Code Words

Rachel Berry knows she will become a famous actress someday; she has been putting on the performance of her lifetime.

Every day she has to play her role to perfection; if she slips up, the show is over for both of them.

Never mind that when they are alone, the heat from their touches nearly sears hot trails across their skin. The ragged breaths that follow their passionate embraces dampen the surrounding air. The raw desire in the words whispered brazenly into the other's ear is enough to turn even the most vulgar man prudish.

Having to masquerade as mortal enemies all day only intensifies the foreplay.

They put on a display of dirty looks, harsh comments, and snarky comebacks… but Rachel is in her element when it comes to the code words. While feigning hurt, defiance, or a little of both, deep inside she suppresses the excitement pulsing below her middle.

RuPaul. She wants the brunette to dress up for her. Rachel will wear the skimpy schoolgirl outfit tonight.

And when Rachel, sprawled out on her own bed with a tempting view of her scandalously short skirt, saw the lustful look on the other girl's face as the door clicked shut behind her, she knew that she had chosen well. She knew that the lithe cheerleader would pull her close by the necktie draping suggestively down her chest. Knew that she would sensually unweave the knot which fastened the pristine white blouse, the whole while latching those soft lips hungrily onto her own. Knew that she would make Rachel keep the thigh high tights on because the blonde finds it indescribably sexy when the coarse fabric subtly scrapes along the inside of her silken thighs. Knew, as Quinn bit down on the exposed flesh between her neck and shoulder to stifle a moan from reaching the ears of two unsuspecting fathers, that she would be wearing yet another turtleneck to school tomorrow. Rachel could never mark her though; her quarterback "boyfriend" could become suspicious. Good thing that, as an actress, Rachel practices self-control and can contain her own ecstasy.

Man Hands. One of her favorites. Rachel loves her turn as the dominant one.

A rendezvous at Quinn's house was a rarity. But the stars had aligned, and the Fabray residence would be vacant until the wee hours of the morning, save for two teenagers eager to relieve their pent up tension. Rachel savored the opportunity to run her hands slowly up the sides of that smooth stomach on the other girl's own bed. And the faint whimper pleasurably elicited from those supple lips told Rachel that she was equally as turned on from doing this here. Rachel knew the Celibacy Club's saying about teasing versus pleasing, but she could tell from the sultry hooding over those otherwise penetrating eyes that the creed, as usual, would go out the window tonight. Such was the intoxicating nature of their arrangement; every hormonal need and experimental urge fulfilled, all while never truly breaking the devout girl's dutiful vow.

Even the nightly MySpace videos and accompanying callous commentary were part of the code.

Each time, during their next tryst, the singer was allowed as many minutes of complete control as words in the crass comment. Rachel's retribution, she could tell, was actually one of Quinn's favorite phases of their meetings. Despite the brunette's inherent conviction, the blonde was the dominant personality. She spoke the code words. She determined the length of the comment. But Rachel didn't mind. Upon relinquishing control, resigning to total submission… relaxation always washed over the tightly-wound cheerleader's features. And Rachel knew, in those moments of surrender, which partner truly held the power in their relationship.

And so the cycle, which ended each sundown with two sated souls disclosing their mutual adoration in a singular, tender farewell kiss, began anew with the video post later that evening, and was perpetuated every morning passing through the halls.

Habitually they would exchange quick smirks before their inevitable hallway collision.

"Watch where you're going, you tranny freak!"

And while she outwardly exhibits a wounded face mixed with insolence and bravery, deep inside Rachel buries an enthusiastic grin. She wants to get wild tonight.

It is then, every day, that Rachel Berry thanks her lucky gold stars that becoming a famous actress someday will be forever connected to the bliss she shares every night with Quinn Fabray.

A/N: After 2 years away, I'm trying to get back to writing again. This is the first thing I've liked enough to publish. Please let me know your thoughts on it, even if you only review anonymously. (And I know it's a little tense-jumpy, but I liked it best this way.)

Oh yes, and disclaimer: The characters and anything belonging to FOX's Glee are not mine. Please don't sue me for feeling inspired.