Rachel Berry, Queen of TMI
Title: Rachel Berry, Queen of TMI
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,071
Description: Exactly as the title says. Pure, senseless fluff here.
"Tina?"
"Hey, Rachel."
"What do you think it means if your partner fails to achieve an orgasm during lovemaking?"
Tina stares, her jaw slightly hanging open in shock. This isn't a question she expects to be asked during homeroom. Or ever, really.
"Um..."
"Have you and Artie ever encountered this problem?"
"Rachel," Tina hisses in a low tone. "That's personal!"
"Can I take that as a yes?"
"No!"
"That's what I was afraid of," Rachel sighs. "Quinn didn't climax last night, and I can assure you that I was perfectly diligent in my efforts."
"Rachel-"
"We're teenagers. We're supposed to have very powerful sex drives, and it troubles me that Quinn couldn't orgasm."
"Rachel, please."
"Granted, this was the first time it happened. Normally, Quinn's desires are indeed potent - sometimes even more than mine. I'm not complaining, but there was this one time when she saw fit to accost me while I was driving. I appreciated the gesture, but it was simply a safety hazard."
Tina's considering jamming her pencil into her ear when her white knight arrives, riding on his trusty steed.
"Hey, guys," Artie greets easily. "What's going on?"
"Well, Tina and I were just-"
Tina springs to her feet, grabbing the handle bars to Artie's wheelchair.
"We're going to be late for class!"
"But the bell hasn't rung yet," Artie points out.
"Trust me," Tina whispers in his ear as she hurriedly wheels him away.
***
"I don't think it was anything that I did. Or didn't do," Rachel says, her brows furrowed in concentration she recalled (and recounted) last night's events. "I did everything that she liked. I was going down on her for forever. I thought that my tongue was going to cramp up, and you know that I already have powerful tongue muscles from years of diction exercises."
"Once again, freakshow," Santana says with a bored lilt. "Why are you telling us this?"
"Well, because..." Rachel's eyes dart from Santana to Brittany then back again. The obvious answer is, of course, because she thought that if anyone could give her advice on lesbian sex, it would be these two. But Rachel arrives at the wise conclusion that perhaps she'd better give a different answer. "...you're her friends. You should be concerned about her physical well being, and I'm afraid that this might be a symptom of a debilitating illness. I mean, she barely clenched when I put my fingers inside her, and I used three."
"Oh my god, Berry!" Santana throws her hands up in frustration, her face scrunched in disgust. "Overshare!" With that, Santana seizes Brittany's hand and starts dragging her down the hallway, ignoring the blonde's faint protestations of,
"But I want hear more!"
***
"Mercedes?"
"Yeah?"
"May I ask your personal opinion on something?"
"About?" Mercedes asks warily.
"Your clothes."
"Oh." The wary look fades into a friendly, toothy grin. "Well, sure! Shoot, doll."
"I see that you're quite particular about your clothes. If someone were to, say, accidentally rip an item of your clothing - maybe a pair of lacy underwear that you were fond of - during an act of passion, would that be enough to put you off sensuous pleasures entirely for the evening?"
The friendly grin fades into abject horror.
"Who what now?"
"You see, Quinn's very particular about her clothes too. I've been replaying last night's events in my head, trying to figure out why she didn't orgasm, and the only thing out of the ordinary last night was me being rather indelicate with the removal of... well, her delicates."
"Um."
"But in my defense, the moment was very erotic and passionate. I was swept away with a sense of urgency," Rachel adds hurriedly, lest Mercedes thinks that she's just some random-underwear-destroying fiend. No, Rachel did such things with a purpose. "Anyway, is it possible that Quinn was upset with the ruining of her panties, and that's why she was unable to find satisfaction during intercourse?"
Mercedes stares at Rachel with a vacant, wooden look. It's like looking into the shell-shocked, traumatized eyes of a war veteran.
Without a word, Mercedes pushes away from the lunch table. She dumps her half-eaten sandwich into a nearby trashcan before stalking off. Rachel watches her retreating back.
"Well, that's rude," she huffs to herself. "She didn't even answer my question."
***
"Maybe the novelty of the act has worn off for her. Maybe she's bored. In which event, I'm perfectly willing to introduce instrumental aides to our lovemaking. I feel that it's important to be adventurous in life. In fact, I would have suggested at least a vibrator or a dildo at some point. However, Quinn's had a very conservative upbringing, and I don't know if that's something she'd be comfortable with. I'm frankly not sure how one goes about asking one's girlfriend whether she'd like to use a strap-on during intercourse."
"Oh, Rachel," Ms. Pillsbury says in a breathless daze. "I really don't have a pamphlet for that."
***
"Finn?"
"What's up?"
Rachel takes one look at his face, that dopey grin, his naive look, the earnestness oozing from every pore. She thinks better of it.
"Nevermind."
***
"I'm certain that our emotional bond is quite strong. We've certainly had our differences, but I believe that these hardships and obstacles only serve as testaments to the strength of our love. It's like the stars have aligned to bring us together. We're like Romeo and Juliet, but with more estrogen and without all the poisoning and dying tragically. Our lovemaking sessions are not only about the fulfillment of physical desires, it's about the joining of two souls who were meant to be together forever. When we're together, our bodies and souls come together as one, communicating and expressing our deepest, most sacred love for one another. It's so amazing to be able to give myself so completely to another person, and her to me. It's such a profound experience. It's like... our bodies aren't making love, our hearts are making love."
"Gross, Berry! Way too much information!" Puck looks like someone just stuck a thousand little needles into his skull. "You are totally ruining lesbian sex for me."
***
"Kurt?"
The boy's face turns several shades of red before fading into ashen white. He's already gotten text updates (more like warnings) from the others throughout the day.
"Nononono no no no!" he shrieks as he backed away rapidly from Rachel.
"But Kurt-"
"NO!" Turning on his heels, Kurt takes off down the hallway and flees as quickly his legs would go.
***
"Perhaps a little roleplaying is what we need. I certainly recognize that people in long-term relationships occasionally need a little fantasy to spice up their sex lives. But my sexual fantasy is me as a major Broadway star - who has just transitioned into a Hollywood breakout - going home to my blonde trophy wife who absolutely adores me for my unparalleled talents on stage and in the bedroom, so she gets down on her knees and begs me to make love to her while I sing. But Quinn's fantasies always seem to involve gagging me in some way. I don't see how we can incorporate both of our fantasies - but I suppose that a strong, solid relationship is all about compromise. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Rachel," Mr. Schue sighs. "Do I really have to explain to you how inappropriate this is?"
***
"Ms. Sylvester?"
"RACHEL!"
Turning away from the Cheerios coach, Rachel follows the trajectory of the boom to find the owner of the irritated voice: one Quinn Fabray, standing at the end of the hallway, looking mighty cross. Quinn doesn't bother acknowledging her former coach as she strides up to Rachel, seizing the brunette's arms. Rachel finds herself being forcefully yanked through the hallways with dizzying violence. When the spinning finally stops, she finds herself in an empty classroom with Quinn, who is standing before the closed door with her arms folded across her heaving chest and her flushed-red face set in a cold scowl.
"Are you upset?" Rachel asks meekly. Quinn's nostrils flare and her eyes bulge slightly with seething rage.
"Upset?" Quinn cries shrilly. "Am I upset?"
"You're upset," Rachel concludes.
"Why would I be upset, Rachel?" Quinn's cold scowl is momentarily displaced by a sweet, plastic smile that is all too terrifying. Thankfully, the smile disappears just as quickly as it came on. "You only told half the school something completely private and humiliating about me!"
"That's a gross exaggeration, Quinn. I only told Tina, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, Ms. Pillsbury, Puck and Mr. Schue. That figure is at most 0.1% of McKinley's total population."
Quinn looks positively murderous.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"I understand that you're displeased with me, but try to consider the situation from my point of view," Rachel says rapidly. "We experienced a rather unusual and distressing event last night which you refused to discuss with me. It was only natural that I turned to our friends for advice on how to resolve the matter."
"I wouldn't discuss it with you because there's nothing to discuss!" Quinn growls. "Nothing happened!"
"Well, precisely."
"No, I mean that it's not a big deal! I was tired! I was up all night the last two nights because Emma wouldn't stop crying. You can't expect me to be a honor student, a teenage mom to a finicky baby and a sexpot nympho for my girlfriend. It's just not humanly possible, okay?" Quinn's tone, although clearly irritated, now carries a tone of dejection. Quinn Fabray does not admit defeat easily.
"I haven't heard Emma crying," Rachel says, taken aback.
"You snore," Quinn returns.
"I do not!"
"Yes, you do. It's like sleeping next to a sawmill. Why do you think we put the baby monitor on my side of the bed?"
"Oh," Rachel mumbles, a little guiltily. "Why didn't you wake me up? We had an agreement, Quinn."
Quinn shrugs lightly and says simply, "I could handle it."
The truth being that Rachel had looked so peaceful in her slumber that Quinn didn't have the heart to wake her. She would rather suffer through sleepless nights by herself than disturb the brunette. That's how Quinn knows that she's stupidly in love.
"Well, in the future, I would appreciate if you would adhere to the agreement," Rachel replies briskly. "If Emma cries again, let me take care of her. We're to share equal responsibility, remember?"
Quinn sighs lightly, and takes the steps forward to close the gap between the two of them, her anger having steadily dissipated.
"Yeah, I remember." Quinn intertwines her fingers with Rachel's. "But you have to stop broadcasting our sexual problems to anyone within earshot, okay? It's embarrassing."
"Quinn, please, you have nothing to be embarrassed. It happens to a lot of women."
"Rachel."
"All right, I promise. I won't tell our friends about any of our sexual dysfunctions." Rachel steps closer, pressing her body against the taller girl's. She gives Quinn a soft kiss on the lips. "Not that I'm anticipating very many of them in the future."
"In the near future, at least," Quinn replies teasingly, slipping one hand beneath Rachel's shirt. "I'm not tired now."
***
"Morning, Rachel," Artie greets the next morning. "You look happy."
"I gave Quinn three orgasms last night," Rachel says proudly. Because Quinn had said that Rachel couldn't share any more of their sexual dysfunction. She didn't say anything about sharing the achievements. "Five, if you include the tryst in the classroom. It's not a record or anything - our is eight in one day - but it was good practice and practice makes perfect! Now, don't think that I'm making a sport out of our lovemaking. First and foremost, our sexual relations are about the physical expression of our deep, abiding love, but there's no harm in tabulating certain milestones. It's more for my own private amusement than anything else."
"Rachel."
"But anyway, I think five orgasms is perfectly respectable, spectacular even, when you consider what busy lives Quinn and I have. Of course, our hectic schedules only make our sexual union all the more necessary. Nothing unwinds Quinn like a good orgasm. Although I've noticed that she's even more relaxed when she climaxes by my tongue as opposed to my fingers. I wonder why that is?"
"Rachel, please!"
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,071
Description: Exactly as the title says. Pure, senseless fluff here.
"Tina?"
"Hey, Rachel."
"What do you think it means if your partner fails to achieve an orgasm during lovemaking?"
Tina stares, her jaw slightly hanging open in shock. This isn't a question she expects to be asked during homeroom. Or ever, really.
"Um..."
"Have you and Artie ever encountered this problem?"
"Rachel," Tina hisses in a low tone. "That's personal!"
"Can I take that as a yes?"
"No!"
"That's what I was afraid of," Rachel sighs. "Quinn didn't climax last night, and I can assure you that I was perfectly diligent in my efforts."
"Rachel-"
"We're teenagers. We're supposed to have very powerful sex drives, and it troubles me that Quinn couldn't orgasm."
"Rachel, please."
"Granted, this was the first time it happened. Normally, Quinn's desires are indeed potent - sometimes even more than mine. I'm not complaining, but there was this one time when she saw fit to accost me while I was driving. I appreciated the gesture, but it was simply a safety hazard."
Tina's considering jamming her pencil into her ear when her white knight arrives, riding on his trusty steed.
"Hey, guys," Artie greets easily. "What's going on?"
"Well, Tina and I were just-"
Tina springs to her feet, grabbing the handle bars to Artie's wheelchair.
"We're going to be late for class!"
"But the bell hasn't rung yet," Artie points out.
"Trust me," Tina whispers in his ear as she hurriedly wheels him away.
***
"I don't think it was anything that I did. Or didn't do," Rachel says, her brows furrowed in concentration she recalled (and recounted) last night's events. "I did everything that she liked. I was going down on her for forever. I thought that my tongue was going to cramp up, and you know that I already have powerful tongue muscles from years of diction exercises."
"Once again, freakshow," Santana says with a bored lilt. "Why are you telling us this?"
"Well, because..." Rachel's eyes dart from Santana to Brittany then back again. The obvious answer is, of course, because she thought that if anyone could give her advice on lesbian sex, it would be these two. But Rachel arrives at the wise conclusion that perhaps she'd better give a different answer. "...you're her friends. You should be concerned about her physical well being, and I'm afraid that this might be a symptom of a debilitating illness. I mean, she barely clenched when I put my fingers inside her, and I used three."
"Oh my god, Berry!" Santana throws her hands up in frustration, her face scrunched in disgust. "Overshare!" With that, Santana seizes Brittany's hand and starts dragging her down the hallway, ignoring the blonde's faint protestations of,
"But I want hear more!"
***
"Mercedes?"
"Yeah?"
"May I ask your personal opinion on something?"
"About?" Mercedes asks warily.
"Your clothes."
"Oh." The wary look fades into a friendly, toothy grin. "Well, sure! Shoot, doll."
"I see that you're quite particular about your clothes. If someone were to, say, accidentally rip an item of your clothing - maybe a pair of lacy underwear that you were fond of - during an act of passion, would that be enough to put you off sensuous pleasures entirely for the evening?"
The friendly grin fades into abject horror.
"Who what now?"
"You see, Quinn's very particular about her clothes too. I've been replaying last night's events in my head, trying to figure out why she didn't orgasm, and the only thing out of the ordinary last night was me being rather indelicate with the removal of... well, her delicates."
"Um."
"But in my defense, the moment was very erotic and passionate. I was swept away with a sense of urgency," Rachel adds hurriedly, lest Mercedes thinks that she's just some random-underwear-destroying fiend. No, Rachel did such things with a purpose. "Anyway, is it possible that Quinn was upset with the ruining of her panties, and that's why she was unable to find satisfaction during intercourse?"
Mercedes stares at Rachel with a vacant, wooden look. It's like looking into the shell-shocked, traumatized eyes of a war veteran.
Without a word, Mercedes pushes away from the lunch table. She dumps her half-eaten sandwich into a nearby trashcan before stalking off. Rachel watches her retreating back.
"Well, that's rude," she huffs to herself. "She didn't even answer my question."
***
"Maybe the novelty of the act has worn off for her. Maybe she's bored. In which event, I'm perfectly willing to introduce instrumental aides to our lovemaking. I feel that it's important to be adventurous in life. In fact, I would have suggested at least a vibrator or a dildo at some point. However, Quinn's had a very conservative upbringing, and I don't know if that's something she'd be comfortable with. I'm frankly not sure how one goes about asking one's girlfriend whether she'd like to use a strap-on during intercourse."
"Oh, Rachel," Ms. Pillsbury says in a breathless daze. "I really don't have a pamphlet for that."
***
"Finn?"
"What's up?"
Rachel takes one look at his face, that dopey grin, his naive look, the earnestness oozing from every pore. She thinks better of it.
"Nevermind."
***
"I'm certain that our emotional bond is quite strong. We've certainly had our differences, but I believe that these hardships and obstacles only serve as testaments to the strength of our love. It's like the stars have aligned to bring us together. We're like Romeo and Juliet, but with more estrogen and without all the poisoning and dying tragically. Our lovemaking sessions are not only about the fulfillment of physical desires, it's about the joining of two souls who were meant to be together forever. When we're together, our bodies and souls come together as one, communicating and expressing our deepest, most sacred love for one another. It's so amazing to be able to give myself so completely to another person, and her to me. It's such a profound experience. It's like... our bodies aren't making love, our hearts are making love."
"Gross, Berry! Way too much information!" Puck looks like someone just stuck a thousand little needles into his skull. "You are totally ruining lesbian sex for me."
***
"Kurt?"
The boy's face turns several shades of red before fading into ashen white. He's already gotten text updates (more like warnings) from the others throughout the day.
"Nononono no no no!" he shrieks as he backed away rapidly from Rachel.
"But Kurt-"
"NO!" Turning on his heels, Kurt takes off down the hallway and flees as quickly his legs would go.
***
"Perhaps a little roleplaying is what we need. I certainly recognize that people in long-term relationships occasionally need a little fantasy to spice up their sex lives. But my sexual fantasy is me as a major Broadway star - who has just transitioned into a Hollywood breakout - going home to my blonde trophy wife who absolutely adores me for my unparalleled talents on stage and in the bedroom, so she gets down on her knees and begs me to make love to her while I sing. But Quinn's fantasies always seem to involve gagging me in some way. I don't see how we can incorporate both of our fantasies - but I suppose that a strong, solid relationship is all about compromise. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Rachel," Mr. Schue sighs. "Do I really have to explain to you how inappropriate this is?"
***
"Ms. Sylvester?"
"RACHEL!"
Turning away from the Cheerios coach, Rachel follows the trajectory of the boom to find the owner of the irritated voice: one Quinn Fabray, standing at the end of the hallway, looking mighty cross. Quinn doesn't bother acknowledging her former coach as she strides up to Rachel, seizing the brunette's arms. Rachel finds herself being forcefully yanked through the hallways with dizzying violence. When the spinning finally stops, she finds herself in an empty classroom with Quinn, who is standing before the closed door with her arms folded across her heaving chest and her flushed-red face set in a cold scowl.
"Are you upset?" Rachel asks meekly. Quinn's nostrils flare and her eyes bulge slightly with seething rage.
"Upset?" Quinn cries shrilly. "Am I upset?"
"You're upset," Rachel concludes.
"Why would I be upset, Rachel?" Quinn's cold scowl is momentarily displaced by a sweet, plastic smile that is all too terrifying. Thankfully, the smile disappears just as quickly as it came on. "You only told half the school something completely private and humiliating about me!"
"That's a gross exaggeration, Quinn. I only told Tina, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, Ms. Pillsbury, Puck and Mr. Schue. That figure is at most 0.1% of McKinley's total population."
Quinn looks positively murderous.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"I understand that you're displeased with me, but try to consider the situation from my point of view," Rachel says rapidly. "We experienced a rather unusual and distressing event last night which you refused to discuss with me. It was only natural that I turned to our friends for advice on how to resolve the matter."
"I wouldn't discuss it with you because there's nothing to discuss!" Quinn growls. "Nothing happened!"
"Well, precisely."
"No, I mean that it's not a big deal! I was tired! I was up all night the last two nights because Emma wouldn't stop crying. You can't expect me to be a honor student, a teenage mom to a finicky baby and a sexpot nympho for my girlfriend. It's just not humanly possible, okay?" Quinn's tone, although clearly irritated, now carries a tone of dejection. Quinn Fabray does not admit defeat easily.
"I haven't heard Emma crying," Rachel says, taken aback.
"You snore," Quinn returns.
"I do not!"
"Yes, you do. It's like sleeping next to a sawmill. Why do you think we put the baby monitor on my side of the bed?"
"Oh," Rachel mumbles, a little guiltily. "Why didn't you wake me up? We had an agreement, Quinn."
Quinn shrugs lightly and says simply, "I could handle it."
The truth being that Rachel had looked so peaceful in her slumber that Quinn didn't have the heart to wake her. She would rather suffer through sleepless nights by herself than disturb the brunette. That's how Quinn knows that she's stupidly in love.
"Well, in the future, I would appreciate if you would adhere to the agreement," Rachel replies briskly. "If Emma cries again, let me take care of her. We're to share equal responsibility, remember?"
Quinn sighs lightly, and takes the steps forward to close the gap between the two of them, her anger having steadily dissipated.
"Yeah, I remember." Quinn intertwines her fingers with Rachel's. "But you have to stop broadcasting our sexual problems to anyone within earshot, okay? It's embarrassing."
"Quinn, please, you have nothing to be embarrassed. It happens to a lot of women."
"Rachel."
"All right, I promise. I won't tell our friends about any of our sexual dysfunctions." Rachel steps closer, pressing her body against the taller girl's. She gives Quinn a soft kiss on the lips. "Not that I'm anticipating very many of them in the future."
"In the near future, at least," Quinn replies teasingly, slipping one hand beneath Rachel's shirt. "I'm not tired now."
***
"Morning, Rachel," Artie greets the next morning. "You look happy."
"I gave Quinn three orgasms last night," Rachel says proudly. Because Quinn had said that Rachel couldn't share any more of their sexual dysfunction. She didn't say anything about sharing the achievements. "Five, if you include the tryst in the classroom. It's not a record or anything - our is eight in one day - but it was good practice and practice makes perfect! Now, don't think that I'm making a sport out of our lovemaking. First and foremost, our sexual relations are about the physical expression of our deep, abiding love, but there's no harm in tabulating certain milestones. It's more for my own private amusement than anything else."
"Rachel."
"But anyway, I think five orgasms is perfectly respectable, spectacular even, when you consider what busy lives Quinn and I have. Of course, our hectic schedules only make our sexual union all the more necessary. Nothing unwinds Quinn like a good orgasm. Although I've noticed that she's even more relaxed when she climaxes by my tongue as opposed to my fingers. I wonder why that is?"
"Rachel, please!"