Tina is hurriedly scampering to a meeting with a professor, beads of sweat dripping down her neck and calf muscles aching, when she spots her. She glances down at the phone she’s clutching in hand, noting with some trepidation that she’s already two minutes late. Ignoring this baffling sighting and beginning to mentally rehearse a self-effacing apology to Dr. Schwartz is the only responsible option available to her at the moment, Tina knows this. But standing several yards away from her is a baffled-looking Quinn Fabray, clad audaciously in a fuchsia A-line dress and staring down at the screen of her phone.
Tina halts and fiddles with her braid for only a moment before making the reckless decision to step over to her with an excited tap on the shoulder. Quinn looks up at her, green eyes focusing into recognition as her painted-pink lips curve into a smile.
“I did wonder if I would find you here,” she muses, voice every bit as husky as Tina remembers it being.
Tina feels something in her chest twist at the sound of that voice. It feels like it’s been months since she’s spoken to anyone who reminds her of home. “Quinn! What are you doing here? I thought you went to Yale!”
“Ah, Tina. Ever the queen of the expository question.” Quinn’s smile has settled into the stony, illegible expression she’d perfected in high school, and Tina feels her blood go cold.
“You know what? Forget it. I’m late to a meeting anyway. I don’t know why I fool myself into thinking there will ever be a time when any of you won’t treat me like diseased dog shit. You’d think that with the seventeen different personality transplants you’ve had, you’d manage to create at least one capable of basic human civility, but I guess not. Good day.”
Tina is fuming, entire body warming beneath the thin cloth of her own black mini dress. She’s about to haughtily turn around and storm off, the perfect picture of indignation, when Quinn’s eyes soften. Tina hates herself for sticking around to see what will happen next, but she can’t help but be drawn to the thoughtful crinkle of Quinn’s smooth brow and the way her yellow-blonde hair catches the sunlight when she cocks her head subtly to one side.
“Woah, Tina,” Quinn begins, voice equal parts impressed and amused, “Tone down the dramatics.”
Tina huffs, turning around again. Quinn’s voice piping up once more stops her.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Tina. I don’t know what it is about seeing McKinley faces that jolts me immediately into defense mode. It’s good to see you.”
Tina peers over her shoulder just enough to see Quinn looking genuinely repentant. She sighs.
“I really am late for a meeting. Do you still have the same number? We could meet up after and maybe try not snapping at each other.”
Quinn smiles. “I do, and I’d like that. Before you go -- care to point me in the direction of a library? I have a meeting of my own in about an hour and would like to prepare some things somewhere quiet first.”
Tina points in the direction of a nearby building. “That should do it. I’ll text you later.”
“Thanks, Tina,” Quinn smiles. “By the way, you look great.” Quinn’s eyes wander down the length of Tina’s body, face coy, and Tina is suddenly thankful that she’s never blushed easily.
Tina acknowledges the compliment with a smile and hurries off, the anxiety of her observation that she is now eight minutes late tempered by the memory of Quinn’s teasing gaze. She pulls self-consciously at the short hem of her skirt and tries very hard not to think about the conspicuous rainbow pin she’d noticed adorning Quinn’s handbag.
Tina’s head is resting on Quinn’s lap, tidy braid dipping between her thighs. They’re laying across the carpeted floor of Tina’s dorm room, an empty bottle of wine strewn to one side while Quinn takes sips from a freshly corked-open one. Tina doesn’t make a habit of getting drunk, but Quinn had knocked on her door bearing expensive chardonnay and Tina figured it was worth taking advantage of the fact that her roommate was gone for the summer break.
The two of them have been drinking and catching up on each other’s lives. Quinn, it turns out, has switched majors over at Yale and is now interested in sexual agency in Victorian women’s narratives, or something. Regardless, she’d be at Brown for the next month participating in a workshop being offered by the English department.
Tina has herself vented her frustrations about the Brown psychology department and its narcissistic asshole professors and cutthroat undergraduates. “Not that different from McKinley, then,” Quinn had noted with a melancholy wink, which had devolved into a gossiping session centered around their former high school peers.
Conversation has since stilled as they both got drunker, and Tina has been staring up at Quinn from her position on her lap for the past several minutes. Quinn seems wrapped up in contemplation, breathing quietly and humming to herself.
“I always loved your singing voice,” Tina confesses, growing bored of the silence, “They should have let us perform more.”
Quinn laughs. “Ah, fuck it. We’re better off having escaped the deceptive lure of performing arts careers.”
Tina smiles at that, but remembers fantasies of New York, of heartfelt performances and a close-knit community of trusted friends, and feels an old familiar sadness surge up in her chest.
“Fucking assholes,” Tina mumbles, sitting up to join Quinn in leaning against the frame of her bed. She isn’t even sure who she’s talking about or if she means it.
When Quinn only takes another swig from her bottle in reply, Tina decides to change the subject. She remembers the rainbow pin on Quinn’s bag and decides a gentle investigation is in order. “So,” she begins, hoping her voice won’t betray her nervousness, “are you dating anyone? Our love lives are the one topic that hasn’t come up.” She knows the Puck thing didn’t end up working out, but they hadn’t talked about that at all.
Quinn looks over at her, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Not so much dating, but I have been fooling around with a graduate student in the department for a few months now. She’s the person who piqued my interest in the literary.”
“She,” Tina says, before she can stop herself. “So are you a member of the B in LGBT then?”
“Hmm. I tend to prefer the space of the Q, myself.”
Tina nods. It seems fitting. Tina takes the bottle from Quinn, leaning her head back to get a healthy guzzle in. When she puts it back down with a wince, she sees Quinn eyeing her closely, bottom pink lip worked between her perfectly straight teeth.
“What about you? Still stubbornly clinging to the monotonous world of the hetero?” It’s Quinn’s turn to pry, it seems.
Tina considers the question. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I haven’t gotten much play of any kind lately. And I’ve never been with a woman. What’s it like?”
“It’s incredible,” Quinn breathes, voice low-pitched enough to resemble a moan. After a few moments of charged silence, Quinn opens her mouth, then closes it again. She considers Tina for a few more moments before seeming to come to a decision. “Do you want to try it?”
“Oh,” Tina sputters, warmth flooding through her. “I mean. Well. Are you sure you want --”
“Yes.” Quinn’s eyes are hungry, face leaning closer.
Tina considers the offer. If she’s being honest with herself, she’s felt a vague tingle all over ever since Quinn’s sweeping stare this morning. And Quinn is fucking gorgeous, with her pale skin and golden hair and perma-pink lips that expertly match the dress clinging so enticingly to her every curve. Tina’s eyes wander down Quinn’s body just as Quinn’s had done to her, fixing on the inward slope of her waist and the swells of her hips and breasts.
She closes her eyes and leans in, pressing her lips softly against Quinn’s, allowing Quinn to take the lead. Quinn seems all too happy to do exactly that, deepening the kiss and slipping her tongue into Tina’s mouth, hand wandering to her waist as she exhales prettily into her mouth.
Tina moans as Quinn’s other hand finds its way to her right breast, squeezing gently before rubbing her nipple through her dress. Quinn breaks the kiss, breathing heavy, moving the hand around Tina’s waist so that she’s alternately kneading and rubbing at both her breasts. Tina can hear her heart beat in her ears and feels herself getting wet, gasping.
“I love your boobs,” Quinn whispers, hands working more enthusiastically, “I want to see them, can I take your dress off?”
“Y-yes--” Tina manages, panting and raising her arms as Quinn slips the thin cloth entirely off of her, watching closely as Tina’s naked tits bounce out from under the tight fabric. Tina feels unbearably exposed, crouching in nothing but a skimpy thong. She covers her chest self-consciously, laughing when Quinn’s face falls.
“Sorry, can you just -- can you take your clothes off, too?”
“Oh. Of course.” Quinn stands up, unzips her dress where it comes together at the side, and gracefully steps out of it. Tina stares, transfixed, at Quinn’s slim waist, her long legs, her perky pink nipples and the little bit of trimmed blonde pubic hair poking out of the top of her small black panties.
Tina stands up to join Quinn and lets her arms fall as she moves to kiss her again, pressing their bodies together and groaning when she feels Quinn’s soft tits brushing against her own. Quinn pulls back, puts her hands under Tina’s breasts, raising them before letting them naturally fall back into place, jiggling. She takes a brown nipple into her mouth and guides Tina toward the bed, pushing her into a seated position on it and posturing herself between Tina’s parted thighs.
Quinn moves quickly to her knees, staring into Tina’s crotch where it’s still covered by the red of her thong. She presses her face forward and sniffs before placing a kiss right at the center. Overwhelmed, Tina throws her head back and moans, worrying that she’s going to stain her favorite pair of underwear with the liquid her body is producing beneath Quinn’s warm mouth.
“You’re so wet I can taste you through these,” Quinn moans, placing her fingers beneath the sides. “I’m going to take these off now and eat your pussy, is that alright?”
Tina emits a high-pitched whimper, raising her hips to encourage the process. “Uh-huh, yes, Quinn, please,” she spits out, thighs spreading even further apart.
Quinn slips the thong off her hips and down her legs, depositing them next to the empty wine bottle on the floor. Tina watches nervously as Quinn stares where she’s spread out and exposed, wetness dripping onto the sheet beneath her. She isn’t as groomed down there as she’d normally be during planned sexual encounters, but Quinn doesn’t seem to mind, placing her hands on the lightly furred lips of her labia to put her on even wider display. Tina thinks she could come just from this, from staring down at Quinn’s reverential expression as she unfurls and considers her pussy. Quinn fucking Fabray, Head Cheerio Quinn Fabray, High School Queen Bee Quinn Fabray, and she’s looking at Tina this way...sad, lonely, goth, neglected and forgotten Tina. Tina moans again. If only they could all see her now, sexy and wanton, as Quinn must.
Tina’s thoughts are interrupted as Quinn moves in, finally, pressing a thick tongue against her entrance, lapping up and down and side to side in elegantly rhythmic motions that have Tina positively howling. She can feel her own tits bouncing as she throws her head back and rocks gently on the edge of the mattress, crying out and pushing against Quinn’s squirming tongue. She’s never felt so helpless and vulnerable, unable to even concentrate on the exquisite sight of Quinn’s blonde head bobbing between her legs because she can’t get any part of herself to stay still, writhing violently and clutching onto the sheets of her bed.
She’s feeling dangerously close already when Quinn flicks her tongue up to play with her clit. Tina only barely manages not to scream as red-hot sensation pumps its way through her full body, thighs shaking, legs thrashing, head rolling as far back as it can manage. It only takes a few hard brushes of Quinn’s tongue before Tina’s coming so hard that she actually squeezes her thighs around Quinn’s head, body slumping back as waves of volcanic pleasure rush through her.
To her surprise, Quinn licks her through her orgasm and doesn’t stop when Tina’s body has finally stilled. Tina’s so sensitive that tears prick her eyes as Quinn continues lapping enthusiastically at her clit, squealing incoherently and staring up at the ceiling in awed disbelief as she feels her body gearing up for climax again, thighs tensing and nipples hardening. “Quinn,” Tina gasps as she feels a slim finger slipping easily inside her, gently twisting for just a moment before pumping in and out at a vicious pace. Between Quinn’s tongue manipulating her clit and her finger working in and out of her cunt, it isn’t long until Tina feels the beginnings of a second orgasm beginning in her center, crying out and bringing a hand to grasp onto the soft, fine hair at the nape of Quinn’s neck.
Quinn pulls her finger out and moves her hand up, reaching until she locates a tit, rubbing the nipple roughly with a fingertip still wet from Tina’s own juices. With a final, long lick at her clit, Tina comes again, feels liquid rushing out of her and looks down to see herself squirting all over Quinn’s face where it’s pulling away.
Gasping, she falls back, body limp and utterly spent. She stops Quinn with a weak hand when she feels her head moving back between her legs. “No, Quinn, god, I can’t anymore, it’s too much, fuck--”
She feels Quinn settle onto the bed next to her, staring down at her where she’s panting, sweaty and wet all over. Tina opens her eyes and looks down at herself, breasts heaving and the neat bush of hair at the crux of her thighs glimmering with moisture.
Quinn is looking down at her with a pleased smirk, face damp, one of her own hands playing with a small, perky tit.
“I’ll move in a second,” Tina promises, voice thick. “I’m sorry about the-- I didn’t even know I could--”
“Are you kidding me? Making a girl squirt? There is no higher honor.”
“That was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, Quinn,” Tina says honestly, struggling to sit upright. She feels almost painfully sensitive still, the physical memory of what just happened weighing heavy between her legs. “I don’t know...I don’t know if I’m going to be as good at it.”
“That’s okay,” Quinn says, pulling her own panties off with a hand and absently tossing them across the room. Tina stares down at the blonde patch of hair and the red-pink folds of her insides that are revealed when Quinn cracks herself open. “I can teach you.”
Tina laughs and moves to the edge of the bed, dropping to her knees onto the scratchy carpet. “Come here, then,” she says, inviting Quinn to place her knees over her shoulders. “Show me how it’s done.”
Quinn grins down at her, legs already trembling. This, Tina decides, will be the greatest month of her life. Fuck New York. The morons in that city have no idea what they’re missing out on.