The Double Royale: Aftermath: Snippet

The Double Royale: Aftermath: Snippet

There were noises drifting in from the hallway.  Quinn’s open door dragged rough whispers into her bedroom and her ears perked at the familiar sounds of Rachel’s chanting voice.  She found a large t-shirt in her closet and pulled it over her naked body, forgoing shorts as the hem of the over sized tee tickled the skin above her knees.  She curiously tip toed over to the open doorway, trying to decipher the unidentifiable din wafting from down the hall.   She heard Santana chime into the fray, muffled grunts knotting the inside of Quinn’s stomach for some reason she didn’t really want to validate.  She moved away from the frame of her own door and silently made the voyage down the hall as the noises grew louder.  The door was slightly ajar, enough space for her to lean against the frame to see into the bedlam.   Quinn listened momentarily, too nervous to look inside and confirm the suspicious noises that her girlfriend was making from inside of Santana’s bedroom— a place Rachel normally avoided.   She could hear the noises clearly now— devastation clenching at her chest when she realized what they were.  They were grunted moans and unformed words that died in Rachel’s throat.  Noises that Rachel never made when she was with her.  

She flung her body away from the door frame, her heart raging in her chest as she tried to make sense of the sounds.  She still hadn’t looked.  Rachel would never do this to her, not right under her nose and definitely not with Santana.   But images of the night before flooded her brain, memories of Rachel unraveling on the very tip of Santana’s tongue; trembling through a body shaking climax— her speech impaired by pure elation; words catching in her throat in ways Quinn had never heard before.   But last night was one night.  At least that was all she could tell herself as Rachel’s confirmations grew louder. 

She looked. 

Santana was buried between the open space of Rachel’s thighs; Santana’s eyes squeezed shut as she feasted on the sensitive flesh of Rachel’s sex.  Quinn felt herself twitch, furious that this was happening, but suddenly aware of her contradictory arousal.  This was wrong.  She should have barged in, then, obscenities spewing from her mouth and anger growling up her throat— but she didn’t.  She was flustered, her damp skin kissing the cool air around her as Quinn watched awestruck at the scene unfolding before her.  She felt the sheen of evaporating sweat on her neck as she tugged the sliding t-shirt back up her shoulder, her panting breaths muffled by the thoughts of being caught; even though she wasn’t one of the guilty. 

She was hurt.  She felt…betrayed.   It only took one night for Santana to get Rachel to fall into her bed so casually.  Last night had been a one time event, something they just went with in the heat of the moment.  She hadn’t expected to be there, listening to the escalating sounds of her girlfriend’s infidelity.  What hurt more, was the fact that Rachel was enjoying herself a lot more than she ever had with Quinn.   It made Quinn want to evaluate her technique; it made her compare every single noise coming from Rachel now to every noise she had committed to memory.  What she felt next was an immense surge of jealousy.  It coiled inside her stomach and burned at the pit, her arousal forgotten as she stepped back to the cracked door, her eyes adjusting to their new position.  Rachel’s back was arched slightly, and Santana’s hands gripped at Rachel’s rotating hips.  She could hear the sound of movement Santana’s tongue was making, slapping quickly over both sides of Rachel’s clit, Santana’s thumbs rubbing tight circles on Rachel’s tan skin.  Rachel was raving, broken syllables of Santana’s name choking from her gut, her hands twisted in Santana’s hair.  

 When Rachel let her back fall flat against the bed again, Santana rolled Rachel’s hips upward and continued ravish her.  Quinn stood at the doorway, poised to do something, but failing at stopping what was transpiring in front of her.  She didn’t want the confrontation.  She wouldn’t know how to explain to them that last night wasn’t an open invitation.  She wouldn’t know how to barge inside that room without looking like a hypocrite; like she hadn’t been buried deep inside both Santana and Brittany only yesterday.  Tears threatened her eyes momentarily, and she blinked them away in time to acknowledge Santana’s now probing gaze.  She stared back at the brunette, Rachel oblivious to the connection she and Santana had made without her.  She almost backed away from the door.  She was suddenly overcome with the urge to go back to her room and let them finish whatever they had started without audience.  She didn’t.  Especially since Santana’s cheekbones were high and taught, like she was smiling into Rachel’s sopping sex.   Like she thought Quinn watching them was some great amusement.  Quinn rolled her eyes.  Santana pulled away from Rachel momentarily, and Quinn was almost sure she was about to be called out. 

What happened next made her instantly hard.

Santana stared directly at her, while Rachel caught her breath on the bed and canted her hips upward, waiting for the orgasm she was on the verge of moments before.  Santana licked her left middle and ring finger before curling them and thrusting into Rachel.  Rachel bucked her hips in response, right before Santana’s mouth latched onto her clit again.  Santana was wearing the same devious smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.  Quinn could only stand there; enraptured by the show they were putting on.  Rachel’s moans were obscenely loud, mocking her as they reverberated throughout the apartment.   She was chanting words like ‘more’ and ‘fuck’ between gritted teeth while Santana’s fingers were somehow moving effortlessly inside her.  Jealousy touched her gut again, when she realized that she was never able to keep a pace that Santana was setting.  Nor had she ever stolen all of Rachel’s words; which were now spilling spastically out of her mouth like broken prayers at the altar of Santana’s talented ministrations.  

Quinn swallowed, not letting her eye contact with Santana break as the Latina pulled away again, the flat of her empty hand settled on the small of Rachel’s back before she pulled Rachel into a sitting position— and into her lap.  Quinn watched from afar as they adjusted, biting her bottom lip when Rachel finally settled on Santana’s lap; hoovering over her glistening fingers.  Santana was peeking over Rachel’s shoulder, her mouth slick with remnants of Rachel’s arousal on her upper lip.  Santana’s free hand was on Rachel’s waist, pushing down as Rachel  lifted up to cause friction; Rachel’s mewling increasing in pitch as she sped up the pace to bounce on Santana’s pumping fingers.  She hated watching, Santana’s grin flashing at her in victory, but she couldn’t look away.  Rachel started trembling, her back arching involuntarily as she approached climax. 

"You like that, huh?  Going to come all over my fingers aren’t you?” 

Quinn already knew the answer.


The conviction in which Rachel growled it made Quinn lightheaded. 

"Quinn can’t make you come like I can, can she?."

She wanted to cover her ears, not wanting to hear Rachel’s answer. 

“Nuh uh…. you’re gonna make me come so hard, Santana…make me come…please?”

Her penis twitched at the pleading in Rachel’s voice.  The jealousy spiked at the base of her throat and she swallowed imaginary bile back down.  Rachel never begged her.  She had never seen her girlfriend so unhinged— she was furious.  Rachel was lifting and impaling herself back onto Santana’s thrusting fingers, her thighs were tightening around Santana’s, Santana’s eyes were heavy lidded and unwavering— staring directly at Quinn while she finger fucked her girlfriend.  Santana readjusted momentarily, moving her hand but she didn’t pull her fingers out.   Quinn guessed at the keening noises that she was thumbing Rachel’s clit, managing to do so flawlessly in their potentially wrist breaking position. 

Quinn swallowed again, this time to clear away the dry mouth.  She edged closer to the open doorway, her sweaty palms sticking to the edge of the door frame.  Santana was thrusting her hips against her own fingers, pumping into Rachel’s wet heat at a steady pace.   Rachel was close, teetering on the edge like she could fall at any moment.  Santana smirked at Quinn, again, before latching on to the crook of Rachel’s neck and biting down.  Rachel’s back straightened and bucked, she lifted a few times before shuddering and finally—she came.  Santana looked pleased with herself as she pulled her sticky fingers out, bringing them to her mouth before sucking each finger (and in between each finger), for dramatic affect.  She teased from her perch beneath Rachel, letting the last finger from her mouth with an audible ‘pop’, followed by a satisfied “mmmhmm” that rumbled from the back of her throat.  Rachel let her head fall on Santana’s shoulder, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips before Quinn heard the first intelligent sentence Rachel had put together thus far.

"God, Santana, you’re so much better at that than Quinn."