Title: Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth
Author: cracon
Rating: NC17
Length: 4246
Pairings / Characters: Rachel/Quinn
Spoilers: some for Disney's Pocahontas (not much, though), none for Glee, I think
Summary: "I'm not doing this with you here."
A/N: Title is from the song "Colour of the Wind" from Disney's Pocahontas.

A halloween costume party.

No, really.

An honest to god halloween costume party.

In January.

Miraculously the whole glee club decided not only to have this madness of a party but also on a theme.

That's how Rachel Berry finds herself dressed as Disney's Pocahontas on said post-post-post-halloween party in Puck's house.

Although she would've loved to be Sleeping Beauty it's not such a big deal for her, really. They all decided to mix things up. Santana threatens to castrate everybody who even looks at her Mulan costume funny. Brittany is dancing through the room as Tiana and Mercedes dons a Rapunzel costume. Mike is the Prince Charming to Tina's wonderful Snow White. Puck's barely there costume and the toy monkey on his shoulder indentify him as Aladdin immediately. Finn wears the incredibly puffy costume of Prince Edward. The only one actually wearing less than Puck is Artie in his Tarzan outfit. Underneath the big hat and the heavy make-up of Captain Jack Sparrow is Sam. Blaine is Prince Eric. And Kurt … Kurt is Hercules, and currently flirting with both Prince Eric and Captain Jack Sparrow.

There goes Rachel's childhood.


So far she hasn't spotted her girlfriend, yet. Which is a pity because Rachel is looking forward to her girlfriend sporting a costume of Ariel and—

A tap on her bare shoulder and a husked "Hey there, beautiful," whispered directly in her right ear makes her shudder and interrupts her thoughts.

Quinn has finally arrived to the party but when Rachel spins around her eyes do not see the costume she was expecting.

"You—You are …" Rachel starts but stops again. This is one of the few instances where her girlfriend caught her completely off guard.

Quinn sheepishly scratches the back of her neck before she straightens the askew helmet on her head.

"Is this okay?" She asks, suddenly insecure. "I know we said that the girls should be one of the many princesses and I know I agreed to it initially but I don't really like Ariel and the rest I like were already taken and you're the only Belle for me," Quinn mumbles, her eyes downcast and her face rapidly reddening.

Rachel smiles at her before cupping her cheeks, prompting her girlfriend to look at her.

"To assort all the girls with the princesses and the boys with the princes was a stupid idea anyway. I think Noah just wanted an excuse to run around shirtless. For what it's worth, I think you make a very handsome John Smith," she ends with a peck on Quinn's lips.

"I'm glad," Quinn whispers, connecting their lips again for a few times before she pulls away. "Because I thought, you know, Mike and Tina have a couple's costume, and I knew that Santana just wanted to look cool and Britt doesn't care about couple's costumes anyway, so … but I wasn't sure …"

"Quinn, it's perfectly fine. You're a dashing John Smith to my Pocahontas."

"Thanks," Quinn mumbles once again. "You make a quite … dashing Pocahontas as well," she continues, her right index finger slowly tracing the rim of the single shoulder strap of Rachel's costume down to Rachel's breasts, tugging the fabric there. "Pretty hot," she smirks.

Rachel opted to not wear the blue necklace because Pocahontas was supposed to marry the man her father approved of with it. Also the few ones she found looked atrocious and not at all like the movie version. And Rachel wasn't keen to spend a huge amount of money on a good looking costume prop for a glee club party. But it's not like her girlfriend minds an unobstructed view of her chest.

Rachel hums. "I'm kinda bummed out that most of you is hidden underneath a helmet and this chest armour thingy, though" she pouts.

"Oh, yeah," Quinn concedes, "It's pretty hot underneath it, too. So if you don't mind, I'd like to take it off later on so that I won't get a heatstroke. On a Halloween party. In January."

"I definitely like that idea," Rachel smirks.


Now it is later and they're drunk.

Because it's a party. Hosted by Puck.

At least they all learned their lesson and won't mix cough syrup with alcohol anymore. And they were clever enough to assign the sleeping arrangements before the drinking.

Well. Okay. They played for it.

And who knew that Rachel was a pro at poker? Quinn sure didn't. But it's not like her intoxicated libido had a problem with her girlfriend winning them some much needed alone time in the guest room.

A room that they didn't have to share with anybody.

A room of one's own.

(Although Virginia Woolf might have had other activities in mind for such a particular room.)

It's not like Rachel planned on having sex after the party, even though somewhere in the back of her mind she probably should've expected it to happen, since Disney seems to be kind of their thing ever since Quinn's Mary Poppins sex dream.

(At this point Rachel cannot watch half of her Disney collection without blushing. And she certainly can't watch most of the movies with her fathers sitting next to her on the couch. A whole childhood ruined just because her girlfriend developed a kink for Disney-themed sex.)

So, it's not like Rachel dressed up specifically with sex in her mind. No. They assigned the costumes in Glee club, for heaven's sake!

And she realises that maybe that was the moment she should've put the kibosh on the whole party.

It's just … the skirt of her Pocahontas costume is naturally short, ending somewhere above her knees, and there's only one shoulder strap that holds the dress up and then there's the easily accessable zipper on the back of the costume …

By the time her brain catches up with what's happening Quinn has already slammed the door shut and locked it, shoved her onto the bed and divested her of her faux-suede dress.

(It's cotton. She's not going to support the slaughtering of animals for a simple Halloween costume. Maybe for the leading role in a Broadway play, very very very begrudgedly, and maybe not even then, but certainly not for a Glee club halloween party costume.)

Quinn is hovering above her, knees resting between Rachel's open legs. She took off her helmet and chest armour a long time ago, claiming they gave her hot flushes, and the only source of light in the guest room, a dim lamp on the bedside table, gives her a positively devilish look. Her pupils are blown, a mix of being in the semi-darkness, the alcohol and her arousal reflecting back to Rachel.

She smirks down at her girlfriend and Rachel feels a shiver going down her spine as well as goosebumps errupting all over her skin.

Quinn lowers her head down, just her head, her face hidden in the crook of Rachel's neck, before she slowly kisses her way upwards on Rachel's throat, stopping just below her ear.

And that's where she stays for what Rachel thinks is an excruciating amount of time. The coarse cotton of Quinn's costume feels tortorous where it touches her naked skin and she's been craving some serious skin-on-skin contact ever since Quinn looked like she wanted to eat her when she won all the poker games earlier in the evening. But now this feeling is only intensified due to the alcohol flowing through her system and good grief, why won't Quinn move or at least take off her shirt?

Rachel squirms beneath her girlfriend and reaches down to tug at the hem of the shirt, only to be stopped by Quinn's hands on both of her wrists, pulling them upwards again and pinning them down above Rachel's head with her right hand, the other one slowly gliding down her right arm until she feels the red paint of the markings that are slightly raised against the skin. Rachel can feel Quinn smirk against her skin before her girlfriend whispers in her ear.

"Patience is a virtue, dear, did no one in your tribe ever teach you that?"

Rachel wants to roll her eyes or at least frown at her, because, really, isn't it enough that she's buzzed and lying almost helpless and naked underneath her girlfriend already, now she has to roleplay, too?

"Quinn, come on," she whines, arching her back up to get more contact than what Quinn is currently offering her. Alas, as if she has predicted her movements, the girl above her pulls away a bit. Rachel huffs. Normally she's above begging so early in their trysts, but somehow it feels like the foreplay lasted for hours.

Ever since Quinn joined the party. With every brush of Quinn's fingers against her skin—her shoulders, arms, even her legs—whether done consciously or unconsciously by her girlfriend, with every sip of the pretty red cocktails Santana handed her, Rachel was left wanting more.

Wanting to rid Quinn of her costume as soon as possible, wanting to hover above her, wanting to run her hands all over her girlfriend's soft skin, wanting to feel the firm muscles underneath it move as she kisses Quinn senseless, wanting to feel the smooth skin getting warmer with every seemlingy careless brush of Rachel's hands against Quinn's sides, wanting to hear her moan, wanting to feel the muscles of Quinn's lower stomach quiver as Rachel let's her hand slowly glide lower to—damnit, why won't Quinn just move?

Rachel pouts. Quinn's kneeling position between her legs makes it impossible for Rachel to get some much needed relief.

"Baby, come on. I'm almost naked, wet and wanton underneath you. What more do you need, a written invitation?"

"Where's the gold, Rachel?" Quinn suddenly asks and now Rachel is even more confused.

"What gold?"

"You know, the yellow stuff, comes out of the ground, pretty valuable. The countless treasures your people are so famous for. Tell me and I'll be able to send my people on their way without any bloodshed done," Quinn replies, still trailing soft kisses along her girlfriend's throat, occasionally stopping to nibble at the soft skin.

"There's only one hidden treasure here and it's not gold," Rachel guffaws before she continues, "And I'm not doing this with you here. Either get a move on or I'll do it myself and you won't even be allowed to watch."

Quinn abruptly pulls back and glares down at her.




"No. You're in costume. I'm in ... well, I was in costume. That's all I'm giving you regarding that matter. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Quinn huffs, "Be boring then."

"I'd hardly call our sex life boring," Rachel snorts. "Thanks to you I won't be able to watch most Disney classics with my dads ever again. Come on, don't argue right now. As a compromise, why don't you go all out on the next one? In the privacy of one of our own rooms, and not here, where the possibility of one of our friends overhearing certain things is entirely too high for my liking."

Quinn seemingly ponders the idea before she leans back on her haunches and pulls her shirt off with one fluid and coordinated movement.


Rachel stares at the suddenly revealed skin before her and clenches her fists. Then she notices that to get off her shirt Quinn needed both of her hands so technically she's free to move, but as soon as she sits up and reaches out to touch the glorious skin Quinn already has one hand against her sternum and pushes her back down with a smirk on her lips.

"Patience is still a virtue."

"I've been plenty patient. I've been patient for hours!" Rachel answers indignantly, just short of crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Must you fight me on every little thing?" Quinn sighs.

"You love it," Rachel answers mischievously.

"Yes, most of the time but not all the time."

Rachel pouts but is temporarily mollified when Quinn leans down and kisses it away. She feels a warm hand glide between her back and the bed and moments later her strapless bra is gone. Determinedly Rachel opens the clasp of Quinn's bra and after a bit of maneuvering she throws it in the general direction of the floor.

And things are great now, because, hello, half-naked Quinn right before her eyes and more importantly her mouth but before she can profit from it Quinn's mouth is on her chest and who cares about Quinn's breasts at this point, really.

Rachel sure doesn't.

Quinn is placing soft kisses all over her skin, slowly making her way towards—

Rachel still has the presence of mind to bite her bottom lip as the girl begins to pay much needed attention to her nipple with her tongue to stop a spectacular moan from escaping her lips. After all, some of their friends are sleeping in the rooms next-door and she doesn't want them to hear them. (They'll most likely speculate anyway since there are probably hickeys all over her neck, but she really doesn't want them to have audible proof.)

Meanwhile Quinn is still sucking on her right nipple and battering her tongue against it in regular intervals while her hand caresses the other one. Which is awesome. Everything is awesome right now and Rachel can't believe Quinn wanted to unnecessarily prolong this awesomeness by roleplaying.

Her girlfriend releases her nipple and carefully scoots backwards, giving the other one a short peck before lying down fully, at last, Rachel's heated centre resting against Quinn's stomach.

But it's not like it stays there for long, depriving Rachel from getting some relief by simply grinding against her girlfriend. No. Quinn is steadily slinking away further down until her head is almost where Rachel wants it to be.

And then it is, because Rachel feels Quinn kneel up again and helps her lift her hips up and guides her panties down her legs and moments later Quinn is back in her original position. The hot puffs of air she's emitting against her stoke the fire within Rachel even more and she reaches down, grabbing a handful of blonde hair at the back of Quinn's head and pulls her closer, the command silent but crystal clear.

Her girlfriend complies, hooking both of her arms around Rachel's thighs, one hand resting on her hip, the other on the soft but toned stomach, scratching it lightly. She pulls Rachel nearer and instantly Rachel's eyes snap shut and she slaps her free hand over her own mouth, hoping to muffle the sounds that threaten to split the silence around them with every wipe of Quinn's tongue against her clit, along the length of her. And when Quinn finally pushes her tongue inside Rachel cries out and proceeds to bite the side of her hand instead to keep her sounds at bay.

It doesn't take long for her to come. Firstly because she was embarrassingly close already and secondly because her girlfriend seems to be some kind of prodigy when it comes to getting her off with her mouth.

Rachel doesn't mind at all.

Her hand falls almost lifelessly from her mouth and the other one has lost its firm grip on Quinn, just running her fingers through the hair now.

Her chest is still heaving from the intensity of her orgasm when Quinn pulls herself up and crushes their lips together, leaving Rachel breathless and moaning at the taste of herself on her girlfriend's tongue.

When Rachel feels confident enough that she actually has regained the feeling in her legs she fully intends to flip them over so that she can have some fun with Quinn. But when she squeezes her thighs around Quinn's hovering hips, to pull her closer and roll them over, Quinn surprisingly grinds down and Rachel's mouth falls open in a silent moan.

"Oh god," she gets out through clenched teeth, her arms that are wound around Quinn's back crashing their naked chests forcefully together.

Quinn hums, her face hidden in the crook of Rachel's neck again, trying to leave hickeys everywhere she can reach. With every roll of her hips against Rachel's she can feel her throat bobbing underneath her lips when Rachel swallows and Rachel knows that there'll be a wet spot on the front of Quinn's costume pants as soon as she pulls away..

"Have you been wearing this—have you—Quinn, I'm trying to—dear god," Rachel actually moans this time and Quinn hurries to claim her mouth with her own, stiffling the sound.

"You need to be quiet," Quinn husks between kisses, never stopping the rolling of her hips, "Our friends are sleeping in the other rooms."

"I know," Rachel pants, "And you thought it'd be a good idea to—to bring—"

"I think it's a spectular idea," Quinn grins down at her, looking like the cat that ate the canary. She stops their grinding however to give her girlfriend the chance to speak.

Rachel takes deep breaths, trying to regain her senses. Quinn's hips, still nestled firmly against her own, but thankfully not moving, don't make the task any easier though.

"Have you been wearing this ever since you came to the party?"

Quinn shakes her her head, shifting a bit to rest her weight on her forearms on both sides of Rachel's head instead of her hands.

"No. I had it in my bag and put it on after we all started to take a few shots and I was still coordinated enough to work out the mechanics. It was the only way to make sure Santana and Britt wouldn't notice it over the course of the party. And you were way too preoccupied winning the poker game afterwards to notice. As was the rest of the club. And then of course everyone was preoccupied with the alcohol."

"And you thought it'd be a good idea to bring this to a glee club party? What if somebody had noticed something?"

Rachel's breath hitches when Quinn slowly begins to grind their hips together again.

"Nobody noticed. And I still think it's a capital idea."

Any protest Rachel could probably have dies in her throat as soon as Quinn's lips are on her own again, their bare chests rubbing together and their hips continuing to grind together powerfully.

Well, if you can't defeat them, join them.

Rachel moves her hands down and works at Quinn's belt, opening it and tugging the loose pants of the costume down as good as she can from that position. But then she encounters another obstacle.

"What's that?" She grumbles against Quinn's lips.

"My cheerios spankies," Quinn mumbles back. "Without them it would've been too obvious."

"Oh my god, did you practice how to hide it at home in front of a mirror?"

"Maybe," she smirks.

"Take it off," Rachel demands, snapping the waistband of the spanks impatiently. "Take it all off."

Quinn pulls away and raises one eyebrow. "All of it?"

Rachel rolls her eyes and pushes her girlfriend away to speed this along. "Quinn."

"Right, just joking."

Quinn rolls to the side and then stands next to the bed, taking off her black boots—and now is the first time Rachel notices that she is still wearing her 'not part of the costume but I refuse to go barefoot' moccasins, too, but Quinn is already taking care of those, letting them fall on the floor right next to her boots with a thump—and then she's pushing down the navy blue pants of her costume as well as her fire-red spanks and Rachel can't bring herself to look into Quinn's eyes anymore.

It's not like she's seeing it for the first time. They bought it together, for heaven's sake, after blushing and giggling their way through various online shops, comparing prices, styles, colours, discussing sizes and finally deciding on one.

It's not like they're using it for the first time, either. Rachel knows exactly what Quinn is going to work with here and yet she can't bring herself to tear her eyes away.

It's green and moderately sized, because they wanted a colour that was decidedly not lifelike—also "Pink goes good with green," Rachel declared, prompting Quinn to ask what pink thing she planned on buying. Rachel's smirk spelled trouble and Quinn should've known better because when Rachel whispered "You're pink. On the inside. And that's where it'll be going," in her ear they only got around to clicking the 'buy' button two hours later—and a size that didn't have them both running to the hills in fear, and the knowledge that Quinn wore it for the better part of the evening, undetected, has Rachel instantly gushing between her thighs.

Quinn takes a step forward and the movement makes the strap-on bob up and down a bit, prompting Rachel to bite her bottom lip. When Quinn rests one knee on the mattress Rachel finally drags her eyes up to her face, her teeth still holding her lip captive.

"What's wrong?" She asks timidly. "We did this before."

Rachel shakes her head. "That's not it," she says, pulling Quinn closer by her hand and helping her settle comfortably on top of her, her forearms resting on both sides of her head once again. She wraps her arms around Quinn's back and kisses her, trying to ease her girlfriend's sudden anxiety. They slowly rock together, the strap-on gliding through her folds, coating it with her wetness and bumping against her over-sensitive clit every once in a while.

Rachel knows that with Quinn wearing the strap-on for the last few hours, in hope of this happening, and their earlier activities she probably won't need much to be pushed towards her own orgasm. Rachel herself feels like she's already halfway to her next one once she discovered what Quinn was wearing underneath the costume.

So, when she plants her feet on the comforter and reaches down between them with one hand to align the strap-on, she pulls Quinn's head next to her own with the other and whispers into her girlfriend's ear.

"I know that it isn't necessary for both of us since you can make me wet with just a look, but one day I'd really like to—"

The 'blow you' is drowned out by Quinn's long groan in the crook of her neck at the images that are now in her mind. She rolls her hips forward and the sudden but definitely welcomed intrusion makes Rachel moan in return.

They stay like that for a moment, letting Rachel adjust, before Quinn pull her hips back and Rachel can almost feel the strap-on leave her body before her girlfriend pushes back in again. They establish a rhythm shortly after, with Rachel's hips rising up to meet Quinn's every time she pushes back in, her feet on the mattress giving her some additional leverage and helping her to spread her legs wider apart. One of Rachel's hands is on the back of Quinn's head, scratching her scalp and grabbing on to her hair whenever Quinn takes a break from the kissing and decides to almost maul the sensitive skin at her neck. The other one is on Quinn's ass, pushing down whenever their hips meet.

Rachel can barely hear anything else over the blood rushing in her ears and her girlfriend's whimpers but she knows that the distant sloshing sound she hears is exact proof of how much her girlfriend turns her on.

Rachel was right by assuming that they won't last long, because she knows that with every downward thrust and the added resistence of herself the insert brushes against Quinn's clit all the time, bringing her to her orgasm fast.

Quinn comes with a soft mewl after a few more hard thrusts and barely refrains from completely smothering Rachel underneath her. Instead she manages to settle softly on top of her, her breath still ragged. She's panting, trying to regain oxygen and her normal heartbeat and the puffs of air make Rachel shiver every time they hit her sweaty skin.

Which is all fine and dandy, really, hurray for Quinn, but Rachel hasn't come yet and she's still standing at the precipice. So close, yet so far.

"Baby," she rasps. Quinn grunts in lieu of an answer. "Quinn, I haven't—please, just a bit more—"

It takes a few seconds for Quinn to move again, to muster up the strength, and when she does it's only her hips, barely even pulling away from Rachel. But it feels glorious and it's enough and when Rachel let's her own hand slide sideways from Quinn's ass between them to rub at her clit she comes after a few more semi-thrusts.

They're both panting and Rachel settles her legs around Quinn's, fully craddling her hips between her thighs. When Quinn moves to pull away she squeezes her legs and wraps both her arms around her back.

"Stay," she mumbles, her eyes closed.

Quinn hums an affirmative and stays, her face comfortably resting in the crook of Rachel's neck.

Rachel feels herself slowly drift to sleep shortly after, but she still manages to catch Quinn's low murmur and her lips moving against her skin.

"What was that?"

"I hereby claim this land in the name of the Republic of Quinn."

"Don't push it."