Take me into your loving arms.
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.
Place your head on my beating heart.
I'm thinking out loud.
Maybe we found love right where we are.
~Thinking Out Loud, Ed Sheeran
There have been many moments in Quinn's life that she would be happy enough to forget. In fact, she could probably lose most of ages ten to seventeen without a single complaint. But gazing into the loving eyes of her brand new wife as they share another dance, Quinn prays that every detail of this day will be just as vivid in fifty years as it is right now, even if the hands of time steal away a thousand other precious memories from her mind.
Her wedding day has been as close to perfect as any day has ever been. Part of her never wants it to end, but the rest of her is looking forward to getting out of this reception, out of her heels, and most definitely out of her dress—almost as much as she's looking forward to getting Rachel out of hers. She knows that Rachel's thoughts have been veering off in the same direction for the last two (or four) hours at least, and, frankly, Quinn has been thoroughly enjoying the thrill of anticipation on every level. She does so love to tease her wife.
"Have I mentioned how much I love your smile, Mrs. Fabray?" Rachel asks with a playful grin. "Especially the one that's currently gracing your lips."
Quinn chuckles at Rachel's repeated use of her new moniker, but she absolutely loves it. She loves it even more attached to Rachel, of course, but she's surprisingly not weirded out at being addressed in the same way her mother had been for so many years. Quinn's name is her own—she'd taken it from Russell years ago and molded it with sweat and tears into something that she's finally proud to claim. She likes to think that, together, she and Rachel are going to turn it into something wonderful.
"Why this smile in particular?" Quinn wonders, more than amenable to any rambling odes to her many virtues that Rachel might care to make.
Rachel leans closer, pressing her upper body against Quinn enticingly. "Because it's the one you wear whenever you're thinking about doing very dirty things to me."
Quinn doesn't even try to deny it. Instead, she lets her smile turn deliberately wicked while her hand glides even lower on Rachel's back—her fingers just barely flirting with territory that could be considered indecent in public. They are still in the middle of their wedding reception in plain sight of their parents, after all.
"Things like consummating our marriage in every conceivable way?" Quinn murmurs huskily, drawing out the words and punctuating them with an ephemeral brush of her lips against Rachel's tempting mouth. "On every available surface," she adds, pulling a soft moan from her wife that she captures with a kiss. She fully intends to make their wedding night as memorable as the day has been—once they're blissfully alone—but for the moment, she's content to trace the contours of Rachel's mouth while their bodies sway in time to the band's rendition of "Thinking Out Loud."
"I'm so glad this is the last dance," Rachel says breathlessly when their lips finally part.
"Well, the last one without us being naked," Quinn teases.
Rachel closes her eyes and inhales sharply. "We really need to leave now."
Quinn smiles in satisfaction at the evidence of her wife's impatient arousal before she lets her gaze drift around the room, skimming over family and friends in various stages of revelry—Santana and Kurt sharing a friendly dance, Finn's arms wrapped protectively around his wife, Josie and Sarah lost in each other, Beth giggling as Puck twirls her around the dance floor, and Judy dancing comfortably with Leroy Berry while Hiram sits and chats with Shelby. Her heart swells with happiness, and she saves one more precious snapshot of today in her memory.
"We should probably say a quick goodbye to our parents before Candace muscles everyone out," Quinn suggests, catching sight of their wedding planner already hovering at the stage and waiting for the band to finish playing.
Rachel nods in agreement, reluctantly slipping out of Quinn's arms but making certain to link their hands before they make their way over to their parents. They cut in on Leroy and Judy first, and Leroy immediately engulfs Rachel in an enthusiastic hug while Quinn shares a somewhat more muted version with her mother.
"Enjoy your stay in the Hamptons, dear," Judy murmurs before she releases Quinn with a fond smile and brushes a few stray hairs away from Quinn's eyes. "Don't forget to use a good sunscreen. You know how easily you burn," she warns, purposely transforming their honeymoon into an innocent vacation at the coast.
"Yes, Mother," Quinn responds with a roll of her eyes, grinning indulgently. If her mother wants to imagine that they're only going to be sightseeing and lounging at the beach, that's perfectly fine with Quinn. She's sure that she and Rachel will be doing at least a little bit of that in between other, far more pleasurable activities.
By now, the last notes of the song have faded from the room, and Candace is thanking everyone for coming and instructing them to gather outside the main entrance. Leroy swoops in to give Quinn a final hug, telling her to, "Take care of my baby girl, Quinn."
"Always," she promises easily, glancing in her wife's direction to see her mother giving Rachel a loose hug that seems just a little more affectionate than usual. Quinn smiles tenderly at the sight.
Having made his way over to them, Hiram takes his turn hugging Quinn. He only tells her to, "Have a wonderful time this weekend," with a knowing grin before he kisses her cheek and moves to hug his daughter. If Quinn blushes a bit, it's only because she's so very happy to finally be a part of Rachel's family.
Then Candace is circling them, running down her last minute checklist—their luggage is already at the Plaza, they just need to pick up their key at the front desk, the town car is scheduled to pick them up at 10:00 a.m. the next morning, and she's already packed up their personal effects from the bridal table and given them to the limo driver. She ushers them toward the door and out into the warm, evening air where a gentle breeze dances with the canopy of bubbles being created by their guests to send them off to their honeymoon.
"Have fun easin' on down to Munchkinland," Santana calls out with a smirk from her position between Kurt and Brittany. "Remember to stay hydrated."
Quinn only smiles, dismissing Santana's weak euphemism with a shake of her head and entwining her fingers with Rachel's as they walk toward the white limousine that's waiting for them.
They'd gone with the transportation company recommended by the Boathouse after they'd vetoed the suggestion of a horse drawn carriage to take them out of the park, but it hadn't saved Candace or the manager at the Boathouse from listening to Rachel's forty-five minute presentation on the detrimental conditions that carriage horses in the city are forced to endure in the name of profit. Quinn had just been happy that Rachel had given them the short version, free from the accompanying PowerPoint presentation that she still occasionally prepares whenever she's determined to sway someone in her favor. Candace had been forced to sit through a wedding themed version of one early on in the planning stages for today. Quinn will admit to no one that she'd helped Rachel prepare it.
The limo is blessedly free of any gaudy decorations to proclaim that they're just married. It's simple and elegant, and the driver opens the door for them with a smile and a quiet, "Congratulations." Quinn keeps a light hold on Rachel's hand, helping her to slide into the backseat, and with one last look back at the smiling faces cheering them on, she adjusts the skirt of her gown and joins her wife in the car.
The moment the door closes behind her, Rachel is dragging her into a passionate kiss that Quinn eagerly reciprocates, and insistent fingers thread into Quinn's hair, destroying whatever was left of her perfect styling. It's the first time they've been alone—well, not counting the driver sectioned off behind the privacy glass—as a married couple, and Quinn revels in the experience. Rachel's mouth is sweetly demanding, and the silky material of her dress does nothing to disguise the heat that radiates from her skin. Quinn wonders for a moment just how private that privacy glass really is, but then she reminds herself that it's their wedding night, and they're so not jumping the gun in the back of a limousine, no matter how comfortable and well-appointed it is.
"Mmm. Hello, wife," Rachel husks when she finally allows Quinn to catch her breath. Her sexy smile and hooded eyes make her look like the proverbial cat who's just been given free reign over the creamery.
Quinn glides her fingertips back and forth over Rachel's hip, imagining that her own expression is practically identical. "You really are enjoying that, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," Rachel murmurs, still playing with the loose hair at the nape of Quinn's neck.
"Oh, I think I might." Quinn gets her own thrill every time she thinks about Rachel being her wife now—that she'll get to introduce her to everyone that way. "Mrs. Fabray," she purrs, testing out the way it sounds again and loving it just as much as she had the first time she'd said it out loud.
Rachel hums in approval, pressing closer to Quinn and catching her lips in another kiss that's only slightly less demanding than the last one. The fingers of her left hand skim over Quinn's body as if she simply needs to be touching her in some way.
"You really are so incredibly beautiful today," Rachel breathes when she finally tears her mouth away, her eyes glittering with an alluring mix of desire and adoration. "I mean, you're beautiful every day, obviously, but you in this dress," she trails off with an appreciative sigh, sliding her wandering hand over the fabric of Quinn's bodice. "I don't think anyone could take their eyes off of you all day long. I know I couldn't," she admits with a smile. "I'm the luckiest woman in the world."
As much as Quinn loves hearing her wife compliment her beauty, she can't help but shake her head in mild disagreement. "I'm the lucky one, Rach," she insists. She knows that she's had her fair share of admirers in the past, but she also knows that Rachel has had just as many. Quinn doesn't doubt for a moment that at least three of Rachel's exes would have gladly traded places with her today. "I have the most gorgeous, talented wife in the world."
"Well, I'm not about to argue that you certainly have the most talented wife," Rachel says with a smug grin. "But I really think that I," she stresses with a dramatic pause, "have the most gorgeous wife in the world."
Quinn laughs. "You're never going to let me win, are you?"
"Never," Rachel confirms before her expression goes soft and tender, "and always. I will always, always put you first," she promises.
Overwhelmed with love for her wife, Quinn captures Rachel's lips to worship with her own. She'd long ago lost track of the number of kisses that they've shared in their years together, but she knows that she'll never stop wanting more of them. She thinks that she'd be happy just to kiss Rachel for the rest of her life.
The permitted route out of the park actually takes them through it in the opposite direction of the Plaza before putting them onto 5th Avenue, so for a while, the view outside of the tinted windows is dominated by trees and the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the leaves. It's almost enough to make Quinn reconsider her decision to wait until they get to the hotel.
"You're far too tempting," Quinn accuses playfully between kisses.
"It's only fair," Rachel murmurs, breathless. "You've been tempting me all day."
"Soon," Quinn teases wickedly, gliding her palm over the curve of Rachel's hip.
Rachel groans softly, briefly glancing around the limo. "Not soon enough," she mutters. "Can this guy drive any slower?"
Quinn chuckles. "He's only obeying the speed limit, sweetheart. Why don't we just sit back and enjoy the ride?" she suggests as she eyes the mini-bar built into the side of the limo, complete with a bottle of champagne. She's definitely impressed with the luxurious service, and she almost wishes that they were taking this car all the way to the Hamptons tonight, but she and Rachel had opted to spend their wedding night somewhere much closer than Long Island and much more exceptional than their apartment.
"Do I have to stop touching you?" Rachel asks with a pout.
"Not if you don't want to," Quinn answers laughingly, but she does end up extracting herself from Rachel just far enough to lean forward across the long, leather seats and make a grab for the bottle and two long-stemmed, plastic flutes—she supposes that practicality had needed to trump luxury in some regards. She passes the flutes to Rachel and notices that the bottle has already been opened and capped only with a bottle stopper. "How convenient," she notes, twisting off the stopper and turning to Rachel with a pleased grin.
Rachel holds up the flutes with a smile as Quinn proceeds to fill them. "You know, some people might say that we've both had enough champagne already."
"It's our wedding," Quinn reminds her needlessly. "We're allowed to splurge." The champagne fizzes to the tops of the flutes, and Quinn recaps the bottle, setting it aside before she takes a flute from Rachel, making sure to brush her fingers over the back of her wife's hand as she does so. "Besides, we're paying for all of it whether we drink it or not."
"You're not supposed to think about that part," Rachel chastises lightheartedly.
Quinn can't help being grateful that their parents had agreed to pay for part of the wedding, or they'd have spent a large chunk of their savings on what ultimately amounts to one day of their lives—no matter how perfect and wonderful the day has been.
"To us and our very happy future," she toasts, lifting her flute.
Rachel does the same, touching it to its mate. "To loving each other in the very best way possible."
Quinn takes a sip of her drink, smiling over the rim. "I plan to love you in every way possible tonight."
She watches Rachel's eyes grow dark over the champagne that's kissing her lips—the muscles of her throat moving erratically as the sparkling liquid disappears. Rachel lowers her flute slowly. "That's a good plan," she whispers in lustful appreciation.
"Mmm, I think so," Quinn husks. Her plans have gotten so much more detailed over the years, and their execution has been pretty damned flawless, if she does say so herself. She thinks that Rachel's organizational skills might have rubbed off on her in all the right ways. But there are other things of Rachel's that she's thinking about rubbing right now, and she takes full advantage of their proximity to lean in and sip the lingering traces of champagne from her wife's lips, brushing her tongue over the irresistible lushness.
A breathless whimper spills from Rachel's mouth, and she lets her empty champagne flute slip from her hand so that she can fully resume her quest to keep touching Quinn in any and every way possible. Quinn is more careful with her still full glass, holding it away from their bodies (and their dresses) as she quenches a far more pressing thirst.
It's been fifteen and a half days since they'd last made love. Quinn knows that the self-imposed abstinence didn't magically turn her back into a virgin for her wedding night like she'd been taught long ago that she should be, and most people would probably think it was silly to interrupt a very healthy and satisfying sex life for the sake of some outdated, romantic notion, but those people would have missed out on the playful intimacy and slow burn of anticipation that's been singing through her veins for the last two weeks. It almost feels like everything with Rachel is new again, so it's not surprising that a few kisses in the back of a limousine are enough to leave her hot and bothered and so very ready to lock herself and Rachel in a room to discover just how many orgasms they can give each other before they collapse from utter exhaustion.
They spend the rest of the drive trading promises between searing kisses and seeking touches—asserting, adoring, arousing—and they only realize that the car has stopped when the door opens to let in the sounds of the city. They both giggle at being caught mid-kiss by the driver, but Quinn sobers her features as she takes his hand and allows him to help her out of the car before she turns her full attention back to her wife.
The lights of the Plaza dance over Rachel's hair as she emerges from the limousine, and despite the slight disarray of her appearance thanks to Quinn's fervent attention, she's every bit the ethereal vision that she was when Quinn first started down the aisle to meet her today. She reaches out to take Rachel's hand in hers with a besotted grin.
"Shall we, Mrs. Fabray?"
Rachel flashes an elated smile, twining their fingers together. "Oh, we certainly shall."
They draw a few interested gazes as they stroll hand-in-hand into the lobby of the Plaza. There are a handful of smiles and perhaps a raised eyebrow or two, but Quinn dismisses everything from her mind except the love in her heart for the woman at her side. The hotel itself sparkles with a timeless elegance that's born both from its physical grandeur and the century of history that surrounds it. She can feel Rachel practically vibrating with anticipation as they approach the front desk and the clerk greets them with a friendly, "Hello, and welcome to the Plaza. Are you checking in?"
"We are," Rachel confirms. "Mrs. Quinn and Rachel Fabray," she announces proudly, squeezing Quinn's hand as she says her new name and smiling at her in absolute delight.
After a few quick keystrokes on his computer, the clerk offers them a warm smile. "Of course. We've been expecting you." Apparently Candace did her job to perfection, and the clerk informs them that they've been preregistered and their luggage has already been delivered to their room, to which he hands them the key. "I just need a signature," he prompts, setting the official registration on the counter. Rachel snatches up the pen and debuts her brand new signature with an enthusiastic flourish, taking a moment to admire it.
"I love the way it looks almost as much as I love the way it sounds," she murmurs in appreciation, tilting the paper toward Quinn with a grin.
"It does have a certain symmetry to it," Quinn muses drolly. Though Rachel's handwriting hasn't improved all that much since high school, Quinn can't deny that the Rachel Fabray scrawled across the page is rather appealing—her wife had even refrained from adding the little star that usually punctuates her autograph.
Rachel sticks her tongue out at Quinn as she hands the registration back the clerk, pulling a muffled laugh from the man. After he gives them brief directions to their room—a partial park view on the eleventh floor—they make their way to the elevators, key in hand.
They manage to behave themselves on the ride up—they are in public and it is the Plaza and the doors could slide open at any moment to a hallway full of guests—but their hands never part and they never stop gazing adoringly into each other's eyes. Quinn imagines that her former, more cynical self would have been rolling her eyes so hard at the sappy display, but being with Rachel has changed her in all the right ways.
When they reach their floor, Rachel practically drags her through the hallway in search of their room. "This is us," she says when she finds it, grinning at Quinn as she swipes the keycard. The light on the door turns green, and Rachel pushes it open, ready to pull Quinn inside.
"Wait," Quinn stops her, keeping her feet firmly planted in the hallway.
"No more waiting," Rachel insists with a mild frown.
"Don't you want me to carry you over the threshold?" Quinn asks with a smirk. She distinctly remembers Rachel telling her that she should save her strength for that, though she suspects that her wife had really been referring to certain other strenuous activities on tonight's agenda.
Rachel's expression brightens with humor, and she shakes her head. "I wasn't serious about that, baby." She steps into Quinn's body and cups her cheek lovingly. "It's been a long day, and I don't want you to hurt yourself."
Quinn does roll her eyes at that. She won't deny that her leg and back are both just a little bit sore from all the dancing by now, but, "I think I can manage."
Rachel shakes her head again. "Better not to…" But Quinn is already dipping down, sliding her arms around Rachel, and lifting her feet off the floor. "Quinn!" Rachel screeches, swinging her legs dangerously even as she loops her arms around Quinn's shoulders and holds on for dear life. "Put me down right now!"
"Stop squirming," Quinn commands, adjusting her grip. She's not quite reckless enough to carry Rachel bridal style for more than a few steps, but Quinn knows that she can manage to get her into the hotel room if she would just cooperate for ten seconds.
Rachel instantly stills in Quinn's arms, glaring at her in obvious concern. "You are so stubborn."
Quinn puffs out a (completely not strained) breath. "We have that in common. Now open the door, sweetie."
Rachel huffs in annoyed resignation, timidly releasing her death grip on Quinn's shoulders to carefully reach down and unlock the door for the second time. Once it's open, Quinn maneuvers them through without injury, and Rachel arches an eyebrow—she's gotten much better at it over the years. "Are you happy now?"
Quinn smiles widely. "Very."
Rachel's eyes flash with mirth. "Are you going to put me down?"
"I suppose," Quinn concedes grudgingly, slowly lowering Rachel's feet to the floor. One arm remains secure around her back, and Rachel's arms are still looped over Quinn's shoulders, so it barely takes any movement at all for Quinn to be kissing her again. Rachel sighs against her lips and melts into her, gliding her hands down to Quinn's lower back where she begins to lightly knead the muscles there with her fingertips. Quinn breaks the kiss with a laugh. "I'm fine, Rach."
"You'd better be." The gentle massage doesn't end. "You have promises to keep."
Quinn grins wolfishly. "I intend to." In fact, she's half intending to start right here in the entryway, but her gaze drifts to the sight spread out before them for the first time, and she amends her plan. "But we should probably check out the room first."
Rachel sucks in a breath, and her eyes spark with interest, as though she just remembered that she's inside a suite at the Plaza but still hasn't seen any part of it except the door. A wide smile appears on her face before she slips out of Quinn's arms and rushes into the room, grabbing Quinn's hand as she goes and pulling her out of the entryway.
The small suite is gorgeously appointed in a palette of creams and golds. The ornately carved tables, decorative chairs, and gilded mirrors almost make Quinn feel like she's stepped back into the eighteenth century if not for the very modern, New York skyline outside of the windows. Their suitcases are already waiting for them inside the sitting room, neatly placed beside the sofa, and yet another bottle of champagne is chilling in the ice bucket on top of the table.
"This is amazing," Rachel gushes, letting go of Quinn's hand to bounce around the room with bright, excited eyes—skipping to the window and gazing out at the city lights before spinning around with her radiant smile still in place. She sets out to investigate every nook and cranny and piece of fruit in the gift basket. Quinn giggles as she watches her Tony nominated wife practically turn into Eloise—full of childlike glee and wonder at the extravagance surrounding them. She half expects her to take a running leap and throw herself onto the king-sized bed.
Quinn isn't exactly unaffected by it either. She can easily imagine herself settling into that elegant desk in front of the window, opening the curtains, and writing her next novel, but she can just as easily see herself curling up on the lavish sofa, ordering room service, and living like royalty for the rest of her life. "It's almost a shame that we only have one night here." She doesn't doubt that she'll love the Hamptons, but there are so many ways that she and Rachel could enjoy this room if they had more time.
"We can always come back someday," Rachel says with a wink as she throws open the French doors that lead into the exquisite bathroom. She surveys the area with an appreciative eye before turning to Quinn with a devilish grin. "But we're definitely taking advantage of that shower before we leave."
Quinn chuckles. It is a very nice shower—frosted glass door, detachable massage head, and plenty of room to maneuver in order to get to those hard to reach places. She has absolutely no problem with thoroughly testing it out. "After we take advantage of the bed."
Rachel hums in agreement, smoothly stepping back into Quinn's arms and slipping her own around her waist. "Can we do that now?" she asks throatily. "Because as lovely as this room is, you are more so by far, and I really can't wait one minute longer to have you."
"You already have me, Rach," Quinn murmurs reverently as she ghosts her fingers over Rachel's cheek.
An adoring smile flits over Rachel's lips before she brushes them over Quinn's in a single, sweet kiss. "I want to have you naked," vibrates against Quinn's mouth.
Quinn laughs, leaning back to admire her wife with her dark eyes and sexy smile. "I love you, Rachel Fabray."
A muffled moan slips from her mouth. "Show me," she begs.
It's such an easy request to fulfill, especially when it's all Quinn wants to do. She's thought about this moment for weeks now, choreographed multiple versions of the perfect seduction in her mind, from sweet and romantic to carnal and dirty. She'd packed sexy, red lingerie beside virginal, white lace; memorized poetry; and practiced her striptease skills in front of the mirror. She has a hedonistic arsenal at her disposal to draw upon for the entirety of their honeymoon, but right now—this first time together after their matching promises of forever—Quinn finds that she only wants to be in the moment with Rachel.
She kisses her wife. There's no hesitation in the caress. It's not meant purely to savor or venerate, though Quinn does, nor is it meant to tease or to tantalize, though it certainly does. It's a kiss of intent—passionate and impatient and full of promises to be kept. It's hot and demanding and just a little bit wild.
Quinn's fingers seek out the zipper of Rachel's dress, carefully sliding it down until the bodice loosens. It really is a beautiful gown. Kurt truly had outdone himself with the design, fitting it to Rachel's body and style with perfection. He'd done the same with hers, and Quinn had felt like a princess from the moment that she'd put it on. Taking them off demands a certain amount of care that typically isn't afforded to their wardrobes during foreplay, and Rachel seems to sense this too. She drags her mouth away from Quinn's lips and gazes at her through heavy-lidded eyes as she lets Quinn gently push the material down over her body. Her gown is strapless, so Quinn isn't all that surprised when Rachel's naked breasts are revealed to her, the dusky nipples already pebbled and waiting for her touch. Quinn ignores the temptation for now, instead helping Rachel step out of her gown before neatly laying it out on the chaise against the wall.
"You know, I did purchase a fairly revealing negligée specifically for this occasion," Rachel informs her with a somewhat wistful expression as she trails her fingernails up and down Quinn's arm, "but it seems rather counterproductive to put it on when you're only going to take it off of me again."
Quinn licks her lips as she regards her wife. She's not sure that any negligée could really make Rachel look any sexier than she does right now—all flawless, tan skin dressed in nothing but white, silk panties, high heels, and a baby blue garter wrapped around her muscular thigh. "You could put it on, if you want," Quinn offers, reaching out to trace a few of those tempting curves with eager fingers, "while I change into something a little more…enticing. Or," she drawls, sliding one finger up to circle Rachel's nipple, "we could just get naked right now and save the lingerie for much," she pauses to kiss the corner of Rachel's mouth, "much," another fleeting kiss to Rachel's lower lip, "later."
With a low growl, Rachel cups her palm over the back of Quinn's neck and pulls her into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. "Naked," she mumbles between kisses. "Definitely naked."
Quinn breathes out a silent laugh, managing to detach her mouth from Rachel with a sly grin before she turns. "Help a girl out of her dress," she prompts, glancing back over her shoulder with her best sultry stare. Rachel's little whimper is enough to let her know it's successful.
Rachel's fingers are only a little bit clumsy as they work down her zipper, but she makes up for that in spades with the warm press of her lips against Quinn's shoulder. Quinn tucks one arm beneath her breasts to hold her dress in place when she feels the material part, and then Rachel is brushing her hair aside and peppering butterfly kisses to the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades, sending shivers of pleasure racing down Quinn's spine. Rachel curls her fingers into the fabric of Quinn's dress and peels it away from her shoulders, and Quinn lets go of her hold on the bodice, letting it slip down to her waist. She can feel Rachel's breasts pressing into her back while Rachel's hands brush against her belly as they guide the dress down over her hips. She steps out of it cautiously, bending to rescue it from the floor and gently lay it on top of Rachel's discarded gown. Rachel strokes one hand down Quinn's back, determined to keep touching her in whatever way she can.
Unlike Rachel, whose dress had been designed with its own built-in support to allow her to go braless, Quinn had opted for a lacy, white strapless bra and matching panties, and the garter at her own leg is the same lacy white. In retrospect, it's a little ridiculous that they'd both worn one when they'd skipped the tradition of removing it at the reception, but it certainly does make for a nice visual—at least on Rachel. The hunger in Rachel's eyes tells Quinn that she doesn't look so bad herself, and her dark gaze travels over Quinn's body like a physical caress, stopping at Quinn's hip where it's joined by trembling fingers. Rachel catches her lower lip between her teeth, her smile turning shy as she traces the tiny star that peeks out above Quinn's panty line.
The small, simple tattoo is still a relatively new addition, etched into Quinn's skin a little less than a month ago. It's a symbol of love and commitment, but mostly, it's a symbol of faith—a sign of Quinn's belief that she and Rachel will belong to one another for the rest of their lives. Rachel had been moved to tears when Quinn first showed it to her, and it seems like that effect hasn't worn off quite yet.
"I'm going to get one for you someday soon," Rachel promises softly. "As soon as I decide on the perfect design."
Quinn shakes her head. "It's sweet that you want to, but you nearly passed out when you got this." She lifts Rachel's left hand and runs her own fingertip over the star on the inside of her wrist.
"That was years ago. I have a much stronger constitution now," Rachel insists with a pout. "Just wait and see."
Quinn chuckles, pulling her wife close. She doesn't doubt Rachel's fortitude for one minute, but she doesn't need a tattoo to prove that Rachel loves her. The ring on her finger will do quite nicely. "Why don't we test that constitution of yours in other ways?" Quinn purrs, delighting in the way that Rachel's next breath hitches ever so slightly before it gets lost completely with the touch of Quinn's mouth.
They both step out of their shoes on the way to the bed, hands and mouths rediscovering curves that they'd memorized long ago. Rachel unhooks Quinn's bra with practiced ease, letting it fall to the floor forgotten before intimately reacquainting herself with Quinn's breasts. Quinn moans, fingers slipping into Rachel's hair to undo what remains of the pins and sending it spilling in dark waves over her shoulders.
She rakes her nails over Rachel's back on her way to cupping a firm ass, and she presses her thigh between toned legs, dipping her head to suckle at her wife's neck. A cry of pleasure slips past Rachel's lips, and her hips rock down in search of friction. Quinn can feel how very wet Rachel is through the thin silk of her panties, and she pushes her thigh up, teasing Rachel with a few moments of satisfaction before she pulls her leg away.
"Quinn," Rachel groans in frustration.
Quinn flashes a feral grin. "Rachel," she taunts impishly, kissing her again. "Patience, sweetheart," she coos, and in a deft movement, she lifts Rachel off the floor, bracing her against her own body and maneuvering her onto the bed. Rachel squeals in surprise as she grips Quinn's shoulders, but her back is hitting the mattress before she can protest. Quinn straightens, still standing at the edge of the bed, and slides Rachel's panties and garter down her legs in one, efficient motion, tossing them over her shoulder.
She places a palm on the edge of the mattress with every intention of crawling over her wife's body, but Rachel plants a foot against her shoulder and pushes her back with an amused scowl. "You are not allowed in this bed until you remove that, admittedly appealing, scrap of lace from your glorious body."
Quinn laughs, but she obeys her wife with a smile, lifting her leg to brace it against the mattress before she ever-so-slowly pushes the garter down over her thigh and calf, letting it catch on her foot before she flings it away with her toes. All the while, she watches Rachel watch her, propped up on her elbows with fingers clutching at the bedspread tellingly. With both feet back on the floor, Quinn shimmies the panties down over her hips, kicking them away and caressing her own body with a knowing smirk. "Permission to enter the bed?"
"God, yes," Rachel breathes, pushing herself up and reaching for Quinn as she slips onto mattress and straddles her legs.
Rachel is wrapped around her in a heartbeat, taking possession of her mouth, and Quinn buries her hands into Rachel's hair and surrenders, but only for a moment. It's so easy to use her position to press Rachel back down to the bed, kneeling over her with arms framing her face as she takes control of the kiss. She nips and licks and suckles on a slow slide down her wife's body, grinning at the way Rachel's back arches under her touch and her hands blindly seek every inch of Quinn's skin that she can reach.
She'll never grow tired of this—this sensual exploration, remapping every beloved freckle and beauty spot on Rachel's skin, cataloguing every taste and texture with her lips and fingers. Every single time, she discovers something new in the familiar, some new way to draw out Rachel's pleasure.
"Baby, please," Rachel begs, tangling her fingers into Quinn's hair. "Touch me where I need you to."
Quinn smiles against Rachel's breast, dipping her hand down between her legs and dragging a finger through the wetness she finds there. "Here?"
Rachel hisses out a strangled, "Yes," rocking her hips to meet Quinn's touch, and then groans in frustration when Quinn takes her finger away, drawing circles against Rachel's inner thigh instead. "Fuck!" Rachel's hand tightens painfully in Quinn's hair. "Are you trying to tease me to death?"
Quinn shifts above Rachel, laying her body out over her wife and meeting her eyes with an evil smile. "Maybe."
"I hate you," Rachel grumbles, pinching Quinn's ass in retaliation.
"You don't," Quinn argues laughingly.
"I don't," Rachel agrees, stroking Quinn's back tenderly. "I love you. Desperately." She pulls Quinn down into a tender kiss, punctuated with a not so tender bite to her lower lip. "Extremely desperately," she stresses, curling her fingers around Quinn's wrist and moving her hand back where she wants it.
Quinn gazes down at Rachel's beautiful face with a wolfish grin as she begins to lazily stroke Rachel's clit with her fingertip. "So I noticed."
"Quinn," Rachel growls warningly, nails biting into her hip.
Quinn runs her tongue across her lower lip, arching an eyebrow. There are so many ways that she wants to take her wife tonight, but, "I think I want you on your knees," she decides, brushing a quick kiss over Rachel's mouth before she carefully withdraws her finger and pushes up onto her own knees with a smirk.
"You are trying to tease me to death," Rachel grumbles with a woeful glare, but she allows Quinn to pull her up until they're kneeling on the mattress, facing one another. Rachel's hands immediately seek out her breasts, stroking them leisurely.
"La petite mort," Quinn purrs against her mouth, nipping at Rachel's lower lip when she moans in delight. Quinn glides her hands down Rachel's back, stopping at her ass where she places a gentle smack. "Now turn around."
Rachel's brow furrows in consternation. "Well, that's no fun for me," she pouts, grazing her thumbs over Quinn's nipples.
Quinn catches her lip between her teeth, humming in pleasure. "Oh, it will be," she promises. "Trust me."
With a sigh, Rachel shuffles around, and Quinn urges her closer to the headboard, parting her thighs just so. She moves behind her and presses her own body against the expanse of her wife's back, kissing her shoulder as she curls her arms around Rachel's torso. It's Rachel's turn to hum in pleasure as she leans into Quinn, reaching back to grip her upper thighs.
Quinn takes a few moments to kiss the lovely curve of Rachel's shoulder and neck while her hands find those perfect, fucking tits. She smiles in satisfaction as she skims the rigid peaks, lightly scraping her fingernails over Rachel's right nipple before pulling them down in a zig-zagging path over her ribs, her belly, her hip—leaving shivers in her wake—while her other hand continues to caress Rachel's left breast.
"I have no life but this, to lead it here," Quinn quotes as she dips her fingers down to press firmly against Rachel's clit.
"Quinn," Rachel gasps in surprise, rocking her ass back into Quinn.
Quinn scrapes her teeth against Rachel's shoulder, leaving a tiny love bite to stifle her own moan as her hips roll forward in search of friction. "Nor any death, but lest dispelled from there," she manages to continue as she teasingly drags her fingers away from Rachel's core to stroke the soft skin beneath her navel instead.
"No," Rachel growls. "No dispelling," she demands, grabbing Quinn's hand and putting it back where it belongs.
Quinn chuckles and ghosts her lips over the shell of Rachel's ear. "Nor tie to earths to come, nor action new," she whispers as her fingers play between Rachel's legs, earning a moan of approval. "Except through this extent, the realm of you."¹
Rachel's back arches, and she presses her hands over Quinn's where they're playing against her body. "I need you to make me come. Right now," she demands breathlessly.
It's what Quinn needs too. She turns the hand cupping Rachel's breast to tangle their fingers together, pressing into Rachel and guiding their joined hands to the headboard. "Lean forward and hold on."
Rachel groans again but does as Quinn instructs, bracing both hands against the headboard. Leaning back slightly, Quinn slides her hand away from Rachel's sex, continuing to stroke her thighs while she kisses down her spine.
"Quinn, I swear to God, if you keep teasing me," Rachel trails off, leaving the threat unfinished as she trembles beneath Quinn's touch.
"You're going to explode," Quinn finishes gutturally. "Spread your legs wider," she commands, urging them apart with her hand. When she has her wife exactly where she wants her, she slides down onto the mattress, rolling onto her back and slipping between Rachel's legs in a graceful move. Rachel inhales sharply, eyes sparking with awareness as she stares down at Quinn's face beneath her. "Come here," Quinn instructs hungrily, curling her arms under Rachel's thighs and tugging her down.
Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and moans, shifting her position enough to make sure Quinn is comfortable before she lowers herself over Quinn's waiting mouth. "God, I love you," she chokes out.
Quinn moans, reveling in the incredible taste of her wife's desire as it explodes on her tongue and the gorgeous sight of her body on shameless display, legs spread and breasts swaying over her. She thrusts her tongue into Rachel's folds, feasting on her unique flavor and watching her lose herself in pleasure—hips rolling against Quinn's eager mouth. Quinn's own hips shift restlessly against the mattress, keeping her own arousal simmering with a steady pulse. Quinn's tongue and teeth and lips take turns loving her wife in the most elemental way, and it isn't long at all before Rachel's moans and whimpers turn into staccato cries of, "yes," and, "Quinn," and, "oh," and, "fuck." Quinn is relentless in her attention, pushing Rachel ever closer to the edge of the abyss, until, finally, a (very off key) glory note tears loose from her throat as she comes apart.
Quinn continues to lap at her wife sensitive flesh, helping her ride out every last bit of her orgasm until she slumps forward, barely keeping herself upright with trembling arms and legs. Quinn quickly slides out from under her, moving to help her collapse onto the bed beside her. Rachel slips a shaky hand behind Quinn's head and drags her into a breathless kiss.
"Did you somehow get better at that?" she asks incredulously, still panting for air.
Quinn chuckles, running her hands over Rachel's sweat-slicked back. "Maybe marriage makes it better."
Rachel smiles beautifully, eyes glittering with happiness. "It really, really does," she agrees, kissing Quinn again. "But you know what will make it even better?"
"Hmm, what?" Quinn asks lazily, brushing Rachel's hair back from her face.
A sexy smirk settles on Rachel's lips as she rolls over Quinn's body and straddles her thigh, flicking a nail over Quinn's nipple. "Reciprocity."
Quinn closes her eyes and moans, eager to let her wife have her turn at the teasing. She's already aroused beyond belief with the scent and taste and feel of Rachel invading her every sense, and when a talented tongue trails over her breast and dexterous fingers slip between her legs, Quinn knows that it won't take long at all to get to the pleasing.
She threads her fingers into Rachel's hair and gives herself up to the exquisite pleasure of her touch, arching her back as her body quickly catches her wife's rhythm. "Rachel," she breathes, feeling the answering smile against her skin.
Rachel rises over her then, kissing her deeply before she pauses her ministrations and shifts to kneel between Quinn's parted legs. She curls her palms under Quinn's thighs and tugs them around her waist. "C'mere," she husks, echoing Quinn's earlier command with desire painted across her face. She bends, her body pressing Quinn open wider with knees back toward her chest as her mouth claims another ardent kiss. Quinn instinctively wraps her arms around Rachel's shoulders, and Rachel sits back on her haunches, pulling Quinn up until she's sitting astride Rachel's strong thighs.
Quinn bites into her lip to suppress her cry of delight at their new position, tightening her legs around Rachel's waist. Rachel keeps one arm coiled securely around Quinn's back while the other snakes between their bodies, and her fingers unerringly find Quinn's clit. "Fuck," Quinn grunts and digs her nails into Rachel's back as she rolls her hips, immediately beginning to rock back and forth on Rachel's lap. "Fuck. Rachel," she gasps, quickly drowning in sensation. Their breasts slide together with every shallow thrust—Rachel's fingers slipping against that perfect spot inside of her—and Quinn knows she's going to come apart at any minute.
The smirk on Rachel's face tells her that her wife knows it too. "Mmm. Yeah. Fuck Rachel," she urges naughtily, and with a groan, Quinn kisses that smirk away, coaxing Rachel's mouth open and slipping her tongue inside. She writhes against Rachel with increasing abandon, and her world quickly narrows to the tendrils of electricity sparking outward from her clit, buzzing through her body everywhere it touches Rachel. Her kisses grows increasingly sloppy until she's only gasping against Rachel's lips, and her hips jerk in an erratic rhythm as the coil inside of her tightens and tightens until there's nothing left but the release.
Quinn comes with an unintelligible shout, her thighs locked around Rachel's waist like a vise. She's only vaguely aware of Rachel watching her pleasure in rapt wonder, and then she's slipping backwards onto the bed, gently lowered in her wife's unfaltering embrace. Rachel spreads out over her, groaning softly—no doubt from the strain of their previous position. Their legs tangle together, and Rachel ghosts her lips across the spot where Quinn's neck meets her shoulder before she settles against her, pushing Quinn's damp hair from her face.
"So, was it worth the wait?" Rachel asks with a cheeky grin.
Quinn laughs and strokes her wife's cheek. "So very worth it." Though she can't say that she's inclined to abstain from making love to her wife ever again. Turning onto her side, Quinn pulls Rachel close until their bodies are molded together from hips to breasts, and a slow smile tugs at her lips. "But we're only getting started," she whispers wickedly, slipping a thigh in between Rachel's legs and pressing until she feels the heat of her wife's renewed desire coating her skin.
Rachel moans, helplessly moving her hips against Quinn. "You are the best wife," she gasps.
Quinn smiles, feeling exactly the same way about Rachel. And as she kisses her wife again, she knows that they'll both remember every second of this night for the rest of their very long and happy life together.