Fic: Friday (1/1)
Title: Friday
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Spoilers: Nope!
Summary: An odd sort of largely porn-ish little thing, inspired by recent news about a song that Glee's going to cover. Can I blame the medication for this one? I hope so!
WARNING: Contains age!play and consensual regression. It's not everyone's cup of tea, and if you're not into it, you might want to avoid this one altogether, okay?
“Mister Schuester, you absolutely cannot be serious. This club is not going to embarrass itself by performing a song that’s only entered the popular zeitgeist by virtue of being so epically terrible.” Rachel stared daggers at the name scrawled on the dry-erase board.
Santana snorted. “Midget, you’re epically terrible, but we still let you perform every week.”
“Santana, please don’t take this conversation off-topic. Mister Schue, please tell me you’re not serious.”
“My cat sings that song when I’m trying to sleep.”
“You see? Brittany doesn’t want to sing it either!”
Finn shuffled awkwardly. “Mister Schue, maybe Rachel has a point. That song sucks. We’ll be a joke if we perform that in public.”
“Come on, guys, we need to expand our horizons a little, try something new!”
“I think we should do it.” The quiet voice surprised everyone, no one more than Rachel.
“What? Quinn, you can’t possibly be serious, this song is a travesty!”
“Berry, don’t tell me what I’m allowed to think, okay? I think we should do this song.”
Rachel shot up out of her seat, racing to Quinn’s chair and pulling her to her feet. “Mister Schue,” she shouted over her shoulder as she dragged the other girl from the room, “Quinn and I need to have a brief meeting. We’ll return shortly.”
“Don’t rush!” Santana shouted after them as the door closed.
“Rachel, what the hell - let go of me!” Quinn protested as she was dragged down the hall and into the closest washroom. Rachel shoved a doorstop under the door, effectively locking it behind them. Quinn jerked out of her grip, fire in her brown eyes. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Quinn, listen, please. It’s very important that we present a united front on this issue. If there’s any flexibility at all, Mister Schue will force us to perform this song, in public, and that can’t be allowed.”
“Who the hell do you think you are? I like this song! I want to sing this song!”
“Quinn, if this is some sort of elaborate prank, I would greatly appreciate if you could just skip to the punchline. I don’t appreciate being made to look foolish.”
“So now you’re going to criticise my taste in music? I don’t know how much clearer I can be here, Berry. I like this song. I’m not playing a trick on you - dammit, this isn’t even about you! Despite your belief that everything is, this is about me! I’d like to sing this, and it’s not fair that you’re getting down on me for it. Do I get down on you for singing Streisand or Celine?”
“Yes.”
Quinn sighed. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry - but even if I do get down on you, you still end up doing the songs in the end anyway, right?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Then why can’t I do the same thing?”
Rachel sighed, her shoulders slumping as some of the fight went out of her. “I guess,” she ran her hands through her hair, “I just don’t understand why you’re taking a stand for this song, of all things. Surely there’s got to be a song that means more to you than this one?”
Quinn flushed, biting her lip. “It’s a long story. Can we just leave it at that?”
“Well, now you’ve peaked my curiosity, Quinn. What, exactly, is the long story behind why you like this song?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she turned away, regarding herself in the cracked and pitted bathroom mirror.
“Quinn-” Rachel put a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away as if burned. When she turned around to face her, her pupils were dilated, and her forehead shining with sweat.
“Don’t,” Quinn warned. “Just let it go.”
Quinn moved to leave, and Rachel stepped in her way. “Quinn, I’m sorry - I’m not sure what I’ve said to bother you so much, but whatever it is I mmph,” her words were swallowed by the crush of Quinn’s mouth against hers. She struggled briefly, but her body betrayed her and she started to fervently return the kiss. Quinn pulled away a moment later, leaving both of them gasping for breath.
“Quinn-“
“I’m sorry,” Quinn buried her face in her hands. “Please just let me leave now before I make things any worse than I already have, okay?”
Rachel watched as she tried to slow her breathing, her breasts straining against her sweater with each breath, and the emerging war between her hormones and her rational brain was settled in favour of her hormones without a shot fired. “Quinn!” she snapped, her tone commanding. “Look at me.” She unbuttoned one, two, three buttons on her blouse, enough to show the swell of her breasts beneath. Quinn did, and unconsciously licked her lips at the sight. “Is this what you want?”
Quinn whimpered. “Rachel, please. This is wrong, this was wrong, I’m sorry.”
“I asked you a question,” Rachel knew she was in charge when Quinn looked down at the floor like a scolded child. “When I ask a question, you answer it.”
Quinn scuffed her shoe against the tile floor, a gesture that would have been adorable in other circumstances.
“Quinn Fabray!” Rachel’s voice was low and dangerous. “Answer my question, right now!”
“Yes,” Quinn mumbled. Hormones still fully in charge, Rachel reached out and pulled her closer, slapping her ass twice with hard swats.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, that’s what I want,” Quinn still didn’t look up at her.
“Then take it,” Rachel demanded. Quinn did look at her now, her eyes a mixture of desperate arousal and long-bred guilt. “Don’t think, just do it.”
Quinn reached out tentatively, as if she expected her hand to be slapped away. It slowly crossed the space between them until it found the next button of Rachel’s blouse and opened it with a flick of her fingers. She continued down, so slowly that Rachel was tempted to just do the job for her - a temptation she resisted, knowing the other girl would flee if she did. Finally, her simple white bra was revealed, and Quinn keened softly. “Quinn,” Rachel’s voice was soft now. “You can touch them.”
“Wrong,” Quinn shook her head. “I’m wrong.”
“Quinn, please. I know you want this as much as I do. Please put your hands on me.”
Sniffling, a stray tear running down her cheek, she shook her head again. “I can’t. I need-”
“What do you need, Quinn? Tell me - I’ll do anything you need me to do.”
“Iwannatouchyou,” the words came out in a rush. “But - I need you to move my hand. I can’t.”
“Do you want me to put your hand on me? Is that what you’re asking?”
Quinn nodded, biting hard on her bottom lip. Rachel stepped closer, reverently taking Quinn’s left hand and guiding it to her left breast. Her touch was electric, even through the fabric, and she groaned audibly. Quinn’s hand, as if on autopilot, squeezed her through her bra. The squeezes were tentative at first, becoming more confident each time, until her thumb brushed the peak of her nipple and Rachel couldn’t hold in a gasp. Quinn looked up at her, achingly vulnerable. “Is it okay?” she asked, unsure of what she was even asking.
“It’s okay,” Rachel confirmed, smiling as welcomingly as she could. Quinn’s right hand moved slowly toward her, landing on her other breast. She began to squeeze with both hands, moving Rachel’s breasts together and then apart again, as if she was gently working dough. Rachel threw her head back, sighing contentedly, and then jumped as Quinn found both of her nipples and squeezed them between her fingers. “Oh, god,” she whispered. “Quinn, that feels so good.”
“You feel so nice,” Quinn murmured softly. Rachel spared a glance at her, shocked at the expression of contentment on her face that mixed so oddly with her blown pupils. “So nice,” she continued to work Rachel’s breasts through her bra. Rachel took a chance and shrugged out of her blouse before reaching back to unhook her bra. Quinn froze.
“You don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to, okay?” Rachel comforted. “But you can if you want.”
Her hands continued to work, even as her face showed the conflict in her mind. Finally, she took hold of the material and pulled it down Rachel’s arms, dropping it to the floor between them. For almost a full minute she just stared, and then her hands reached out even more tentatively than before and cupped her bare breasts.
“Uh, fuck,” Rachel whispered. “Quinn.”
Quinn’s hands went back to work, and Rachel revelled in her touch. Her nipples were so hard that it was nearly painful, and every time a stray finger or a palm brushed them it was all she could do to hold in her pleasured groan. Suddenly a hand strayed, tracing a path below her breast, down to the edge of her skirt, across her toned stomach, and then all the way up her neck and stroking her cheek.
“May I, um,” Quinn started haltingly.
“May you what, Quinn?” the girl looked startled, and Rachel tried another tack. Being demanding, the way she had been when she’d slapped her ass, was clearly the wrong approach. “What would you like, Quinnie?” she stroked the other girl’s hair in a comforting gesture.
“May I use my mouth on you?”
“You may,” Rachel kept her tone soft, almost motherly. “You may, Quinnie.”
Quinn’s mouth latched onto her left breast, suckling gently at her nipple, and Rachel couldn’t help but moan. The moan only got louder when Quinn’s tongue traced slow circles around her hard peak, and became a full-throated cry when the tongue was replaced with teeth. “Oh, god, Quinnie,” she urged the other girl on, “that feels so good!” Rachel could feel herself uncoiling, her release nearing. “Quinnie, you’re going to make me come!” Quinn’s mouth moved to her other breast, nibbling gently, and her hand took her mouth’s place as it worked her other nipple. She came with a scream, clapping a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound, but Quinn didn’t stop her ministrations until Rachel patted her head.
“That was so good, Quinnie. You’re such a good girl,” the words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying, but it was obviously just what Quinn needed to hear. She brightened visibly, smiling as she slipped a thumb into her mouth. Their encounter had triggered something in her, obviously, some deep-seated need for love and approval and affection, and Rachel didn’t want the moment to end. She reached out and pulled Quinn’s thumb from her mouth.
“No sucking thumbs,” she scolded. “You’re too old for that.”
“I sorry,” Quinn’s vocabulary seemed to be regressing as well. “I have another treat?”
“What would you like, Quinnie?”
Quinn pointed between Rachel’s legs.
“Use your words, Quinnie, you’re a big girl. Tell Rachie what you want.”
“Down there,” Quinn pointed again. “Want to taste.”
“Do you want Rachie to do something for you first?”
“No,” she shook her head defiantly. “Want taste!”
“Okay, sweetheart,” Rachel nodded. “You can taste.” She slipped out of her shoes and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She pulled her tights and her ruined underwear down her legs, revealing her glistening sex. Quinn made soft noises of need, and Rachel pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the counter. “Rachie needs to sit down, or I’ll fall down,” she explained.
“Kay,” Quinn mumbled around her thumb.
“Hey!” Rachel scolded. “No thumbs, or no treats.”
“Sorry, Rachie,” Quinn hurriedly put her hands behind her back. “I be good now. I still have treat?” her lower lip trembled.
“Yes, sweetie,” Rachel spread her legs, gesturing Quinn forward. Quinn was hesitant, but she pushed her legs further apart and lowered her mouth to meet her sex. Her breath was hot against Rachel’s dripping slit, and her tongue probed gently at her folds. “Oh, god!” Rachel breathed as Quinn’s tongue pushed into her. “Yes, Quinnie,” she exclaimed, “you’re such a good girl, Quinnie, just like that, don’t stop!” Quinn didn’t, her strokes becoming bolder, exploring deeper, her nose rubbing against Rachel’s throbbing clit. It didn’t take long before she had another earth-shattering orgasm, Quinn’s talented tongue capturing every drop of her come. She leaned back against the mirror, breathing hard, as Quinn looked shyly up at her. She had to jump up quickly, though, as Quinn burst into sudden tears.
Rachel wrapped her in her arms. “What’s wrong, Quinnie? Tell Rachie what’s wrong.”
“I no no,” Quinn shook her head. “I did wrong.”
“Quinnie, sweetheart, you haven’t done anything wrong, okay? Not a thing in the whole world,” Rachel tried to limit her vocabulary to small words, no easy task. “Don’t feel bad, Quinnie, feel happy - you made Rachie so happy today!”
“I did?” Quinn looked at her through watery eyes. “Made you happy?”
“Made me so happy, Quinnie, so happy,” Rachel’s tears weren’t fake. How many times had she dreamed of being made love to by the very girl she held in her arms? Quinn’s thumb wandered toward her mouth and Rachel nabbed it. She sat down on the tile floor and cradled Quinn in her arms, guiding her mouth to her nipple. Quinn latched on, suckling gently until she fell asleep in Rachel’s arms.
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Rachel wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but her legs were stiff and sore when Quinn awoke, looking shocked and embarrassed at her position. She tried to frantically pull away, but Rachel held her tightly.
“Quinn,” she whispered, “please listen before you go anywhere. I will never share what happened today with anyone, do you understand? No one ever needs to know, and I would never do that to you. I only hope I wasn’t taking advantage of you, that your capacity wasn’t diminished and you understood what you were doing.”
Quinn took a deep breath, and she seemed to relax a bit. “You didn’t take advantage,” she promised. “I can’t explain it, though - it’s like, you were just so gentle and caring with me, and I just,” she frowned. “It’s like I was in a whole other place in my head, some place I never knew existed. A place where I knew I was safe, and loved, and that no one was going to hurt me. But I knew what I was doing, what I was asking for, so please don’t feel like you did anything wrong. You were so good to me, and I’ve been so horrible to you-“
“Quinnie,” Rachel’s voice made her stop and look up wonderingly. “You’re a good girl, Quinnie. You act out sometimes, but all girls do.”
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Quinn breathed. “Thank you for being kind.”
“I’ll never be anything but, Quinn, I promise you.”
“I, uh, I guess we missed Glee, huh?”
“I suppose. This was more important, though. But I have to ask - why did you want to sing that song?”
“Gotta go down on Friday,” Quinn muttered. “I wanted to go down on you, the lyrics made me think about it.”
Rachel chuckled, hurrying to explain herself at Quinn’s hurt look. “It’s get down on Friday, Quinn.”
“It’s what? Well, shit. Forget it, then, that song sucks.”
Rachel laughed, but Quinn’s hand on her cheek interrupted her. “I don’t want to hide what you mean to me, Rachel. Not anymore. I mean, I don’t want to be Quinnie and Rachie in public, but I want people to know you’re my girlfriend. I mean,” her voice got more childish as her stress level rose, “if Rachie wants to be mine.”
“What about Finn?”
“He’s a boy,” her nose crinkled adorably. “I don’t want a boy.”
“Then yes,” Rachel beamed. “I’d love to be yours. Now, if you let Rachie get dressed, I think we should skip the rest of the day. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
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“I’m sorry,” Rachel said across her kitchen table, “if I’m making you feel uncomfortable, I don’t mean to overanalyse. I’m just trying to get a grasp on this. How old do you feel, when you’re in that other place in your head?”
“I’m me,” Quinn gestured, frustrated with herself. “I’m seventeen. But at the same time I’m not - I’m younger, and I’m comforted by it.”
“Okay, let me try another tack. Do you trust me?”
“Implicitly,” Quinn promised.
“I need to talk to Quinnie,” Rachel tried to find the right cadence in her voice, and was rewarded when Quinn’s mouth fell open slightly. “Are you there, Quinnie?”
“I here, Rachie.”
Rachel crossed her fingers, fervently hoping she wasn’t going to press too hard. “Does Quinnie wear diapers?”
“I a big girl!” Quinn protested.
“But would Quinnie like to wear diapers?” Rachel tried again.
“Yes,” Quinn nodded. “I like.”
“Then Rachie will get some. And would Quinnie like a dummy to suck on?”
Quinn nodded.
“Then Rachie will get you one,” Rachel promised. “Now,” she changed her voice, “I need to talk to Quinn.”
Quinn gasped. “Oh, god,” she buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Quinn, this stays between us, just like I promised you. If I can help you find that space in your head, I’m so happy to do anything else you need once you’re there. Could I leave you here while I do some shopping?”
“Your dads won’t be home?”
“They’re on a cruise,” Rachel assured her. “There won’t be anyone here.”
“Then, um,” Quinn blushed furiously.
“What is it, Quinn? You can ask me for anything, I hope you’ll grow to realise that.”
“Could you - before you go, could you make me Quinnie?”
Rachel blinked, surprised. “Of course - just let me get a couple of things ready, okay?” she left the room quickly, and Quinn stared at herself in the mirror. Of all the things she could possibly have expected today, this was about the least likely in the world. But she couldn’t deny the joy she felt, being Quinnie. She was free of all the repressed guilt and responsibility that came with being Quinn Fabray, and she could still experience a physical relationship with Rachel. Even as she thought her name, Rachel came bounding back into the room, color high in her cheeks.
“I’m going to make you Quinnie and then explain everything, okay?”
Quinn nodded.
“I need to talk to Quinnie,” Rachel said, in her measured tone. Quinn was gone in an instant, and Rachel smiled at her. “Come on, Quinnie, we’re going in the living room.” She reached out and took her hand, leading her into the other room. “Now,” she sat Quinn on the floor and knelt down to look in her eyes. “Rachie needs to go shopping, so I’m going to leave you by yourself. I’ll put a movie on the tv so you’re not lonely. And do you see those gates?” she pointed to her old baby gates, blocking all the exits from the room. Quinn nodded. “Those are Quinnie gates. Quinnie doesn’t go past them, do you understand? If Quinnie goes past them, Quinnie gets a spanking.”
Quinn nodded, and Rachel pressed a button on the tv remote. A Disney movie sprang to life on the screen, and Quinn watched with rapt attention. Rachel kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back soon, Quinnie.”
It was about twenty minutes before her bladder started to warn her that she needed the bathroom. In her state, however, all she could think was that she couldn’t pass the gates. That’s what Rachie had told her, and she didn’t want a spanking. So she squeezed her legs together, trying desperately to stem the inevitable, until finally the dam burst and she wet herself. She sat, crying, until Rachel re-entered the house. Her nose wrinkled as she entered the living room. “Oh, god, oh Quinnie, I’m sorry - I should have told you that you could go to the bathroom! It’s okay, baby, it’s okay Quinnie, it’s not your fault. Come on with Rachie, I’ll get you out of those wet clothes, okay?” She led Quinn into her bedroom, laying a blanket down on the bed. “Come on, sweetheart,” she stripped Quinn quickly and efficiently, throwing her soiled clothes into a hamper at the side of the room. Reaching into a shopping bag, she came out with a package of disposable diapers. After she cleaned her off, and after a bit of fumbling with a bottle of baby powder, she figured out how to get it on, and added an oversized t-shirt that hung just below the bottom of the diaper.
“There we go,” she pulled Quinn tightly to her. “Now you’re all set, Quinnie. Want to watch more tv?”
“No!” Quinn shouted.
“Don’t shout, Quinnie.”
“Don’t wanna!” Quinn yelled.
“Quinnie, you will listen when you’re told not to shout!” Rachel swatted her diapered behind, which caused her more surprise than pain. That didn’t stop her from screwing up her features and starting to cry. Rachel reached in her bag again and came out with a dummy on a long pink strap that she stuck into Quinn’s mouth before knotting the strap behind her head. “There - now Quinnie can’t spit that out. It’s time for Quinnie’s nap, because obviously she’s too tired to do what she’s told.”
“Mmm!” Quinn protested.
“No!” Rachel shook her head. “You made Rachie unhappy. If Quinnie wants a treat later, she’s going to have a nap. I don’t want to hear a peep from this room, do you understand me?”
Quinn nodded, her eyes already slipping shut.
“Good girl,” Rachel nodded, leaving the door open a crack behind her as she left. She returned to the kitchen for carpet cleaner, already mentally assembling a list of the things she’d need for when “Quinnie” stayed over. Rachel Berry was nothing if not thorough, and she’d make no exception in this case.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Spoilers: Nope!
Summary: An odd sort of largely porn-ish little thing, inspired by recent news about a song that Glee's going to cover. Can I blame the medication for this one? I hope so!
WARNING: Contains age!play and consensual regression. It's not everyone's cup of tea, and if you're not into it, you might want to avoid this one altogether, okay?
“Mister Schuester, you absolutely cannot be serious. This club is not going to embarrass itself by performing a song that’s only entered the popular zeitgeist by virtue of being so epically terrible.” Rachel stared daggers at the name scrawled on the dry-erase board.
Santana snorted. “Midget, you’re epically terrible, but we still let you perform every week.”
“Santana, please don’t take this conversation off-topic. Mister Schue, please tell me you’re not serious.”
“My cat sings that song when I’m trying to sleep.”
“You see? Brittany doesn’t want to sing it either!”
Finn shuffled awkwardly. “Mister Schue, maybe Rachel has a point. That song sucks. We’ll be a joke if we perform that in public.”
“Come on, guys, we need to expand our horizons a little, try something new!”
“I think we should do it.” The quiet voice surprised everyone, no one more than Rachel.
“What? Quinn, you can’t possibly be serious, this song is a travesty!”
“Berry, don’t tell me what I’m allowed to think, okay? I think we should do this song.”
Rachel shot up out of her seat, racing to Quinn’s chair and pulling her to her feet. “Mister Schue,” she shouted over her shoulder as she dragged the other girl from the room, “Quinn and I need to have a brief meeting. We’ll return shortly.”
“Don’t rush!” Santana shouted after them as the door closed.
“Rachel, what the hell - let go of me!” Quinn protested as she was dragged down the hall and into the closest washroom. Rachel shoved a doorstop under the door, effectively locking it behind them. Quinn jerked out of her grip, fire in her brown eyes. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Quinn, listen, please. It’s very important that we present a united front on this issue. If there’s any flexibility at all, Mister Schue will force us to perform this song, in public, and that can’t be allowed.”
“Who the hell do you think you are? I like this song! I want to sing this song!”
“Quinn, if this is some sort of elaborate prank, I would greatly appreciate if you could just skip to the punchline. I don’t appreciate being made to look foolish.”
“So now you’re going to criticise my taste in music? I don’t know how much clearer I can be here, Berry. I like this song. I’m not playing a trick on you - dammit, this isn’t even about you! Despite your belief that everything is, this is about me! I’d like to sing this, and it’s not fair that you’re getting down on me for it. Do I get down on you for singing Streisand or Celine?”
“Yes.”
Quinn sighed. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry - but even if I do get down on you, you still end up doing the songs in the end anyway, right?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Then why can’t I do the same thing?”
Rachel sighed, her shoulders slumping as some of the fight went out of her. “I guess,” she ran her hands through her hair, “I just don’t understand why you’re taking a stand for this song, of all things. Surely there’s got to be a song that means more to you than this one?”
Quinn flushed, biting her lip. “It’s a long story. Can we just leave it at that?”
“Well, now you’ve peaked my curiosity, Quinn. What, exactly, is the long story behind why you like this song?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she turned away, regarding herself in the cracked and pitted bathroom mirror.
“Quinn-” Rachel put a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away as if burned. When she turned around to face her, her pupils were dilated, and her forehead shining with sweat.
“Don’t,” Quinn warned. “Just let it go.”
Quinn moved to leave, and Rachel stepped in her way. “Quinn, I’m sorry - I’m not sure what I’ve said to bother you so much, but whatever it is I mmph,” her words were swallowed by the crush of Quinn’s mouth against hers. She struggled briefly, but her body betrayed her and she started to fervently return the kiss. Quinn pulled away a moment later, leaving both of them gasping for breath.
“Quinn-“
“I’m sorry,” Quinn buried her face in her hands. “Please just let me leave now before I make things any worse than I already have, okay?”
Rachel watched as she tried to slow her breathing, her breasts straining against her sweater with each breath, and the emerging war between her hormones and her rational brain was settled in favour of her hormones without a shot fired. “Quinn!” she snapped, her tone commanding. “Look at me.” She unbuttoned one, two, three buttons on her blouse, enough to show the swell of her breasts beneath. Quinn did, and unconsciously licked her lips at the sight. “Is this what you want?”
Quinn whimpered. “Rachel, please. This is wrong, this was wrong, I’m sorry.”
“I asked you a question,” Rachel knew she was in charge when Quinn looked down at the floor like a scolded child. “When I ask a question, you answer it.”
Quinn scuffed her shoe against the tile floor, a gesture that would have been adorable in other circumstances.
“Quinn Fabray!” Rachel’s voice was low and dangerous. “Answer my question, right now!”
“Yes,” Quinn mumbled. Hormones still fully in charge, Rachel reached out and pulled her closer, slapping her ass twice with hard swats.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, that’s what I want,” Quinn still didn’t look up at her.
“Then take it,” Rachel demanded. Quinn did look at her now, her eyes a mixture of desperate arousal and long-bred guilt. “Don’t think, just do it.”
Quinn reached out tentatively, as if she expected her hand to be slapped away. It slowly crossed the space between them until it found the next button of Rachel’s blouse and opened it with a flick of her fingers. She continued down, so slowly that Rachel was tempted to just do the job for her - a temptation she resisted, knowing the other girl would flee if she did. Finally, her simple white bra was revealed, and Quinn keened softly. “Quinn,” Rachel’s voice was soft now. “You can touch them.”
“Wrong,” Quinn shook her head. “I’m wrong.”
“Quinn, please. I know you want this as much as I do. Please put your hands on me.”
Sniffling, a stray tear running down her cheek, she shook her head again. “I can’t. I need-”
“What do you need, Quinn? Tell me - I’ll do anything you need me to do.”
“Iwannatouchyou,” the words came out in a rush. “But - I need you to move my hand. I can’t.”
“Do you want me to put your hand on me? Is that what you’re asking?”
Quinn nodded, biting hard on her bottom lip. Rachel stepped closer, reverently taking Quinn’s left hand and guiding it to her left breast. Her touch was electric, even through the fabric, and she groaned audibly. Quinn’s hand, as if on autopilot, squeezed her through her bra. The squeezes were tentative at first, becoming more confident each time, until her thumb brushed the peak of her nipple and Rachel couldn’t hold in a gasp. Quinn looked up at her, achingly vulnerable. “Is it okay?” she asked, unsure of what she was even asking.
“It’s okay,” Rachel confirmed, smiling as welcomingly as she could. Quinn’s right hand moved slowly toward her, landing on her other breast. She began to squeeze with both hands, moving Rachel’s breasts together and then apart again, as if she was gently working dough. Rachel threw her head back, sighing contentedly, and then jumped as Quinn found both of her nipples and squeezed them between her fingers. “Oh, god,” she whispered. “Quinn, that feels so good.”
“You feel so nice,” Quinn murmured softly. Rachel spared a glance at her, shocked at the expression of contentment on her face that mixed so oddly with her blown pupils. “So nice,” she continued to work Rachel’s breasts through her bra. Rachel took a chance and shrugged out of her blouse before reaching back to unhook her bra. Quinn froze.
“You don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to, okay?” Rachel comforted. “But you can if you want.”
Her hands continued to work, even as her face showed the conflict in her mind. Finally, she took hold of the material and pulled it down Rachel’s arms, dropping it to the floor between them. For almost a full minute she just stared, and then her hands reached out even more tentatively than before and cupped her bare breasts.
“Uh, fuck,” Rachel whispered. “Quinn.”
Quinn’s hands went back to work, and Rachel revelled in her touch. Her nipples were so hard that it was nearly painful, and every time a stray finger or a palm brushed them it was all she could do to hold in her pleasured groan. Suddenly a hand strayed, tracing a path below her breast, down to the edge of her skirt, across her toned stomach, and then all the way up her neck and stroking her cheek.
“May I, um,” Quinn started haltingly.
“May you what, Quinn?” the girl looked startled, and Rachel tried another tack. Being demanding, the way she had been when she’d slapped her ass, was clearly the wrong approach. “What would you like, Quinnie?” she stroked the other girl’s hair in a comforting gesture.
“May I use my mouth on you?”
“You may,” Rachel kept her tone soft, almost motherly. “You may, Quinnie.”
Quinn’s mouth latched onto her left breast, suckling gently at her nipple, and Rachel couldn’t help but moan. The moan only got louder when Quinn’s tongue traced slow circles around her hard peak, and became a full-throated cry when the tongue was replaced with teeth. “Oh, god, Quinnie,” she urged the other girl on, “that feels so good!” Rachel could feel herself uncoiling, her release nearing. “Quinnie, you’re going to make me come!” Quinn’s mouth moved to her other breast, nibbling gently, and her hand took her mouth’s place as it worked her other nipple. She came with a scream, clapping a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound, but Quinn didn’t stop her ministrations until Rachel patted her head.
“That was so good, Quinnie. You’re such a good girl,” the words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying, but it was obviously just what Quinn needed to hear. She brightened visibly, smiling as she slipped a thumb into her mouth. Their encounter had triggered something in her, obviously, some deep-seated need for love and approval and affection, and Rachel didn’t want the moment to end. She reached out and pulled Quinn’s thumb from her mouth.
“No sucking thumbs,” she scolded. “You’re too old for that.”
“I sorry,” Quinn’s vocabulary seemed to be regressing as well. “I have another treat?”
“What would you like, Quinnie?”
Quinn pointed between Rachel’s legs.
“Use your words, Quinnie, you’re a big girl. Tell Rachie what you want.”
“Down there,” Quinn pointed again. “Want to taste.”
“Do you want Rachie to do something for you first?”
“No,” she shook her head defiantly. “Want taste!”
“Okay, sweetheart,” Rachel nodded. “You can taste.” She slipped out of her shoes and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She pulled her tights and her ruined underwear down her legs, revealing her glistening sex. Quinn made soft noises of need, and Rachel pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the counter. “Rachie needs to sit down, or I’ll fall down,” she explained.
“Kay,” Quinn mumbled around her thumb.
“Hey!” Rachel scolded. “No thumbs, or no treats.”
“Sorry, Rachie,” Quinn hurriedly put her hands behind her back. “I be good now. I still have treat?” her lower lip trembled.
“Yes, sweetie,” Rachel spread her legs, gesturing Quinn forward. Quinn was hesitant, but she pushed her legs further apart and lowered her mouth to meet her sex. Her breath was hot against Rachel’s dripping slit, and her tongue probed gently at her folds. “Oh, god!” Rachel breathed as Quinn’s tongue pushed into her. “Yes, Quinnie,” she exclaimed, “you’re such a good girl, Quinnie, just like that, don’t stop!” Quinn didn’t, her strokes becoming bolder, exploring deeper, her nose rubbing against Rachel’s throbbing clit. It didn’t take long before she had another earth-shattering orgasm, Quinn’s talented tongue capturing every drop of her come. She leaned back against the mirror, breathing hard, as Quinn looked shyly up at her. She had to jump up quickly, though, as Quinn burst into sudden tears.
Rachel wrapped her in her arms. “What’s wrong, Quinnie? Tell Rachie what’s wrong.”
“I no no,” Quinn shook her head. “I did wrong.”
“Quinnie, sweetheart, you haven’t done anything wrong, okay? Not a thing in the whole world,” Rachel tried to limit her vocabulary to small words, no easy task. “Don’t feel bad, Quinnie, feel happy - you made Rachie so happy today!”
“I did?” Quinn looked at her through watery eyes. “Made you happy?”
“Made me so happy, Quinnie, so happy,” Rachel’s tears weren’t fake. How many times had she dreamed of being made love to by the very girl she held in her arms? Quinn’s thumb wandered toward her mouth and Rachel nabbed it. She sat down on the tile floor and cradled Quinn in her arms, guiding her mouth to her nipple. Quinn latched on, suckling gently until she fell asleep in Rachel’s arms.
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Rachel wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but her legs were stiff and sore when Quinn awoke, looking shocked and embarrassed at her position. She tried to frantically pull away, but Rachel held her tightly.
“Quinn,” she whispered, “please listen before you go anywhere. I will never share what happened today with anyone, do you understand? No one ever needs to know, and I would never do that to you. I only hope I wasn’t taking advantage of you, that your capacity wasn’t diminished and you understood what you were doing.”
Quinn took a deep breath, and she seemed to relax a bit. “You didn’t take advantage,” she promised. “I can’t explain it, though - it’s like, you were just so gentle and caring with me, and I just,” she frowned. “It’s like I was in a whole other place in my head, some place I never knew existed. A place where I knew I was safe, and loved, and that no one was going to hurt me. But I knew what I was doing, what I was asking for, so please don’t feel like you did anything wrong. You were so good to me, and I’ve been so horrible to you-“
“Quinnie,” Rachel’s voice made her stop and look up wonderingly. “You’re a good girl, Quinnie. You act out sometimes, but all girls do.”
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Quinn breathed. “Thank you for being kind.”
“I’ll never be anything but, Quinn, I promise you.”
“I, uh, I guess we missed Glee, huh?”
“I suppose. This was more important, though. But I have to ask - why did you want to sing that song?”
“Gotta go down on Friday,” Quinn muttered. “I wanted to go down on you, the lyrics made me think about it.”
Rachel chuckled, hurrying to explain herself at Quinn’s hurt look. “It’s get down on Friday, Quinn.”
“It’s what? Well, shit. Forget it, then, that song sucks.”
Rachel laughed, but Quinn’s hand on her cheek interrupted her. “I don’t want to hide what you mean to me, Rachel. Not anymore. I mean, I don’t want to be Quinnie and Rachie in public, but I want people to know you’re my girlfriend. I mean,” her voice got more childish as her stress level rose, “if Rachie wants to be mine.”
“What about Finn?”
“He’s a boy,” her nose crinkled adorably. “I don’t want a boy.”
“Then yes,” Rachel beamed. “I’d love to be yours. Now, if you let Rachie get dressed, I think we should skip the rest of the day. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
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“I’m sorry,” Rachel said across her kitchen table, “if I’m making you feel uncomfortable, I don’t mean to overanalyse. I’m just trying to get a grasp on this. How old do you feel, when you’re in that other place in your head?”
“I’m me,” Quinn gestured, frustrated with herself. “I’m seventeen. But at the same time I’m not - I’m younger, and I’m comforted by it.”
“Okay, let me try another tack. Do you trust me?”
“Implicitly,” Quinn promised.
“I need to talk to Quinnie,” Rachel tried to find the right cadence in her voice, and was rewarded when Quinn’s mouth fell open slightly. “Are you there, Quinnie?”
“I here, Rachie.”
Rachel crossed her fingers, fervently hoping she wasn’t going to press too hard. “Does Quinnie wear diapers?”
“I a big girl!” Quinn protested.
“But would Quinnie like to wear diapers?” Rachel tried again.
“Yes,” Quinn nodded. “I like.”
“Then Rachie will get some. And would Quinnie like a dummy to suck on?”
Quinn nodded.
“Then Rachie will get you one,” Rachel promised. “Now,” she changed her voice, “I need to talk to Quinn.”
Quinn gasped. “Oh, god,” she buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Quinn, this stays between us, just like I promised you. If I can help you find that space in your head, I’m so happy to do anything else you need once you’re there. Could I leave you here while I do some shopping?”
“Your dads won’t be home?”
“They’re on a cruise,” Rachel assured her. “There won’t be anyone here.”
“Then, um,” Quinn blushed furiously.
“What is it, Quinn? You can ask me for anything, I hope you’ll grow to realise that.”
“Could you - before you go, could you make me Quinnie?”
Rachel blinked, surprised. “Of course - just let me get a couple of things ready, okay?” she left the room quickly, and Quinn stared at herself in the mirror. Of all the things she could possibly have expected today, this was about the least likely in the world. But she couldn’t deny the joy she felt, being Quinnie. She was free of all the repressed guilt and responsibility that came with being Quinn Fabray, and she could still experience a physical relationship with Rachel. Even as she thought her name, Rachel came bounding back into the room, color high in her cheeks.
“I’m going to make you Quinnie and then explain everything, okay?”
Quinn nodded.
“I need to talk to Quinnie,” Rachel said, in her measured tone. Quinn was gone in an instant, and Rachel smiled at her. “Come on, Quinnie, we’re going in the living room.” She reached out and took her hand, leading her into the other room. “Now,” she sat Quinn on the floor and knelt down to look in her eyes. “Rachie needs to go shopping, so I’m going to leave you by yourself. I’ll put a movie on the tv so you’re not lonely. And do you see those gates?” she pointed to her old baby gates, blocking all the exits from the room. Quinn nodded. “Those are Quinnie gates. Quinnie doesn’t go past them, do you understand? If Quinnie goes past them, Quinnie gets a spanking.”
Quinn nodded, and Rachel pressed a button on the tv remote. A Disney movie sprang to life on the screen, and Quinn watched with rapt attention. Rachel kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back soon, Quinnie.”
It was about twenty minutes before her bladder started to warn her that she needed the bathroom. In her state, however, all she could think was that she couldn’t pass the gates. That’s what Rachie had told her, and she didn’t want a spanking. So she squeezed her legs together, trying desperately to stem the inevitable, until finally the dam burst and she wet herself. She sat, crying, until Rachel re-entered the house. Her nose wrinkled as she entered the living room. “Oh, god, oh Quinnie, I’m sorry - I should have told you that you could go to the bathroom! It’s okay, baby, it’s okay Quinnie, it’s not your fault. Come on with Rachie, I’ll get you out of those wet clothes, okay?” She led Quinn into her bedroom, laying a blanket down on the bed. “Come on, sweetheart,” she stripped Quinn quickly and efficiently, throwing her soiled clothes into a hamper at the side of the room. Reaching into a shopping bag, she came out with a package of disposable diapers. After she cleaned her off, and after a bit of fumbling with a bottle of baby powder, she figured out how to get it on, and added an oversized t-shirt that hung just below the bottom of the diaper.
“There we go,” she pulled Quinn tightly to her. “Now you’re all set, Quinnie. Want to watch more tv?”
“No!” Quinn shouted.
“Don’t shout, Quinnie.”
“Don’t wanna!” Quinn yelled.
“Quinnie, you will listen when you’re told not to shout!” Rachel swatted her diapered behind, which caused her more surprise than pain. That didn’t stop her from screwing up her features and starting to cry. Rachel reached in her bag again and came out with a dummy on a long pink strap that she stuck into Quinn’s mouth before knotting the strap behind her head. “There - now Quinnie can’t spit that out. It’s time for Quinnie’s nap, because obviously she’s too tired to do what she’s told.”
“Mmm!” Quinn protested.
“No!” Rachel shook her head. “You made Rachie unhappy. If Quinnie wants a treat later, she’s going to have a nap. I don’t want to hear a peep from this room, do you understand me?”
Quinn nodded, her eyes already slipping shut.
“Good girl,” Rachel nodded, leaving the door open a crack behind her as she left. She returned to the kitchen for carpet cleaner, already mentally assembling a list of the things she’d need for when “Quinnie” stayed over. Rachel Berry was nothing if not thorough, and she’d make no exception in this case.