Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/77535.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Rachel_Berry/Quinn_Fabray
  Character:
      Rachel_Berry, Quinn_Fabray
  Additional Tags:
      Sex_Pollen, Aphrodisiacs, Crack, Cliche, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-04-03 Words: 2484
****** May the Mercury Jump to Ninety-Three ******
by summerstorm
Summary
     Quinn should have known better than to open the box.
Notes
     *hands* I have no excuse to offer you guys for this. I guess I just
     get cracky when blocked. Read through by the always lovely Annemari.
Quinn should have known better than to open the box.
She also should have known better than to allow the box to be opened at all,
even if it wasn't her yanking off the lid.
Now, she was stuck in the nurse's office with Rachel Berry, watching the new
nurse—so young her dark skin turned a shade of mahogany when she realized what
was going on—walk out the door on a quest for some kind of sedative, and
feeling like she was about to jump out of her skin.
In the meanwhile, Rachel was sitting on her own hands in her chair, bouncing a
little and worrying her lip and ratcheting Quinn's anxiety up by a billion.
"Stop squirming," Quinn said, gritting her teeth.
"I would if I could," Rachel shot back. "It's not my fault your former
cheerleading captain sent us a rare breed of fireflies for our project."
"You think it's my fault?" At Rachel's shrug, Quinn went on, "I don't even know
who got in touch with her, but trust me, it wasn't me. Ms. Sylvester's still
mad at us for getting her fired again. I'm not dumb enough to give her a chance
to mess with me."
"Well, clearly, Quinn, she didn't need any help from you in succeeding at
making our lives hell from a distance."
Quinn felt her face harden and her nostrils flare slightly. She gave Rachel a
defiant glare, and followed Rachel's gaze when it settled on Quinn's shirt,
underneath which Quinn had slid one of her fidgeting hands and was—this was so
embarrassing—tweaking her own nipple in a stupid, fruitless attempt to shudder
this horrible tension out of her body.
"What do you think we should do?" Rachel said. Quinn could tell it pained her
to hold back and ask instead of do whatever she was thinking about doing or
having Quinn do to her. It was—well, it was nice, though she wasn't about to
thank Rachel for the gesture. She wasn't the only one struggling to stay still.
"How should I know?"
"You know Sue's methods better than I do," Rachel said. "If there is any way we
can go home with our dignity mostly intact and sleep through the patent period,
I would like to be informed of it before anything regrettable happens."
"What do you think it's going to happen?" Quinn said with a grimace, repulsed
by the assumption. "I'm not going to force myself on you, if that's what you're
thinking."
Rachel bit her lip and unsubtly pressed the heel of her hand between her legs,
over her skirt. A wave of mortification rushed through Quinn when she realized
she wanted to take over for her on both things. "That's not what I'm worried
about," Rachel said, just two feet away, but it only echoed in Quinn's head as
though the sound had gone and faded through miles before reaching her ears.
The situation was so messed up. It had been bad enough she'd been assigned to
write a report on an insect of their choice for Biology class with Rachel
Berry—"Well," she'd said to Rachel, "I guess there's no bigger bug than you in
school."—but there were just no words for this. Quinn had been put in charge of
acquiring a few baby fireflies to observe because, well, clearly Rachel would
just scare whoever she chose to ask for them into retirement, and Quinn didn't
want that sort of insane cruelty reflected on her school file.
So she'd asked their teacher, and left it at that. And then they'd been called
into an empty classroom, where they'd found a box tagged DANGER: FIREFLIES and
assumed it was meant for anyone who stumbled into it by accident and was
curious enough to open it.
And then, as Rachel was hooking her thumbs into the corners of the lid, Quinn
had noticed the note that had flown across the desk—
Life lesson: no obstacles are unsurpassable if you are a wild lion with a brain
the size of Ethiopia. These little babies are your ticket to Sue's Planet of
Terror. If you learn one thing today, you little mongrels, learn this: if Sue
won't come to the mountain, the mountain must breed hyperactive insects with
glands that secrete an irresistible philter while in extended captivity, and
send them to do harm in her stead. - S.S..
—and yelled, "Wait, don't!" and then a wave of aquamarine-colored smoke had
surged out of the box, like the fireflies had had time to bathe in their own
aphrodisiacal substance for a while before the box had reached its destination.
Quinn had felt hot all over, and she'd looked at Rachel for a second, just to
murder her, but instead of yelling at her she'd just felt completely transfixed
by what she saw, felt her breathing get louder and shallow—she couldn't stop
staring at Rachel's mouth, at her full, swollen lips, then the shape of her
breasts—Quinn could almost feel them warm and soft under her hands—and her legs
in those knee-high socks, her thighs—Quinn's fingers had itched to touch them,
to dig into the small dips on Rachel's knees and grab her ankles and pull her
closer—
And then Rachel was stepping right into Quinn's personal space and, with
nothing but a look of panic to warn Quinn, smashing their mouths together.
Their teeth clacked in a way that would normally have made Quinn's head ache,
but instead only served to make her want Rachel more, and then she was sucking
on Rachel's tongue and Rachel's hands were everywhere—her waist, fingertips
dipping under the waistband of her underwear, making her hips jerk back into
the touch, so humiliating—but it felt amazing—
—and then Rachel had pulled back and said quickly, "We need to go see the
nurse," and Quinn had nodded so hard she'd thought her head might detach itself
from her neck.
And now they were fidgeting in a nurse's office and Quinn was starting to
question the extent of her self-control. Now that the nurse had, irresponsibly,
left them alone, and Quinn couldn't stop thinking about laying Rachel down on
the floor or on the narrow cot nearby and fucking her face, or bending her over
the nurse's desk and fingering her senseless. Every single fantasy about Rachel
she'd ever pretended not to have was now flashing through her head like some
kind of instruction manual drenched in ridiculous temptation.
And Rachel—the knuckles on the hand she had wrapped around the arm of the chair
were going white, and her tongue kept slipping out to lick her lips, and her
eyes kept flicking to random spots of Quinn's body. Every look felt like a
touch.
"I still don't like you," Quinn blurted out, and then she yanked her shirt over
her head and undid her bra and she didn't even have to pull Rachel to her feet
because Rachel's mouth was already on her, urging her to straddle her thighs on
the chair as she rolled a hard nipple between her teeth and sucked it into her
mouth before lapping at it and switching to Quinn's other breast. Quinn heard
herself whimper when Rachel broke contact, but that didn't last long, because
then she was being pushed onto the nurse's desk.
Quinn just let her back hit the wooden surface as Rachel worked her jeans off,
tried to steady her breathing and keep from hindering the undressing process.
It was kind of difficult not to move when her nails were pinching her nipples
of their own volition and Rachel was throwing Quinn's jeans and underwear onto
the cot and nibbling her way up Quinn's leg, pausing to lick and suck at
patches of skin along her thigh. A couple of times it seemed like Rachel wanted
to speak, but then she just made a face like she was torn between crying and
coming and placed more kisses up Quinn's belly.
Then, Rachel captured her mouth in a wet, frantic kiss and tugged at Quinn's
hand until it was so far up between her legs Quinn felt the damp warmth seeping
through the cotton of Rachel's panties and couldn't not touch.
Quinn sat up, ass sliding off the edge of the desk, hand braced on her side to
keep from falling down, and pushed the crotch of Rachel's panties aside, dipped
her fingers right into her wetness. Rachel's hips bucked into the touch,
positioning herself so that one of Quinn's knuckles brushed against the right
spot every time she moved. Quinn took the hint and didn't draw it out, just
rubbed tight, fast circles around that spot until Rachel was making throaty
noises and her entire body was shuddering like it had been wishing for release
forever.
It didn't seem far-fetched; Quinn's body was still waiting, oversensitive and
alert and desperate for some kind of touch.
As Rachel came down from her orgasm, her breathing slowed down, but her eyes
were still wide, pupils dilated, gaze set on Quinn as though that hadn't been
enough to get rid of whatever she'd inhaled from the fireflies' box. But it had
been, Quinn was sure of it—Rachel's body shivered a few times, irregularly, but
the distress and yearning Quinn was still feeling wasn't reflected on Rachel's
demeanor, which was both a relief and a source of frustration.
"Rachel," Quinn said, tone halfway between demanding and scared—she needed
this, she needed Rachel to be a decent human being for once instead of trying
to one-up everyone, or—Rachel could one-up Quinn all she wanted as long as it
involved that mouth on hers again—
Rachel looked nervous for a moment, not so much like she was considering
leaving Quinn hanging but like she wasn't sure it was a good idea to do it now
that having an orgasm had cleared her senses, and Quinn just wanted to yell at
her, except she needed her mouth to breathe.
Thankfully, after that, Rachel nodded once, twice, almost as if she was
mustering up some courage, and took Quinn's hand, saying, "That desk must be
terribly uncomfortable," and guiding her towards the cot, which Quinn barely
reached on such shaky legs as hers were. She was about to climb on it when
Rachel put a hand on her lower back and said, "No. I mean—I think this would be
easier if you bent over—"
Quinn shot a look at her and complied, because she was way past caring about
dignity or just about anything that wasn't directly conducive to getting off.
And then Quinn felt Rachel's hand brushing the insides of her thighs, traveling
upwards, and she buried her face in the white, bleach-smelling sheets as two of
Rachel's fingers made their way inside her.
"Quinn, you're dripping wet," Rachel said matter-of-factly, like Quinn wasn't
perfectly aware of it. Quinn almost countered that she wasn't the only one
affected like that by those freaking fireflies, because—yeah, Quinn had stopped
lying to herself that she wasn't attracted to Rachel in the slightest months
ago, but every sensation and bit of lust was heightened like crazy by the smoke
they'd breathed in—and Quinn wasn't the only one who'd soaked through her
panties in this room, and then Rachel crooked her fingers experimentally.
Quinn forgot about the accusation and let out a loud yelp.
Rachel took it as encouragement, slid a third finger alongside the others and
proceeded to fuck Quinn in earnest.
Rachel's fingers pumping in and out of her were somewhat relieving, and so was
how Rachel seemed determined to finger Quinn into the thin mattress of the cot.
There was something humiliating about it too, but not in the way that she'd
have to kill Rachel over this later—though she'd definitely have to place a few
thinly-veiled threats to keep her quiet. It was humiliating in a way Quinn
could barely bear; it turned her knees to jelly and Quinn almost wanted to ask
Rachel to do it harder, to stand over her and order her to take it and just—the
feeling was both surprising and incredible, being at Rachel's mercy like this,
leaving her climax up to Rachel's whims.
Just when the pressure was finally building up towards Quinn's orgasm, Rachel
withdrew her fingers, and Quinn whimpered and then moaned desperately some more
before she realized Rachel had knelt down and was spreading Quinn's thighs
apart, mouthing at the line where her leg and her ass met before sticking her
head between Quinn's legs.
Quinn let out a deep breath, and lowered herself onto Rachel's mouth.
There was a noise—a tiny whimper, and Quinn was almost sure it hadn't been her.
At that moment, she realized Rachel wasn't just doing this just because she
owed Quinn for getting her off. There was no way Rachel would have gone on her
knees for her when her fingers inside Quinn were doing just fine.
But she had, and now she was lapping at Quinn wantonly, kissing her and dipping
her tongue in irregularly like she wasn't sure what she wanted to do the most,
and just like that Quinn bit down hard on her lip and felt the first wave break
through her, intense and unyielding and unbelievable, all the more so because
Rachel was still licking at her, breathing every last hint of Quinn's orgasm
out of her.
By the time Quinn felt strong enough to get up and get dressed, Rachel was
sitting primly in a chair, watching her.
"Watching people when they're naked is creepy," Quinn pointed out, and hurried
her jeans back on.
"I wouldn't look at you if you didn't look like that," Rachel blurted out, then
tried to amend it by saying, "I mean, not that you look like anythi—"
"Shut up, Berry," Quinn said, retrieving her bra and shirt and sliding them on
as unselfconsciously as she could manage, which was more than before now that
her brain was only impaired by orgasming and not by random chemical substances
explicitly meant to confuse. "We need to leave."
"The nurse said she'd come back within the half hour," Rachel said. "It would
be bad form, not to mention irresponsible with regards to our health, to let
her come back to an empty office and wonder whether we were kidnapped and
raped—in the state we were in when she left, Quinn, think about it—or dead."
"I think she'll just happy to be rid of you," said Quinn.
Rachel studied her face and said, "Well," reluctantly, "someone must dispose of
the fireflies."
"And we know how to deal with it if we inhale any more of that crap," Quinn
added.
"Fine," Rachel agreed, picking up a pen and a sheet of paper and eying Quinn
meaningfully, "but I'm leaving a note."
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