Glee Rivers Flowing

A/N: This was formerly posted as Brittana fanfiction but I cannot betray my Quinntana heart. I tend to prefer Quinn than Brittany so if I post this as Brittana fanfiction, this might offend their fandom. But I am warning you, this has a heavy Brittana in this story.

You're married. Happily Married – or at least they thought you were. You also thought you were in cloud 9, until the last girl who you'd be interviewing for an internship in your father's law firm entered your office. Well actually, ten other applicants were waiting to be interviewed but as soon as you laid your eyes on her, you closed the application and right then and there, you've got the one and only intern of the year.

…

People saw you as a perfect couple. "Santana and Brittany? Oh that lovely couple. They are total sweethearts. Every married couple should look up to them and perhaps, divorce rate in the country will go down," Mrs. Davis, the old spinster down the hall, would muse with adoring eyes. She only saw the lovely couple that you've always been in the eyes of many people but she hasn't seen Brittany's sad blue eyes as soon as the door of your apartment closed. She only hear (yes, she could still hear clearly even though you thought she's already wearing hearing aid) giggles and sweet nothings everytime she's inside the lift with you two, but haven't seen or heard the all the hurtful words you've been throwing each other and silent fights you've been having these days.

…

You didn't know when it all started. One day you feel like you can die with happiness, but the next day, you can't stop but ask why you even bother to marry, at all. You love Brittany, you really do. You were best friends before you became who you were now, an all that jazz (but honestly, you actually don't know where you're standing in your relationship with her right now).

If people would ask your kindergarten teacher, she would say that she wouldn't be surprised if you're married now. You were always attached to your hip and if you weren't young then, she herself would play match maker (as if you still need it).

If they would ask your middle school principal, she would say that no boys would ever stood a chance with Brittany since your eyes alone could burn holes and your fist are like iron that at one point in time, you've been in his office every week standing with head up along with a bruised whimpering boy and a sad silently crying blue eye blonde would patiently wait outside.

If they would ask your high school principal, he would say that finally, everybody saw the beauty that was your relationship and finally, you found your freedom and escaped the prison that was high school and all its stereotyping.

If they would ask you college classmates/ friends, they would be happy to see that you actually made it, because who ends up with their high school sweetheart after the constant temptations thrown to you during fraternity or sorority parties. You're the hottest piece of action in the campus with a girlfriend who is dancing in a stage miles away. It seemed that this didn't stop both boys and girls to try and get into your pants hoping that you'll be sick of the distance and settle for the nearest body in the room filled with raging hormones and ego. But you were better than that – they're left high and dry while you walk to you your apartment anticipating for Brittany to pick up the phone and ease the loneliness you've been feeling – but more often than not, if not greeted with her voicemail, you were greeted with a very tired voice and you would just let her be.

If they asked your friend/classmates in law school, they would say that they're happy you got back together because they don't want to see a love like that be wasted. Law school had been busy and your father would not settle for less. You're the future of your law firm since your older brother chose to save lives rather lie for criminals while your youngest brother chose to act in front of the camera rather than bag the best actor award inside the court room. It wouldn't be hard keeping up your relationship with Brittany if it weren't for the fact that she's been touring the world and Harvard Law has been taking up all your time. You broke up over the phone when you were in your second year in law school and while she was in Rihanna's tour in around Europe but still, if you have time, you'd rather call her than call your father. And after delivering the speech in front of other new lawyers (fresh from the bar) during your oath taking, you were surprise to see the blue eyed blonde in the audience – with bouquet of flowers in her hands.

If they would ask your father, he would just shrug and before going back to the papers in front of him, he would say, "My daughter found someone as loyal and faithful as Brittany, that's what matters most. She doesn't deserve to be treated like crap." _Like how your mother treated your father. _Other people would miss his watery eyes, but this is the man who raised you and who had been there for you despite being the big time lawyer that he was. You knew the in and outs of being a Lopez man, putting your sex aside, you were one of them and who would know them better than yourself.

…

You were sure that all they have to say were right. But right now, you were not exactly sure. You didn't know exactly when it happened but you were sure of one thing, you're marriage is slowly falling apart. Brittany had been busy with her dance studio and choreographing an up and coming musical while you've been constantly finding yourself late at night either in your balcony as you nurse a glass of 18-year old whiskey and a Cuban cigar waiting for Brittany to come home or in your office knowing that your wife would not be home 'til later that night.

But everytime she would come home, you actually didn't know why you bothered waiting. _It's what good wife supposed to do. _You would reason out.

"You're drinking," A soft voice would break your trance and cold arms would wrap your torso.

"Just a glass," you would reply.

"And smoking," she added as if what you've been doing is something new. Brittany would come home and see you in such state and every time, she would point out these things as if it's something she haven't seen before.

"Mmhhmmm," you hummed as you put down your glass and cigar and turn around to kiss. You're kisses would be soft and sweet at first, but you would take your chance make it deeper as you long for your wife's touches and passion. But every time you move you search for her tongue and move your hands in areas you knew so well, she would pull away and give you an apologetic look and right then and there, you knew you will not be having it for the night – again.

"I'm sorr-" but before she could finish, you cut her off already knowing what she would say – you've been hearing it for weeks now but you can't help but try.

"I know. I get it." You said and were unaware with bitterness in your voice. You saw her tensed up but you tried to brush it off. "I've already prepared your hot tub for you. I'll go to bed now," you said as you gave her a peck and tried to avoid the tension, "Good night, babe." You whispered to her ear before you disappear into your bedroom.

And ever since that night, you accepted the fact that your life would be a cycle for a while – and so you hope. You would wake up at 5 am and eat your usual breakfast: Spanish omelet, bacon, toast and coffee. You would run for an hour and go back to the apartment to cook Brittany's pancakes, shower and change. And just before you leave, Brittany would wake up and give you a goodbye kiss. Howard, your driver, would be waiting downstairs in the town car, and as you get inside, your day of work started. Your phone would ring relentlessly and with a cup of coffee in your hand (your second coffee for the day), you would patiently talk (Santana's dictionary: Patient = never, talk = shout) with your assistant and whoever happened to do stupid things in the office. And even before you step in your office building, you've finished more than ten phone calls, arranged eight meetings, scheduled court room attendance and consult your OB-Gyne for the second trial of IVF. And after eight to ten hours of spending in your office chair or meeting clients in different bars and restaurants, you're ready to head back home and spend another night, waiting for your wife. Sometimes you would eat at your father's house. He would fake annoyance and complain that he have had enough of your face in the office and he wanted to be left alone in his own forgetting the fact that he retired months ago and let you run the place. But despite his childish complaints, he would still engulf you in a tight embrace and ask Nita, your step-mother, to bring another plate for you. One night turned to two until one evening, you found yourself in your father's dining table, with set of plates and utensils already placed in your seat. They didn't bother to ask you why you've been spending the night with them, you were just glad that at times like this, you still have a another place to go home to.

…

You were settling with the cycle you have made. You would complain and feel bitter sometimes, but you just suck it up and tell yourself that you love your wife and would do anything for her. _Even if everything is already killing you inside. _You were contented with the life you made- or at least you keep convincing yourself. You're willing to do anything for your marriage to work and you keep convincing yourself that you and Brittany are just undergoing a phase. You were actually convinced… up until last girl who you'd be interviewing for an internship entered your office. Well actually, ten other applicants were waiting to be interviewed but as soon as you laid your eyes on her, you closed the application and right then and there, you've got the one and only intern of the year, Lucy Quinn Fabray.

And right at that moment, you broke the cycle you have created, and still unbeknownst to you, you were about to break the marriage you have been saving.

…

You called Quinn into the office. She walked sharply past Mercedes, her supervisor and your best friend, who was a bitch to everyone. Before Mercedes could turn to the corner, she gave you a knowing look and smirked at Quinn. Quinn hated during her first weeks since she made every intern's life miserable. And at first, you thought that it was part of the reason why she was fucking you – to get rid with the Fudge Packer (you don't blame her with the name, one of the former interns happen to be hopeless and lame and resorted to a 'Prison Bitch Name Generator').

Before you closed your door, you said rather loudly for all to hear "I want to know the story behind Jacob's chewing my ass off this case!" It was a front. First, it gave you a reason to close the door because cases are private. Second, it made it appear as if Quinn was in trouble and not about to flirt shamelessly with you.

You sat down in your large corporate chair and Quinn came around the desk and sat up on the edge. At first, you were serious (cause right, you called her in about Jacob's losing case) and your voice was stern. But minutes had passed and you smiled at each other. You laughed and chatted, still about fucking Jacob's case, which you will now take since you can't manage to lose a case for the first time since you run the place. Quinn crossed her legs and playfully dangled one knee over the other. And not long after she started working her shoe off till it fell onto the carpet. Not missing a beat with the conversation, she slid her now shoeless stocking foot along the inside of your trousers and you were glad that you weren't wearing skirt that day because if you did – you really can't imagine how long you will last.

"Are you alright, Ms. Lopez?" She playfully husked out as her toes came into contact with a noticeable wetness in her pants. She teased it, played with it, and still chatting aimlessly while you were struggling on your chair.

"Fuck Fabray, quick fooling around and just..." You struggled.

"Just what?" she smirked and teased you up further knowing that you wouldn't last long.

"Just…" You again struggeled. "Just help me, okay." You said breathlessly.

She smiled and slid off the desk, crouched in front of you and touched your crouch with one hand. "What do you mean, Miss Lopez?"

"Please Quinn, I need you to fuck me." You surrendered. And you knew that as her first name escape your lips, she would get the message.

"You like me to lick you off?"

At first you thought about it. She never went down on you – it would just take you in a different level. In some twisted mind of yours, you think that you would be violating your already tarnished vow with Brittany. You had been fucking each other for months now but you never let her go down on you, simply because when this affair started, you told yourself that you will not cross the line and you will never let her go down. As if you still have self preservation. You're a cheater and you're aware of that, but you loved Brittany too much that you're not willing to give your everything to anyone but her. But, right now, you don't really know and without any hesitation, you lustfully looked at the blonde woman who is now on her knees, and made a decision.

"God yes." And with the green light, she began to unbuckle your thin gold belt, undo your slacks button and lower the zipper. You held yourself up a little and she wiggled your pants lower. You wore nothing underneath and a surprise gasp came out from her pink lips. You were so wet that it was so evident even if it was dark under your desk and this made her lick her lips,

"God!" She exclaimed, "I see now why you need my help!" and without warning she began to work on you. Her tongue probed your tender sex, seeking any precum. The tips of her fingers rolled along your slit as she licked and suck your bundle of nerve. You were so high and you knew that it wouldn't take you long to reach orgasm.

You've been eyeing her legs the entire day but the stack of papers on your desk keeps you from fucking her or even touching her anywhere possible. Until you pass by her desk, with her blazers off, and saw the marks you left on her shoulders and this reminded you of how you two fuck endlessly over the weekend, during the supposedly conference you have to attend.

Her mouth is expertly doing its magic and when she bit your clit, you were taken by surprise and you jolted in your chair. She released you, pressed your slacks down against your pubic hair, exposing more of your vagina.

Her mouth went down on you again, this time not giving up till you whimpered. She pulled you free and smiled up at you. You whispered how sexy she was and how good she was at fucking you.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth?" She asked and you were surprised to see the shyness in her face. You never came in her mouth. Yes, your fucked each other with your fingers but this was the first time you'll be coming in her mouth. And this gave you a weird feeling and for some reason, you shook your head and you noticed the disappointment in her face.

"Not here," you husked and for the first time since this affair have had started, you allowed yourself to look deep into her eye as if telling her something. You wanted to tell her you want it to be special, you wanted to tell her that this isn't the right place for that. And for the first time since you started this affair, you lovingly looked at you were terrified.

And before you could think further, Quinn gave you a warm smile telling you that she understood. You could feel her release your hips, and the hand that was holding you down are now on its way to your sex. "I'm going to fuck you senseless with my fingers, for now" she playfully said and readjusted herself so that she was now straddling your legs with three fingers deep down your sex.

You moaned loudly. She started nipping your neck as she thrust her hips up and down and bury her fingers knuckle deep. She licked you up to your jaw then to your earlobes and you wrapped your hands around her hips as she relentlessly bounced up and down. You groaned. Your hips arching up to hers and you cussed out. "Fuck! Faster! I'm gonna come Q. Faster! Oh Fuck! Fuck! Faster!"

"I love you," She whispered and this threw you off the edge. You suddenly jerked and shut your eyes. Your grip on her tightened and you could feel your sex juice flowing against her fingers. You relaxed back in your chair and when you opened your eyes, all you could were watery hazel eyes. You know what those tears are for and you can't help but feel guilty. You've done this to her and you have done this to yourself. You have crossed the line and you knew at the end of the day one of you will get hurt and at the end of the day, she will be alone in her apartment and you will be on your way to your empty house, waiting for your wife.

"I'm sorry," you uttered but not sure of what you are really sorry for.

You want to ease her pain and did the only thing that you could think of, you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed her with all the passion you have in your body – telling her the words you can never utter.

Minutes passed and she removed herself from you. You fixed yourselves before anyone gets suspicious with the amount of time Quinn had spent in your office these days. You began an awkward conversation that seemed to wrap up of something as you opened the door of the office.

"Thank you," you softly said and Quinn strolled back to her desk without looking back. Mercedes, again, gave a look. But this time, it is a sympathetic one.

You went back to your office and fix the mess you've made on your workplace. Once settled, you sat on your chair and ponder. You were back into your cycle. It's nearing 3 pm and in two hours, you'll be heading to your empty house and wait for Brittany, who comes home later than usual since the opening of the musical is approaching.

You're tired and for the first time in a long time, you want to find freedom your high school principal was talking about.

You dialed you wife's number and was greeted by her voice mail. You know she's not on break and but you still call her at this time of the day since you know that you'll be greeted by her bubbly voice – far from what you've been hearing at night when she gets home. You love her and your aching for her, but at some point, you'll get tired and would sometimes forget the vows you've made for each other.

The worst part is, sometimes, you would forget the love you have for one another.

So for the first time since you had your first miscarriage while Brittany was at the other side of the country, dancing for Justin Timberlake, you left her a message. And for the first time since she came back, you won't be spending the night together.

"Hey Britt. I won't be home tonight. I have an emergency client and I have to fly to Chicago this afternoon. I'm on my way home to get some clothes and I'll leave some food in the oven, just heat it up when you're hungry. Hopefully if the shit goes down well, I'll be home by tomorrow evening. I miss you, babe."

…

You switch off the light in your office and as expected, Quinn was still on her desk. Normally, you would just pass by her desk as you go your way down to the elevator. But today was different. Other employees are still on their cubicles so you stopped in front of her workplace and subtly slid a paper on her table letting your perfectly manicured fingers brushed into hers. She didn't have to lift her head. Just by the smell of your perfume and the feel of your touch, she knew it was you. You gave her a smile and you held her hand for a short time before walking towards the waiting elevator.

And before the elevator could close, you said, "I don't tolerate tardiness, Fabray. Be sure to _come_ on time, or else, your fired." You said with a wink but left her with a puzzled look.

Quinn was left in shock until she remembered the piece of paper lying on her desk.

_Room 1005_

_Trump SoHo Hotel Condominium_

_New York, NY, United States_

_Attendance it a must, Fabray._

It was an address and she very well knew what it meant. As she read the note, she can't help but smile and for the first time since she let her boss fuck her in the office or after out of the town conferences, she can't help but hope that this will go somewhere.


End file.
