the way she said her name ignited a fire in Quinn's belly. Maybe provoking physical sensation via mind control was an aspect of telepathy, too. It's not like she knew for sure, the government was still studying just what these mutants were capable of. She bit back a moan as she zeroed in on the brunette's mouth, unable to look away.
"Berry," she greeted, finding her voice somewhere low in her throat.
The singer shut the door and moved to the piano with slow, cautious steps. Quinn watched with narrowed eyes, wondering if Rachel was reading her mind right now. Immediately, the brunette's shoulders stiffened and her steps faltered just slightly. Ha! Well, that was a clue if Quinn ever saw one, but she had to be sure, and there was only one way to test that and see if Rachel could hear her.
Hey Manhands, she thought.
Nothing. Not even a blink.
Still nothing. Rachel only sat at the piano and began playing scales. Quinn sighed. If Rachel was listening, of course she'd know not to respond, right? Even now, she already knew Quinn's plan, didn't she? The blonde snorted in frustration before remembering that a picture was worth a thousand words. Berry may be able to ignore Quinn calling out to her, but she couldn't possibly ignore this.
Hazel eyes closed and she concentrated on last night's dream. Just her and Rachel, lying on a bed that didn't belong to either of them but felt like theirs. Thick, dark hair splayed over ivory sheets as she hovered above the supine diva, thrusting her fingers deep inside the girl's wet heat. Rachel bucked and writhed, begging her for more.
She squeezed her thighs together at the dream-memory, knowing she was wet and that there was nothing she could do about it, but it was a small price to pay if it proved her theory. She'd just have to take care of it when she got home. The young mutant had been planting these hallucinations in her mind for the last six months with no reprieve, leaving Quinn only one option. Today certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten off to thoughts of fucking Rachel Berry. Of those pleading brown eyes and rolling hips and that voice crying out, "Harder. Faster. Please, Quinn please."
The jarring sound of broken notes filled the room, yanking Quinn out of her reflections, and she opened her eyes to see Rachel, chin dropped to her chest and palms flat on the keys. She'd heard her. Holy shit, she'd HEARD her!
Jumping to her feet, the blonde raised an accusatory finger at the other girl. "I knew it!" With the adrenaline rush of the vindicated, Quinn skipped down the risers and skidded to a halt next to the piano, glaring at the smaller girl. "You can read minds! You're a mutant, aren't you?" she whisper yelled. She chalked up the excitement in her voice to having her suspicions validated and not the outlandish idea that she wanted Rachel to know about her nightly solo indulgences.
A small, shaky hand ran through glossy chestnut hair as Rachel raised her head defiantly. "I can, and I am, yes."
Quinn shivered at the quiet intensity of the reply. Or maybe it was the way those normally warm brown eyes turned nearly black and raked over her in blatant appraisal. A wave of arousal crashed through her before reality set in. Rachel really was a telepath, a mutant. She gulped, and the news sat like a lead ball in her stomach. Rachel just admitted her most dangerous secret to Quinn, but why?
"It's not as though I can deny it, Quinn. Your hypothesis was correct." Rachel rubbed her temples in small circles, brow furrowed and gorgeous brown eyes closed.
She instantly missed the coffee-colored gaze even though it made her belly twist in the most confusing way. She really liked Rachel's eyes. As for the rest of the diva…
She swallowed harshly as visions of golden skin shimmering in her moonlight filled dreams, and of a luscious red mouth parted to take in sharp breaths and release high-pitched moans, panned through her brain. Some mornings when she woke she swore she could actually taste Rachel on her tongue. And it was all the little telepath's fault!
A low chuckle rumbled out of the singer's chest and the blonde quirked an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Rachel shrugged, resting her hands in her lap. "I just find it interesting that of all the secrets I hear every day, the ones I find most fascinating and complimentary come from the girl who ostensibly can't stand me. Who knew you had so vivid an imagination, Ms. Fabray?" Shaking her head, she closed the lid on the piano keys and began collecting her music. "And for the record, anything that goes on in that sex-obsessed brain of yours is not my fault."
"Of course it is! I can't sleep because you won't stop teasing me you — you mutant!" Quinn shouted.
Suddenly Rachel launched off the bench and covered her hand over the taller girl's mouth, slamming her against the piano. "Keep your voice down!" she hissed. "You and I both know exactly what could happen to me if anyone finds out, so shut up!"
Shocked by the angry outburst, vastly different from the teenager's normally oh so polite demeanor, Quinn nodded; the entire world knew about that Warlock guy and the whole genocide in Genosha. She didn't want to think about the consequences if anyone in Lima knew about Rachel.
However, the feeling of the toned body pressing into hers, holding her in place, quickly overrode any coherent thought, anyway. Thoroughly pissed and looking a little afraid, Rachel Berry was ridiculously gorgeous: flushed and breathing heavily, kind of like when she was mid-orgasm in Quinn's dreams. Her mind became a jumble of snapshots of the two of them in some of her totally-awesome-but-completely-not-her-fault-fantasies. Like the one where she fingered Rachel backstage during a glee competition, or when the petite diva went down on her in the locker room after Cheerios practice.
Rachel's nostrils flared and her eyes darkened even more before the diva grabbed her about the waist and pulled their bodies together. Both groaned, each taken aback by the unexpected thrill rushing through her. She must've seen everything in Quinn's mind and the blonde felt a rush of heat between her legs, secretly loving Rachel's reaction. Briefly, she wondered if these dreams were really manipulative projections or if maybe they could have been her own doing. No, it had to be Rachel. She had to be putting this stuff in her head.
"Sorry, but no," Rachel smirked, holding her close. "I'm not that kind of telepath." Her voice was little more than a whisper, and Quinn shivered as the singer's fingers slid under her uniform and walked across the small of her back. "I can't make you see things. Only read what's there. And I sometimes make suggestions — which I try not to do unless Mr. Schuester is being particularly obtuse and needs some guidance in running rehearsals or choosing songs and soloists. But I swear I haven't done that in a long time!" she said defensively.
Gone was the teasing temptress and there in her place stood Rachel Berry, future Broadway star that McKinley High knew and…slushied. The cheerleader frowned, remembering how badly she and everyone else treated the girl, and that was while thinking she was just another human. And there were some people — practically the whole town — that would go after the girl within the blink of an eye if they found out otherwise. Quinn's father was one of them. She again shook her head of the unspoken possibilities of how much worse off Rachel would be if anyone else knew her secret. A strange compulsion to protect the shorter girl flashed through her and it was time to change the topic.
"So what do you do then?"
"Not much, really." Rachel shrugged, hiding a smile. "I can read thoughts, but I don't go into people's heads for my own merriment. I try to stay out usually. Except when I'm tired and can't ignore when everyone's thinking too loudly."
She frowned, so not getting it, but liking the way Rachel hadn't let go.
The smooth fingertips resumed their glide just above the waistline of her Cheerio skirt, and the brunette smiled and elaborated. "If someone has so much going on in their head, it spills out of their energy field. Like playing music in a closed room. If you keep turning the volume up, eventually it will seep out into the hall for anyone to hear. I just happen to be someone who actually can. Besides," she grinned devilishly, "I'm more of an empath than a telepath."
"An empath." Rachel looked up at her through jet black lashes. "I can feel you." She leaned in, and Quinn shivered as the shorter girl's hot breath washed over her neck, followed by an even hotter tongue.
"Those naughty daydreams of yours?" she whispered. "I can feel them just as much as I can hear what you think about them."
The taller girl bit her lip as Rachel pressed against her lithe frame, but when a muscular, jean clad thigh wedged its way between her legs she couldn't hold back her moan. The brunette's lids fluttered at the sound and her mouth dropped small kisses to Quinn's throat. I know exactly how wet you are and just how badly you want to fuck me.
Quinn whimpered and nearly came undone right then. Hearing Rachel's husky voice in her head, feeling the full lips against her skin and the denim rubbing through her damp panties was intoxicating and all her blood drained south.
"Have you ever wondered what happens in the brain during sex, Quinn? Or during an orgasm?" Rachel rasped, pushing her strong thigh forward. "Reading someone's thoughts as they come, falling apart in ecstasy? It's like watching a lightshow." She nipped Quinn's earlobe. "Or a lightening storm." Small hands gripped Quinn's ass and urged her along the rough fabric covering the telepath's thigh, pushing into her hard. "Like a fucking star exploding."
A loud moan tore from the blonde's throat as she wrapped one arm around Rachel's shoulders and braced the other on top of the piano behind her for support. However hot and exciting her dreams, they didn't compare to the real thing. It was almost too much. She could feel the heat of Rachel's sun-kissed skin and smell her vanilla shampoo. She reveled in the gasping breaths echoing in her ears and, Heaven help her, she'd never seen anything more extraordinarily beautiful than those coal black eyes staring right through her. Quinn wanted more. She wanted it all.
"Tell me," she gasped as Rachel's teeth grazed down the side of her neck.
The brunette hummed as she sucked at Quinn's pulse point then pulled away with a growl. "How about I show you instead?"
The blonde nodded hurriedly and Rachel kissed up her neck as she dexterously slipped into the cheerleader's panties. "Feel this?" Her fingers trailed through Quinn's dripping folds, just the faintest of caresses.
Eyes fluttering shut, Quinn whimpered.
"Good." Rachel nibbled along the blonde's jaw, two fingers poised at her entrance. "Now feel this."
The instant those powerful fingers plunged inside her, Rachel invaded her mind.
Quinn stilled as the two girls' minds meshed. Their thoughts melded as the brunette moved in her, and her pulse raced as though she had two hearts beating in her chest trying to outdo each other. Then she saw...everything.
A plethora of fireworks burst behind her eyes, popping and fizzling with each thrust of Rachel's fingers. Brilliant hues of blues and purples shot out of her and into Rachel, connecting them together, and a bright turquoise assaulted her brain as the singer adjusted her angle, hitting that thrilling spot inside her with unfailing accuracy. Streams of lime green and electric yellow reflected in their minds, changing directions as they refracted through Quinn's sex-fogged brain and back into the telepath's.
She didn't know who said it - she couldn't possibly. They were so intricately and intimately entwined that Quinn honestly wasn't sure where she stopped and Rachel began. Her hips bucked, striving for a physical connection to rival the depths of their telepathic one. Rachel was inside her in ways unimaginable and she was desperate for more.
No sooner did she say it than the brunette's mouth was on hers, crushing and bruising her in their first kiss. Distantly, she realized she didn't need to speak at all: Rachel already knew. Already knew that Quinn needed her to go faster, harder, needed her to break her into billions of pieces that had no chance of reassembly. Knew that she needed Rachel, only Rachel.
A deft thumb pressed down on her clit and the lights in her head shot out like lasers from a galvanometer at a rock concert, bouncing back and forth between their mirrored minds.
"Oh God," the shorter girl moaned.
Rachel could feel her and she could feel Rachel. The rivers between their thighs, the burning of their lungs, their mingling scents that caught in her nose, the thundering of their hearts ringing in her ears — she was so close. The cheerleader rocked her hips harder, searching for the depth and friction she so urgently needed. "More. P-please."
A third finger slammed inside her dripping core as that so very nimble thumb flicked her clit and a tremendous jolt rocketed up Quinn's spine like a lit fuse on its way to a powder keg. The detonation behind her hazel eyes was blinding, it was like watching an atomic bomb go off or a hypergiant star supernova. Everything flared red.
"Oh, fu — RACHEL!"
The intensity of her climax astonished them both and Rachel shook, feeling Quinn's release and coming right along with her. And her world blasted in a dazzling display of colors no human should be able to recognize and the entire light spectrum flashed throughout her mind's eye as Rachel came undone in her arms. Soon the pyrotechnics faded, and Quinn saw black.
Everything was blurry when she opened her eyes, but she could tell where she was just from the smell of bleach and lollipops. Nurse's office. Great. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights, and tried to sit up before her head swam and she toppled back to the roll-away bed with a groan.
"You really shouldn't move just yet."
The voice was clear and strong and entirely unfamiliar. Quinn glanced to her right and saw a tall, stunning woman with platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight bun wearing a crème colored business suit and heels. Her hands were in her pockets and she leaned against the wall emitting an aura of strength and superiority that the Cheerio had only ever encountered with Ms. Sylvester. And even at her most menacing, Coach never looked this powerful or intimidating. Yet, the ice blue eyes boring into her held no malice, they actually looked concerned.
"Whoo'er yoo?" she slurred, wondering why her tongue wasn't cooperating.
"Emma Frost, headmistress at Massachusetts Academy. I'm on a bit of a scouting trip."
Good to know. But that didn't explain why she was here or what was going on. Her mind flashed to the moment before everything went blank. Rachel's dark eyes were wide and shining, her bangs were sticking to her forehead and her chest heaved with every breath, pushing into Quinn's just as her fingers pushed her over the edge. It was amazing. So what the hell happened?
The strange woman cleared her throat. "You passed out. And your…friend," she let the word hang in the air, "went for help. She seemed very worried." Ms. Frost's voice was kind, but Quinn wasn't so sure she liked the small smirk on her face.
"Okaaaaaay," she dragged the word out. As Cheerio captain she was a representative of McKinley High, and was required to be polite and welcoming, especially to an administrator from another school, but frankly, her head hurt like a bitch and all she wanted was answers. And Rachel.
"Principal Figgins was giving me a tour when your friend came out looking for assistance. It seems you perhaps experienced something you couldn't quite handle. Yet." The older woman pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward Quinn like she was sizing up her prey. Clever and discerning. "Hence, the headache."
Creeped out and a little frightened, Quinn narrowed her eyes in suspicion as something in her brain clicked. This woman was either incredibly perceptive, or psychic. Ms. Frost laughed out loud and Quinn bristled. If this chick was a mutant, then in theory she'd hear Quinn. And get the hell out of her head. Respectfully.
"Fine, fine," the Headmistress waved her off. "I'll go just as soon as your girlfriend returns with your things."
"Rachel's not —"
"Not what?" She heard from the doorway.
Quinn tried sitting up again, wanting to see the small brunette, but a strong hand on her shoulder pushed her back onto the cot.
I told you not to move.
Chilled by the woman's voice inside her head, the cheerleader followed orders. She watched the visitor turn to Rachel and silence reigned over the room. Awkward. The singer stiffened defiantly and Quinn knew that expression anywhere. That was Rachel pretending to be brave in the face of a threat. Which was identical to her often seen stubborn diva persona. Her arms crossed and she looked to be on the verge of stomping her foot the same way she did when arguing with Schue. Ms. Frost's posture changed, too. It reminded Quinn of when her dad would get angry at her for not doing something that was in her "best interests" as he said. Her discomfort at being left out of their quiet argument (and at witnessing it in the first place) was displaced by the overwhelming desire to protect her friend, girlfriend — hell, she didn't know what they were. The confusion made her want to scream. Fuck, why was everything so complicated?
Two sets of eyes turned and focused on her. One set was a diamond hard stare that was slowly softening into bemusement, while the other pair was warm brown and swirled with a combination of sympathy and worry. Quinn was already defensive. "What?" she snapped.
The administrator shook her head with a sad smile. She nodded politely to Rachel without a word, or at least an audible one, before addressing the Cheerio. "You'll be better soon enough. Just remember some things take practice." She threw Quinn a quick wink and walked out.
"What was that about?"
Gingerly, Rachel sat on the edge of the tiny cot. "She wants me to transfer to her school for other — people more like me."
Quinn's mind spun with so many questions she was dizzy just lying there. The idea of Rachel leaving made her chest constrict and her stomach fall. And she wasn't ready to admit why. Judging from the shy smile taking over the brunette's face though, she didn't think she needed to say anything out loud.
"I'm not going." A small hand tentatively reached for hers. Quinn took it, staring at their interlaced fingers. "Yes, it'd be nice for a while but it doesn't have what I want."
Quinn took a deep breath and a chance. "What, no show choir or something?" Her thumb absently brushed over baby soft skin and Rachel squeezed her hand.
Their eyes locked. She got a little bit lost in the light behind Rachel's caring gaze and realized how much she'd like to see that look directed at her every day and what that would mean for them both. She sighed.
This wasn't going to be easy.
"Nothing worth anything is ever easy, Quinn."
The corners of her mouth twitched upward and she lifted up off the bed a little. With matching smiles, they met each other half way for a quiet, gentle kiss. It was nothing like in the glee room, but she loved it just as much. Vertigo caught her again, and Quinn groaned in pain and fell back. "How the hell do I get rid of this headache?"
Rachel cocked an eyebrow and leaned down, capturing the blonde's lips. I'm certain we'll think of something if we put our heads together.
There weren't many things in the world that Quinn Fabray was sure of — except that Rachel Berry was a really good kisser.