Quinn @subquinnfab-blog - Tumblr Blog

[ eight ]

R: Rachel knows she probably shouldn't say what she's about to. There's not a promise between them, or a collar, but she can't stop from wanting to bolster Quinn's words. To let her know the importance she holds in her life. She's the keeper of her heart really, took it from Rachel's chest without her even realizing, so she might as well know from the source. "Say it, sweetheart. Because I'm yours."

Q: "Mine."

Quinn says the word in a reverent whisper, a little incredulous. Hers. Her Domme. She knows, of course, it's not really true until the collar is on her neck. And even then, a Dominant can do what (and whom) she pleases. But Miss Rachel didn't need to say this - shouldn't have said it, really, probably - and she said it anyway, and that must mean she feels it's true. She's Quinn's.

"Miss Rachel." That's Quinn's, too. Nobody else gets to call her that. Just like nobody else will get to call her Mistress (not that a good girl should think that yet).

"Please." Her hand tightens its grip on her Domme's hip just so. "Please fuck me." She'd be more concerned about her far from appropriate choice of words, or the fact that she's asking Miss to interrupt the scene she's set, if she wasn't currently feeling like she'd die if she couldn't feel her Domme's dick inside her. "Please, Miss Rachel."

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[ eight ]

R: Just because Rachel can't feel the warmth of Quinn's mouth, or the tightness of her throat when her nose hits below her navel, doesn't mean she doesn't react. From the sight alone Rachel groans, and then that smile, a sexy mix of joyous and satisfied has Rachel's fingers tightening in Quinn's hair just so, for just a moment, before releasing.

Her hand treks down Quinn's neck, following the crook and curve of her shoulder until she can push down the collar of Quinn's dress to reveal more pink lace. Rachel's fingers blaze a new path then as they trace along the left branch of Quinn's collarbone. She wishes she had the wingspan to dip down and cup a breast Quinn's teased, but this is one instance where her smaller stature works against. Instead, Rachel compromises by cupping Quinn's jaw, then her cheek as her thumb dabs at the wetness below shining eyes.

"Do you like knowing that you're the first," Rachel privately adds 'and only' as her grin grows wolfish, "person who'll be fucked in this room." Rachel certainly does. She loves when they can share firsts together, first that neither has ever experienced with another.

Q: Sometimes Quinn has to wonder if she's been taught wrong all these years. Because she's being a good girl for Miss, she thinks, but she's not being the kind of good girl she's been trained to be. Because good girls stay humble, and they only think about their Domme's pleasure and not their own, and they understand their Domme isn't theirs to own. But that's not exactly how Quinn is feeling, is it? She can feel herself warm up under Miss Rachel's attention and affectionate touches. She feels like she's glowing, honestly - like she's precious to her Miss. And that's not very humble. And she feels her core throb when she hears she'll be the first sub Miss will ever fuck here, because she's possessive over her Domme. And that's... not what good girls are.

But she doesn't care (and that's not very good of her either).

"Yes, Miss." She likes knowing that. "I like..." Miss likes it when Quinn is honest, but it's still hard sometimes. To do what she's been taught is wrong. She buys herself some time by letting go of the dildo to run her fingertips up the inside of Miss Rachel's thigh, then tracing the very edge of her panties with the pad of her thumb and holding on to her hip to press a lingering kiss to warm skin. That, she knows, Miss can feel. "I like when something of yours is just mine, Miss." And then, finally looking into her eyes, "I know I shouldn't say it. But I do."

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[ eight ]

R: "I see I wasn't the only one hiding something under her clothes," Rachel comments, nothing but charmed amusement coating the husk of her words as she watches Quinn reveal pink lace beneath her pretty green dress. Galinda really was so right about how well pink goes good with green.

Rachel's smile only grows, too, when she wonders just how many pink and lace-y articles Quinn's obtained over these past months, and if her dresses always showed off her collarbones, or if Quinn now shops with that detail in mind. Just the notion warms her hearth, makes it swell three sizes, because the things her girl does, such little things, when they really do mean the world.

As if she could feel kiss to the tip of the dildo and its head slip past Quinn's lips, Rachel breathes a contented sigh as she opens up her stance. Reaching forward, her fingers weave into Quinn's hair until her palm can curl around the back of Quinn's skull. Not for leverage or to force the dick down her throat, that's not Rachel's style, but rather a soft touch, a reminder that she's right here.

There's another sigh then, though this one more airy and the result of Quinn cupping her through her panties. The dildo of course isn't growing harder, but Rachel's growing hotter and wetter by the second just at the sight before her. "Baby, you're so pretty with my dick in your mouth." A lick of her lips as her nails graze against Quinn's scalp. "And you're going to be so pretty, too, when my dick's inside you."

Q: Miss Rachel's fingers in her hair make Quinn's eyes flutter closed, chest heaving with a sigh that escapes around her Domme's dick. They're gentle but solid, a constant reminder of who she's with and who owns her (she won't add 'for now' in her thoughts, because only she can hear). It's all Miss. Miss Rachel's heat against her hand. Her voice calling her baby, and pretty, and promising she'll be inside her later. Her nails on Quinn's scalp. And her smell and the warmth of her skin when - with some effort - Quinn takes more of Miss Rachel's dick in her mouth until her nose presses against her Domme's lower stomach.

She pulls back after only a second or two, eyes slightly wet and a proud smile ready for her Domme when she looks up. Miss couldn't feel it, she knows, but that doesn't really matter, does it? That's not the point. Miss can feel the heel of Quinn's hand pressing against her Domme's clit, firm but slow like the lazy licks and kisses she peppers on her dick while she catches her breath.

"You always look beautiful, Miss." Her voice is low and a little heavy, betraying at least a hint of the struggle Quinn's facing to keep herself from reaching between her thighs to relieve the growing tension there. "But especially from here." From Quinn's spot on her knees at her feet. And she traces the length of Miss Rachel's dick with her tongue from base to tip, hand moving a little faster against her Domme's clit as she takes her dick in her mouth once again.

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[ eight ]

R: Rachel remembers when she was a student at WMFA and a certain faction of Dominants would gather in their common room, they'd discuss such philosophical topics as what they would do if for 24-hours they had the opposite genitalia. Some of the boys would stupidly comment they'd pee sitting down -- because really, they could have already done that presently -- but of course the discussion would always turn sexual, and really that was the discussion Rachel could get behind. Because right now she would give just about anything for this piece of silicon to be a real dick. To actually experience Quinn's gentleness, her soft caress, her warmth and wetness.

But Rachel is an actress after all, so even though she can't quite feel Quinn, she can still play the part. And right now Rachel wouldn't mind watching Quinn's darkened eyes go wide and her cheeks hollow as she sucks her off. "For now?" Rachel's voice is lower, heavier than before. "Right here. On your knees, sweetheart. I think you could make me harder, don't you?"

Q: On her knees. The air leaves Quinn's lungs in a single breath, hot and shaky, and Quinn feels herself heat up like Miss Rachel's just dipped her in warm honey. Being on her knees for Miss is always good, but hearing the order is... well. Even better. So her voice doesn't quite come out when she tries to deliver the proper 'yes, Miss' that her Domme deserves, but Quinn nods and hopes that'll be enough for Miss.

She knows Miss Rachel can't really feel her fingers around the dildo, and she knows so much of this kind of play hinges on her giving her Domme a bit of a show. Even if she's far from a born performer. So Quinn holds Miss Rachel's gaze and lets go of the dildo so her fingers can work on unbuttoning her own dress instead - the first two buttons on the front, just enough for the pink lace of her bra to peek out and to give Miss a good view when she finally sinks down to her knees.

And as always, the moment she's settled into the perfect kneeling posture she's practiced so many times before, Quinn feels something inside her settle, too. This is where she belongs. At her Domme's feet. And that thought makes a slight smile tug at the corners of her lips as she leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of Miss Rachel's cock. One hand wraps around the base of the dildo, holding it in place while her lips part to let the head into her mouth, and the other slides down to cup her Domme's pussy through her panties as Quinn looks up and into Miss Rachel's eyes.

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[ eight ]

R: The rose scent slowly trickles out from the bathroom as Rachel watches every motion Quinn goes through. She inhales a deep breath as she takes in the way the skirt of her dress dances, billows and clings, accentuates curves Rachel loves to worship. And Rachel watches the smile on her girl's face transform, from concentrated to pleased, and the way her cheeks have rouged from the warmth of the water.

"I do like rose," Rachel nods, voice a bit breathier than normal, though whether in anticipation of her reveal or just the close proximity of Quinn, she's unsure. As requested she lifts her arms and adds, "I'm not always a fan of the flowers themselves." Sometimes, Rachel thinks, certain varieties' scents are too strong and off-putting. "But I've always found essential oils pleasing. And in fact, rose actually reminds me of you, Quinn," Rachel says as her shoulders drop, shrugging off the bra Quinn's unclasped. "After all, you do have petal-soft lips. And your cheeks are indeed quite rosy right now." Rachel grins as the color she comments on deepens just so. After a lick of lips, eyes gleaming as she watches Quinn's fingers unhook the button of her jeans, "And then there's your pussy, which is the prettiest pink..." Rachel wonders how long it'll take before Quinn realizes what she's been hiding all day. If Quinn will actually need to see the dildo tucked between her legs, or if the band of the lace rodeo underwear she's wearing for this occasion will give her away.

Q: Quinn would very much like to follow her instincts and hide her face right now. Look down, or away, so she can blush in private and not let Miss Rachel see just how easily her words affect her. But Quinn knows by now Miss likes to see. She likes seeing the effect she has on her. She likes watching her blush, and watching her eyes glisten while Miss sings, and watching her try and fail to keep silent as she comes. So Quinn does look down to watch her own fingers work on Miss Rachel's jeans, but she doesn't hide anything she's feeling right now. Not even the electric jolt that ends right on that pussy Miss seems to like so much and makes her shift to press her thighs together, white teeth digging down on her bottom lip.

"Miss..." It would sound like a protest, she's sure, if her voice wasn't low and very obviously charmed. But she can't really focus on that for long, because she's done unbuttoning Miss Rachel's jeans, and the lacy underwear under them is...

"Oh." It's more a gasp than a word, really, because Quinn knows what those panties mean. And she shifts on her feet yet again, one hand reaching into Miss Rachel's jeans in search of the dildo she knows is there. She should probably feel at least a little bit ashamed, really, considering she's spent the day with her Domme and she didn't notice a thing. But she's a bit too busy for that right now, so she focuses on the task at hand. Which is (she's decided, because she knows Miss likes it when her girl shows initiative) wrapping her fingers around the dildo to untuck it and put it back where it belongs.

Her hand doesn't leave the toy even when she's done readjusting it, but she does manage to look away from it eventually to look into Miss Rachel's eyes instead. She knows her skin is flushed, and her pupils blown. She can feel her own nipples straining against the fabric of her bra. And even if there's still a part of her that wants to hide all those things that scream how much she wants her Domme, she holds Miss Rachel's gaze anyway, because she wants to give them to her even more. "Where do you want me, Miss?"

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[ eight ]

R: Rachel almost feels bad that she's allowing Quinn to go through the motions of drawing the bath and adding oils when she knows the water will just sit and grow cold. But just /almost/. She's sure that the surprise her girl is about to receive will more than make up for the little song and dance act. Plus it will likely also wipe that very attractive smirk from her face, even though Rachel more than enjoys when Quinn's confident and playful.

Not in heels for once, Rachel slips out of her flats and answers, "There should be some scents in the bottom vanity drawer, and please do go ahead and surprise me." She figures any oil Quinn chooses will complement the fun they're about to have. "And sweetheart, when you're done..." Now it's time for Rachel to smirk, "please come here and help me undress."

Q: "Yes, Miss." Yes, she will surprise her. And yes, she will help her undress. Miss Rachel isn't the type of Domme who throws orders around just because she can, or the type who delegates every little thing on a sub just because... well, because she can. She knows Miss can do most of the things Quinn does for her, so there's always a reason she asks. Sometimes, it's because she knows Quinn loves feeling useful. Sometimes it's for her own pleasure. And right now, she has a feeling asking her to undress her is a little bit of both.

She finds the bottle of lavender scented oil right away, but the pink bottle next to it catches her attention instead. Rose. That sounds good. And Miss did ask for a surprise. So Quinn takes the bottle from the vanity and walks over to the tub, pouring a generous dose of the pink oil in the water. It's hot enough to make the smell fill the bathroom almost immediately, and Quinn smiles, pleased with the scent. Yes. That was a good choice.

It doesn't take long for the tub to be full, and Quinn turns off the water and finally turns around to face her Miss (she may or may not have purposefully avoided looking at her, just to keep herself focused on the task at hand). "Are you ready, Miss?" She doesn't really wait for an answer, mostly because she's been given the order already so it's a given Miss Rachel doesn't need or want her to wait.

"How do you feel about rose, Miss?" Her voice may be a touch lower than usual as Quinn starts unbuttoning Miss Rachel's shirt. It doesn't take long - only a couple buttons are done after all - and Quinn makes sure to carefully fold the shirt once it's off her Domme. The slight embarrassment of throwing her own dress on the floor during their first meeting is still very much present in her mind. Quinn's fingers curl around the hem of Miss Rachel's tank top, then, and she quietly requests, "Please raise your arms, Miss Rachel."

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[ eight ]

Q: Quinn's smile turns amused, just because there's a hint of truth in Miss Rachel's teasing question. She'd like to see Miss Rachel's room. It's a part of her, after all, just like the bits and pieces she knows from scattered comments about her life before WMFA. And Quinn wants to know everything there is to know about her Miss. As she climbs the stairs, she can't help but wonder what's packed away in boxes somewhere. What Miss took with her to school, but didn't unpack again when she started her work as a teacher. A part of her (the part that's not a smart girl) wonders if she'll unpack the box when they have their own home.

"It suits you, Miss." Her tone is light, with just a hint of amusement because the golden, glittery door isn't exactly what one would call refined interior decorating. But it does suit her Miss. Or at least the 10-year-old version of her Miss she's picturing right now. "It feels like it could only be yours." The door and the room itself. There's Miss Rachel everywhere, from the stars to the trophies, the colors, the pictures on the wall... it's all Miss. "But you can tell you're not living in it anymore." It's the smell, she thinks. Miss Rachel's room at McKinley smells like both of them - like home, really. "Your room back home smells like you." Like us, she means. She thinks maybe Miss will be able to tell.

When her eyes finally return to Miss Rachel's after taking in everything around her, she smiles. "I love it, Miss."

R: /I love you./ They're there, those three words, hovering right on the tip of Rachel' tongue. It would be so easy to let them fall, to speak what she feels and knows as truth, but Rachel bars them in behind a sweet smile and swallows them down. Not now. Not yet. But soon. Her heart demands it.

Rachel deposits their bags near a mostly-empty chest of drawers and continues her earlier explanation. "The basement level is its own unit." Her father had converted it years ago as a means to generate more income to go into the restaurant. "But they haven't rented it out since shortly after I got back from tour." Rachel wasn't sure if she was going to stay with them for a bit to save, but be in the basement to still have her own space that she had grown accustom to since McKinley, or if she would again try and move into the city, but then the short-term position at WMFA was offered and it was an opportunity not to be overlooked. "And right now it's essentially a very large storage unit for all the boxes I haven't unpacked." And likely won't be unpacked until she finally does get into the heart of the city, finds her stage and her -- hopefully /their/ -- home.

Finding Quinn's hand once again with her own, Rachel lifts their tangled fingers so that she can press a kiss to each knuckle. "What would you say to a bath, baby?" Rachel walks them toward the ensuite and flips on the light to reveal the large bathroom. It hadn't always been this grand, but for her thirteenth birthday her dad had remodeled the space, giving up some of his office square footage for the expansion of a soaking tub and re-furbing and -tiling and the shower. "A nice, relaxing soak," Rachel adds, even if she she other plans entirely.

Q: A bath. It sounds almost (but not quite) as good as the pet name. It wasn't a long trip here from WMFA, but Quinn still feels like she could definitely use a nice, relaxing soak. Just drawing the bath for Miss, really, feeling useful to her again, will be nice. She's not used to being anyone's guest, and especially not her Domme's.

"Sounds perfect, Miss." It's her turn now to bring their joined hands to her lips to press a parting kiss to Miss Rachel's fingers. She has some fleeting worries about the Misters Berry finding it inappropriate for them to share a bathtub in their house, but she doubts Miss would've suggested it if that was a concern. And she doubts even more someone like Miss has the sort of parents who would be offended by that.

So Quinn starts busying herself with the bath, opening the tap and testing the water on her wrist until it's just to Miss Berry's taste (a little warmer than Quinn would like) before she turns around to face her Domme once again. "Where do you keep the oils, Miss Rachel?" And then, because she still very much remembers that first bath she drew for her, she adds, a smirk playing on her lips, "Will you want a lavender bath?"

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[ eight ]

R: "Is this your subtle way of asking to see my bedroom?" Rachel teases, her smile morphing into a smirk as she gently tugs on Quinn's hand to continue their tour. They wind their way back to the home's entrance, to where their bags are waiting, and Rachel drops Quinn hand then so that she can both shoulder and grab hold of their bags. She juts her chin in the direction of stairs, wanting Quinn to lead the way so that she'll have the beautiful view of Quinn's backside as they ascend. And as they do so, Rachel finally answers, "Yes and no," about her bedroom.

"Over the years bits have been packed." When she went to McKinley, there were a few boxes of home mementos Rachel had used to decorate her room, and upon graduation they stayed boxed. "And I thought I was going to move to the city for auditions and work," so more boxes had been packed and labelled, "but then I booked the tour." Now at the landing, Rachel points out the open door that leads to her dad's office, and the closed door of her fathers' room. And then, "I think you can see that it's very clear which room is mine. My ten-year-old self insisted this was the statement I wanted," which is a door painted and glittered in gold.

The hand not holding a bag reaches out to turn the knob, and with a gentle push, the door falls open to reveal a time capsule of sorts. The interests of a younger Rachel Berry are emblazoned on the walls with posters and playbills. Awards from productions and trophies from competitions and recitals line a shelf that runs the length of the wall above her closet. There's picture frames, too, scattered around the room like they are the rest of the house, of Rachel with her dads and friends over the years. She can tell by the smell in the room that her daddy must have aired it out the past few days. There's no mustiness, and the scent of fresh linen lingers, too.

When her eyes finally return to Miss Rachel's after taking in everything around her, she smiles. "I love it, Miss."

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[ eight ]

R: It's almost as if time slows as Rachel watches the realization fully sink in across Quinn's features that this, being here in her childhood home, will be new and different. They won't need to hide behind the four walls of her bedroom like they do her faculty suite at McKinley. They can be openly affectionate not only here, but while they're out and about in the city, too. Holding Quinn's hand in the cabs on the plane barely scratched the surface for what Rachel has planned.

Stepping close to Quinn, but careful to keep her hips angled away lest she ruin her surprise, Rachel presses to quick pecks to pink lips. "I'm excited to be your Domme." Perhaps Quinn will assume the forgotten 'this week' is simply implied, but Rachel's omission is purposeful, even if it's not really fair. In a way she's promising things before she has all her affairs in order, but she is working on that considering she has appointments scheduled for Tiffany and Cartier on Wednesday.

"And I usually took my breakfast at the bar, but that was so I had the space to spread open whatever sheet music I was studying, or the lines I was committing to memory. We can eat at the table while we're here. Like a family."

Q: Miss is excited to be her Domme. And Quinn has to make an effort to ground herself and keep her head in reality. Miss is her Domme now. This week. She's not Claimed - her free hand rises so Quinn can touch her naked neck - and Miss has made no promises. But it feels nice to hear, doesn't it? It feels nice to pretend.

"I'd like that, Miss. Like a family." Quinn smiles, a little bashful (smart girls know not to let their imaginations fly), and looks around the kitchen, taking it all in. "It's a beautiful kitchen." She's still not entirely comfortable with requesting things, but she's curious enough that after a small pause she finally asks, "Does your bedroom still look like it did before you left, Miss?"

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[ eight ]

R: An amused and charmed smile takes over Rachel's face. Having never brought anyone home before, Quinn doesn't yet know that her mere presence will be enough to impress, and certainly in a positive fashion, her fathers. The gesture alone speaks volumes, and Rachel honestly can't wait to hear what they think of her girl. But there'll be plenty of time for that throughout the visit, and right now Rachel wants to make the most of their alone time.

Leaving their bags at the door -- they can pick them up when they head upstairs -- with a squeeze to Quinn's hand, Rachel leads the way out of the foyer and into the more formal of the two living spaces. "Dad usually has his morning coffee here while he does the crossword." There's an empty coaster on the table next to the folded paper and a mechanical pencil. "And the fire place is always glowing once the first flake of snow falls.

"And then the dining room, though they really only use this space if they're hosting dinner parties. Normally meals are eaten here." The dining room connects the kitchen, which unsurprisingly is large and a chef's dream. There's a round table with four chairs, but also leading out of the kitchen is a bar with a few stools. "They'll eat at the bar if there's a game they want to watch," the second living space is just beyond, a large screen tv on the wall, "but otherwise no tv or phones at the dinner table." Rachel had been chastised for that once or twice or ten times as a teen.

Q: With her hand in Miss Rachel's, Quinn follows her Domme from one space to the next, taking in the layout of the house and the little tidbits of information Miss Rachel shares. The house is beautiful and just as warm as it looked from the outside, but right now Quinn finds herself focusing on the more practical side of things. Where everything is, and how things are done. Only the kitchen manages to pull her mind from that space, and she smiles as she takes it in. She will enjoy cooking here, she knows.

"Where do you like to have your breakfast while you're here, Miss?" She knows Miss Rachel's routines better than her own at this point, but this isn't McKinley. They don't have to go to class or chores, there's no curfew (not that Quinn has been following hers, thanks to Miss, but still), and there's no cafeteria for Miss to share her coffee time with Miss Fran. And it suddenly hits her that this will be their first time together with only Miss Rachel's rules to follow. Not the Headmistress', or McKinley's. Just Miss Rachel's. And that feels like a taste of their future, doesn't it? She can only hope Miss isn't going to think Quinn has lost her mind from the way she's smiling right now. "I'm excited to be your sub outside the Academy."

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[ eight ]

R: /It feels like home/. They're simple words, but they make Rachel's heart sing. Quinn hasn't even stepped foot into her childhood house, she's barely caught a glimpse of of the city skyline, but New York feels like home. And Rachel's smile is while because understands the reasoning, she feels it in the very own beat of her heart. It's the reason she couldn't make this trip without Quinn by her side, because home is no longer about a place, but rather a person. And they're each other's people, aren't they? Halves a whole who've found each other, and are laying the steps to share their life, share their /home/, with each other.

Fishing her keys out of her bag, Rachel unlocks the deadbolt and resists showing off the core and arm strength years of yoga have built up by not sweeping Quinn into her arms and carrying her across the threshold. That might be a little dramatic for her even. At least for now. Instead, she pushes the door open and holds it as such for Quinn to enter. "Would you like a tour now, or later?"

Q: Every house has a particular smell, and Quinn is not really surprised when she walks into Miss Rachel's childhood home and the smell seems familiar to her. Even if she's never been here before. She figures there's some of Miss Rachel in it, or perhaps there's some of the house in Miss Rachel's. Either way, she walks in and immediately feels like she's somewhere familiar, and she thinks that's exactly how she should feel. How Miss would want her to feel.

"Now, please, Miss Rachel." The sooner she knows where everything is, the sooner she can jump in and make sure being away from McKinley doesn't mean Miss Rachel has to put up with doing things Quinn usually does for her. She wants to know where the kitchen is, and where she can do Miss Rachel's laundry, and where she can draw a warm bath for her to relax in. "I don't want to have to ask your fathers for help getting around." What kind of an impression would she make as a sub, really, if they saw her as someone incapable of taking care of Miss without their help?

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[ eight ]

R: Since they've left the academy, or really since she stepped out of her bathroom and let Quinn know they should head downstairs to meet their car, Rachel's been a little stiff. Even though she knows what she's wearing isn't visible -- the amount of times she checked and double-checked are numerous -- an underlying worry that the wrong move will ruin her surprise maintains a tightness to her shoulders that's present with each step she takes and the way she sits. But the excitement of the trip seems to have captivated her girl's attention and she's none the wiser as Rachel squeezes the hand that's been firmly held in her own for most of the day.

"Not yet, sweetheart." Rachel knows her dad would have liked to be home to greet her, but that's not what Rachel wanted. Especially since they don't know this particular visit includes a very special guest. "They're at the restaurant. We'll have plenty of time to get settled before they're home for dinner."

The volume of Rachel's voice shifts as she directs her attention to their driver, answering, "Yes, the second drive on the left." And soon enough he's pulling onto the lot, putting the car into park, and scrambling to open doors and retrieve luggage. After thanks and a generous tip, Rachel finds Quinn's eyes as they stand on the porch of her childhood home. "Welcome to New York, Quinn."

Q: The misters Berry are at the restaurant. Quinn's teeth catch her bottom lip to rein in a smile that she knows her Domme wouldn't be able to see anyway, focused as she is on directing the driver towards her home. But there have been daydreams here and there, involving Miss Rachel's parents' restaurant and Quinn helping in the kitchen from time to time, and they all rush into her head at the same time now that they're so close to it. And to Miss Rachel's home.

It's a beautiful house. Big and far from humble, but not at all like her own childhood home's museum-like grandiosity. She prefers Miss Rachel's. Even the porch feels warm, like it was built to be used and enjoyed.

"It's beautiful, Miss." Quinn smiles, and looks around them. It feels like a family home. It's almost embarrassingly easy to tweak the one in her fantasies to look exactly like it. See herself waiting for her Domme in this porch, or waving as the school bus drives away. Her eyes return to Miss Rachel's. "It feels like home."

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[ eight ]

Q: Quinn doesn't know exactly how she feels. Excited, mostly, of course. Happy. Nervous. Giddy, even. It's uncharted emotional territory for the usually subdued, stoic submissive, to suddenly feel so... exuberantly. She blames Miss and her influence, and the fact that being in her City is a bit like being in her heart. She's not even sure how long it took for the plane to land or how long they've been in the cab, because the novelty of everything is enough to eclipse even her slight claustrophobia. Miss is holding her hand. She's been holding her hand since the left the Academy, really. In front of people. Quinn can't possibly focus on anything else.

"Miss Rachel?" The car is going slower now, as it navigates the smaller streets between houses, and Quinn knows the Berry home can't be far. "Will we meet your fathers now?" Quinn knows she's polite. She's a good sub and a well-trained one, and normally she'd know she can make a good impression. But meeting Miss Rachel's fathers is different. They're her fathers. They're... well. Their opinion matters very much. "Will I have time to change before seeing them?"

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[ faberry ] face to face

R: Feeling a bit weightless, Rachel knows the only reason she doesn't float away into the post-orgasm fog of her head is that Quinn keeps her anchored to the couch. And Rachel, nose nuzzling along her sub's neck, lazily smiles against pale skin because how fitting. After all, Quinn is her anchor, isn't she? Over the past months, Quinn's become an ever-present part of Rachel's life, there at nights and in the mornings, always among her thoughts, too. She's whom Rachel comes 'home' to now, and whom she's already dreaming of building a home, a /future/ with. Quinn's her constant.

Even though her eyelids are still heavy, Rachel's eyes shine with realization and clarity as she lifts her head enough to catch Quinn's gaze. She holds their shared look for a shared heartbeat before she leans and kisses her sub. The kiss, long and deep, elicits a slight moan when the taste of herself and Quinn coats Rachel tongues. Rachel's breathless once again when she pulls back, a content sigh passing through her lips before she asks, "Do you know how much you mean to me, sweetheart?" And surely Quinn must know, must see it in Rachel's eyes and feel it in her touch. Sense it in their daily interactions.

Q: Miss is back. She gave Quinn her power for a little while, but she's back now. Quinn can feel it in her bones. In the way her entire body relaxes and her heart softens and beats just for her Domme. If she trusted her legs to hold her up right now, she'd be on her knees. But Miss has never needed that to be her Domme - to make Quinn feel like her sub - and she doesn't need it now. A kiss is enough to leave Quinn a little breathless and a lot flushed, and completely hers.

The question is bold enough to make Quinn avert her gaze, and direct enough that she knows not answering isn't an option. So after a second or two, she finds her Domme's eyes again and nods, teeth digging into her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling too much too soon. She knows how much she means to her Domme. She knows things. She feels things. Things she can't or shouldn't name. But they're there, and Quinn nods. "But good girls stay humble, Miss." Good girls don't feel loved without a collar. Or with one. But Quinn does. Good girls don't do what she just did to a Domme, either. But Quinn did. And good girls definitely don't smile when listing the ways in which they aren't good girls at all. But Quinn does. "Good girls don't feel like this with their Dommes."

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[ faberry ] face to face

R: The feeling in Rachel's chest, coupled with the thoughts in her mind and the look in Quinn's eyes as she leans in to kiss her are nearly enough to overwhelm. Sex certainly isn't new, but the way that Quinn's touching her -- a touch that transcends the physical -- no one else has ever touched Rachel like that before. No one has ever made her feel like this before. And honestly, it shouldn't be surprising when everything between her and Quinn always feels brand new.

Lungs on fire as her breath either catches in her throat or pushes past Quinn's lips, Rachel's not sure if thinks or actually manages to say, "There, Quinn. Right there, baby. Sweetheart, please. Don't stop, don't stop, don't--" Until her thoughts or words crack on cry, a 'fuck' offered to the heavens as her body tenses and her back bends.

Q: Miss likes it when Quinn is vocal, but right now she can't make a sound. All she can do is listen to her Domme call her sweetheart and baby, and whimper 'please', and beg her not to stop. Quinn couldn't explain what she feels even if Miss Rachel asked her to. She feels powerful. But only because she's hers. She feels like Miss has given her all her power for safekeeping, and Quinn has used it for good. To make Miss happy and make her feel good. She feels like she's been trusted to catch her Domme and hold her power when Miss Rachel needs to let go. It makes her heart throb and seemingly grow two sizes bigger and three times stronger. Miss trusts her. She's Miss Rachel's, even if her neck remains bare. And Miss Rachel is hers.

Quinn's hand slows, following the rhythm of Miss Rachel's hips and the contractions of her muscles around Quinn's fingers. The only reason she doesn't slide down her Domme's body to kiss her clean is her refusal to miss even a second of the look on Miss Rachel's face as she comes and then relaxes under Quinn.

It's only when her Domme stills that Quinn slips her fingers out of her and brings them to her lips to suck them clean, eyes fluttering closed and color rising to her cheeks as she feels her body react to her Domme's taste.

"Thank you, Miss." It's little more than a whisper as Quinn rearranges them on the couch to lie next to her Domme. She kisses Miss Rachel's lips, twice, before letting her fingers curl around her waist. "Thank you."

#f2f7

[ faberry ] face to face

R: Rachel's always been vocal. Growing up, in school, professionally, personally. It's her nature. But in this moment, as she and Quinn forge something altogether new, weave a tapestry of confidence and want and need, and dare Rachel even think the word: love, she makes it a point to be even more vocal. To make sure that her girl knows exactly what she's doing to her, which seems to be systematically pushing Rachel's body toward combustion so that she'll float away into the ether and be one with her beloved stars.

Words of encouragement, of adoration fall from Rachel's lips on the tail-end of gasps, or staccato-ed with a moan. Between her own hand, which has found its way to her right breast to tweak and tug at the nipple, and each stroke of Quinn's fingers and press of her thumb, the coil low in Rachel's stomach tightens and she knows it won't take too much more for it to snap. So Rachel's free hand loosens its grip on the couch cushion to sink into Quinn's blonde hair and prompt.

"Sweet girl. I--" A particular well-placed thrust lands perfectly, interrupting her thoughts with a whine and forcing Rachel's eyes to roll back. It takes a moment for Rachel to recover, her breaths coming quicker now as she nearly begs. "I need you to kiss me and make me come."

Q: Right this second, with her Domme writhing under her and around her, Quinn feels at once like she's having an out-of-body experience, and like she's never been more present in her life. She can't believe it's her thrusting into Miss Rachel and pressing against her clit and making her move like that and look like that and - goodness - /sound/ like that. It can't possibly be her. Not Quinn, who's a good sub and a good girl and a specialist in going unnoticed. But there's an undercurrent of something new running through her mind, and it tells her that not only is it her, but it couldn't be anyone else. She's Miss Rachel's, and Miss Rachel (and her pleasure) is hers.

Maybe if she'd had more time and focus to think about that, she'd have been horrified at her own thoughts. Good girls don't think like that. But she can't focus on that when Miss Rachel has never looked more beautiful (or more Quinn's) and she's telling Quinn just what she needs. What only Quinn can give her.

"Yes, Miss." It's a whisper, low and a little breathless and a little cut short at the end because Quinn's lips are already on her Dommes. A quick kiss, soft and soft and warm. "Yes." Quinn nods, teeth catching her bottom lip when she feels a wave of sympathetic pleasure come to crash between her thighs, and it takes her a second to regroup enough to kiss Miss Rachel again. It's a different kind of kiss this time. Deep and a little messy and a lot wet, with teeth that she'd never dare use under different circumstances. But her fingers are curled up inside her Domme, right on the spot that pulls the best sounds out of her, and her thumb is working relentlessly on her Domme's clit, and Quinn can't possibly care about anything else in the world.

#f2f7

[ faberry ] face to face

R: Logically Rachel knows that every cell in her body is indeed alive, but right now when she's thrumming with want and desire and need she swears there's a whole different type of aliveness that pumps through her heart and veins. It's an energy that passes through to her with each and every touch Quinn offers, as if each press of her sub's lips and tweak of her fingers electrifies and jolts her body into a new rhythm, a song they're creating together.

With her chest heaving and her other breast aching for attention Quinn's only yet bestowed to its counterpart, Rachel releases her bottom lip she had trapped between her teeth and with hooded eyes pants. "Please." And knowing that there's been no specific orders, no direction, Rachel continues to reassure. "You know /exactly/ what I need, good girl. Feel what you do to me."

Q: With Miss Rachel's permission, the only thing keeping Quinn still are her own insecurities. She's never done this before. She's been on the receiving end, of course, and she's done it to herself, but never to someone else. Never to her Domme. So there's a very real hint of fear at the forefront of her mind that keeps her still, hovering above Miss and unable to move. Miss may hate it. Quinn's had her share of uninspired play sessions with incompatible Dominants, so she knows simply touching the right spots isn't a guarantee that it will feel good. Miss may get bored, or Quinn may accidentally be too forceful or too bold or too unlike a good sub. The potential for things to go terribly wrong is there, and Quinn is about ready to ask for Miss to take the lead again.

The reason she doesn't do it is that Miss says she needs something Quinn can give her. She asks Quinn to 'please' give it to her. And no amount of fear could stop her from doing something her Domme needs.

Her hand slides further under Miss Rachel's panties, and Quinn lets out a shaky breath when her fingertips first feel the wetness between Miss's thighs. Her first touches are curious, fingers tracing wet lips before slipping between them and feeling Miss Rachel's entrance, circling her clit and finally pressing against it. Quinn can't look away from her Domme's face. She watches the reaction each touch earns, feeling her own temperature rise as her fingers find the patterns that make Miss Rachel's eyes squeeze shut and her breath hitch and almost musical sounds fall from her lips.

She's not sure whether it's her own want for more or a feeling that Miss Rachel needs it, but eventually Quinn changes the angle of her hand to push two fingers inside her Domme, her thumb replacing them on Miss Rachel's clit.

#f2f7

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