Title: Basic Space
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.
Summary: They were desperate for each other, but neither one wanted to acknowledge that fact. So instead they just pretended that the mix of gentle and purposefully bruising touches they occasionally inflicted upon each other meant nothing.
A/N: A quick drabble of I don't even know what, but everything by The xx makes me want to write Faberry, and I've had them on repeat all day.
Oh! Also, I'm pretending Quinn was still a pink haired skank for half the year instead of like, 2 episodes.
Quinn's lips practically smothered Rachel as she pushed her back against a stall wall, palms slapping against the surface as Quinn tilted her head just so until Rachel groaned and opened her mouth obediently in a well-practiced manner. She could feel Quinn's cool Winterfresh smile to chase away the taste of nicotine against her mouth and couldn't help but echo it, even though she was angry.
She had to maintain that train of thought, because Quinn would stifle it with thorough kisses and soft lips, lingering touches, and promises that she would never keep.
Rachel tore her mouth away with a protesting hum and glared up at Quinn.
Quinn stared down at her, chest heaving under her black, shredded shirt that teasingly showed glimpses of her midriff with its fading tan well into the fall. She sometimes arrived to school without a coat and Rachel always feared Quinn would catch pneumonia, or the flu, or some other death-illness that Rachel wouldn't be able to explain away to Finn should she ever catch it, too. But those damn lips were so warm and inviting that she could never say no when Quinn would drag her to the bathroom before glee club after school when everyone was gone.
"I'm mad at you," Rachel muttered. She sounded more petulant than outright angry, and almost stomped her foot in frustration at herself.
Quinn ran a hand through wild, pink tendrils, puffing out a long breath. "Aren't you always?"
She had a point, especially as of late, and Rachel folded her arms across her chest to thwart Quinn's attempt to shut her up by making out. Quinn rocked back on her heels with eyes tightened in frustration, and Rachel almost patted herself on the back at the sight of it. Though their new arrangement gave her a thrill, getting under Quinn's skin would always be a favorite pastime she was almost ashamed to admit. Almost, because she craved Quinn's attention like it was a drug.
"Fine," Quinn gritted out. "What are you angry about?"
"I overheard you speaking with Mack earlier today."
Quinn's eyes narrowed. She had spoken with Mack several times throughout the day, and knew with Rachel's stalker tendencies, she could have possibly heard every conversation. There was a lot of ground to cover. "About smoking a bowl later?" she tried.
Rachel's eyes widened. "No!" she screeched. "Though now I'm angry about that, too!"
Quinn sighed. "Shut up and just kiss me, Berry."
"No," Rachel insisted. "That's not what I'm angry about, and I would like to discuss what it is that's actually causing me this anger!"
"Then spit it out!"
"Why aren't you going to college?" Rachel asked boldly. "I overheard you say that to Mack earlier."
Quinn stiffened at the question. She dragged her tongue along her lower lip and retreated a step, glancing away self-consciously. "That's…none of your business," she decided.
Rachel stared at her for a long moment, drinking in the sight of Quinn's long limbs folded almost into a box as she managed to close herself off in the small confines of the bathroom stall. "It is," Rachel insisted, though quietly.
"How do you figure?"
Rachel was stumped, and the audible clack of her mouth closing alerted Quinn to the fact that she had won that argument. But Rachel couldn't stop gazing fondly at her profile long enough to string a rebuttal together. She could fall in love with Quinn's face; she feared she already had. Her razor sharp no-nonsense nose went hand-in-hand with her intense personality.
"I just…think you should consider it," Rachel offered, taking a step forward. "You have amazing potential, and—"
"What the fuck would you know about my potential?" Quinn asked, not maliciously, but with genuine curiosity. "We've only spent about, what, five minutes together that didn't include fucking each other's brains out." Rachel at least had the good grace to blush and avert her eyes to Quinn's heavy combat boots that scuffed across the floor to alert anyone to her presence wherever she went. As if anyone could overlook a personality like hers.
"I-I've seen you in glee club."
"That's hardly an academic course."
Rachel frowned. "What are you trying to say?"
Quinn knew Rachel was one step away from taking offense and pushed off the stall wall to walk closer. She came here to get off, not argue about her future. Her hands found Rachel's hips with familiarity that should have unnerved them both. "Nothing," Quinn breathed as she leaned forward to brush her lips against Rachel's jaw. She bit right on the bone and Rachel clenched her jaw through a hiss and moaned as Quinn wrapped her arms around her waist.
"I wasn't done," Rachel half-heartedly protested.
"Yes, you are." Quinn flipped up the back of Rachel's sweater to explore the dip in her lower back right before it curved into her ass. The silky tan skin there was baby soft and sensitive, and if she brushed her thumb across just so—
"Quinn," Rachel whimpered, knees shaking as she buried her face into Quinn's neck. She grasped at Quinn's shoulders and moaned before attaching her lips to the side of Quinn's neck to just suck her.
They were desperate for each other, but neither one wanted to acknowledge that fact. So instead they just pretended that the mix of gentle and purposefully bruising touches they occasionally inflicted upon each other meant nothing.
Warm palms and tapered fingers mapped along Rachel's waist and up her twitching abdomen until her thick, hideous forest green sweater was bunched around her sternum. Quinn panted into the heady air around them, wanting to look down and see what color bra Rachel was wearing, but unable to deny herself the way Rachel was swirling her tongue into a soft, yielding muscle in her neck.
Instead her hands cupped Rachel's breasts fully, intimately, like a long-time lover and not like the occasional fuck buddies that had stumbled into being. Rachel groaned against her neck at the sure way Quinn touched her. She had never been touched this way, so confidently, and the pleasure of being intimate with Quinn outweighed the guilt.
Quinn's middle fingers ran along the lace topping of Rachel's bra and her eyes rolled back. She wanted to see it, but Rachel's teeth were scraping territorially along the side of her neck and far be it from her to stop her quest. She tugged down the cups of the bra and pinched Rachel's nipples hard before tugging.
Rachel arched against her with a sharp cry.
"Shh," Quinn giggled. "You're practically inviting people to walk in on us."
Rachel pulled back, head thudding against the wall as she eagerly pushed her chest into Quinn's hands, peering up at her through her eyelashes. "No one's here."
"Finn's here," Quinn stupidly pointed out.
She felt more than heard Rachel sigh before her hands were being swatted away and the dark sweater of doom being tugged back down to a respectable position once more. And really, Quinn should have known better than to bring him up at a time like this. Not many things turned Rachel off once she got going, but mentioning their shared ex-boyfriend, Rachel's current, was like pouring a bucket of ice cold water all over Rachel.
And all Quinn wanted to do was keep going. "Okay, sorry, sorry," she murmured, placing her hands on Rachel's hips.
"Why do you always mention him when we're having sex?"
"We don't always have sex," Quinn evaded.
Rachel folded her arms across her chest, though she relished in the feel of Quinn's sure hands anchored on her hips. "We sometimes have sex, and sometimes you mention Finn. Why?" When Quinn didn't respond, just stared blankly at her, Rachel continued. "You know I feel guilty about this already—"
"Then why don't you just end it?" Quinn snapped, and Rachel recoiled at her sudden change in mood.
"That wasn't at all what I was suggesting and you know it," Rachel shot back with narrowed eyes.
"Okay, fuck it, sorry I brought him up. Can we get back to what we were doing now?"
"No, I can't continue!" Rachel cried. She was feeling guilty and heavy and couldn't go through with this with Finn on her mind.
Quinn threw her hands up. "See, I knew it."
"That when it came down to either him or me, you'd choose him. You care about him!" she accused outright with tense shoulders. She looked for all the world like a jilted lover and Rachel's confusion over the situation showed clearly on her face because, duh, she was supposed to care about him.
"And you think that means I don't care about you?" Rachel asked. Gone was the combative edge of her voice to be replaced with a gentle quality and barely concealed fondness for the rebellious girl standing before her with her hands buried in pink hair in agitation.
Quinn's hands fell from her hair to audibly smack against her thighs. Her face had elongated with some strange emotion that would occasionally flicker in her eyes when she thought Rachel wasn't looking, melancholy. A beautiful word for a beautiful girl, Rachel could fall in love with Quinn's melancholy; she feared she already had. It tugged at her heartstrings the way Finn's boyish charm used to when she was younger and naïve, but hadn't in a while. Now the only things that made her heart race were the small chinks in Quinn's armor that occasionally presented themselves. They were like little treasures that Rachel was more than happy to discover.
She cupped Quinn's face with warm hands and forced heavy hazel eyes to meet the gentle smile on her face. "I care about you, Quinn," Rachel murmured. "Deeply."
Thin eyebrows furrowed in strong protest as Quinn frowned. "You don't." No one cared for her, really, just tolerated her because she was pretty.
Rachel almost laughed at her foolishness. "Why do you think I do this with you?" she asked, glancing down at the minimal space between them to indicate the intricate dance they had yet to perfect, stepping on hurt feelings with two left feet.
"Because he doesn't fuck you well enough," Quinn answered readily. And it was the right answer, but not the only one, at least not to Rachel.
"I admit that Finn leaves me…physically unsatisfied," Rachel answered quietly. The first time it was almost charming. Rachel had read up on the subject of sex, and knew that teenage boys did not last long. And it was almost like a compliment, the fact that Finn hadn't lasted. But weeks later with Finn not even trying to improve his stamina so that they could both receive pleasure left her more than a little resentful. "But I do this with you because I care about you."
Quinn shook her head. "You—"
"Brittany and Santana, I'm sure, would not have refused me had I have offered."
Quinn's expression grew grim with the sudden thought of anyone else doing this with Rachel. She already had to contend with Finn; there was no way she would be willing to handle a third party.
"I did not proposition them," Rachel placated at the sight of Quinn's grave expression. "I am merely stating that I do this with you because I care about you." Her hand rose to walk through wisps of cotton candy pink hair with a fond smile. "You mean so much to me, Quinn, so much that it frightens me," she whispered candidly. "And that's why I'm so furious with you. I care about you, and I don't want to see you throw away your future for those delinquent skanks."
Quinn averted her eyes, unable to take the ardent way Rachel regarded her. She had never felt deserving, and was content to keep the scraps of what was left of Rachel spilling out of her relationship with Finn. The thought of having even a portion of Rachel's affection scared her, because she was going to mess it up; she always messed things up.
Warm lips pressed against her cheek and she sighed. "Think about it?" she heard Rachel whisper against her ear. Then she felt Rachel's lips press more firmly into her and a hand glide smoothly up her thigh in familiarity. Her breath hitched as Rachel grabbed the crotch of her underwear and tugged while pushing her backward to the other side of the stall.
Quinn grabbed at her own black skirt and was all too eager to tug it upward as Rachel sunk to her knees without preamble. Her panties fell to the floor and her head fell back against the wall.
She wondered if Rachel still did this to Finn; she couldn't help but torture herself with the question. But then Rachel's tongue pushed, wiggled inside of her and she groaned, and suddenly didn't even care.
Rachel was tight when Quinn entered her, too tight for someone who Quinn presumed to have regular sex with her boyfriend, and when Quinn inserted a third finger and felt Rachel tense, her suspicions were confirmed.
Rachel grasped at Quinn's shoulders and buried her face into Quinn's neck with quick panting breaths against her skin, and a small cry of Quinn's name as her orgasm swept through her.
She could fall in love with the way Quinn held her afterward; she feared she already had.