Title: Freefalling

Author: J Rease

Rating: M/R

Disclaimer: I own these words, but not these characters.

Summary: "I brush my hand over Rachel's stomach, admiring the softness I find there. My hand glides lower, slowly, until my fingertips nestle in the fine curls that taper into the damp velvet of her..." Quinn can't catch herself falling in love, she falls freely into it- it happens like a phenomenon. Prompt fill. Translove.

This fic is in response to this prompt:

Prompted by TUMBLR anon3:

Quinn's transgender (born a boy that identifies as a girl) and totally insecure about sex. Rachel helps her accept her body, including her penis. Smut with some depth, I guess. Extra points for different sex positions.

The following fic deals loosely with an interpretation of transsexuality. I take no offense to any transitioning or non-transitioning transsexuals and hopefully, I do this justice.

Jessica

Freefalling

If I measure my past in milestones, it would only take blinks to assess the most important moments of my life.

Blink.

My father's first child was a girl. He'd wanted a namesake. Like any Texan man who married and had children, he wanted a Russell Jr. or a little Russ who'd grow up to be just like his Daddy. But instead he got Francesca. And like any proud, Texan man my father cherished and worshiped his little girl, so that she would find a man to marry as perfect as our father was with no exceptions. He and my mother tried again hoping for a little boy and I was born. They named me Lucas, Luke for short, because Russell had decided that even though I was his first boy I was still the second child. From the first breath I'd ever taken, I was already a disappointment to him.

Needless to say, my life is no fairy tale.

Blink, blink.

My sister was always Frannie to me. Just three years older she was always too busy to bother with her little brother. Whenever I tried to steal her toys or shadow her at the playground she would always tell me to go rough house; because that was what little boys did (and I was a little boy; wasn't I?). And I'd go off and climb the monkey bars or do things all the other little boys were doing only to skin my knee or cut my elbow. I never knew why my father beamed down at me whenever I'd come home bruised and banged up- but he'd ruffle my hair and tell me that men had scars and I was doing a great job at collecting them.

Russell Fabray had high expectations for both me and my sister. Frannie would grow up and marry a man Russell approved of. I would grow up and fill Russell's shoes at the firm, and I would marry a woman and have children. My mother never had a say in any of it, and by the time I turned ten, she'd developed a nasty addiction to repression that usually ended at the bottom of a bottle of scotch.

Had I been born to another family, things might be different.

Blink, blink, blink.

Now it's just me and Judy. It's been that way since we moved to Lima, since Luke died and Quinn was born, or so my mother (sober for three years, thank you very much) always says when anyone from our old life asks (not that anyone asks, really). Russell left the first time I insisted upon leaving the house in a dress. And Frannie married off as soon as she got to college, vowing to never come back to the Fabray house willingly. For a long time I felt guilty for breaking my family apart.

Blink.

Judy pretends to understand the war waging inside of me. And after the shit storm my father rained down on her, she snapped out of whatever stupor her alcoholism had put her in. The day I walked outside in that dress was the same day Russell kicked me out of his life. It was the same day my mother divorced her husband. I had never been prouder of my mother than in that moment. But I know she doesn't get it. Nonetheless, she paid for my breast enhancement surgery from the hefty settlement she'd received from Russell in their divorce (my douchebag of a father had been cheating on her anyway, so taking him for everything he had didn't feel as vindictive as it would have otherwise).

Other than Judy and me- no one knows what I really am.

And for the longest time, I couldn't trust anyone else to know either. That is, until I met Rachel. When I saw her, I knew. Every single part of me set aflame when our eyes made first contact. And it seems confusing for a genetically classified male like myself to claim that when thinking of a potential partner, but my soul saw her and the girl inside me just knew. Before that I had only been curious, I had convinced myself that I was some gender queer boy who might just be asexual.

Blink, blink.

I tried to identify and categorize myself into those exclusive letters that collected and constructed the infamous little acronym of all things not straight. I had tried so hard not feel as alone as I had for almost fourteen years of my life. But the more I got to know her, the more I knew that my heart had no confused feelings toward her- I was certain. I liked her- from that first moment, I knew. Slushy was dripping down her face and she was sputtering something about the ALCU and there had been nothing I could do from that moment on.

Lima meant a new beginning for me. It meant being who I wanted to be on my own terms. I was the head cheerleader, I was popular, and I was beautiful. It also meant that I had enough pull to stop people from bullying Rachel. We became friends (much to Santana's chagrin), but for the longest time I warred with telling her about being a transsexual. The word I hated saying out loud because all it really said was that I was different; and others might not agree with the reasons why. And I knew Rachel enough that I knew it would never be something she judged me for. She was all for equality and open mindedness (she did have two awesome gay dads). She was my best friend and the girl I could see myself living the rest of my life with.

For the longest, I wondered if Rachel could be gay. I went back and forth in my mind with the idea until I realized that someone who chose to date me may have to change their perspective on sexuality and gender identity and-

The conclusion I would always come to is that someone who dated me would probably see me as a burden- a consistently bad decision.

So I stayed quiet.

Rachel and I had sleep overs and listened to new music and shopped together. We giggled late into the night with things society deemed girly. She told me everything and I pretended to be enthusiastic when Finn Hudson kissed her on a picnic blanket in the auditorium. I tried not to scoff when she told me about her and Puckerman rolling around in her bed when they dated briefly sophomore year. I counted the minutes it would take for Jesse St Jame to show is glitterific true colors and I came to terms with the fact that Rachel Barbra Berry would never go for someone like Lucas Quincy Fabray- or anything I may become. We were best friends, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Blink.

Now she knows.

Rachel was always a respectful little ball of manners and etiquette. It was sweet really, that she always said please and thank you. It was nice that she always made sure she could come over before just...showing up. Until today. I was tucking in my room, getting ready to head to the game and she barged in, out of breath with a mouthful of words spilling out before I could register anything. And there I was in my sports bra and compression shorts, tucking my penis inconspicuously backward; away. And just like that everything that lead up to this moment flashed before my eyes- because Rachel finding out would be the end of everything I had been working towards achieving.

"I-I'm sorry, Quinn, I should have knocked. I will- I will call you after the game and, yes- later." Her breath hitches as she stands in the door way; a hesitant moment and a curt nod away...not looking at me.

The moment catches up. Before I can react, she turns to go, crimson staining her cheeks in embarrassment.

Life resumes. Blink, blink; blink.

I crumble to the floor with all thoughts of cheerleading pushed aside, suddenly terrified that Rachel is off somewhere thinking I betray her by not telling her my secret. Judy finds me that way later, asleep on the floor with tears flaking on my cheeks.

"Sweetheart wake up. Rachel is downstairs with cookies. And I know what Rachel's I'm sorry cookies look like."

I get up groggily, and push down the urge to tell my mother to send her away. I stand on wobbly legs before grabbing a shirt and shorts and heading into my bathroom. I stare into the mirror after washing my face and I can't shake the feeling that there is an impostor staring back at me; and Rachel will think the same.

My mother's health insurance doesn't pay for my hormone medication. But she buys it for me out of pocket. It lightens the hair on my face and redistributes the fat to feminine friendly spaces. It's the one thing keeping me under the radar. Rachel thinks I'm one of the prettiest girls she's ever met. What will she think when she finds out how much it took for me to look this way? I shake the doubt from my thoughts and tuck my hair behind my ears. It's now or never.

Rachel is in the dining room with a metal tin of cookies sitting in front of her. Judy makes up an excuse to leave us alone, with an expression on her face I've never seen her wear before clouding her features. When the front door locks, I exhale and wait for Rachel to say whatever it is she's decided to say to me.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn I didn't mean to barge in, nor did I mean to leave so abruptly. I just... I didn't know what to think of what I saw and I needed to gather myself before I blitzed you with questions. If you don't want to talk about it, that is completely understandable. And as a peace offering I have brought you a batch of ginger snaps because I know they're your favorite and I -"

"Rachel it's okay. You can ask me anything you're curious about."

Rachel swallows the rest of her rant.

"Why were you afraid to tell me? I know Santana always jokes about me having a big mouth but I would never tell anyone about something so private."

Of all the questions to be answered, Rachel chooses that one first.

"I didn't want to freak you out. We have sleep overs and we share beds and I didn't want you to think I was some big perv just waiting to get in your pants-"

I know it isn't the best of excuses. Rachel's face turns into annoyance before she takes a deep breath. I know that face. It's the same one Rachel makes whenever she's about to chew me out.

"Quinn Fabray I am appalled! If anyone, you should know that I know better. I understand the difference between gender identity and sexual orientation and I definitely understand that they do not go hand and hand. Whatever you identify as is your right and no one has the authority to take that away-"

"I'm a girl, Rach. You know I am. When I was born...I was assigned a male gender. I- nothing matched. When I was young it didn't matter. But after all the other boys started puberty, and I didn't-all I wanted was to be who I am inside on the outside. After we left, mom had me evaluated and we found out that I had an extra X chromosome. My mother asked what I wanted to do about it. So I told her I wanted to live my life as a female...because that's what I've always felt like. So, mom paid for my top surgery and I started hormones. Mom has me seeing a psychiatrist and we are going through the process of finding out what it means if I legally go through with reassignment. I'm starting to feel the way I feel inside. And I didn't want to mess that up. I want to be Quinn. Head cheerleader and ice queen of Mckinley high."

"Who were you before you were Quinn?"

I sigh to myself, getting up from my seat and grabbing Rachel's hand before heading to the chest my mother uses as a coffee table in the living room. I open it and we sit down together on the couch, my mother's old photo album hugged closely to my chest.

"I... I didn't want you to know Luke. He's who I was before I could be myself. I hated him because I could never feel at home in my own skin. These are the only pictures I have of Luke. And after today, I would appreciate if you never brought him up again. One day I will accept everything I am and everything I'm not, but right now, Luke is just a sore reminder."

Rachel nodded, her hand found mine between the couch cushions. She asked questions as I surveyed old family photos, many of them defaced whenever Russell was in the picture.

"You never really looked like a boy, even when you were younger."

I smile in spite of my nervousness.

"Well, because I started hormones before puberty and I already didn't have as much testosterone as I should, I was short- I had breast tissue and a lot of the things testosterone affects hadn't affected me yet. So I was lucky. I'm sure I'd be an odd looking girl if I'd been forced to take Testosterone Replacement Therapy."

Rachel turns the pages slowly, nodding and mmmhmmming as she looks.

"Can you have children?"

"No. But, I saved some of my sperm in case one day I do... want to. It's not much...but it's enough for maybe three attempts."

"Do you want surgery?"

I didn't know if I did.

"I don't know... I talk to my doctor and we go over everything that could happen. I just...I want to live my life as a woman and I want to be okay with it.

Rachel nodded.

"Are you gay?" Rachel's free hand hovered over a picture of me and Duncan, a little boy who liked chocolate ice cream sandwiches as much as I did as a child. "Not in the traditional sense, I mean, is the gender you identify with attracted the same sex or are you interested in boys?"

"I'm not sure. I may like woman. But I've... I've never kissed anyone, how would I know?"

"Do you want to try kissing me?"

I swallow thickly.

"I don't think that's such a good idea..."

My hand suddenly feels hot. It tingles so I pull it away to tuck hair behind my ears.

"Why not?"

I look away, my face is flushed.

"We're friends, Rachel. I don't want either of us to be grossed out and I don't want to ruin anything if I do happen to like it."

My heart beats loudly in my ears, the blood chanting insults at me. It may be the only chance and I may have just blown it.

"Well, what if I want to? Kiss you I mean..."

Rachel turns away then, as she looks down at her fidgeting hands. I start to panic.

"Do you really, or is it pity? Because I don't want your pity."

I stand and put space between us, my back facing Rachel as she sputters for a response. I've never had to do this before. I've never had to be under the scrutiny of another person's assumptions. There is so much panic in my head that I start to pace. Rachel stands and tries unsuccessfully to stop my gait. Tiny hands reach out when I spin on my heel and they grab on to the t-shirt I'm wearing. Before I know it, supple lips press gently against mine.

My eyes flutter shut as Rachel kisses me tentatively. Her hands drop down to cradle my wrists and she smiles against my mouth and I don't know how to move or think or what to feel but it feels like a stampede in my stomach and I don't want my heart to stop racing to get out of my chest. When Rachel's tongue slips past my lips, my knees almost buckle, and I wrap my hands around her waist and I pull her flush against me.

Rachel's hand goes to my hair and she scratches my scalp with the softest of traces and there are tingles in my body I haven't felt before this moment.

When she pulls away, I gasp for air, and I almost lean forward to taste her lips when I can breathe again. She smiles this bashful smile and it's contagious.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time but I wasn't sure if you would be okay with it, Quinn."

"Me too."

Blink.

Six months. That's how long Rachel and I have been official. The thought of it all makes me giddy. Her laptop casts a glow over our legs, spread out beside each other on her bed. Her parents are gone for the weekend, and we've been holed up in Rachel's room for at least six hours watching cheesy old black and white movies. Rachel's hand draws circles on my thigh and it's driving me insane.

I try to focus on whatever is playing at the foot of Rachel's bed, and not the growing feeling coiling in my gut. I'm nervous. Rachel is the epitome of patience and reserve and sometimes all I want to do is touch her, kiss her- but I can't stand the thought of her ever doing the same for me. I can only account for a handful of erections in my life. Things I thought would turn me on never did, and when I did get turned on I never understood what it was from.

And I'm terrified of Rachel seeing me naked.

My penis is repulsive. In the sense that it shouldn't be there. It's like a vandalism over fine art. I don't like to touch it, I don't think about sex, pleasure is taboo. Between hormone pills and fluctuating symptoms, fear and disgust- I have never masturbated. Being in a relationship with Rachel brought so many of my shortcomings to the forefront.

My average sized penis now seemed pea sized, my undescended testicle was something I felt like Rachel would laugh at (even though I knew that she would never do that). I felt inadequate. And although Rachel has been understanding and patient, I couldn't bring myself to talk to her about anything involving my penis or sex.

But God did I want to touch her.

Not in that- gosh I want to mount her type of way. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to bring her pleasure. I wanted to see her taken apart and broken down...unhinged and uninhibited. But it seems so hypocritical of me not to expect her to want the same. Everything is so confusing. Curiosity is devilish when tempted, her hand dares closer to the crotch of my pajama bottoms. Tension coils tight in my shoulders and I bite my lip as her hand travels slowly upward, closer...past it. She lays a flat palm on my stomach, and I exhale slowly and relax.

Rachel lifts abruptly at my reaction, leaning back on the heels of her on feet, her hands rubbing down her thighs before she speaks.

"Quinn, there has to be rules."

I'm lost. Rachel leans sideways to close her laptop, and then over to turn on the lamp on her bedside table.

"What?"

She clears her throat, I sit up higher against her headboard.

"You never tell me what you're comfortable with. I understand you want to take things slow and I know certain things might be off limits, but you have to tell me what those things are or I will never know."

Fair enough.

"Well, obviously I don't get um, hard, from physical stimulation. But I think I would get um, enjoyment from giving you, physical stimulation..."

God, I sounded ridiculous.

"I mean, I think I would enjoy touching you but I may not have traditional reactions."

Rachel nodded her understanding.

"But if you do have...reactions, is it okay for me to touch you?"

I nod back my reply. I exhale shortly. This isn't so bad.

Rachel smiles at me before pushing off her knees. She crawls slowly over toward me, and slow straddles my thighs without breaking eye contact. She sits lightly on my lap, close to my face and she leans in...

"Quinn...the number one rule to intimacy, is that the mind is the largest sex organ you possess."

And then she kisses me. It's with a feral hunger that makes my stomach twist with something that I can only deem as want. Her hands run through my hair, and I can feel the warmth coming from where her hips rest against me. She kisses me and I feast on the feeling. Her lips, soft and familiar and still so exciting move expertly across my own until they scamper somewhere down my jawline. My eyes fight to stay open when she kisses the space behind my ear. A moist tongue swipes and my hips buck with such instinct that I almost don't notice it. Words rush against my ear in heated bursts, quiet and husky.

"Touch me any way you like...and tell me if you need to stop."

A choked noise garbles up my throat to reply. Rachel rocks against my lap. Something bottoms out inside me and I feel a stirring. Rachel bites above my collarbone, my hands reach up and my thumbs brush over her hard nipples, poking through her tank top. She throws her head back, I remember the scene... ingrain it into my memory as Rachel begins grinding rhythmically onto my growing erection.

It's the first time I've noticed it. It feels wonderful, what she's doing...but somehow it's cheapened. I halt her hips and I roll us over. She looks up at me, searching for something I can't decipher, but I kiss away her exploration and begin my decent down her torso. My hands drag down her body, I feel everything beneath my fingertips. There are curves and mounds and succulent skin and the one place I want to touch, to see.

I lean away from her and I peel off my tank top, my breath picking up at the thought of what I was about to do. I tug down on her shorts until they are off. Until she is bare in front of me. I lean down with my mouth close to her sex, and I put an arm underneath her until she moves flush against me; I want to feel her flat against my chest.

Rachel watches with rapt attention. Her chest is still like she is holding her breath and she waits for me to move.

The tip of my tongue touches to her and her eyes shut. She sighs a content sigh when I spread her apart, and she arches after a few seconds of my teasing. She makes little noises that record in my mind for later reference, I flick my tongue at certain sounds, I press harder at others. I put my hand on the curve of her back whenever she arches, and she rolls into my moving mouth when she is close.

My hands roam under her tank top, I caress her and knead her breasts and drag my fingernails down her sides and marvel in the mewl she lets out.

"Oh, yes, yes Quinn- don't stop!"

Her hips are erratic, and she loses control and suddenly she can't stop convulsing against my mouth. I press against her hips and savor the sounds of her orgasm as she crashes into it. A crescendo of her breathing silences the noise; it's heavy, and quick and there are tears threatening to fall down the sides of her face. Her smile contradicts the sentiment. I finally pull away, inhaling the musk of what we'd done together.

When I sit up, I notice the small stain on the bed. Wet enough for me to notice; small enough that it would fade. I feel the air touch my wet pajama bottoms, the cool brings my attention to a twin stain- evidence of my own release.

I chuckle.

This is how it would be.

And that was okay.

Blink.

One year, two months. A commitment in the life of a high school senior. The day had felt different. It started ordinary. I went to school, I stayed for glee. I came home, had dinner with Judy, did some homework. Around eight my phone buzzed loudly on my computer chair, and Rachel's name flashed in the notification bar. I opened the text.

"Come over."

I drive over as quickly to her house as the speed limit allows and I open the door that I already know she's unlocked for me and I lock it before running to her room. I open her bedroom door, noticing instantly the blankets bundled on her bed. Almost every last one of them piled one on top of the other.

"Rach?"

"GG-Get undressed, and get under." Her teeth chattered.

I kick off my boots and peel off layers of clothing until I am wearing nothing but my socks and underwear.

"Everything."

I hesitate. Rachel is almost blue and she can't stop her lip from quivering. I take a deep breath and unclasp my bra, letting it fall down my arms as I reach down to take off my underwear. Rachel turns her back to me and I rush to get into her bed with her. I snuggle up behind her, her body so cold I almost recoil, but I grab her and pull her closer, until we are almost pressing everywhere.

"I went ice skating with Kurt and Mercedes at the p-pond since it finally froze over. And I fell through the ice. Kurt had to drive me home in wet clothes. I thought I'd never get warm."

I rub her shoulders. She wiggles backwards until she is pressed close to me. Directly over me. I squeeze her closer, my breasts press into her cool back, my hand moves from her shoulders and to her stomach. I try to relax. She still hasn't seen me naked. But her even breathing settles my nerves and my hand moves on its own accord until Rachel is snoring soundly against me.

I love her.

More than anything. I never would have guessed that she'd be okay with this...with me. It's terrifying to know that she can do something so easily that I still can't do after years of hard work. I want to give her anything she needs. I inhale as I snuggle into the crook of her neck, and I doze off to the sounds of her light sleeping.

Blink… blink, blink, blink.

I'm awake. Rachel has turned in her sleep. She faces me, her arms bent against my chest, her face resting against my bust. Her skin is warm and clammy. I kick at the massive amount of blankets until cool air goose bumps my skin. Rachel snuggles closer to me somehow. She whines, moving her hands, brushing past the unmistakable hardness down lower. I almost back away, until Rachel's hand shoots out and stops the movement.

"It's okay..."

I like the way her voice sounds straight from sleep. I relax against her, trying not to press into her more than I have to. This is the hardest erection I can remember achieving. It pulses in a way I've never felt. I turn on my back and Rachel follows, resting her head on the curve of my right breast. She sighs contently, and her eyes close again. It's late, but the day hasn't changed. My hand draws patterns on her bare shoulder. My eyes follow the curves of her body downward...her modest bust is hidden beneath the arm thrown over my midsection. My eyes linger on the flat of her abdomen...my mouth salivates as I gaze upon the apex of her thighs and down further until my eyes still over muscular skin of her calves.

"Like what you see?"

She's staring up at me, the hand resting above my navel moves, rubbing circles that make me hum and close my eyes.

"I like everything I see..."

She kisses me.

When we break apart, I feel the cool air touch my erection and I stare down at it. It points upward, strong and engorged, and a trail of clear fluid leaks from the tip. I pull a pillow from behind us and I move to cover the offense. Rachel's hand shoots out to stop me.

"Don't. It's nothing to be ashamed of..."

It feels like it should be. This kind of arousal feels like blasphemy to my body.

"It feels unnatural..."

Rachel sits up slightly and rests her chin on her elbow.

"If you look at it that way, of course it'll feel wrong. When I get aroused, my clitoris gets hard, I...leak. Same thing, just on a smaller scale."

I shrug.

"How does it feel?"

"Hmmm? Rachel stretches, pulling her sweaty hair into a knotted bun before settling on her back beside me.

Curiosity bombards my thoughts. I brush my hand over Rachel's stomach, admiring the softness I find there. My hand glides lower, slowly, until my fingertips nestle in the fine curls that taper into the damp velvet of her sex. I clear my throat before speaking.

"Tell me how it feels...to be wet?"

Rachel smiles a lazy smile at me.

"It feels...squishy. Slick. There is a need there when I get wet that I can't put into words. But it makes me want to run my hands over myself. It distracts whatever I'm doing sometimes until I can't take it anymore and I give in. What does it feel like to be hard?"

I'm still hard, red and veiny...the ache she talked about pulses in me. I've never had a chance to really think about it. Most times when I managed an erection, I tried my best to force it away without having to handle it by any means.

"I don't know. There is an ache, I guess it's always felt like a nuisance if anything else. It's distracting. I- I never touch it when it's hard. I don't want to... I try to pretend it's not there at all."

"Do you want me to touch it?"

I shrug. Because I really don't know.

"I feel like giving into that would make me feel...not so much like a girl. A constant reminder that I'm not a girl on the outside."

"Do you think you'll ever want to try sex? Penetrative sex?"

I shrug again.

"Do you, Rachel? Is that what you want? If you want, I can try to."

"I only do if you want to. And not right this second I just mean in the future."

"Maybe."

The thought of being that way with Rachel is horrifying. Being inside of her; mounting her- driving into her. Unnatural. I feel precum slide down my shaft. My body thinks otherwise.

"Okay. I know it's not easy to just...accept a part of you that feels like a stranger. I understand why you might not want to do things that make you feel masculine. But...if you don't get reassignment surgery, you have to be okay with it being there. And not feel shameful when...when you get hard or when you have the urge to have sex."

She's right.

"You're right. But it's not easy trying to give into urges I've been suppressing for so long. Urges that I can't act on in a feminine manner with such masculine...equipment."

Rachel sits up in beside me, nude, and she wraps her arms around her knees in contemplation. I feel naked beside her, but not as exposed as I thought I would. I find comfort in her seeing me this way, I feel safe.

"What kind of feminine urges do you have?"

I turn away. I've never talked about this with anyone other than my psychiatrist.

"I... I want to be explored. I want...sometimes I just want to be filled. Made love to."

Rachel looks determined.

"That urge isn't feminine or masculine. And to be filled isn't either. You just have to come to terms with letting yourself experience pleasure. And understanding that it doesn't matter what package sexual release comes in. I only see you as a woman, Quinn, everything attached to you- I see nothing but my beautiful, sweet, sexy girlfriend. I want to give you the type of pleasure you give me... And I want you to be open to feeling that."

I nod. I clear my throat but no words come out.

Rachel leans toward me to kiss me, and my eyes shut before her lips taste mine. We sit like that for a while, kissing softly, little pecks and deeper kisses- naked and sweaty on mounds of blankets. She pulls away, and stares at me with low lidded eyes.

"May I touch you?"

I gulp back my worry.

"Yes..."

Her hand migrates down, her touch light and reassuring until she is right above my erection. I hold my breath as she teases the tip of her finger over the fluid leaking from my member. I gasp at the touch. Nerve endings. Tiny little sensations come to life simultaneously as she grips me for the first time. My head falls backward and I try not to over think what she's doing.

"Are you okay?"

I nod vigorously. Her hand moves up, then down again and the friction is something I never expected to feel this good. Rachel's mouth reaches for a nipple and she swirls her tongue around it as she strokes.

"Ugh, yes, Rachel I like that-"

She does it again, her thumb swipes the head of me to drag down moisture. My eyes are squeezed shut when Rachel lifts her mouth from my breast to my ear.

"I want you in my mouth, is that okay?"

"Yes..."

It dawns on me that she doesn't refer to it as a penis, or any of those other cringe worthy words I'm sure would lead to the loss of my arousal. It spurs me on as she makes her way over my lap. I try not to close my eyes when she swirls her tongue around the head, I watch her as she takes me all the way in. Her hair halos on my lap and I can't see any of me as she lifts slightly up and down my shaft. I brush my fingers through her scalp as she picks up the pace. My eyes close when she begins sucking harder.

Her hands reach up to knead my breasts and I struggle to contain the noise I'm sure I'm making. Rachel hums around me and I feel her tongue press against the vein that runs down the length of it.

I'm really close. Close to what, I'm not sure...but something wonderful builds inside me as I bottom out at the back of Rachel's throat. My hips begin to buck in reply to her rhythm, when she pulls back, I push up, and we push and pull similarly to when I'm between Rachel's legs and she's close to release.

"Un, Rach, I think I might- you should move away or I'll-"

Rachel sucks harder, her hand is at the base of me and she squeezes slightly and I empty what little I have to offer into the back of throat until I'm nothing more than a convulsing puddle of goo.

Rachel emerges by my side with s smirk plastered on her face. There are no remnants of me that I can see, and she snuggles into my side as I try to calm the humming thrill I feel left over from my first orgasm.

"Was that okay?"

It was. It's okay and I don't feel disgusted by it one bit. I giggle in the girlish of ways and nod down at Rachel.

"You taste amazing." She says it beneath a bitten lip.

It warms my heart that she understands me.

Blink... Blink... Blink...

It's dark where I am. I take a moment to readjust and I remember quickly where I am. Nationals is tomorrow and the hotel in Chicago is a quaint one, but I convinced Schue to let me pay for a single that Rachel and I could share. People in glee hadn't figured Rachel and I out yet- and mostly because we kept our business under wraps. Lima isn't a forgiving place, and we were so close to leaving that we didn't want to make a splash.

Given, our relationship was as "secret" as Santana and Brittany's had been, but everyone was afraid to confront us to ask about it. Needless to say, Mr. Schuester was clueless, and he was fine with two "good friends" sharing a room (especially when he could subtract it from the budget).

Tonight was the night.

I wanted everything to be perfect and magical and I needed for Rachel to know how big of a step this was for me to take. We'd been exploring our sexuality together, and Rachel made me feel at ease in my own skin; safe with everything I was...all the things I wasn't. I had a journey left to go, decisions to make and eventually, I had to accept that I was no-op transwoman with a fancy toward other women. My penis was a part of my body; but it wasn't as much a burden as it used to be. Now, I feel like it is a small blemish against a beautiful portrait. Something I can live with. No one knew what was beneath my sundresses; and for all intents and purposes I "passed" as the girl I wanted the world to see. It would forever be my choice to trust someone with the knowledge of my physical differences. And that felt right. Everything felt right. I'm with Rachel and she's with me and we work and I've never known a love like this.

I hadn't expected to fall asleep waiting for her to get back from Kurt's room. The clock on the bedside table reads 10:30, and I wipe the sleep from my eyes and roll off the still made bed. I still had time to decorate the room, enough time to be showered and wide awake by the time Schue called lights out.

I had candles and flower petals and music and all the things that I assumed made first times perfect. I sat at the foot of the bed after my shower, dressed in a satin green negligée, my hands were sweaty, and I wasn't sure what I should expect.

But this was Rachel. My Rachel. And being together this way would be both of our firsts. Memorable. The conversation about sex had come up before, and Rachel had explained it away simply:

"A Lesbian can have strap on sex; and they aren't any less of a lesbian."

And at the time I was offended that she would reduce the act to something so different. If only that part of me were detachable. It resulted in an argument, and it ended in reconciliation when I thought about how close to the truth that was in our case. It was then that I realized that we were unique. There wasn't another trans who felt the same things I did, the same way I did. What was okay with me, might be completely out of bounds for another transsexual person. And that was okay too. If Rachel and I were okay with my body; with how I saw myself and my gender identity, then it was all that mattered. It was our sexual preference and no one else's business.

Sex.

It's been all I could think about. Being with her completely. Not so much hands and mouths or observations and explorations...but coming together as one.

It had nothing to do with genitalia.

And even if I didn't like it or couldn't bring myself to do it, I knew Rachel would be okay if I backed out or never wanted to do it again and that made it even more special. The little red light on the card reader switched to green and Rachel came in quietly, tip toeing into the small hallway that blocked half the room from sight. She stopped immediately when she saw what I had done.

A goofy smile spreads across my cheeks as I stand, and I walk bashfully over to her until my hands are on her waist.

"Hey you..."

She smiles back at me.

"Hey yourself. What's all this for?"

"You. Me. Us." I quirk an eyebrow.

I lead her over to the bed and she sits down on it beside me. She waits as patiently as she can muster as I nervously fidget in my seat.

"I've been thinking a lot about things and I've come to the conclusion that I'm ready to lose my virginity with you."

I wait for a reaction. The candles cast an orange glow across the room; Rachel's features flicker with the breeze filtering through the cracked windows. She looks at me for a few moments, assessing some imaginary checklist in her head before she allows herself to crack a smile.

"Okay."

The room is still. The music I have going in the background wafts into the atmosphere. Rachel stands first, and I give her full permission to lead; my hands shake as she takes them and leads me to the head of the bed. Rachel kicks off her shoes and settles beside me, leaning over me to find my lips through candlelight. When she kisses me, I kiss her back just as fiercely, trying to control the urge to have her naked and writhing beside me. Rachel pulls away reluctantly.

"I...I want this to be special for you. And I want you to know that anything you don't feel comfortable with...you don't have to do. Okay?"

"Okay."

Rachel unbuttons her blouse and pulls down her skirt. Her white cotton panties are the sexiest thing I have ever seen and I don't stop her when she slides them down her legs and leaves them on the floor. She leaves her shirt hanging open, and I can see the peak of lace from the pink bra she's wearing. I take a breath. Rachel moves me with her hands, pulling me down until I'm on my back.

She straddles my thighs, her body weight feather light above me as her hands sooth my nerves and rub patterns into my flesh, distracting my thoughts from all the worry of what might go wrong. I take a deeper breath when her lips go to my neck, dusting moist kisses above my pressure point, beneath my ear, the space where my neck meets my shoulder.

"You are so beautiful...do you know that?"

I can't help but believe the confirmation in her voice. The validation. Even though I hadn't been searching for that, I believe with every fiber of my being that she thinks I'm beautiful. I look down at her as she runs her hands up my abdomen, pushing up my negligée and moving my mouth over the skin she uncovers.

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you."

The way she says it makes my breath hitch. Her tongue dips into my navel. I am wearing simple green panties, silk and sliding against my waking penis, unbound and free as Rachel climbs down my body. I laugh when she kisses my sides. I giggle when her mouth ghosts over my hip, down my thighs. When she angles my leg toward me and presses her bare tongue to the bend my knee makes I crumble and I'm hard and my toes are pointing and I can't stay still.

She sucks the spot, and her tongue makes a flurry down my leg and she kisses the top of my foot before finding new ways to kiss up my other leg. She moves her hands constantly, my body slightly overwhelmed at the onslaught of sensation. The discovery of corporeal rapture.

She kisses me, and nips, and sucks and devours me and I buck, and tremble, I mewl, and I quiver against her- it's just us. The candles dance like supernovas behind my eyelids as she works my body into frenzy. She touches me everywhere. She makes me feel her all over. Before she even reaches out to grip my erection I'm on edge, overheated and aroused; ready for release.

She squeezes me through my panties. She'd done away with my negligée, tossing it aside in her ravishing of my breasts. She pulls away to discard the remainder of our clothing. And she straddles me seconds later, bare and wet against me.

I want to touch her, I want to build her up just like she did for me, but when I go to roll her under me she stops me.

"I'm ready, Quinn..."

She moves my hand to her mound, and my fingers slip through the thick slickness of her provocation. Her swollen clit slides under my finger, and I glide down until the pads of my fingers press easily into her.

"You get me so, excited..." She bites her lip. I reach up to kiss her and she slides against me. Her hair blankets the prisms of light the candles make in my peripheral and our lips pucker and suckle and I'm enraptured by the moment. She pushes me down onto the bed softly seconds later.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." I nod my head. 'Yes' something says inside me.

She leans over me. Her hand reaches behind her and she lines me up with her entrance and I hold my breath with her as she pushes down over me; slowly-centimeters at a time. She winces as I fill her and I watch her eyes glaze over before she rubs at her swollen clit, desperate for the pressure to go away. I feel her sink fully over my shaft seconds after, something delicate giving way to make room for me inside her. Neither of us move. My hands reach up and settle on her hips, and she breaths heavily above me and clenches her thighs before leaning forward. I slide tightly from her and she settles over me again; with tears in her eyes.

My hand moves to thumb away the discomfort, and Rachel falls forward when I pull away. Her face is close to mine, she kisses me and I forget to think; suddenly aware how deeply sheathed I am inside her. Suddenly overwhelmed at the tingles exploding over my nerve endings from how tight she is; how hard she thumps around me. When she rocks up, her mouth brushes past my ear and I hear the whine she gives out when I am almost all the way out.

I feel her breasts rub hotly against mine as she lifts forward and backward above me, as I grow comfortable enough to thrust up and into her. Her hands go to either side of my head and I lift my lower legs up until she is slightly elevated. Her voice drops in pitch and she starts chanting mantras of my name as she strokes and I thrust...

"Quinn, Quinn...oh God Quinn just like that. You feel wonderful I just…Quinn…Quinn…Quinn."

I stare into her eyes when they finally open, taken with thoughts of her above me, mounting me and making me throb. The tension of my climax builds inside me. I feel the insides of Rachel convulse; squeeze, clench and release my shaft as I continue to stroke into her, out of her; as she pulls forward, down- as we meet wetly and disconnect noisily.

"I love you so much..."

She kisses me, sloppily.

"I love you too."

I kiss her back.

Our breathing is labored. It's swltering. Our movement is erratic. I hear the squish our bodies make as they meet, I feel the air kiss me on all the places she left wet as I push back inside her.

"Come with me Rachel..."

She fits her finger into the spaces mine make between each other and she squeezes as we rock. The other hand works chaotically below and I feel her knuckles brush against me as she finds her clit and rubs circles over it. I thrust into her harder, faster, trying to control the urge to combust and then I feel it.

Her orgasm tickles harshly against my shaft. She tightens and I don't move as she pulsates and spasms around me. Pressure and grip and she milks me until I spill into her with fragmented syllables of her name wrecked in my haste to call out for her. To bring her closer.

She falls in a heap on my chest, hair stuck to her face and me softening inside her. When I do fall from her, I feel the trickling slick of my own release follow me out, thoughts of my sterility stop the worry of pregnancy as she rolls over to snuggle against my side. I chuckle quietly as she looks up at me, sleep in the corners of her eyes as she tries to recover from her loss of energy.

"Will you blow out the candles?"

I hum my reply and lift from the bed, my body unsteady as I blow out the candles I have lined on even surfaces throughout the room. The last one is in front of the mirror, and it shrouds my nude body in an aura that tinges my skin with an airy sepia hue. I'm taken by my reflection. My hair is wild and my eyes are blown and my soft penis is out and unrestricted, lower. I stare away from the mirror at my painted toes, a pretty purple that looks royal against my skin. When I look up to blow out the candle, I see her- Quinn Lucy Fabray.

I envelop the room in darkness.

Blink