A/N: Hello all. I decided to give writing this thing a go. Its based off a Glamour Magazine cover that Kate Hudson did. No copyright infringement is intended blah blah blah.
Also, this is my first fic ever. So it'd be cool to know what you guys think I can improve on. This is meant to be a oneshot.
"How could you fucking do this to me?!" she screeched, holding the magazine up, pointing accusatorily at the cover. "Will you just calm down!" her wife said, raising her voice just slightly to match Rachel's high pitch. "It's a fucking magazine cover!"
"Yeah. And you're TOPLESS!" If she didn't think Rachel's voice could get any higher, she was wrong. It did. "Baby, please. Stop yelling. You're giving me a migraine," Cassie drawled, turning back to the sofa and sinking down unceremoniously onto it. Rachel glared at her for a long minute, until she finally gave in. "What?" she sighed heavily, arching her eyebrows and staring back at her.
"We talked about this. You said you wouldn't do it," Rachel said, her voice laced with disappointment and hurt visible in her eyes. "Rachel. It's my career and my body. And if that's what I need to do to be commercially viable, I'm going to do it. I don't see you in a nun's habit while you're on stage," she said, then scoffed at the idea of her wife in a nun's habit. "So you're going to just sell your body for money? Do you know what that makes you?" Rachel asked quietly, wishing she hadn't heard that part. "Spare me the lecture," Cassie groaned rolling her eyes and turning the tv on to drown out Rachel's voice.
"It makes you a whore." Rachel finished quietly. Cassie sighed heavily and turned the tv off.
"Okay, Ms. Morally Superior. If taking your clothes off for money makes you a whore, then stop taking your clothes off for your show. I don't see you having any qualms about getting paid for that. Or.. Do your little rules not apply to you?" she asked, frowning slightly, getting up and moving into Rachel's personal space. "Cassie. That's not fair," Rachel began, slightly tearful. "We talked about it. You said you wouldn't do it. Why would you lie to me like that? What else are you lying about?"
"Jesus Christ, Rachel. Can you stop turning this into a bigger deal than it is?!" Cassie growled irritably. "I took my fucking shirt off for a magazine because that's what they wanted. I didn't feel self conscious, I have nothing to hide. I don't see what is so wrong about doing a topless shoot. It's not like you can see anything.." she trailed off, picking the magazine up and examining it closely.
"Yeah, not on the magazine, you can't." Rachel sniffed, sullen. "The whole crew probably saw your breasts. Cassie.."
"Rachel. You show your tits almost every single night while you're pretending to have sex with your ex boyfriend on stage. Do you see me objecting to it?"
"But.."
"You have no right." Cassie said firmly, arching an eyebrow, her tone signaling the end of the discussion.
But Rachel wasn't done yet. "No right? No no no, wait. No right!?" she asked incredulously. "What makes you think I have no right!? I am your wife! It is my right! And I don't want anyone else seeing your body in whatever stage of undress you think is perfectly reasonable to go parading around in."
"Nope," Cassie said, trying to keep her temper under control. "No right. It's my body, sweetie. Not yours." She patted her shoulder in a condescendingly consolatory manner before making a beeline for the alcohol cabinet. "What – what do you think you're doing?" Rachel asked, confused at the turn in the conversation. "Cassie, you're not supposed to be drinking."
"Rachel. Fuck off. Stop telling me what I can and can't do," she shot back, pouring herself a glass of scotch. Rachel squared her shoulders, took the glass from Cassie's hand and tossed the drink into the plant pot resting in the corner. Cassie's mouth fell open and she started at Rachel agape, unable to react for a moment. "What is wrong with you!?" she yelled, snatching her glass back from Rachel's hands.
"You're my wife! You belong to me! Your body is MINE. I don't want you showing it off to anyone else but me," she yelled, her chest heaving. "Do you understand?" Rachel's tone lowered itself to a dangerous register the closer she got to Cassie. It was so rare seeing her wife so worked up and upset over something, to have Rachel worked up over her.
"It's not yours," she whispered, trying to get a rise out of Rachel. Her petite wife nodded determinedly. "It's mine, baby," she husked out, sliding a hand around the back of Cassie's neck and maneuvering her towards her lips for a kiss. Cassie moaned at the feeling of Rachel's lips sucking on hers, her tongue swiping against her sensitive lips. "No," she groaned out. Rachel nipped at her lip hard enough to draw blood. "Yes…" she breathed out, sucking the blood from her lip. "Fuck…" the taller blond sighed into the kiss as Rachel's tongue stroked hers. And when she sucked on Cassie's tongue, the older woman fumbled behind herself seeking some kind of support. Rachel slipped her arms around Cassie's waist, pulling her closer and holding her steady. She broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against her wife's. "You're mine. Tell me you're mine Cassie," she whispered into the silence surrounding them. Cassie's heart felt like it would overflow with emotion. She wanted Rachel – no, she needed her. She wanted to feel her all over. "I'm yours." Her words were barely audible, but they made Rachel's heart soar. She wanted to posses her wife, to consume and be consumed by her, to show her she owned her and no one else could ever have her. She never wanted anyone else looking at her wife's naked body or touching her. Rachel paused for a brief but deep kiss before leading Cassie into their bedroom.