What are Friends for Ch. 02

//Author's Note: This story is part of a small collection of Lesbian stories I'll be uploading this week. This particular one is an all-new entry, never-before submitted, although the characters have previously appeared in my story What Are Friends For.

Enjoy!//

Seven Years Later

"Oh my GOD," Trish grunted, her voice echoing loudly inside the little VW coupe.

"What?"

"Already!"

"Already what?"

"She's already starting up," Trish groaned, shaking her phone. "There's no way I'm not going to kill her today."

"Okay," Quinn said, extending her fingers while still keeping both palms carefully placed against her steering wheel. "Okay. Let's just—"

"So help me God, Quinn, if you tell me to 'relax and breathe' one more time I'm going to fucking strangle you."

"I wasn't going to," Quinn lied, with her eyes wide. She looked over out of the corner of her eye, and wasn't at all surprised to see her beautiful wife frowning.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." Trish set her phone on the dash and placed both hands on her belly. "That was the hormones. That wasn't me."

"I know, Baby—"

"No you don't," Trish snapped, "but you will."

Quinn smiled and nodded, blonde ponytail bobbing behind her. "I will."

"God, and this too?" Trish slouched in the seat, wincing as she moved, and slid forward until her knees were pressed against the glove compartment. "Fuuuck, I need to cum again."

Quinn blushed and smiled, sitting up just a little bit straighter. "Go ahead, Baby. This car has seen worse."

"Fuuuck this Baby," Trish grunted, as she pulled up her skirt. She immediately placed her left hand flat across the belly, just beside her belly button, whispering, "Not really, Peanut, but you are going to drive Mommy absolutely crazy with this." She grit her teeth and pulled her panties aside, holding the elastic fabric out of the way with three fingers while the index rapidly swirled around her clit. "It's fucking relentless. Can you hear how wet I am?"

"Mmmhmmm," Quinn said, nodding, having just thought the very same herself.

"Oh my God." Trish writhed lewdly, chin tucked into her chest, as she fingered herself relentlessly. "Fuuuuuck!"

"I can't believe you're going to cum again."

"Me either!"

Quinn, in a fit of reckless inspiration, took one hand off of the steering wheel to lay it gently over Trish's. Fingers interlaced over Trish's swollen belly. Trish's fingers locked with hers, and Quinn winced at the crushing pain in her knuckles.

"God it's... it's.." Trish curled her shoulder forward a little more and, no more prelude than that, slipped her whole hand inside of herself. "Nnnnnnggh."

"No touching the cervix," Quinn repeated, for at least the second time that day and the thousandth time since the IUI took for Trish.

"I know where you sleep," Trish hissed. Her eyes cut like daggers, but she could only maintain the fury for a few seconds before succumbing to the needs of her body. "Ohhh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck." The wet squelching of Trish's well-stretched pussy was incredible distracting, and Quinn had to fight to keep her eyes on the road. She loved watching things disappear inside of Trish almost as much as watching them come back out again. It was a personal weakness.

Weakness, fascination, obsession... Different words for the same thing.

Trish groaned again, her face and neck darkening. Sklrk-sklrk-sklrk. "God, it's getting really fucking hard to reach."

"Who are you kidding?" Quinn said, feeling flush with inspiration. Sklrk-sklrk-sklrk. "Your cunt is so huge I could reach it from here."

Trish groaned again, louder, and her eyes drifted shut. Sklrk-sklrk-sklrk. Sklrk-sklrk-sklrk. "Fuck!" Sklrk-sklrk-sklrk. "Fuck!" Sklrk-sklrk-sklrk sklrk-sklrk-sklrk. The groaning dropped into a low growl, with Trish glaring at her ferociously, but once the aching peak had passed, her expression softened dramatically. Her breathing slowed and she sighed happily.

Trish sat there with her glistening right hand held up in the air. Thumb tucked in against her palm. Quinn stared at it too, quietly wishing that she could lick it clean. She had always loved the way Trish tasted, but the flavor had gotten stronger of late and stronger was unequivocally better.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," Trish said, breathlessly. "A little."

"Good."

"Thank you." Trish squeezed her hand tighter for a moment. "That was..."

"I know," Quinn said, smiling.

The brunette grunted as she leaned forward, just barely able to open the glove compartment, and pulled out a few tissues from the plastic-wrapped pack. Slow breaths through pursed lips as she wiped her hand clean, all the while staring at her iPhone.

"So what did she end up saying? Before?"

"My mom?"

Quinn nodded, and Trish groaned again as she rocked forward to pick up her phone.

"Hey," Trish read, affecting a high, nasal accent that sounded nothing like her mother. "Just wondering if you're still coming? And then the next one is And is Quinn still coming?"

"I didn't used to be an afterthought," Quinn laughed. "She used to like me."

"Oh how the mighty have fallen."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with my life now." Quinn smiled and looked over, to see what reaction she'd gotten, but Trish was already on a different page.

"Do we have to go?" Trish whined. "Like, couldn't I just call off Thanksgiving on account of being all-the-way pregnant?"

"We need to appease her. We're gonna need her help later."

"We could afford daycare," Trish said glumly.

"Yes, but we agreed we didn't want that."

"We could," Trish repeated, murmuring.

"Baby," Quinn said, squeezing her wife's hand. "We can have the daycare talk again if you want to. I wasn't as opposed to it as you were."

"Nooooo." Trish pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I'm just mad at her."

"You're probably going to be mad at her most days... for the next few years. Until they start in preschool, anyway."

"I know."

"You think you know," Quinn started.

"But you have no idea," they finished together, dramatically. They giggled, but it faded after a few seconds.

"We just have to get through today, and then we won't have another Thanksgiving for a whole year!"

"Yeah," Trish whined, "but today is going to be forever long." Both hands resting gently on her belly.

"How can I help?"

Trish just shook her head.

"What if we made a game out of it?"

"Out of what?"

Quinn frowned and squinted. Shaking her head slowly. Shoulders shrugging. " I don't-OH!"

"Oh what?" Trish said, sitting up. "Did you feel something? Are you okay?"

"No! I mean, Yes!" Quinn pulled her hand back to cover her mouth, so afraid of the words on her tongue that she felt compelled to physically block them. "I... I have an idea." She chewed on her lip and glanced sideways. "You're not going to like it."

Trish stared at her for a moment. "Well don't just keep me in suspense. Let me hear it so I can properly hate it,"

"Okay... so you know how we... when it's just the two of us... we can... we kind of... dig... at each other?"

"Yes," Trish said warily.

"And, you know, it feels good to... to..."

"Yes." More wary.

"Okay, well usually when we go see your mom, you just snap back at everything she does. Like a reflex. You get all defensive and... with the fight face..."

"Yes."

Quinn swallowed hard. "What if you... you know... instead of lashing back, you... let it in... or take what she's saying and... use it."

"Use it to what?"

"To... get off."

Trish blinked, mollified. "To get off what?"

"You know," Quinn said, ducking. "Get off."

"I... don't even..."

"We do it to each other all the time."

"I'm having one of those moments where I can't tell if you're insane, or if the hormones are just, yanno, stewing my brain and I'm the one who's insane for not seeing how brilliant that is."

"Think about it," Quinn said excitedly. "You're probably going to be horny anyway, right?"

Trish squinted. "Yes."

"Your bladder is, like, the size of a pea right now."

"Don't remind me. We're not there yet."

"If you tried to, like, let in some of the things she says about you, and about me, and... like... get off on it, literally nobody is going to question why you need to go to the bathroom once an hour."

"And then I go rub one out? Like on the toilet?"

"Or your old room or wherever. It gets you out of the room regularly, gets you some nice orgasms to smooth out that... that nervous energy, and it gives you something to do with her constant badgering that won't raise your blood pressure."

"I still can't tell if that's brilliant or insane."

"It's subversive," Quinn said with a dark smile. "If you think about it, I bet the reason we both get off on it so much in the first place is because our moms are both so shitty."

"Are you telling me to picture my mom when I'm cumming?"

"No," Quinn laughed. "I mean, if you want to-OW!"

Trish glared at her, arm quickly chambered for another back-handed slap if necessary.

"All I'm saying," Quinn said, rubbing her shoulder, "is that... if we get right down to it, we use shame in private, just between us, to cum just that little bit harder. We let it hurt."

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when you're this pregnant? Because that's coming."

"I can't wait," Quinn said, smiling. "Look. I'm gonna be there, running interference, and you know I have no problem slipping away with you to make you cum. Worst case scenario, it doesn't work, and today just sucks."

"Best case scenario..." Trish squinted ahead, breathing slowly and evenly while she ran her hands over her belly. "What do you think, Peanut?"

Quinn glanced over several times, each time for less than a second, but the brunette gave away nothing with her calculating expression.

***

"Well," Mrs. Smith said, as she stepped down onto the porch. "If it isn't the Real Housewives of Travis County?"

"Hello, Jeanie," Quinn said, forcing a smile as she hustled around the front of her car. It was still weird not to call her 'Mrs. Smith'.

Trish grimaced as she sat sideways, one arm on the open door and the other on the door frame. She hated needing help, but her center of gravity was maddening difficult to account for. "Hi Mom," she grunted. Quinn took her forearm, dutifully pulled, and then scurried out of the way as Trish awkwardly righted herself and started up toward the house. "How're you doing?

"Oh, fine, fine," Mrs. Smith said, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "I see my children twice a year, and I'll probably see my grandchildren even less."

"We talked about this," Trish growled, but before she could really retort, Quinn took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

"Yes, well, words are wind."

"You know," Quinn whispered, as Mrs. Smith turned back inside, "you look more and more like her as you get older."

"Fuck you," Trish whined back.

"Do you mind if I picture her when I'm cumming?"

"Fuck!"

"That's my girl."

"Mom, I need to use the bathroom."

"I'm not sure if you remember, but it's just down the hall on the right." She shook her head and sighed. "It's been so long since you were here last."

Trish gave Quinn one final, flushed smile. "That'll do, Pig," she said. "That'll do."

Quinn helped her to the door and followed Trish's mother into the kitchen. The microwave read 12:45, and dinner wasn't likely to happen for hours yet. "How can I help?" she asked.

Mrs. Smith looked around with a sour expression. "The bird went in ages ago, and it's far too soon to start doing anything with the potatoes. Looks like you got here just in time to avoid the real work."

Quinn just smiled and nodded. "Good to be back."

The older woman rolled her eyes. "If you really want to get all domestic, there's some dishes in the sink."

"Perfect," Quinn said, removing the light half-sleeve jacket she had on over her sleeveless blue dress and laying it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She grabbed the sponge from the little rack it called home underneath the sink, because Mrs. Smith hated the aesthetic of a sponge sitting around when not in use, and set to work scrubbing. No pot, dish, cup or utensil went into Jeanie Smith's dishwasher dirty, a point which Trish had complained about to no end on literally hundreds of occasions. The scars of that had played a big part in Trish's obsession with buying the perfect dishwasher, one which could handle dirty plates, when the two of them had finally moved in together.

She could hear the TV in the living room. Some kind of sportsball. Trish's dad would be there, parked for the entire day, as he had been for as many Thanksgivings as she could remember. Almost every Sunday too, or whatever day it was the different sports played on. Her dad had not been a big factor in Trish's life. He always seemed checked out when he got home from work, indifferent to the complaints and tirades that his wife threw. It was Quinn's private opinion that the lack of response from her husband made Trish a much more attractive target for criticism. Quinn had never shared that thought, but it held water.

"So how's your mom doing?" Mrs. Smith asked, as she sorted through some mail at the kitchen table. "I haven't talked to her in a while."

"She's good," Quinn said brightly. "Spending Thanksgiving with Dad-number-three in Cabo."

"Must be nice."

Quinn smiled to herself and worked carefully through the collected dishes. She knew that Trish's mom would likely open the dishwasher later when she wasn't around to inspect her work, and slip a comment in about what she found when Quinn was least expecting it. Which, Quinn decided, meant that she just needed to be ready for it at any moment. Ahh, Thanksgiving, she thought.

"Hey Dad," Trish said loudly, upon entering the kitchen, and got a grunt in response. Quinn looked over and caught a subtle nod. And just the hint of a smile.

"Would you like something to drink?" her mom asked, still sifting through a stack of envelopes several inches tall.

"Just some water," she said, as she eased into the chair next to her mother.

"The Brita's in the fridge."

Trish looked over, keeping her expression carefully neutral in case her mom looked up. Quinn silently mouthed the word 'fat' over her shoulder, and Trish shivered. Before Trish could get up, though, Quinn took a dish towel to dry off her hands as she grabbed a clean cup and crossed the room.

"Thank you, Baby," Trish said gratefully. Cheeks flush.

"Speaking of baby," her mom said, "have you two decided on a name?"

Trish shook her head slowly, a tiny side to side movement, and bit her lip. "No."

"We still don't know the gender," Quinn said, answering the real question.

"That's just crazy to me. How are people supposed to buy you gifts?"

Quinn looked over her shoulder and mouthed 'stupid'. Trish blushed and sipped at her water, and this time her mother seemed to sense the disturbance. "There's still a lot of good stuff on the registry."

"Yeah but it's all generic."

'Cheap,' Quinn mouthed. Trish took another sip of water, and extended it into a long gulp when her mother looked up with a furrowed brow. Quinn cleared her throat as she put the last fork inside the dishwasher and dried herself off. "There. What else."

Mrs. Smith stared at the dishwasher for a long moment, seemingly resisting the urge to double check Quinn's work by the skin of her teeth. "Have a seat, sweetheart."

Here it comes, she thought to herself. Mrs. Smith smiled, as Quinn sat down, and put her hands together on the table in front of her. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, and Quinn did everything she could to prepare herself for the onslaught. Meanwhile, across the table, Trish was uncharacteristically silent.

"How are things at the hospital?"

Quinn blinked. "Um... Good?"

"What?' Mrs. Smith said defensively. "I'm not allowed to ask questions?"

"Of-of course! I just—"

"Patty never tells me anything, so I've gotta pry when I can."

"No, it's fine!"

"Are you liking nursing now that you're out in the world, actually doing it?"

"A lot! Yeah! I've been pulling a lot of long shifts in the ER, but it's, you know, it's... it's really rewarding."

"Lot of overdoses," Mrs. Smith said with a knowing nod.

Quinn smiled politely and thought. "I mean... some? But not that—"

"It's good that you like it though. I had a few friends that were nurses and they all really liked it."

Trish shivered in the corner of Quinn's eye, but Quinn didn't follow.

"Yeah," Quinn said, trying not to draw attention to her wife. "I mean, it's tough, and the hours are really long, but yeah."

"And the money is good?"

"Y-yeah," Quinn said, suddenly feeling like the floor she was on was less stable than she'd previously thought.

"Well, thank God for that. With two on the way, it's good to have something steady coming in."

Trish shivered again, and this time Mrs. Smith noticed. "Sorry," Trish said, biting her lip. "Peanut kicked."

"I mean, yes, but I make less—" And then it hit Quinn. "Oh."

"You must come home with the best stories though."

"I've... seen some things," Quinn said, smiling nervously. Then she perked up. "Yesterday we had a birth, and there wasn't time for anyone from Maternity to get in, so I got to help with that. That was cool."

"Ugh. You didn't look, did you?" Mrs. Smith was already rolling her eyes. "You should both do yourselves a favor and have C-sections. Birth just ruins everything down there." Trish and Quinn shared flat expressions, which Mrs. Smith was oblivious to as she continued. "Then again, I don't really know how it works for you two. Every time I try to picture all... that, the best I can come up with is some candles and a bottle of red decanting on the counter."

"Wine bottles," Quinn said, nodding. "Yeah. A couple wine bottles."

"Not in a while," Trish added, patting her belly.

"But wine bottles are usually in there somewhere."

Mrs. Smith nodded and shrugged. "I guess some things are universal."

"Hey hey hey!" came a boisterous voice from the door. Trish and Quinn immediately stared at each other, sharing a look of surprise, while Mrs. Smith bolted to her feet.

"Jason!"

"Surprise!"

Quinn's eyebrows shot even higher when Trish's dad rose from his torpor as well.

"I wasn't sure you were going to make it!"

"I said maybe!"

"Well don't worry. I made plenty of everything just in case your sister decides to try and eat it all."

"Jason!" Trish's dad yelled, as the two men embraced tightly. "So good to see you."

Trish just shook her head. Quinn sighed, and then got up and moved around the table to help Trish to her feet.

"This just got interesting," Quinn whispered.

Trish grimaced, and had just enough time to put her accepting smile back on before Jason came bounding into the kitchen.

"Peppermint Patty!" he yelled, as he craned around Trish's belly to give her a hug.

"Heeeeey."

"Great to see you!" He smiled broadly, but Quinn knew he was just paying lip service as a delaying action before— "And wow! Quinn, you look amazing!"