Title: These Three Hearts
Author: J Rease
Warnings: Fapezberry. Polygamy. Angst.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Can polygamous love survive? Will it survive when two of the girls are intersexed and are still figuring themselves out? Quinn Fabray is about to find out. Prompt fill. Fapezberry big love.
Prompt (From Anon): What about a Fapezberry fic? Where at least one of them are intersex or ftm. It could be about them figuring out how to be in a relationship together while also discovering/coming to terms with the physical differences they have. Would love something poetic and with angst but also with a real long term relationship coming out of it…instead of leaving it at just pure angst and my heart on the floor lol.
Authors Note: Two of the girls in this polygamous relationship are intersexed individuals. I don't know where this came from really… but I hope I did the prompt justice.
These Three Hearts
A love story
"What about us, Quinn? Just us, you and me, forever?"
They began as two; a pair, a couple. Before they were baptized in the unholiest of waters … they were just them. They were just Q and S… a set. No one knew that she came before Brittany. She was there before Brittany and the trinity and the history Santana and Brittany made together—without her. She was around before the pinky linking and secret sex. There was a time when she and Santana were joined at the hip; inseparable. They found each other by happenstance, two anomalies that fit together in ways the others would never really understand. Nestled in the heart of lazy Lima she found someone who was as unique as she was… but still so distinctly different.
They met in a very specific place in their lives. It was a time when they were both making decisions. Important decisions that involved stitching things shut, or cutting things off and tucking them inside... They had each other, in their quiet little bubble of secrets and hope. They grew up together in that short time it took to get acquainted. They were only thirteen but they dreamed together. Quinn and Santana—forever, no matter what. It sounded so romantic. But they never crossed that line. They could never be together that way… there were too many parts to fit between them. Together they would be too complicated, too confusing. They were best friends, two girls going through the same thing; together.
Then high school happened.
And suddenly, they were three; a trio, a trifecta— a crowd. Brittany and Santana grew closer, while she just watched... an outsider to their blossoming connection. She wasn't the keeper of San's secrets anymore, and their bubble popped the moment Santana decided that their reputation meant everything. High school and hierarchy forced her into relationships with Finn, and later Puck... and she watched her best friend promise forever to a blonde who wasn't her.
For a while, she hated Santana for leaving her. Enough to out her for a boob job that only covered up her stunted growth, because the hormones Santana were on weren't working. She could only hate Santana, because she couldn't hate Brittany. She couldn't hate Brittany because Santana loved Brittany. And because Brittany knew about Santana's secret. The secret hanging in the space between Santana's thighs... the secret she and Santana bonded over since they were thirteen, because no matter what Santana was lacking, or how much she herself had extra of... they had always been each other's support.
When Brittany started dating Artie, Santana came to her. She cried on her shoulder and threw as many insults at Artie as she could rant out through tears. She felt terrible for thanking a higher power, because her best friend was back, and they could be how they were before Santana fell in love—the two of them, against the world.
But then Rachel Berry happened.
The middle of freshman year, they picked her out. Rachel Berry—a girl with no chance of ever being popular; a moving target smart enough to never rat them out. She was their scapegoat. They accused her of being all of the things they were afraid would get out about them. They put her down on their own ascent into high school royalty. She didn't feel guilty when she threw that slushy in Rachel's face; not at first. But she did feel guilty when she watched the brunette crumble and run off, embarrassed.
Things got worse then. She couldn't get the girl out of her mind. Everywhere she turned, Rachel was there. Her sins were staring her in the face; her guilt forcing her to pay penance in lust—in unrequited longing. She would wake at night, wet and tenting her sheets, Rachel's name on the tip of her tongue like a forgotten fantasy. She realized quickly that she had to stay angry at the girl. She had to make reasons to hate her, or all of her hard work would be shattered.
She noticed a change in Santana then. When she tried her best to be cruel to Rachel, she found Santana suddenly defending her. She noticed the looks Santana gave Rachel when the brunette sang; they were hungry gazes and uninterrupted struggles to stay sane from her seat; insane from the want. It was the same guilty look she saw in herself at times.
And that's when their gentle comradery became fierce competition. Best friends fighting for the heart of a girl they both sacrificed for the sake of popularity. And Rachel was so wrapped up in Finn and so skeptical of their sudden interest in being her friend, that she would never give either of them a chance. Santana would never have her...but it was bittersweet victory knowing that she wouldn't either.
The moment Finn and Rachel broke up, Santana swooped in to comfort Rachel. Sometime during their fight for Rachel's heart, Santana had become a valuable friend to the object of her desire. It hurt, and she watched their relationship strengthen, while she sat on the sidelines; lost. It was a quick recovery, and she convinced herself that it was still an open playing field—because Rachel and Santana were still just friends. Her mind plays the memory in a flash—and she's thrown back in time to the first time she ate her own words.
The glee club had a party after they won sectionals that year. It was only customary that they celebrate the win. Puck scored alcohol, and they all danced to music in Santana's living room, since they were out of town for the weekend. She watched them all night. Canoodling on the couch, drinking by the stereo; she watched Santana run her hands through Rachel's hair and tried to read lips when Rachel whispered something salacious in Santana's ear. It was driving her mad, and she tried to pull Rachel away, but she was linked by Santana's hand through the majority of the night.
The glee club passed out one by one, and she sat dazed in a corner, a bottle of beer teetering on her fingertips over the arm of the recliner. Santana and Rachel were on the couch, oblivious to the dying party surrounding them. It was an intimate moment, but she tortured herself with the image of them leaning toward each other—their eyes refusing to waver. The kiss happened fast, and she saw victory flash over Santana's face even though her eyes were closed—right before Santana deepened their hesitant exploration.
She realizes that she did nothing to stop it.
She felt like her heart would explode in her chest from the mere force of her spirit dying. It wasn't fair that Santana was doing this when Rachel was at her most vulnerable. She was sure that Santana knew she was playing dirty.
It's then she realizes that they both can play that game.
The fading memory still hurts her chest like the first signs of a heart attack. She wanted to clutch at the pain, but there was nothing tangible to squeeze but the emptiness. She watched Santana and Rachel get closer, just like Santana and Brittany had. She watched them try to hide the blossoming romance between them. She sometimes followed them during Rachel's free period. Ducking into empty classrooms, and locking the bathroom doors. And she would wonder often if Santana had shown her the secret she still has to tuck into her spanks. She knows Santana's diversion tactics; she's managed her own system through the years. She wasn't sure if Santana could put herself out there again, after Brittany, and she realized that she had to do something drastic to stop Rachel from falling for Santana.
Rachel's room quickly became one of her favorite places. She'd only been there a handful of times, but she could always count on being surrounded by so much of her. Tonight was the night she was going to up the ante. She was going to give something to Rachel that she'd never given another person. The truth. She hoped this small act would give her the trust she needed from Rachel. If she was going to win her heart, she would have to have her trust, first.
They were sitting on her bed, flipping through magazines of things she would never remember through her nervousness. She was trying not to inhale Rachel's perfume, and she was trying not to follow the hem of Rachel's skirt as it drifted higher on her thighs. She takes a deep breath before shutting her magazine.
"Do you have any secrets, Rachel?"
Rachel closed her magazine before looking sideways at her.
"I suppose, but it would depend on what your criteria are for secrets. I could tell you that I still sometimes sleep with my baby blanket… but it might not count by your standards."
She smiles at Rachel, shaking her head before clarifying.
"No… I mean deep secrets. Secrets no one could ever know about because they could endanger the foundation of how you live your life?"
Rachel's face bunches in deep thought.
"You mean like… you're really a CIA agent and you've been investigating the whereabouts of a known felon?"
"I guess… if that was your secret, yes. Something like that. Something big."
Rachel turns to her and stares at her doubtfully. Rachel seems to examine her features before facing forward again.
"Well…no. I try not to keep secrets like those. Why do you ask?"
This was her chance. All she had to do was say it out loud. All she had to do is give Rachel this little piece of her, this small ransom.
"I have a secret like that. I have a secret that I've been keeping for a long time and I just want someone else to know. Someone I can talk to about all the things I'm going through. But they'd have to keep my secret too."
Rachel's eyes are low. Her bottom lip looks succulent and it's directly in front of her line of sight as she reaches over to put a warm hand on her forearm. She gulps before Rachel speaks again.
"Quinn, you can tell me anything. Anything at all and I will never judge you."
The way she says it makes her have faith in every word that touched the space between them.
"Rachel. I-I'm different. I'm not your average girl… It's complicated."
Rachel scoots to the edge of the bed, and urges with a nod to follow. She pulls herself as gracefully down the bed as her bending knees allow. Her own skirt is bunching at her thighs, and she feels her flesh tingle from all the expanses of skin that touch Rachel's. She takes another deep breath, before throwing caution to the wind.
"I-I was born with a chromosomal abnormality. I'm… I'm a…mixed up person. Some parts of me are missing… and other parts I have are just, extra…"
She faces forward and lets out a breath of air; it was short and hollow sounding, and she could only register the blaring quiet of Rachel's response. She didn't want to look to her side and see the brunette's face. She doesn't want to regret taking this chance. She feels her chin tremble slightly, before she feels Rachel's hand lace with hers with a sure squeeze.
"That's not something you should have to keep secret. And whatever you have… or don't have, it doesn't define anything you don't want it to. And it changes nothing between us, Quinn; nothing."
She lets out another breath. It's on the cusp of relief and laughter, and it tumbles out fast and heavy. She looks at Rachel; her big brown eyes are shiny and sincere. Every emotion she's feeling conveyed blatantly on her face, most of it a bold acceptance. She can't help but want her more in that moment. Because she isn't shocked, and she isn't repulsed. She's just understanding; a friend. Her body rejects that thought. It tells her to make it more, to try for something else. Their hands are still linked between them, clutching at the moment that seems to linger in between moving on, or pausing for forever.
"But… I don't want things to stay the same, either."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't… I don't just want to be your friend. I mean—I know you and Santana have been dating… but it feels like I never got my chance.
Rachel is speechless. Her eyes scatter recklessly across her face, searching for some indiscernible answers. Rachel locks eyes with her finally, and there is something akin to curiosity there. She leans over the same time Rachel does. And she feels Rachel's palm on her cheek before she feels her eyes shutting closed…and then gentle lips press against hers in silent confirmation. It was chaste, and in a flurry of reality, they pulled apart—and let the weight of what they had just done settle over them. The hands still clasped together on their laps loitered, and she watched Rachel compose herself before speaking.
"She's… Santana isn't my girlfriend. I mean, we've been dating a little… but there aren't titles… or claim. And I'm entitled to date however as many people as I so please."
Rachel kisses her again. She pauses midway to look her in the eye, and she nods for her to continue. Their hands never unlinked.
That's how it started. Rachel dated them both. They fought for time between them, but it eased into a schedule somehow without much effort. There were times she was jealous. Times when she would call and know that Rachel was with Santana. There were times she would stay up late at night and wonder how far they'd gotten, or if Santana told Rachel about her condition, yet. Every moment was often tainted by the thoughts she had about Santana and Rachel… and what they did when she wasn't there. She wanted to so badly to know, but she was unsure if she could handle the answer. All the things she made up in her mind had to be so much worse than what was actually happening in her absence.
She needed Rachel to make a choice. She needed for Rachel to pick either her or Santana. Because being with Rachel wasn't enough if Rachel gave half of herself to Santana. She was going to have to make a decision.
She went to Santana's house on a Friday night. San usually spent Friday nights with Rachel, because Saturdays were hers. She knew that she was breaking a rule in their agreement, but she didn't care. When she rang the doorbell, Santana emerged a short while later, in her pajamas. The lights in the living room were off behind where Santana was standing, and the television set cast shadows across the lumpy blankets thrown haphazardly over the giant loveseat Rachel was sitting on, engrossed in whatever scary movie Santana had talked her into.
"We need to talk."
Santana moved to shut the door behind her and step into the hall of the condominium. She shot her hand out to stop the door from closing.
"No. I mean all of us."
Santana squared her shoulders and let her arms cross over her chest. She was instantly alert and ready for battle. They stepped inside and Santana locked the door behind her. Santana flipped on a switch by where they were standing and trudged over to the couch to sit beside Rachel. She waited for Rachel to pause the movie before saying out loud what she'd been feeling.
"I can't do this anymore. I can't take sharing. I can't. It's driving me crazy and I think this has been going on long enough for you to make your decision, Rachel."
"Quinn, you're being unfair—"
"No—Rach, I'm not. I'm tired of wondering if you're sleeping with her. I hate wondering if you are thinking about her when you're with me. I don't want to feel like this anymore, and—it's time you chose who you want to be exclusive to."
Santana is surprisingly quiet. She wonders how long Santana felt this way, too. Was it as long as she's been feeling this way? She wonders if Santana's been going along with this to avoid the inevitability of the end. The end for either of them.
"I really care about you both. And I can't make that decision because I'd still be losing one of you. And I don't think I could still have anything with both of you… if I don't have this. Quinn, if I chose Santana, would you still be my friend? Respect my decision? Santana," she turns quickly to look at the girl sitting beside her, "…if I chose Quinn, would you? No. If I chose to stop dating both of you, would you forgive me? No, you wouldn't. Neither of you would stay. And I'd lose out on one of you…or both of you— for good. I can't. I can't do that. There is no right choice. There is no fair decision. I want… I want you both. Any way I can have you."
The room is quiet in the wake of Rachel's words. It's finite and concrete, and she doesn't know what to say to challenge any of the points Rachel brought up.
"Then… have us both then."
It's the first thing Santana has said since she sat down.
"…But, no more of this shared time bullshit. We can… all be together, all the time. And… nothing will be a surprise…and no reasons to be jealous. We can just… we can try to keep this going, so that everyone gets what they want."
She stands where she's been standing since Santana let her in. She flips the light off and takes a step toward them, words forgotten. She sits on the other side of Rachel, who looks between the two of them quietly, before turning the movie back on.
It seemed so simple, then.
And then, they were together. The three of them, somehow morphed into a cohesive unit. No one knew the extent of their newfound group. On the outside looking in, everyone just thought they'd replaced Brittany. They needed things to stay quiet for a while so they kept everything a secret. They managed to do everything together. Dates, dinners, parties. They came together, they danced together, and they left together. There wasn't a time then that she had anything to be afraid of. Because often Rachel and Santana were with her… and her insecurities settled knowing that there was no longer competition. Well, that was before she found out how intimate Rachel and Santana were being.
Her mother wasn't home. She was on a cruise ship with other lushes somewhere drinking giant margaritas and molesting cabana boys. She could care less. Santana and Rachel were staying over for the weekend, and sometime after their splash in the hot tub, they'd disappeared. She changed out of her swim suit before going in search of them. She crept down the stairs, something intuitive urging her to stay quiet. She peeked around the corner to see if they were in the living room, and made a left at the bottom of the stairs to follow sounds coming from the opposite direction.
She heard the noises before it hit her where they were. She tip toed to the archway in the kitchen, and chanced a look around the edge of the wall.
Rachel was on her knees, her head pulling away from Santana's rocking hips, a flash of thick meat sliding from Rachel's plumped lips and hollowed cheeks. She pulled away from the scene, suddenly feverish. Her first instinct was to walk away. To wait upstairs until they were finished. But something tugging in her gut had planted her feet to the ground. She and Rachel hadn't gotten that far. They were easing into exploration, finally letting hands graze underneath fabric and touch sensitive, private places. They weren't doing things as scandalous as what Rachel was doing to Santana against her mother's refrigerator.
She bent sideways around the wall again; catching the wet suction noise Rachel was making as she took Santana down the base and cupped her testicles. It was erotic. She felt herself get wet, and squeeze around imaginary objects as Rachel sucked Santana off. She was tenting her shorts, the obvious evidence of her arousal mocking all attempts for her to flee the scene. She let her hand run over her erection delicately, squeezing the burning flesh in the palm of her hand. She let out a moan loud enough to distract from the two frantically working toward Santana's release.
Santana's head snapped to her position beside where they were standing.
"Might as well come out, Fabray."
Santana tangled her fist in Rachel's hair and pushed her cock deeper down her throat. She walked shyly over to a kitchen chair a few feet away from them before sitting down on it. Santana's hips were pivoting fast into Rachel's eager mouth, the sound of Santana's cock hitting the back of Rachel's throat was dirty, and she had to clench her thighs around her hand to keep her vagina satiated until she found release. Santana was growling animalistically with each thrust, cursing under her breath in time to Rachel's spastic breathing to keep the pace.
Santana looked up at her, her eyes heavy, her mouth slack. She watched her as Rachel continued, the moans pouring from Santana indicative of her proximity to climax. Santana didn't look away when Rachel dragged her all the way down one last time, and Santana exploded relentlessly down her throat. Rachel pulled back slowly, sucking Santana's surely sensitive skin all the way to the head, letting it slip out her mouth before swallowing what was left of Santana's semen.
She'd ruined the shorts she just put on.
She thought she'd feel upset after. She thought seeing Rachel be intimate with Santana would make her livid. But all she can remember from the memory was the feeling of her veins on fire. She watched them often after that. She would watch them make out on the couch while they watched movies… she'd watch Rachel's hand slip under blankets when they had sleep overs, the tug and pull of Santana's hips rocking the bed.
No matter how turned on she got while watching them, she never once joined in. That was one thing that never changed. She knew Rachel and Santana had migrated to sex, but she was never there when intercourse happened. She left that privacy to them. She and Rachel were intimate, but for a long time, she wasn't ready to take those steps that Rachel and Santana had been so sure of.
She was comfortable with it—watching them be together; watching them was excitement enough. She hadn't planned for her and Rachel's first time. She had no expectations of when or how it would happen. She was so nervous about being inside of Rachel, bugged out and afraid of not being able to please her girlfriend. She was slightly more afraid of not meeting Santana's standard. But this time, it wasn't about jealousy. She didn't want for Rachel to have to sacrifice her own pleasure to be with her, especially when she knew that Santana was taking care of most of Rachel's carnal needs. She had to be ready. She had to be sure. And she had to be alone with her, because she didn't think she could perform under Santana's scrutiny.
It happened on a weekend Santana was sick. She and Rachel took her cookies and tea before heading back to Rachel's house. They somehow wound up topless on her bed, a handful of Rachel in both of her hands. She was tenting her pants, and she was sure that her underwear were damp from the things they'd been doing. She was dragging her tongue down Rachel's stomach, the thick scent drifting from Rachel's unbuttoned jeans snuck into her nose slowly and tingled all the way to her groin. She pulled her palms from Rachel's hardening nipples and gripped the belt loops in Rachel's jeans to tug them down her legs.
She had to remind herself to breathe.
She pulled down her own pants before kicking them off and climbing slowly up Rachel's goose-pimpling body. She felt her erection jump eagerly against her thigh, and she couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she pulled Rachel's pink underwear down her smooth, silky legs. Her sex was glistening. Rachel opened her legs and closed them, the air filling with a scent she couldn't put a name to. It was delicate and musky and she wanted to chase the smell to wherever it came from. She leaned down to kiss Rachel's thighs, following the contours of her hip bone before letting her tongue flick experimentally at her slit. She watched Rachel buck quickly off the bed before settling, and she let her tongue zigzag down the swollen skin that lead to Rachel's opening.
The reaction of her tongue pressing into Rachel were Rachel's thighs clenching around her head. She started slowly, ghosting over Rachel's clit before flicking her tongue lightly over it, then around it. Rachel was responding, pulling her hair into her hands and pressing her face deeper into her sex. It took her a while, but she found a rhythm that Rachel liked, and she followed the cues of her body until the girl beneath her started to vibrate against her moving mouth, her name caught in her chest as she grunted out an orgasm.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand before kissing her way back to Rachel's open mouth. Rachel tugged on the waistband of her briefs, and with her help pulled them down far enough to kick them off. Rachel gripped her in her hand, and pressed the head of her penis at her opening. Rachel kissed her one hard time on the mouth before falling back to the bed and wrapping her leg around her hip to urge her inside.
She thrust forward, and wet heat and swollen muscles pulsed around her; she had to stop the orgasm from pushing forward from the tightness surrounding her. Pulling out seemed to tickle every nerve and pushing back inside used up all the will power she had. She trembled above Rachel, whose hand cupped her cheek while she steadied herself on weak limbs, afraid to move in fear of prematurely finishing inside of Rachel. She took a deep breath, and concentrated on the noise Rachel's bed made when she stroked inside her.
She got past the initial feeling of being overwhelmed. She pushed Rachel's knees back and leaned back slightly to get a better view of them, joined. She was leaking down the inside of her leg, stroking as slowly as possible into Rachel, trying to concentrate on anything other than drilling as deeply as she could into Rachel's tightness. It lasted for a while like that, rocking slowly and purposely into Rachel, palming her breasts and whispering I love you into her ear. It wasn't perfect, but it was one of the greatest nights she's ever lived. It was the start of something promising.
Santana seemed to know automatically. That they'd done it. And suddenly, Santana took to watching them. She often touched herself while they did things together. She would turn to see Santana in a chair, stroking her full length with wanton gazes at them from across the room. She often couldn't tell who Santana was getting off from, but she noticed at times that her eyes were focused on body parts that didn't belong to Rachel.
It was exhilarating, having Santana tucked in some corner while Rachel sucked her off, the brunettes fingers knuckle deep inside her at the same time, stimulating every nerve ending from her g spot to the very tip of her penis. Those were her best orgasms, the ones she had listening to Santana's grunts, or when she was buried deep inside of Rachel, Santana's persistent hand stroking her flesh from somewhere behind them.
She expected sex to muddle their relationship. She thought that having Santana in the room while they did things would eventually turn into something awkward. She expected Santana to be territorial— but it never happened. What she didn't expect was the question Rachel asked her the day after their six month anniversary.
"Why don't you and Santana ever... you know, touch each other?" It was a rare occasion that Santana wasn't there, busy with some errand that pulled her away from their regular weekend hangout. The question caught her off guard. She sat in front of Rachel, gaping open mouthed at the question she had no real answer to.
It was a rare occasion that Santana wasn't there, busy with some errand that pulled her away from their regular weekend hangout. The question caught her off guard. She sat in front of Rachel, gaping open mouthed at the question she had no real answer to.
"We don't... look at each that way…"
She let her answer drift off, hoping that Rachel would leave the subject alone.
"What if I told you…that it would turn me on, to see you do things... together."
She pursed her lips.
"But, it would be awkward, Rachel. I mean. What would we do?"
"The same things we do. I just… I want to watch. One time. You guys get to and I want to know what I'm missing out on."
It was a simple request. It was one she mulled over for days before talking to Santana about it. They agreed that they'd been in this relationship because they'd both wanted Rachel. But what they wanted more was to make her happy. She was nerve wrecked and unprepared and she set herself up to be repulsed. Because being with her best friend with their girlfriend watching didn't seem like a good pastime. She couldn't tell Santana's disposition. It seemed liked indifference, but it was more akin to lack of information. They talked like they used to during that time. In their tiny bubble of secrets and hope; trying to best decide if they could do this… for her.
They rented a hotel room. It felt like a special occasion; at least, in their minds it was. It was something for Rachel, so that made it special. There was no excitement at first, only dread… because no matter what she thought about or how much Rachel wanted this, she didn't feel like she could be that way with Santana. All she could prepare for was a show; the show she'd have to put on for Rachel to believe that they were into it. There was a king sized bed and a comfortable straight backed chair for Rachel to sit on. She and Santana secretly downed a few wine coolers before making their way over to the hotel room.
Her palms were sweaty. She kept wiping them on her dress, but nothing could alleviate the anxiety brewing in her belly. Santana was wearing a mini skirt, and she looked contradictorily cool with the sporadic lip biting and scoffing between short comments. They sat down on the bed, and slowly inched toward each other. They tried to play out their indifference, and awkwardly, Santana grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her while her eyes were still open. The squeak that let out was halfway interrupted by a pleasant sigh. Her eyes closed, and she felt her heavy throat relax as she finally gave into the kiss.
Something in Santana's kiss made her heart batter against her chest. Something in the way Santana moved her mouth left her breath hollow and shaky. It was something that made her heated. The new experience was heightening the arousal she felt. She was sure Santana felt it too. Santana's hand came to rest on her thigh, lightly stroking the flesh beneath the hem of her skirt that eased casually up in their exploration of personal space. On each up stroke, Santana teased a little close to the bulge curving her underwear. Santana had migrated to her neck, the very tip of Santana's tongue barely touching her hot skin. Her back arched at the same time Rachel let out a low moan.
Her eyes snapped to the end of the bed, where Rachel had her hand fisted down her underwear. She'd forgotten that Rachel was there, but she was obviously enjoying the show. Santana took the pause to undress, tugging down her skirt, and pulling the black top over her shoulders. She followed Santana soon after, unzipping her skirt and stepping out of it, she joined Santana at the head of the bed. She watched Santana's satin bra covered chest lift as she released a steadying breath of air. Santana rested her hand atop hers, before leaning in to kiss her again. Her body melted into Santana's and they resumed the slow building frenzy of sensation. Santana kissed her until she scooted down on the bed, her back flat on the mattress, with Santana hovering above her. Santana's hand ghosted downward, and teased down the front of her underwear. Santana finally let her hand rest on top of it, the full weight of Santana's palm warm over her erection. She took her own hand and let it settle over Santana's meaty girth, before squeezing it in her hand and biting down on Santana's lower lip.
Santana growls, and Rachel lets out a quivering moan. She chances a look out of her peripheral, and her erection jumps at the sight of Rachel's open legs, her naked sex wet as she slides her finger up and down her swollen slit. She catches Santana's wandering hand slip quietly under the waistband of her underwear and she mewls loudly when Santana fists and pumps up the length of her. Santana pulls her out of her underwear with a snap of her waistband, and she's in Santana's mouth before she can comprehend the amazing feeling. Her hands automatically thread through Santana's hair, and she is swelling in her mouth as Santana works on milking her to the base.
"Mmmhmmm, just like that, San… just like that…"
She wonders if Santana knows how to make this feel so good because it's what she enjoys being done to her. She forgets the thought the moment Santana pushes two fingers inside of her. It's one fluid stroke, and Santana hits a maddening spot inside her as she sucks hard on the head of her penis. Her head lolls back and she loosens her grip on Santana's hair as she tries to keep her composure. Santana sits up, and pulls her down the bed by her hip. She tugs her underwear down her thighs and Santana stands to pulls hers down, freeing her thick member. Santana searches the bedside table for the condoms she'd put there earlier, and when she finally finds one, she slides it down without complication.
There is a moment of hesitation. It was so quick, she almost missed it. Santana's eyes were erratic. She could feel the head of Santana's penis pressing against her opening. Her own erection was pushed against her belly button, hard and silky against her stomach. Santana's breath hitched before she leaned down to her ear.
It's quiet enough that she doesn't think Rachel heard, and she nods her head before leaning up to kiss Santana, satisfied with what they were about to do. When Santana's lips press firmly against hers, she thrust into her— to the hilt. She whined against Santana's mouth and squeezed her thighs around Santana's hips as she adjusted; stuffed with the thickness of Santana's full erection inside of her.
Santana leaned back, pressing her knuckles into the bed on either side of her, steadying herself as she began stroking into her. She pushes her own hand between them, and starts stroking her own penis as Santana pivots expertly in and out of her. She hears a wet slick sound coming from where Rachel is sitting. She also hears the springs of the bed squeak as Santana pounds into her. She feels Santana's testicles slapping against her, and she can't keep it together any longer.
Santana strokes a few more times, and she makes a mess on her chest as Santana picks up speed. By the time she's soft, Santana is pounding a different kind of orgasm inside her. It shocks her system, when she comes, she bucks and crashes around Santana, and she feels the spasms and pulses of Santana finishing. There are tears sliding down her cheeks, and she sees lights on her closed eyelids as she hears the fading mantra of Santana's name die on her lips. Santana pulls out of her, and lies beside her; spent. She lets her lips press against Santana's shoulder, and she shudders at the emptiness she feels. She hears Rachel's suddenly thunderous breath, and she's thrown back into what this should've been; a show. Something…unbelievable.
It was the first time it happened. What she and Santana did, together. But it wasn't the last. She'd been confused each time it happened. Because she'd liked it too much. Because it made things complicated between her and Santana. Did that make them gay? They both had penises, true. But she also had a vagina. Did it make them weird? She didn't know; after all they were all dating each other, in this web of relationship—too many people involved to keep track. She expected them to get worse, to want more. She expected them to take the final step. Sex, all together. But they didn't. They never did. She was with Rachel and she was with Santana, separately… and sometimes together with one of them watching. But never at the same time.
Things started to change. She started to wonder about the decision she'd made. To keep things the way they were. She sometimes asked Santana how she felt, about opting out of her reassignment surgery. They always came to the same conclusions, that this was better than being an attempt at full people. Full people that had anatomically correct pieces. She noticed Santana spent more time with her; without Rachel. She noticed that they had more sex alone, than when Rachel was there. She started noticing that she was madly in love with Rachel and Santana was madly in love with her.
She found herself here. Stunned by flashbacks of their history. Back to the start of all of this, before they became this crowded mess. When they were two… because they were always a pair, before anything else. Quinn and Santana, together—forever. That always sounded so romantic. She'd been brought back to this moment, standing in front of the girl who has been her best friend through all of the pettiness. A girl so like her, but so distinctly different. The one girl in the whole world who knew her struggle.
"Quinn, are you even listening? It's you and me, I can't… I don't want to do this anymore. I know what I want…what I've always wanted. "
What Santana is asking her, hurts. She can't choose. Rachel was all she ever wanted. She'd worked hard to get her… she worked hard to keep her. She cared about Santana. They could keep doing, whatever they were doing… but she couldn't give up Rachel. Santana would walk away if she denied her. And she'd be lost either way, of someone special.
Their entire history had flashed before her eyes, because it was over. Things were different now because she would have to choose. And she knew her choice would be bittersweet. Because she couldn't give her heart to Santana. Because Rachel had always owned it.
"Santana… I, I can't. I love her…"
Santana nods her head, finitely. Santana walks by her, without stopping. It's bittersweet… the feeling. Knowing that her other half had broken away...and knowing that Rachel was finally hers.