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Rachel Berry did not understand how they'd gotten to this point. She knew how it started – that was easy. Santana was throwing her second annual Big Gay Halloween Party, and Quinn and Rachel had decided on a couples costume. Rachel was Fantine – before her fall from grace, obviously – and Quinn was... Jean Valjean. Not that she couldn't pull it off – she looked hot, but it was a 'sexy' Jean Valjean, for one reason and one reason only...
“You're too femme.”
“Rach, c'mon, I look great.”
Rachel sighed as she straightened out her seamstress' dress. Quinn looked amazing, but she looked amazing as female Valjean.
“It's not a big deal. You look great. I just think... maybe you're not cut out to dress like men.”
“I can dress however I want.” Oh no. Rachel had stepped in it yet again. She had a habit of doing this. It wasn't even a serious thing. She just kept opening her mouth, and words would fall out, and Quinn would be upset.
“I know! I know!”
“I could be such a great man.”
“I know, babe.”
Recovery from this part was easy. Quinn Fabray was easily distracted by two things: music and makeouts. The back of a Halloween party was a prime position for both things. Somewhere along the line – and Rachel's memory was definitely clouded by booze and women by this point – she was in the back of a cab and Quinn was asking her a point-blank question.
“What if I tried?”
“Mm... what?”
Rachel was too drunk to really process it.
“What if I tried to be a man?”
“You... what?”
“Sssh. Just thinking aloud.”
Rachel fell asleep in her arms in the back of that taxi, and forgot all about Quinn and her flights of fancy.
Over the course of the next week, Quinn received several large packages and Rachel, as her loving, doting girlfriend, was incredibly nosy and wanted nothing more than to find out what was in them. The routine was fairly simple: Quinn would wait for the mail, then hurriedly sneak it into their bedroom, lock the door, and hide whatever it was that arrived. No amount of snooping did her any good – Quinn had become a master at hiding things from her. Rachel had learned that the hard way when Quinn had gone home to visit family and she'd made the mistake of pissing her off. Still, Quinn hiding a vibrator and Quinn hiding large packages were different things, and by the end of the week, Miss Berry was starting to feel very upset. Quinn was her girlfriend. She shouldn't be keeping so many secrets. Friday afternoon was the last straw. She moved to the bedroom door, opened it, and began to search. Before she knew what was happening, there was the sound of a throat clearing, and she turned to see an intruder.
Rachel screamed, grabbing the first thing she could. A lamp. That was solid. A lamp would beat an intruder back, right?
“Stay back!”
“Rach, Rach, it's OK!” Came the reply, and Rachel's whole body wound itself tighter than ever. That was Quinn's voice. What the hell?
The intruder was male, young but athletic, which a fairly large pectoral region. He was in a jacket and coat, but his clothing and gait was definitely masculine, and the hair showing under the baseball cap was short and cropped... No, wait. It wasn't. It was overgelled. Rachel's vision had stabilized from fear to suspicion, and she realised just who she was looking at.
“Q-Quinn?”
“Yeah.” She stepped forward as Rachel set the lamp down, doing a small twirl for her. “You like?”
“I... Don't understand.”
“I told you I could pass for a boy.”
Rachel was dumbstruck. She only remembered brief flashes of that conversation, but... yeah, they'd kinda discussed this, but...
“Why?”
“Rach?”
“Why go to all this effort?”
“The honor of a Fabray is not to be tarnished,” Quinn retorted, striking a pose as she did. It all seemed so ridiculous. Quinn was a girl. A girly-girl, and yet... It was no secret that sexuality was a spectrum and for whatever reason, this was working for her. The loose-but-cuffed jeans, the sneakers, the peacoat, the blazer, the t-shirt that bulged slightly at the top... It was all just working for her.
“C'mon,” Quinn said as she extended her hand, and Rachel took it reluctantly, feeling herself pulled from the safety of their room to the main area of the apartment.
“Quinn!” She said, distressed, “What if Santana and Kurt see?!”
“Let them.” Quinn was cocky, confident and... lowering her voice. Not noticeably, just a little bit. She did sound ruggedly handsome...
“Uh, wait...” Rachel said as they reached the front door.
“Nope. We've got a movie to get to. From this point out, my name is Quentin.”
“Quentin?” Rachel asked, more than pointedly. “Why not... Luke?”
“Luke Quentin Fabray? Could be worse.” She said, smugly.
“Alright... 'Luke'...”
“Quentin,” Coughed Quinn.
“... Quentin. Let's... go?”
The movie itself was something of a blur. Rachel spent much of the walk there terrified that someone would find it all very strange, but no one even batted an eyelid, and so Rachel hung even tighter to Quentin's arm, hoping that at least a terrible show of boy/girl romanticism would smooth over any rough patches. In hindsight, she probably looked like an agoraphobe forced to go for a walk through New York City.
The movie itself was bland and unintresting. Ryan Gosling was doing something or other with the hottest It-Girl of the moment. It wasn't really holding her interest. Her eyes kept darting back to Quinn, the girl who was a boy. It wasn't a trans thing. She knew Quinn'd be back to normal once this was all over. It was proving a point. Quinn Fabray could be anyone she wanted to be.
Quinn Fabray could have anything she wanted.
Those were the words rushing through Rachel's mind as she grazed Quinn's crotch. It was entirely accidental. She'd been leaning into her, lightly touching the inside of her thigh when her hand passed over... something. She found herself recoiling slightly at the feel.
“Babe?”
“I... um...” How exactly was she supposed to explain what she'd just felt? Maybe it was a phone. No, it was too big for that.
“Do you... have a penis now?”
Quinn found herself
having to stifle a laugh. Ryan Gosling was supposedly baring his soul to Miss Whatsername now, and her laughter drew a few disappointed looks from nearby patrons. Rachel's mind wasn't paying attention that though. They were in the back row, no one could see them without actively looking, and she had to know...
Her fingers ran over Quinn's crotch, and the blond almost seemed to stifle a moan. What was this thing? It felt long, and hard... thick, too. Rachel struggled to get her mind around it. How? Why? She knew Quinn had been sneaking around, but... this was extreme. Her hand began to massage it, palming it slowly, carefully, running the flat of her hand up and down the thick, meaty substance... She was entranced by the possibility. Her girlfriend had a cock. How? It wasn't a strap-on. There was nothing there. Even the testicles seemed to move... This was confusing her to no end.
“Babe?”
“Yeah...” Rachel really had no idea how to reply.
“You confused?” Quinn was in a whisper. She didn't want to attract attention. Rachel understood completely. She was groping her girlfriend in a movie theatre. Attention was bad.
“H... how?” She whispered back.
“Just pretend it's my clit,” she said, smirking, and Rachel found herself looking away, half out of shocked embarrassment and half wanting to make sure no one was looking. They weren't, and she continued palming it, slowly turning it into a jerk-off, rubbing the firm-but-flexible length in her hands. It felt... real. Not quite warm enough, but in terms of texture and feel it was definitely a cock. How?
Her exploration didn't help much. She spent an hour palming it through Quinn's jeans, but when the movie was over, she couldn't focus. Her eyes kept darting down as they walked, and as Luke Quentin Fabray hailed a cab, Rachel felt like she couldn't hold back anymore. They slipped into the back, and as the cab driver navigated the streets of NY, Rachel reached down. He wouldn't notice, surely. The cabbie would be too focussed, and she had to know. She unzipped, and sure enough, there was a cock. Quinn seemed to want to push her away, but she had to know. What was it? How did you deal with this fact? It was so real. It had to be. She leaned down, and gripped it, and Quinn continued to fidget, but she pulled it out... Oh. Suddenly so much made sense. It had some sort of interior to it that meant it was always stiff but it could be straightened out, like a real erection. Quinn hurriedly took off her coat and laid it over her, and Rachel knew that her girlfriend was completely aware that she had to do this. She had to understand it. It was some sort of prosthetic, and... well, it tasted of rubber. She ran her tongue down it, using it as an excuse to get closer to the base. She could see many things – including a fairly firm piece of the material at the base, underneath the scrotum. That she saw as she took the entire firm false cock into her mouth. The firm piece was rubbing against Quinn's clit. That's how she was able to moan. So much made sense. This was probably the reason why Quinn had been so secretive. As she ran her head up and down the shaft, she knew that Quinn had needed time to make sure that the prosthetic worked. It clearly did. She wanted her to know that. She spent the next ten minutes blowing her, knowing that the sensation probably wouldn't do as much as other activity would – her stroking had moved the entire penis, this was just paying attention to the fake head – and she had to see. She had to know her girlfriend's new persona was going to use it to its full potential.
As they left the cab, Quinn's cock safely back in her pants, Rachel had no idea what was going to happen. Maybe this was a new identity. Maybe it was a dare. Maybe it was a one-time-thing they'd laugh about in months. Only Quinn could tell her that. She didn't want to speculate. She knew that if Quinn said she was a boy, she was a boy, and if she said tomorrow that she was a girl, she was a girl. She couldn't tell Quinn how to live her life, but as their lips connected, she knew she didn't care. There was more passion in Quinn's kiss than she'd ever knnown, and they walked to her apartment, slowly, shakily, too busy groping, feeling and fondling, and there she was, Quinn was her man for now, and she was his woman, and nothing could change that. The moved, slowly, surely through, barely breaking for air, barely trying to stop, Quinn doing little but kissing her and pulling at her clothes. Rachel tried to disrobe her, and while she might have been fully naked, she got as far as Quinn's t-shirt, which she stopped her at.
“L... Leave it on,” she mumbled through the kisses, and Rachel wondered why. Probably the reason why her breasts were MIA. Binding. That's the thing people did right? She didn't question it. If Quinn fucked her in a t-shirt, she fucked her in a t-shirt. As long as they were together, she could wear whatever she wanted. That was love. Unconditional love. Quinn lay her on the bed, and they just stared for a moment.
“I uh...”
Rachel hung on Quinn's words.
“I wanna do it like, uh...”
She seemed like a nervous little boy.
“Like we heard.”
It was an old story. Brittany visiting Santana, in an apartment with paper-thin walls. Quinn, Rachel, Kurt and Blaine had all sat around talking about it in hushed whispers. It was so loud. So clearly rough. So clearly with Santana on bottom. It surprised them all. Now Quinn was asking to do it like that. Rachel's mind raced with images. God, here she was, playing a boy, asking to treat her rough. She couldn't speak. She simply nodded, and Quinn's hands gripped her, first with nervousness in their touch, but it soon turned firm, and Rachel's body began to twist in her grip.
Rachel couldn’t help but feel a smirk develop on her face as Quinn flipped her. That’s what she wanted. She wanted her girlfriend to be happy, and if that meant acting like a man just to dominate her, that was enough. Simple as that. She wondered if she knew that this was a game to her, finding out exactly how much of their love was Quinn, and how much was Quinn's love for her. This was love for Rachel. This wasn't just Quinn. In the past few hours she'd seen something totally affected – and she knew it was all because of her. For now, she was reaching out and grabbing the headboard as commanded, her fingers gripping tightly to the thick wood, her body stretched out as she began to fuck her.
God, Quinn was leaving nothing to chance. She was absolutely trying to tear her apart. By the time she’d stabilized her position, she could feel herself shaking.
“FUCK!” There she was, slamming into her at a fevered pace and her whole body felt like it was aching. God, it felt good. Her angle was just right, the under-ridge of her cock – her beautiful, perfect, more than a packer cock – grinding against her clit, her balls – god, even her balls felt real – smashing into her at fever pitch, it was just... perfect. It was exactly what she had needed. It was exactly how she knew Quinn loved her.
“God, yes, please… Harder. Fuck me harder, baby...” She said, raising herself on the headboard, angling her arms, throwing her head back so she could see the look on her face as she drove herself into her.
The way Quinn Fabray’s nails dug into her hips reminded Rachel just how far away from Lima she was. As her nails retracted, the burning of Rachel's flesh feeling so close to puncturing now ebbing out as the marks filled in, she braced herself. She knew this woman... no, this man, would go the extra mile. As she slapped her ass, Rachel wished she could cum right then and there. She couldn’t speak any more, just moan. She was close, certainly, but in that moment it felt perfect.
She ate that thought as Quinn continued, leaning in to flick her clit, her breasts pressing tight against Rachel's back. Miss Berry felt as though her pussy was lurching forward, closer to something - closer to orgasm - with each unsteady and random strike it took. Between the hand on her clit and the hand on her ass, she was hitting almost everything she wanted her to do… except for one.
“Who do you love, Berry?” Quinn said, reaching forward to grab Rachel's hair and pull backwards.
As the hand wrapped itself around her hair and yanked her back, she felt like he was psychic.
“Q-Qu... Quinn!” She gasped out as she spoke to her. Fuck. She was everything she needed.
“I love you too...” Quinn said, seemingly lost in the moment. “Just like I love fucking you.”
God, she was so perfectly rough that Rachel wanted to marry her. Anything to make sure she kept on fucking her. God, this was all she wanted from anyone. A woman who bruised her insides as part of some bizarre bet because she loved her. Her head went flying down, her ass ached with the pain of her slaps, and her words shot through her like pin-pricks on her clitoris.
Rachel found herself reaching orgasm with a scream. Something felt so much more intense about this one. Her entire body shook as it happened, her hands falling from the headboard, her body falling into the mattress. She was panting, and writhing, and trying desperately to get her body back under her own control. She sort of assumed Quinn had cum too. She had to have. As she pulled herself off her and turned her body, Quinn's face definitely agreed with that statement. She could feel the phantom presence of the rubber cock inside her, stretched out as she was.
“I love you,” Quinn said, leaning into her, as her weight shifted from her knees for her body. She just lay there, hard fake cock lying between Rachel's legs. In her mind, Miss Berry had no idea what this meant. She had no idea where this was going to lead.
In that moment, though, she did not care at all.