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fic: inside my love

Pairing: Quinn/Brittany
Rating: R
Word Count: 2700
A/N: This is a birthday present for a friend on tumblr.
Should be read as a continuation of this fic.
Visual aid (the green one) | Auditory enhancement.

It’s really hard to shop for Brittany.

Gift giving is the most challenging aspect of their relationship and Quinn acknowledges that it’s the biggest champagne problem in the world. That doesn’t make it any easier when Brittany consistently picks out the best Christmas, birthday and ‘just because’ presents and Quinn is left agonizing over every single option. She doesn’t want to say Brittany’s like one of those cats who when you buy them a new scratching post, just plays with the box, but the fact remains that Quinn buys her this beautiful diamond bracelet for Christmas and Brittany downright gushes over the engraved wooden case until Quinn reminds her to actually open it.

The bracelet, Brittany says, is super pretty and she does go out of her way to wear it on dates. The case however, has a prime place of honor on Brittany’s side of the vanity and houses only the most prized of the many trinkets she collects for no other reason than that she likes the way they look.

Valentine’s Day is the same. A dozen red roses earns Quinn a cursory kiss on the cheek before they’re stuffed into a vase so they can make their reservation.  However, when she randomly brings home a box of salt-water taffy from a coworker who’d just gotten back from the shore, Brittany pulls her into a hug so tight she can barely breathe. That’s not even taking into account the special things Brittany does with her mouth and the taffy that night. Quinn has stopped questioning where she gets these ideas.
Long story short; Brittany is impossible and Quinn is running out of time.

Brittany’s birthday is in three days and it’s the first one they’ll celebrate together. By Quinn’s count, anyway.

(Brittany counts ‘together’ from that time they had sex in her parents’ kitchen on New Years Day two years ago)

Quinn counts from when they moved in together six months later. It’s weird, but that’s when everything started to feel real. Brittany’s silly hats taking up way too much space into her closet were what finally got through to her that this isn’t a fantasy that’s going to be snatched out from under her.

 Brittany would call her silly for doubting them (again) and she’d be right. Quinn is learning, but old habits die hard.
She and Brittany have something of a relationship motto; to start things as they intend for them to be. Considering how serious this all feels, Quinn does not intend to start the rest of their lives with Brittany making her look bad.

She’s going to start by choosing the best present that has ever been given. Failure is not an option.

There’s a fact-finding expedition, feeling Brittany out to see if there’s something she secretly wants. All she gathers is that she could probably get away with buying Brittany a kitten, but that’s just playing to the least common denominator. Also, pets are forbidden in their rental agreement; she checked.

It’s not until she spends an entire weekend studying her girlfriend that she has an epiphany.
Brittany and her interests are regularly bizarre and inconsistent. She flits from job to job and hobby to hobby so frequently that Quinn can’t keep track.

One of the few constants is that she so obviously thinks Quinn wears too many clothes.
The proof is in the way their routines don’t quite mesh and Brittany wakes up when Quinn’s just out of the shower and stays awake and watchful until she puts on her skirt and blouse. After that, she burrows back under the covers and it’s like she couldn’t care less about Quinn’s existence. It’s in the way Brittany always suggests the dresses with the most cleavage and the shortest hemlines whenever their shopping together. The expression on her face whenever she holds up something she knows Quinn would never wear is enough indication that this is a thing.

Another constant is that Brittany pretty much always wants to have sex.

All. The. Time.
It seems like fate when she’s in line at the grocery store flipping through one of those magazines that the feminist in her wants to hate, but she still secretly enjoys anyway. One of the stories is titled “Blow his mind with your sexiest lingerie.” It’s offensive, yes, but it’s also informative. She buys the magazine and makes a point to have it open to the article on must-have accessories for spring when Brittany gets home and leans over her shoulder for a kiss.

The thing is, Cosmo only tells her so much and she’s got a tiny kernel of a plan and no idea how to put it into action.

She considers calling Santana for all of two seconds before ruling that out entirely. For one, Brittany is still her ex and just because it’s not weird that she’s with Quinn now, that conversation could get weird in a heartbeat. Moreover, if Quinn calls for advice on how to deliver a strip tease, Santana will probably hurt herself laughing.

The Internet is helpful, as is YouTube and by the time her rush order from La Perla arrives, she’s got a five point plan and is seventy-six percent certain that Brittany won’t know what hit her.
It goes smashingly at first.

Her plan is rock solid. Brittany comes home from work at six; Quinn took off early to prepare so dinner is ready. If Brittany is at all curious as to why they’re staying and not out at one of the expensive restaurants Quinn prefers for special events, she doesn’t say anything. After dinner, as Quinn leads her to a chair in the middle of their bedroom, she gets this little confused face that Quinn kind of wants to kiss off. But that’s a part of step four so she refrains.

Underneath her skirt and blouse she’s wearing these skimpily little scraps of lace that cost hundreds of dollars more than they should, but she looks good even if it’s going to be a bit uncomfortable to be that exposed.

Her hair is down and curled the way Brittany likes it. Quinn is as ready as she’ll ever be.

“Happy birthday, Britt.”

The music picks up behind her and picking this song was the simplest decision she’s made all week. Minnie Riperton has never let her down. She undoes the first few buttons and Brittany shifts forward in her seat to give Quinn her full attention. Quinn reminds herself that having those eyes follow her every movement is kind of the point. In seconds, her skirt pools at her feet and Minnie is getting into the chorus. She feels bold, so when her shirt finally comes off, she tosses it at Brittany and stalks over to stand in front of her.

Quinn takes her time reaching back to unclasp her bra and slowly lets it slide down her shoulders and fall to the floor. Brittany licks her lips and rakes her eyes up and down Quinn’s body. There’s a hunger there that Quinn loves.

She mentally checks off steps one through three when Brittany starts talking. Somehow, she didn’t plan for that.

“Am I going to get beat up if I touch you?”

The words throw her off.


“Is this hands off or hands on? Like, is this a regular museum or the Please Touch?”

As Quinn tries to work out whether it’s worse to be compared to a stripper or to a children’s museum, she loses her rhythm. Brittany grins up at her and it’s with her ‘you’re cute’ face. That was not the point of this.

This was supposed to be sexy. Who is she kidding?

“Are you going to keep going?”

She’s been standing there motionless long enough for the song to end. It takes her another ten seconds, which feels like an eternity, to realize just how much of her is not covered. She steps back and crosses her arms over her naked chest.

“This is ridiculous. I thought I could- well, obviously I can’t.”


“What?” She doesn’t mean to snap.

“Come here.”

With a shake of her head, she turns to grab her shirt from the floor, hastily shrugging it on an fumbling with the buttons.

“Come here, Quinn.”

That’s Brittany’s serious voice. The one she uses when it’s really important for Quinn to pay attention to what she means rather than how she says it. The one that keeps her from just running away. She moves closer and is promptly pulled into Brittany’s lap.

“Did you do all this by yourself?”

She nods until she realizes Brittany’s making fun of her. Brittany catches her before she can move to stand and wraps strong arms around her waist.

“This is the best preset I’ve ever gotten. I really like the way it’s wrapped”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well. You’re my present right?”

“Not exact-“

“No take backs. You don’t want to be an Indian giver do you?”

This is a set up.

“So now that you’re mine-“

Quinn shivers at the way that last word rolls off her tongue.

“I can do whatever I want with you.”

God, that sounds good. But the past few months have shown Quinn how dangerous it is to give Brittany carte blanche, especially with her body. She pretty sure there’s still glitter in some places from that one time Brittany wanted to reenact a scene from Twilight. (How is this her life?)


This is definitely a set up, but Brittany is rubs soothing circles along her shoulders and she ends up nodding.

“Okay then.”

There’s a kiss and then another and then-

“Can we do it on the roof? It’s not cold out. And I’ll definitely keep you warm.”

They have a little patch of roof out side their window. It’s enclosed on three sides by the brick walls of the surrounding buildings. Brittany set up a little cluster of ferns that she waters religiously along with an old outdoor lounge chair she brought home from Ohio. When the weather’s nice but she doesn’t feel like actually going out, she slips out of the window and into her crazy little refuge.

Quinn should have expected Brittany would eventually want to have sex there as well.
She doesn’t want to do it. At all.

Exhibitionism is not high on her list of life goals. And just because no one can directly see them doesn’t mean they won’t somehow end up frozen in shameful perpetuity by a Google Earth satellite.


She really wants to do it. It’s dangerous and she can feel herself growing wet at the idea of being with Brittany in public. Well, semi-public.

When says OK, it’s not even something she can blame on Brittany’s insane powers of persuasion.
After struggling out of the window with several times less grace than Brittany. Quinn waits for her to make the next more. By this point her excitement has long since overwhelmed her reservations.

Brittany bends enough to scoop Quinn up and carry her the rest of the way across the roof. For some reason this; Brittany lifting her, picking her up, and eventually just setting her down on top of things is something they do. Because she’s not nearly as nice as people think she is, Brittany jostles Quinn a little at first, before tightening her grip and whispering I’ve got you. It’s true. Brittany has her now. And there’s a more than slight chance she always will.

Usually, this would end with Brittany pressing her back into the worn cushions, but instead she sits and pulls Quinn down on top of her.

The message is clear. She wants Quinn take charge. That’s fine, opportunities like this are few and far between.
There’s another kiss, only hotter and wetter. Quinn gently bites Brittany’s lower lip and runs her tongue over it.

The soft fabric of her shirt rubs against Quinn’s bare nipples. It’s teasing but not uncomfortable. Still, it is immediately apparent to Quinn that Brittany is currently the one wearing too many clothes. Jeans scratch against silk stockings, rough against the sensitive skin of her thighs. Those really need to go soon, but kissing Brittany is more important right now.

The cool breeze does nothing to counter the heat of Brittany’s hands as they roam over her skin. Ambient noise from the street mixes with Brittany’s small sighs and reminds her that this is a little taboo.

She wants more. Now.

She sits up; ignoring the exasperated huff, and grabs the hem of her tee and yanks roughly. Her enthusiasm succeeds in trapping Brittany with the shirt over her head and no way to help herself out of it. As they struggle with her top, horrendously stretching the material, Brittany erupts in a fit of giggles. Quinn wants to take offense but this is kind of hilarious. Once free, Brittany smiles crookedly up at her. Quinn is more than willing to let her take over because this ‘in-charge’ thing isn’t as easy as she makes it look.

The moment settles heavily between them. It’s not awkward but it’s not not awkward.

Brittany takes her hand, kisses her palm and places it directly over her heart. The rapid thump is the most satisfying thing she’s felt in ages.

Regardless of all the mishaps or, knowing her girlfriend, probably because of all the mishaps, Brittany is loving this. A wave of confidence rushes over her and Quinn is back to knowing exactly what she’s doing.

Her shirt is hastily discarded for the second time and when Brittany leans forward to touch, Quinn pushes her back and raises an eyebrow in that way she knows gets Brittany hot every single time.

She stands up and lets Brittany help get her jeans off because there’s a place for confidence and a place for common sense.
Then they’re in matching states of undress, save for Brittany’s bra, this little hot pink number that reveals more than it covers. Quinn slithers—that’s the only word to describe it— back up her body to settle between her legs.

Everything that was covered by clothes before is bared to her eyes, her hands, and her lips. Quinn takes her time exploring every inch. Brittany’s breath hitches at every sweep of her tongue. A long leg wraps around her hip, pulling her closer.

She notices that Brittany is no longer laughing.

Finally, just when it seems like Brittany has had enough and is gearing up to flip her, Quinn slides a hand down and sinks two fingers inside of her. She goes slowly, swallowing Brittany’s soft moans and relishing the heated breath against her neck when she moves down to playfully nip at her jaw.

The moans turn into barely there whispers of her name even as the grip on her hip tightens.

When Brittany gets close to her orgasm, the change is sudden and unmistakable. Whispers become pants and hands that lazily stroked up and down her back grab her roughly, not caring about the stinging scratches they leave behind. Brittany wraps all of her limbs around Quinn and bites into her shoulder.

When she comes, Quinn nuzzles into her neck leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses until Brittany pulls her chin up. This is less of a kiss and more just Brittany gasping into her mouth.

After a few moments, she relaxes and Quinn sinks heavily on top of her resting their foreheads together. The hand at the base of her spine slides lower to toy with the material of her garter. Quinn forgot that she’s still ‘partially wrapped.’

“I like these better than your regular stockings.” Brittany says, shifting so they’re jammed into the narrow chair facing each other.


“You should wear them everyday. Then I could take them off.”

Quinn laughs. “You always have the best ideas. “


She’s halfway asleep when Brittany leans closer and murmurs, “Best birthday ever.”

Quinn she drifts off, immensely proud of herself. But she’s realizing she has no clue how to top this next year without getting them both arrested.