Author Note: Okay, this was pretty much prompted by connectedanon after her wonderful Celine Dion loving fanfic. I tried to write my other story Nightfall, but couldn't get It's All Coming Back To Me Now, out of my head, thus the sex scene I was writing at the time, came out all sorts of theatrical. I told CA this and she prompted me to write it as a oneshot. Hence, this insanity. Seriously, most of it is just crack and porn. Blame her. She made me crazy.

Fuckin' Celine Dion, man...

The Theatrical All Singing Hand Gestured Faberry Porno

She wasn't expecting it.

She knew that being Rachel Berry's girlfriend wasn't going to be an easy job, in fact, the job was almost life threatening; why Rachel thought going 'couple's skydiving' was a bonding experience was beyond her, but hey, she did it, because she loves the girl.

And the sex is fucking terrific. Like seriously, it's beyond stellar. At school, Rachel acts like she's some sort of prude…or a nun, so when they finally got down and did the nasty, she wasn't expecting this beast to come out and ravage her.

She couldn't walk straight for two days.

Two glorious days.

So yeah, the sex is fantastic, sure…the 'bonding experiences' left something to be desired, but Rachel Berry was a pretty cool girlfriend. Like, seriously. Even with all that argyle and the verbal commands to watch musicals whenever they had movie night every Friday after school, she was cool to be around.

And of course, Quinn being the whipped bitch she was, could never say no to her girlfriend. Seriously, that pout could end wars. Santana had called her midget (a minor slip up, after all, she'd been calling her it since middle school) and when Rachel pouted, she all but screamed an apology.

It was a shock to the system and it was a trait of Rachel Berry's that she knew she had to protect herself against if it could fell the mighty Santana 'Lima Heights Adjacent' Lopez. Whilst being whipped (something she wouldn't deny) she couldn't exactly let Rachel get away with murder. There would have to be some things she put her foot down about. There would be some things she'd just have to say 'no' to because she really didn't want to go skydiving again because she had nightmares for weeks that the parachute didn't open and she became a Fabray pancake.

But this…this? This was just something so unbelievably extraordinary that what the hell could she say? Who the hell asked their significant other if they could do that? Honestly? Was it some sort of fetish that Broadway lovers had? Was it some sort of fetish that singers had? Did bands have orgies doing it? It's just…

"Wait…" Quinn says, eyes shut, lips pursed, because she honestly needs a second to just think about this. When Rachel brought her up to her room, she half expected to be ripped of her clothing in record time (the record time being 27 seconds, but that's not important right now) and thrown onto the bed and ravaged, but she didn't expect to be sat on the end of the bed with a very determined midg- I mean, beautiful young woman standing before her with hands on her hips. "Run that by me again."

"Quinn Fabray," The singer tuts, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on her hip bones, "I would appreciate it if you would listen to me the first time I spoke. I don't have all day explaining this rather trivial matter to you."

"Trivial."

"Trivial."

Quinn pauses, just for a second, before leaning forward, forearms braced on her knees, "I'm sorry but could you explain to me how you would put this in the trivial category?"

"It's trivial because it's not that big of a deal, Quinn. It's just an idea to spice up our love life."

Okay, now it needs spicing up?

"What's wrong with our sex life…?" Quinn asks, suddenly shy, "Aren't I good enough?"

And Rachel melts, "Baby, you're great, fantastic even…but…this is something I really want to do. My friend Sarah, whom I regularly Skype with, told me that she had done the very same thing with her girlfriend and it worked wonders for their relationship!"

"…Our relationship is fine…" Her eyebrows furrow, "Isn't it? Oh my God, is it because I ate your last Vegan cookie at lunch? I told you I was sorry, it's just I didn't have enough money to get my own and yours looked so good and…"

Rachel stares.

"I had forgiven you for that minor mishap and you're still forgiven. Although I still think you're the cookie monster in disguise."

"…Okay, so now I'm bad in bed, our relationship is in a downward spiral and I'm a giant purple thing that scoffs cookies?"

Brown eyes roll, "For God sake, Quinn…"

The subject isn't spoken about again. Well, until Quinn brings it up during lunch to Santana who all but spits the mouthful of diet coke she had in her mouth across the table before collapsing against it.

"Glad you find it funny…"

"Oh…God…oh…shit, I can't breathe!"

"Good…" Quinn grumbles, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork, "I won't come to your funeral."

"You wouldn't be able to anyway, you'd still be-,"

"Don't you even dare!"

Santana just laughs harder.

She should have expected Brittany would come up to her and ask, after all, anything Santana heard was immediately passed on to Brittany and vice versa.

"I was just wondering…"

Quinn bites down hard on her bottom lip and reaches for the history book in the back of her locker, "Yes…?" It's like a death sentence, and she knows Brittany means well, because Jesus, Brittany couldn't hurt a fly but…

"How could anyone even get off on that?"

"Jesus Christ, just kill me now."

The whole thing seems to be buried; Rachel isn't even mentioning it anymore, although she keeps asking why Santana keeps snickering whenever she looks in their direction. Quinn just puts it down to her best friend being a gigantic bitch and leaves it at that. Rachel doesn't push, because although Santana and Quinn are best friends, their relationship is still volatile.

So when it isn't mentioned again for a whole week, Quinn assumes herself to be in what she likes to call, the safe zone. And when Rachel pushes her down onto the couch, straddles her lap and grinds her hips down against hers, she can't help but forget about the little issue that had come out last week.

Rachel is pinned against the couch, chest heaving as Quinn's tongue rolls delicious circles around her nipples. She's mewing and reaching out for more contact, fingers gliding through Quinn's hair and pulling her closer because that fucking mouth is so damn perfect.

She doesn't care that she's only in her panties on the living room couch and that her father's could walk in at any given moment, because Quinn's trailing hot kisses down her body, tongue trailing across the flat plane of her stomach, teasing and tasting the skin that tenses and squirms under her touch.

"You better fuck me, Fabray…" Rachel whispers hotly, head pushed back, bottom lip trapped between clenched teeth, "I want you to fuck me like an animal…"

Quinn's tongue stops at the waistband of her panties as the sentence rolls through her mind; that sounded…oddly familiar…but then there's a tug to the back of her head and her face is pushed back down between her girlfriend's quivering parted thighs.

"Fuck me."

But she doesn't, she teases, running her tongue along her girlfriend's slit and she hears Rachel hiss because the lace just adds a whole different feeling that's oddly erotic. It sets her clit alight and when she feels Quinn's mouth envelope it through her panties, she clenches her thighs around her girlfriend's head and just groans.

And Quinn pulls back, already pulling those soaked panties down lean legs when she hears…humming? She glances up, licking her lips just to taste that heady moisture that Rachel has left on her lips, when she see's that Rachel has her head tilted back against the couch arm, hands clenched and banging up and down almost like she's beating a…drum?

"Uh…Rach?"

"I want to fuck you like an animal…I want to feel you from the inside…"

And she does this weird arse flair with her hands like she's crashing her hands against symbols and Quinn just pushes herself off, "Hell no."

And leaves her girlfriend there, mid chorus and panties down to her knees.

"Do you not like Nine Inch Nails?"

"Rachel…"

"Sarah told me we could use any genre of music and honestly I only thought of that song because while crass in nature, it kind of set the mood, did it not? We weren't exactly making love; you were going to ravage me."

"Could you please stop talking?"

"We could use a different genre of music? How do you feel about RnB? Maybe we could use some Rihanna or perhaps some Boyz II Men?"

"Oh my God, please just…stop…"

"Maybe Hip Hop? I'm sure the rather excessive tempo of the music would get us both in the mood? And I know how much you like it when I go fast on your cl-,"

"Rachel…"

"Yes, Quinn…?"

"Can we have this conversation…when I'm out of the Cheerio's locker room?"

Dozen's of eyes peer back at the couple, except for Santana, she's lying face down in the shower trying to breathe, and Rachel just grins, "Okay! I'll make a list while I wait in the car!" And she pecks Quinn on the cheek and waves goodbye like nothing had happened.

"A word from any of you…" Quinn mumbles angrily, "And I'll make you tongue clean every single one of Coach's trophies."

"The only one tongue cleaning anything is gonna be you, Q!"

Fuckin' Santana…

She gets the list two days later and the damn thing is color coded.

The first is in red and labelled 'raunchy' with artists such as Nine Inch Nails, Theory of a Deadman, Rihanna, Britney Spears and… Madonna?

The second is yellow and labelled 'slow and fast' with artists such as Christina Aguilera, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga.

The third is green and labelled 'making sweet sweet looooove' with artists such as Marvin Gaye, Barry White and 'The L Word Soundtrack' written directly beneath it.

She looks over to Rachel, who is sat down beside her with such an oblivious smile, like she hasn't just handed her girlfriend a soundtrack to them having sex. And Quinn can only stare…because who the hell said 'making sweet sweet looooove' anymore?

"Did you like my song suggestions?" Rachel asks while they're in Glee Club. She's sat on Quinn's lap, playing with the blonde's fingers when the thought suddenly sprung into her mind. And it wasn't just because she was thinking about where those fingers could be.

"Huh?" Quinn mumbles against her back, "Oh…yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Rachel turns, dropping Quinn's hands so they land back onto her lap, "Quinn, you're just a big a part of this as I am. I think you should put your own ideas forward and then we can come together and reach a decision."

"My own ideas?"

"Your own song choices, of course! But please make sure the songs are at least going to give me a run for my money, I don't exactly want to sail through a song without even an inkling of a challenge."

"Baby…you'll be…you know, while you're singing, do you really think you need anymore of a challenge?"

"I'm Rachel Berry, of course I do. The show must go on, Quinn Fabray, even if I'm climaxing."

Santana snorts behind them.

"I don't even remember agreeing to it…" Quinn grumbles, shuffling through her iTunes. "Why does she even want to do it? I mean, yeah, listening to music while you're doing it is all well and good but singing while doing it?"

"And don't forget the hand gestures…" Brittany chirps helpfully.

"Yes…the hand gestures…how could I forget?" Quinn groans and continues to flick through her catalogue of music, "Why does she even need to do hand gestures? It's bad enough she's singing while I'm…doing that…"

"Eating her out." Santana adds helpfully, not looking up from her magazine.

"But why the hand gestures? Does she need to feel the music while I'm…y'know."

Santana sighs, flicking a page, "Eating her out."

"Yes, that."

"Quinn, just say 'eating her out'. You're a lesbian, you're out and proud, you eat pussy, deal with it."

Quinn bites her bottom lip and almost childishly says, "I do deal with it…"

"So much that you can't say it?"

"I'm still a Christian."

"Yeah and Rachel's Jewish!" Santana smiles at her girlfriend and dots a kiss to her forehead, "If she can say all that stuff as a Jewish person, why can't you say it as a Christian person?"

"Because…" Quinn's finger stops mid-tap on her mouse and she sighs, "I don't know. I guess it was the way I was brought up."

"Then Berry must have watched Porn instead of Sesame Street while she was growing up…."

Quinn glares at Santana over her shoulder, who deflects the glare entirely by looking back down at her magazine, "Look…this is just some freaky thing Berry does. She loves music so much she wants to come while singing, I dunno, some freaky ass shit going on right there, but just do it…"

"Why though…?" Quinn turns back to her laptop and sighs, "Why does she have to sing and do weird hand gestures while I make her…y'know."

Santana groans from behind her magazine, "Just indulge her. It might shut her up for more than a day, then I can get my solo on."

"You deserve a solo, San."

"Baby, I know."

The next day, much to Quinn's chagrin, she slips a piece of folded up paper into her girlfriend's locker with the song suggestions for their little…escapade. They hadn't even settled a date on when they were suppose to 'do it' and Quinn can't help but feel the trepidation. She feels as if she's losing her virginity again. Without the alcohol. And the sweaty boy. And the pregnancy.

It's not until her lunch time mandatory Cheerio's practice that she learns of her mistake. Santana is stretching, leg on Brittany's shoulder, which Quinn honestly believes is just to provoke the cheery blonde, when she sees a 5 foot 2 singer storming toward them on the open field.

"Raving midget, two o'clock."

"But it's twelve, San."

"Quinn Fabray!"

The Cheerio's captain groans before plastering on a fake smile, turning to face her irate girlfriend, "What's up, Rach?"

"Don't 'what up' me, Quinn. What is this?" She shoves the sheet of paper in Quinn's face, wafting it back and forth. Quinn leaves her to waft it, but when it looks like she isn't going to stop anytime soon, she rips the paper from her girlfriend's hand and sighs.

"It's song suggestions, you told me I could write some, remember?"

"Yes, I believe I did…" Rachel huffs, "But don't tell me you were being serious when you wrote them."

"What's…" She looks down at the paper, eyes skimming the suggestions; they were good suggestions, well…for someone who was a newbie to singing songs while having sex. "What's wrong with them?"

"Quinn, they grossly undermine my talent. Have you heard my voice?"

"Yeah…"

"You've heard how pitch perfect I am, correct?"

"Yeah…"

"Then why in Moses' name," She snatches the paper back, eyes skimming before she lands on the culprit, "Would you want me to sing 'You Sexy Thing' by Hot Chocolate while we have sex?"

"It's…I…" She glances over her shoulder at a non-so-discreet Brittany and Santana trying to listen in on the conversation, "I thought it'd be a good song…"

"Quinn Fabray, that song is atrocious and there's a reason why people only know that band for one song. Because they suck. I do not suck."

"I know you don't baby…"

"Find better songs," She shoves the paper against Quinn's chest and pouts, "I thought you would pick better songs then that, Quinn…"

"I…" Oh God, the pout, abort, fucking abort, get a helicopter, leave the fucking country, abort! "I'll pick better songs. I'll go to the music store tonight and pick something out."

Rachel claps, throwing herself into Quinn's flailing arms before planting a soft kiss on stoic lips, "You really do know how to brighten up my day, don't you?"

"It's uh…" She playfully shrugs, playing it off, "It's what I'm here for."

It's Brittany, of all people, who mentions it. Quinn's being searching for days just for one song to put on that damn new and improved list and she's come up flatter than a pancake.

"There's plenty of songs, but even my mom could sing them pitch perfect…and she sounds like a squirrel."

"Squirrels are cute." Brittany comments, brushing a fresh coat of nail polish onto her big toe, "Why don't you just pick a song that she picked? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"I tried asking her that but she said she wanted my input."

"Then tell her you couldn't think of anything," Santana grumbles, throwing a grape into the air and catching it in her mouth. She's flat on her back on Quinn's bed, Brittany sat up beside her, Quinn at her desk, once again, trawling Google for a good song. Seriously, how hard is it to find a song to go down on your girlfriend to?

"I did, but…"

"But?" Santana asks, paused mid-chew.

Two pairs of eyes land on her and she feels instantly naked, "She…she pouted and I couldn't really say no to her."

Silence.

Then a snort.

Then laughter.

"Oh fuck you, guys." Quinn mutters, turning back to her laptop, but not before watching Santana collapse off the bed and to the floor, choking on a half eaten grape, "Fuck you…"

"She pouts and you roll over like a dog?" Santana asks through a cough, barely getting the rest of the grape down.

"It's…a really disarming quality of hers, okay?"

"I never…" Santana gulps for air, "I never thought a pout would do you in, Q. What's next, she rolls her eyes and you rip your clothes off?"

"Just fuck you…"

"Why don't you just use a song from a musical she likes? She's always singing them and she's always talking about how they stretch her voice or something…"

And Quinn smirks, "Broadway."

She wasn't stupid, she knew some things about Broadway, having Rachel as your girlfriend kind of just bestowed the knowledge upon you without you knew. She knew almost everything about Funny Girl and it was oddly terrifying when Rachel would put it on for their Friday Movie Night and she'd actually look forward to watching it.

She knew what plays had sexual content, well, it was most of them, but whatever. Her first thought was RENT, but after flicking through the movie, she thought better of it. She didn't really want to sing about HIV while having her tongue inside her girlfriend…'cos that shit's just nasty, it'd put anyone off.

So she kept searching, until she came up trumps. What show would have just the right amount of sexual content…and be appealing to her girlfriend…?

She paces her room, bare feet padding on the carpeted floor, "What play…? What play…? Something sexual, something hot…" She groans and collapses face first onto the bed, "What song would make Rachel want to rip her panties off and beg me to make her come…"

"Uhm…" Her head snaps up. "I'll just…I was…going to ask what you wanted for dinner. Grilled chicken and salad…sound good?" Judy Fabray nods to herself when Quinn nods minutely, and with eyes still locked with her daughter, Judy slowly backs out of the room, turns and hurries down the hall.

"Oh…God." She face plants the bed spread once more, trying to hide herself, "Why does my life suck?"

Suffice to say, it's awkward the next morning.

"Is it hip these days for lesbians to…pleasure one another to music?"

"…Mom," Quinn places down the apple she was about to bite into and turns to her mother, "Please don't ever say 'hip' again."

"But all the cool mom's say it, don't they? Hip? Cool? Awesome? Radical?"

"I've entered the Twilight Zone…"

"So…is it something that lesbian's do?"

"What, mom?"

"Pleasure one another to music."

"I'm…so not having this conversation with you."

"And why not? I'm not stuffy like your father, Quinnie. Might I suggest some Barry Manilow to set the mood? It worked wonders for your father and I's honeymoon, it was almost like he was a different pers-,"

"Mom! Just…I have to go to school, okay? Thanks for the tip, but…just no."

"But it would depend on the song!" Judy shouts after her daughter who all but rips her gym back from the hallway floor, "Mandy for making love or Copacabana for the maximum effect for pleasuring!"

"I need to bleach my brain!"

And the door slams shut.

Quinn was laying on a full length floating lounger, basking in the hot Ohio afternoon heat. It's Saturday and she's expecting her 5 foot 2 girlfriend anytime soon. It's become a common occurrence for Rachel to just appear at her house when the weather is particularly stifling. After all, Rachel doesn't have a pool.

Sometimes she can't help but think Rachel is using her for the damn pool.

Her blonde hair, slightly damp from the water fans out over the lounger, while her eyes are hidden behind oversized sunglasses.

Of course, Rachel being the sneaky little devil she is, arrived without as so much of a peep and when she caught sight of her Cheerio girlfriend in just a bikini in the pool, her mind automatically switched from 'Good afternoon, Quinn!' to 'Oh I'll give you a good afternoon, alright.'

So slowly, quietly, she strips herself of her clothes. She hasn't got her bikini on yet and she hazards a glance at the fence surrounding the Fabray's backyard. It's high enough, isn't it? She won't be caught out by some pervy neighbour will she?

Completely naked, she silently gets into the water, taking tentative steps and trying as hard as she can not to disturb the water around her. Eventually she gets to her target and gently dips below the surface, counting to three in her head as she looks up at the lounger above her, she dives up; hands extended and topples the lounger, sending the blonde squealing into the pool.

Rachel wipes the water from her face as she giggles at the thrashing figure of Quinn coming back up to the surface. The blonde's hair was soaked to her head, her glasses hanging off one ear as she spluttered water. "Berry!" She groans, wiping water from her eyes, "How the hell...?"

"I perfected the art of sneaking when I was a just a child, Quinn. I'm not just a singer, I'm a ninja in disguise." She smirks, pushing the overturned lounger out of the way before moving closer to the young blonde, "Good, hm?"

"No, not really!" Quinn tries to look stern, my God she tries, but Rachel just has this wide eyed 'I'm the shit' look and she can't help it, she bursts out laughing, "Damn you, Berry."

Rachel grins and wraps her arms around Quinn's slim waist and she smirks when the blonde instantly stiffens. She's realized she's naked. "Rach...?"

"I think you know what I want, Quinn..." Leaning in she presses gentle, fleeting kisses along Quinn's breastbone before slowly trailing down to lick the pebbling nipples through her bikini top. The moaning is thirst quenching, and the singer feels a sudden gush of moisture between her legs at the sound.

Fingernails drag down her bare back, urging and begging her to continue with her teasing touches. "Not out here, we can't..." Quinn gasps out, because yeah, she's horny as hell, but she refuses to have sex out in the back yard where anyone could see. She is a Fabray after all.

"Okay," Rachel whispers, pulling back rather reluctantly. She watches as Quinn makes her way to the edge of the pool when an idea strikes. It's so utterly devious she feels like giggling. With a smirk, she rushes toward the edge of the pool and pushes the blonde against the side, grabbing her hands to settle them palm down on the edge. "Keep your hands there," And she slowly runs her fingertips along the top of the quivering hands, up along the forearms covered with goosebumps, "Move your hands and I won't let you come for the rest of the day."

A whimper escapes Quinn's lips and Rachel can't help but smirk; Quinn may be the head honcho at school, but when it comes to their relationship, she wears the trousers. "Do you understand, Miss Fabray?"

The blonde could only nod in reply.

Slowly, Rachel pulls away, gazing up and down at her lover's strong back. She runs her fingertips along the shoulder blades, slowly bringing them lower and lower until she reaches that certain spot on Quinn's lower back that drives her crazy, and when she reaches there, she brings her nails into play, dragging a trail down to her backside. Quinn arches into the touch, hissing out in pleasure, silently cursing her girlfriend for knowing all her weak spots.

Rachel continues the assault on Quinn's back until she's leaning over the edge of the pool, her forehead pressed against the hot surface, her hands still rooted to the same spot. "Oh god, please...no more..."

"I'm sorry, what...?" Rachel asks, voice sickly sweet as she pushes herself against the blonde's strong body, her breasts pressing up against the back, her hips ever so gently grinding against her bikini covered ass.

"Can't you just...?" She goes to move her hand, but thought better of it. Biting down on her bottom lip, she rests her hand back down against the ground, demanding her body and mind to play by her girlfriend's rules.

"Can't I just what, Q...?" She leans down and runs the tip of her tongue around the blonde's ear, taking the lobe gently into her mouth, toying with the flesh before biting down on it. Quinn can't help but cry out at the bite, her ass pushing back against Rachel's hips.

"Make me come." It comes out as a hiss, and the singer can't help but moan into her girlfriend's ear. "God, please, just make me fucking come."

"Anything you want," She stands up straight, silently praising the God's that they're in the shallow end, before slowly running her hands down the sides of Quinn's quaking body, "I'll give it to you," She drops kisses along Quinn's pale shoulder blades, "And I'll make you come until you can't come anymore." Her hands slowly push down the blonde's bikini bottoms, letting her take care of kicking them off herself.

"Oh!" Quinn gasps out, her hips moving forward against the edge of the pool.

"Hm...?" Rachel asks huskily, running her hand down in front of her lover's body until she felt it.. A small jet on the side of the pool was gushing out water directly against Quinn's already sensitive clit and when her hips slowly moves in rhythm against the flow, Rachel is half tempted to just stand back and watch her girlfriend make herself come. "Do you want me or the jet, Quinn?"

Eventually, the urge to have Rachel's hands upon her won out. She needed to feel those fingers moving in and out of her, she needed to feel that naked body pressed against hers once more.

"You." Quinn sobs through a moan, her hands clutching desperately at the side of the pool as she felt the undeniable feeling of her orgasm growing. But then her hips still, the water still forced up against her tender flesh. The urge to move her hips again is menacing, it takes every ounce of her willpower not to grind against the jet, so instead she takes long deep breaths and tries to focus on anything else that wasn't to do with that fucking jet.

"Hm," The singer's strong arms enveloped the blonde's waist, pushing her body against the strong back yet again, "Are you sure about that?" Her voice is husky, her own body is already thrumming with the urge to come. But no, she has to make Quinn come first, she has to feel the blonde shatter in her arms.

"Yes!" She whispers, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

"Well you better be quiet…" Rachel is suddenly glad that Quinn can't see her smirk, so she puts on her best commanding voice to make sure Quinn pays attention, "The neighbours might hear, and what would they think?" When she receives no reply, she runs her hands up and slowly pulled down Quinn's bikini top, cupping the swell of breasts in her hands, "What would they think if they saw you in this position? What would they think if they saw a Fabray begging to be fucked in her backyard pool?"

"I..." Quinn gasps when her nipples are pinched by Rachel's roaming hands, "I don't care..."

"You don't...?" The singer's voice turns to a whisper, breath teasing the back of Quinn's ear, "You don't mind if I make you scream and make everyone finally see what a 'good little Christian' Quinn Fabray is?"

Quinn makes the right decision not to reply, but it's mostly because she's just too turned on to speak. It's rare that Rachel speaks dirty; she says her body can do the job that her vocabulary can, but Christ almighty, whoever bestowed Rachel with the talent to make a girl almost come with a few words alone deserves a statue in their honor. A giant fucking statue, right in her damn backyard.

The twisting and pinching of her nipples becomes tighter, harsher, and she can't help but writhe into the touch. She can already feel the pockets of small orgasms growing within her and it takes all her might to hold onto them, but when Rachel begins to grind her aching clit into her ass, she lets go and those small orgasms come and go in the blink of an eye, but it leaves her shuddering and gasping for breath.

"Did you just come?" Rachel asks breathlessly, her hips still grinding.

"Yes." Quinn cries out, her head falling forward to rest against the edge of the pool. Her hands stay poised in the same position, nails clawing at the ground, trying to claw her way back to sanity. "Are you going to come…?"

"Yeah, but I should stop…" The grinding does come to a halt, but not as fast as it should have, because Quinn's ass is fucking spectacular and even just grinding against it can make her soak herself, but then she continues breathlessly, "I want to make you come again before I do."

"Why…?" Quinn asks before feeling herself be pulled back, her body crushed against Rachel's front, "You'll just tease me."

"Aw..." Rachel smirks and bites down gently on Quinn's neck, "Do you want to come that badly?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"You're absolutely positive?"

"YES!"

Rachel bites down hard on Quinn's neck in reply. The blonde gasps and claws at the edge of the pool to try and keep her grip stable. The singer makes sure to keep her eyes on her girlfriend's hands while she runs a hand down to cup Quinn's soaked pussy, the heel of her palm pushing against her aching clit, fingers dipping ever so slightly into the warm heat.

Words escape the blonde, because Rachel is hardly touching her but she feels as if she's about to explode, but just when she's about to beg, beg to be fucked in her own backyard, she feels two of Rachel's fingers push inside her, teasing her, taunting her, while her palm pushes and strokes her clit into submission.

And her body feels as if it's on fire and all she can do is cling for dear life to the edge of the pool as Rachel begins to grind into her backside again. She tries to beg for more, tries to beg for more of those fingers, but all that escapes her are whines and moans, and, "Fuck me, Rachel, make me come."

And when those hips drive harder into her ass, she knows that Rachel is about to come. The fingers drive incessantly inside her, twisting and scissoring and burning a hot trail against clenching walls, driving her closer to the edge, and she's almost there, on the edge of precipice of something great when she hears Rachel belt into her ear, "You're here! There's nothing I fear! And I know that my heart will go on! We'll stay forever this way, you are safe in my heart and, my heart will go on and on!"

And she holds the fucking final note.

And even though she's beyond fucking mortified that Rachel started singing Celine Dion in her ear, she's more mortified of that fact that she actually comes. Her body feels as if it was set alight and sharp points of pleasure erupt throughout her whole body as she arches her back and screams.

And when Rachel pulls her fingers free, brushing her fingertips against Quinn's still twitching stomach, she asks, deadly serious, "How about Celine Dion? Does that work for you? Well…obviously you did, I mean, you screamed."

And she sounds so smug.

And Quinn vaguely registers the pain when her forehead impacts the edge of the pool.

"Celine Dion."

"Yeah…"

"Celine Dion…the Canadian singer that sings all those mushy love songs?"

"I was unaware there were two Celine Dion's…"

"What song did she sing…?"

"What?"

"What song did she sing?"

"Myheartwillgoon."

"Q, slow your lips, say it slowly."

"My Heart Will Go On."

"Huh."

"Huh? That's all you have to say? No busting a lung laughing or choking on a grape?"

"I just assumed she'd sing It's All Coming Back To Me Now."

"…How do you…How do you even…"

Santana shrugs, "I just assumed."

They're kissing, it's hot and passionate and when Quinn reaches under Rachel's argyle sweater to cover a bare breast, she feels as if she's hit the jackpot. They're not even doing anything, just kissing and touching and she feels as if she's being fucked all over. She pinches and twists her girlfriend's nipple, earning a mew of pleasure as Rachel arches her back and quietly begs, "More."

Tongues duel in a dance only reserved for the two girls, they explore one another's mouth, suck on each other's tongue, bite down on bottom lips and pull to earn that groan of satisfaction, all the while Quinn's hand continues to pull and twist.

The singers legs wrap around Quinn's waist, pulling her down further against her heated core. They're still fully clothed, but Quinn can feel the heat, she can smell how ready her girlfriend is, so she moves her hand away from that perfect chest, skims it down the plane of her stomach, drifts down over toned thighs and runs up her skirt.

"No panties, baby?" Quinn husks, trailing the tip of her index finger along Rachel's dripping slit. She waits until Rachel opens her mouth to respond when she ever so slowly pushes her finger inside her, luxuriating in the way those walls tighten around her digit, the way the heat spreads across her whole hand when her palm comes to rest against an aching sensitive clit.

"Oh…my God…" Rachel groans, hips instinctively rolling up against Quinn's hand, burying that finger deeper inside you, "I need more of you…"

"And you'll get more of me…" Quinn husks, nipping across Rachel's jaw to move toward her ear, "When I say so."

And that finger begins a torturous thrust, slow and then fast. It's not enough to bring Rachel to the edge and she knows that, especially when Rachel clutches at the back of her Cheerio's top, nails digging in deep, all but trying to connect with skin and beg for more.

But Rachel knows Quinn's weak spot; she knows how to make her girlfriend give her more. Quinn has been teasing her all day, it's only fair the sentiment is returned. "Do you know what I did last night, Quinn?" Rachel whispers, flicking the tip of her tongue against the shell of her girlfriend's ear.

"Hm…?" Quinn asks, all too interested in Rachel's neck and the bruising hickey she's leaving, and when she hears Rachel gasps against her ear, it sends a thrill down her spine that settles down between her legs. She's so wet and all she wants to do is lay down and let her girlfriend take her.

"I was so lonely last night…and I was looking through those pictures we took together…" Quinn pulls her lips away ever so slightly from Rachel's neck, letting them only brush against rapidly bruising skin; she knows what pictures Rachel is talking about, she knows what pictures she had been looking at, "And I got so wet for you baby. That one where you're laying on my bed, legs spread, fingers buried inside you, I just wished it was me doing it."

Quinn groans, burying her face into the crook of Rachel's neck. The finger inside her girlfriend seems to speed up of it's own accord and Rachel whimpers whenever the palm of her hand connects with her clit.

"You looked so hot, Quinn…all I wanted to do was just ravish you. I was going to call, but I couldn't wait…I couldn't…" She bites down gently on Quinn's earlobe, smirking when the finger inside her continues to speed up, "I just had to tear my clothes off, lay down on my bed and fuck my own hand. I was so wet, Quinn. Do you know why?"

"Hm…?"

"Because I snapped that picture right when you were about to come, your back was arched and you were pounding your fingers so fast inside you. God, I can remember it so vividly, Quinn…" She runs her hand down her own body and rests it over Quinn's, pushing that finger deeper inside her, she gasps, riding the hand, "You were begging for me to help you, begging me to help make you come….but you did so well on your own, didn't you, baby?"

And her hips are grinding down against Rachel's hip bone, trying with all her might to sate that ache that lays between her thighs. She can already tell she's soaked through her panties and spankies, but she can hardly bring herself to care, because Rachel's voice is so low, husky, wanton and it drives her fucking insane.

She turns her head to whisper back in Rachel's ear, make her beg for a second finger, when her eyes land on Rachel's bedroom wall. How she had never seen it before, she would never know; because honestly, that woman looked a hell of a lot like Rachel, just a little older, but seriously, they could be twins.

"Do you have a twin that I don't know about?" She asks, stilling her hand. She feels the urgent nudges against her hand with Rachel's, but her eyes are still locked on that poster.

"What? What are you talking about?" Rachel asks, miffed, pupils blown as she turns her head to look at Quinn, "What are you looking-," She turns her head to follow her girlfriend's line of vision and sighs, "No, Quinn, I do not have a twin, Lea Michele just looks a lot like me. She's also extraordinarily talented, like myself."

"What's the play? There's another poster over the title."

"Seriously?" Rachel asks, head snapping back to Quinn, "You're finger fucking me and you're asking me what the title of the play is?"

Quinn shrugs sheepishly, finger shifting inside Rachel's clenched wetness, "Tell me and I'll add a second finger, baby…" She dots a kiss to that growing hickey and after only a few seconds of sucking, Rachel breaks.

"Spring Awakening. It's called Spring Awakening, now please, will you just get back to pleasuring me?"

And Quinn just smirks.

She researches Spring Awakening like it's the last thing she'll ever do. It was a Tony award winning play and apparently a rave with the critics. Lea Michele, who she's almost positive she has a crush on thanks to the stunning resemblance between her and her girlfriend, and Jonathan Groff were the lead stars, until the production came to an end and they moved on to bigger and better things. The soundtrack was always raved about, and although the play had an almost overwhelming overtone of sex, masturbation and pregnancy, it never really pulled focus away from the main message.

So she buys the album on iTunes, sticks it on a lopped repeat and goes about her business. Her room is a complete tip, and she knows her mom would nag her to death (or God forbid, offer her a Barry Manilow CD) until it was done.

She's halfway through shoving unused books under her bed, because she honestly can't be bothered really cleaning, shoving stuff under the bed is good enough, when she hears it. Track six of the CD.

She rushes to her laptop and refreshes the song and just sits there while the track plays. It's about sex, that much is obvious, and although the song is sang by a man, she knows that Rachel won't discriminate, after all, if the poster was given it's own spot on her already flooded walls, she must think highly of the music.

Here's hoping. She can't deal with that damn pout anymore.

She burns the one song onto a CD and hands it to Rachel as soon as she picks her up for school.

"What's this?" Rachel asks, climbing into the passenger seat, hand clutched around the CD in question.

"I think I've found the perfect song for our…you know."

Rachel smirks softly, resting the CD on her lap before pulling on her seatbelt, "You mean?"

"Yup."

"Say it." The singer orders, eyes narrowed, shining with playful glee.

"…What?"

"Call it by it's given name, Quinn. I didn't spend two hours thinking of names and then an additional 45 minutes making a powerpoint for you to call it, 'you know'."

"I…" Her hands clench around the steering wheel; she's not angry…she's just…

"Say it."

Mortified.

"The…" She sighs heavily, gripping the steering wheel of the car tighter, just for some means of support, because no one, no one in their right mind would name an event, "The Theatrical All Singing Hand Gestured Faberry…Porno…"

And Rachel beams, that same smile that covered her face when Quinn had told her that she was in love with her. But Quinn is far from smiling, her hands are still tightly clenched, knuckles white, face and neck lucked bright red and bottom lip trapped between clenched teeth.

"What's wrong? Don't you like the name?" Don't look.

"It's not that, it's just…porno? Why does it have to be called that? I feel as if I'm in some crappy porn movie with bad actors…"

"But…" Oh God, don't look. "I spent hours thinking of name and…" Rachel looks down to her lap, toying with the edges of the long forgotten CD case, "I'm sorry you don't like it…"

And fuck, she looks. Rachel's pouting and it's so undeniably adorable and she doesn't even know that little pout makes Quinn want to do anything she says. She doesn't know she holds the power to make Quinn roll over and do anything she says.

"It's not that!" Quinn's eyes quickly dart back to the road, "I…I like the name, I just don't understand why it needs a title."

"Sarah named hers…"

Quinn groans, "I think you and I need to have a little chat about who you're talking to. She's putting all these weird thoughts into your head."

"Quinn Fabray! I honestly believe that this is something we could both enjoy, and you have told me yourself, with this," She gestures down to the CD, "That you want it to happen too. Music is the ultimate form of expression and I firmly believe that if I sing while you make love to me, we'll feel more connected."

"I though we were connected enough…"

"I want our connection to be special, Quinn…" She pauses, "Can we still do it? I'll change the name if you want…?"

And as Quinn pulls into the McKinley High parking lot, she lets out an almost silent groan and says, "No…keep the name, it's fine."

Rachel beams, "Yay."

"So you picked the song, huh?" Santana asks, watching Brittany and Rachel as they wait in the lunch line. "What did you finally settle on?"

"Touch Me from Spring Awakening."

Santana snorts, "Kinky."

"If you're going to be funny about it, I just won't talk about it."

"Sorry if I find it hilarious," She smirks, turning her attention back to her blushing best friend, "I mean seriously, who sings a damn Broadway song while getting fucked, it's unnatural."

"What couple dresses like ducks and pretend to 'mate' with one another?"

Santana's eyes narrow into fine slits, "You swore you'd never tell."

"Blackmail is a beautiful thing, S."

"You're a royal bitch, Q."

"Quack."

"I hope Berry gets so carried away with her song she forgets you're even there."

"Quaaaack."

"Go fuck yourself."

"I don't think we should do it at our houses. You know how my father's operate, they tend to just appear whenever we're in the middle of something and I doubt your mom would appreciate me singing in your bedroom while she's watching her evening shows."

Quinn sighs, "Fair point. What do you suggest?"

"Maybe we should book a hotel room or something?"

"Okay. With what money?"

"You work. Use your pay check."

"I work at Wal-Mart. The most my pay check could stretch too would be a double meal at McDonalds and perhaps a milkshake…if I'm lucky."

Rachel huffs, crossing her arms primly over her chest, "Stupid Wal-Mart."

"Tell me about it," Quinn chuckles before wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist, pulling her girlfriend toward her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, "I'll figure something out, okay?"

Because the quicker they get this over and done with, the quicker it doesn't have to be mentioned. Ever. Again.

She gets the money from her mom. "It's just for some new clothes for the summer, mom. I'll pay you back when I get paid."

Judy looks far from agreeable as she pulls a few twenties from her purse, "Summer is months away, Quinnie. Why do you need clothes now?"

"Uh." Quinn's eyes dart across the room before landing back on her mother, "I want to get all the good clothes before they go…?"

"Hm…" Judy flicks an eyebrow up, "You never were a good liar." But she hands the money over and Quinn takes it, just because she thinks that Judy will pull the money back for a gag effect, "Use it wisely…whatever it's for."

"Uhm." She pockets the money, "Thanks, mom."

"Just keep Barry Manilow in mind, hm? He might be old, but he's still go it going on."

Quinn flees to the safety of her room just seconds before her mother puts on a suddenly overused Barry Manilow CD.

"I've booked the room," Quinn whispers into Rachel's ear as she sits down beside her in Glee Club, "Saturday night. We can sign in at any time after twelve."

Rachel smirks softly to herself.

"The Theatrical All Singing Hand Gestured Faberry Porno is officially a go."

Rachel turns her head toward Quinn, brushing her lips away Quinn's parted ones, "I knew you'd come to love that name."

"It does have a ring to it, doesn't it?"

"You're not freaked out by the prospect anymore then?" Rachel asks, whispering as she presses her lips against Quinn's. They kiss softly for a few moments before Quinn pulls back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Rachel's ear.

"Oh I'm still freaked out. I still don't understand why you suddenly have the overbearing urge to sing a show tune while I go down on you, but if it makes you happy, I'll go for it."

Rachel bites down softly on Quinn's bottom lip, "Yay."

Santana rolls her eyes behind them, "Barf."

"Quack."

It's Saturday evening. They both agreed to meet at six pm to being their 'festivities'. Rachel wanted to start earlier, but she could tell from the way her girlfriend sounded on the phone that she was getting a little nervous again, so she did all she could to quell that fear that the blonde had.

Rachel drove herself (of her own choosing, because she didn't really want to do scales in the car with Quinn there) and met up with Quinn who was already in the room. She knocks softly, three tentative knocks that the couple had agreed upon. It was very Secret Spyish and she suddenly mourned the loss of large sunglasses to complete her espionage look.

"Wow...you really went all out..." Rachel mumbles, glancing around the hotel room. When she mentioned that she didn't want to do this with the shadow of their parents coming home looming over them, she hardly expected Quinn to go out and rent a hotel room. Well, it was a motel room, but it was really sweet what she had done.

She'd brought her own bed sheets from home and made the bed, lit candles that left the tell tale signs of cinnamon in the air. It felt like Christmas and her present was right behind her, holding her, kissing up the side of her neck slowly, tongue trailing up to trace the shell of her ear.

"You sure you want to do this?" Quinn asks, the undertone of humour wasn't lost on Rachel, "You want to get on with 'The Theatrical All Singing Hand Gestured Faberry Porno?"

Now she wished she'd changed the name, because Quinn was having entirely too much fun with it. She knew that giving her girlfriend the choice of song would somehow open her up to the idea of their 'theatrical night together' but she hardly expected Quinn to be smug about it.

"Sure you're not going to die of embarrassment when I hit every single note without a problem?"

"Rachel, you're not going to hit every note."

"And why is that?"

"Because you can't sing Touch Me while you're begging me."

Rachel glances over her shoulder, locking eyes with smouldering hazel, "I don't think you're fully aware of how dedicated I am to my music, Quinn."

"And I don't think you're fully aware how dedicated I am to making you scream my name."

Rachel turns in Quinn's arms, cupping the blonde's neck, nails digging softly into the back of her neck, "Oh you're very dedicated, aren't you, baby? You pick Touch Me, a simply perfect song and rent this room for us both."

"I'm incredibly dedicated..." She mumbles softly, lowering her head to bump her nose against Rachel's, "So dedicated."

"Fuck me good enough and I'll scratch the fuck out of your back at the crescendo."

Quinn smirks. It's her guilty pleasure. "Goodie."

And then they were kissing, mouths coming together and melding. Moans escaped as arms wrapped desperately around one another, fingernails dug deeply into skin. They tasted one another, a promise of what was to come. Something both incredibly weird and erotic. They didn't know how it was going to pan out, but they could only hope that it would work.

Quinn felt Rachel's fingernails drag down her neck, sending a scortching path toward her bac,k before dragging down slowly, grabbing her ass, silently encouraging her further into the kiss. Moans were lost in the heat of the moment as Rachel pushed the blonde up against the motel room door. Their bodies melded together into one, connected, lips still attacking while tongue and lips tasted. Rachel's lips began a torturous dance along Quinn's strong jaw line; the hot sensations of Rachel's lips against her skin made her push her head back, coming to rest against the door.

"Rach..." A whispered plea came from parted lips, but no reply came, only slow tortuous kisses up and down her neck, small tender bites intended to pleasure not hurt and light flicks of the tip of a tongue against her earlobe.

A desperate need for Quinn erupted within Rachel, something she'd barely been able to control since they first made love. She needed Quinn, she always needed Quinn. She needed to feel Quinn coming, hear her screaming her name, shouting her praises to anyone would wanted to hear them.

The thought of taking her girlfriend against the door thrilled her and she knew that people were in the rooms beside them. She intended to make Quinn forget all about her shy school girl persona to bring out the woman that lived and breathed sex; the girl that could lay down on her bed, legs spread, fingers pounding inside of her while her girlfriend took pictures of her.

Rachel's hands rip apart Quinn's button up shirt, a chequered blue number that she knew drove Rachel wild, sending buttons escaping in every direction. Quinn had forgone a bra and the creamy expanse of stomach and breasts made Rachel bite down gently on her bottom lip before she crashed her lips down against Quinn's chest, kissing, teasing, biting.

Pants and groans escaped from Quinn's lips. Rachel truly has an amazing mouth, she plays her girlfriend just like an instrument. Bringing out the most perfectly delicious sound from Quinn's conservative mouth; sounds of moans that none one but Rachel was privy too, the sounds of begging and strangled moans of 'Rachel'.

Rachel drags her tongue down the hollow between Quinn's heaving breasts, teasing, tasting the skin beneath her probing tongue. Long, skilled fingers dig into thick brown hair, trying with all her might to pull Rachel closer toward her, into her.

Gasping for breath, head pushed back against the sturdy door behind her, Quinn focuses on the feeling of Rachel's body against hers and the feelings that it evokes within her. The overcoming temptation to be ravaged, filled by her girlfriend is something she'd never felt before. Before Rachel she never had the urge to be touched intimately, to just be ravaged and fucked until she couldn't remember her own name. Rachel plays her so perfectly; hers her body sing and come with such an intensity that it makes her quake and scream.

"Tell me what you want..." Rachel whispers, slowly pulling away from Quinn's chest. She flicks her tongue softly against hardened nipples before taking them into her mouth, sucking and biting, watching with hazy eyes as Quinn arches her back and moans above her. She pants against wet skin, "Tell me what you fucking want."

"I need," She swallows, trying to wet her rapidly drying throat, "I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

"How...?"

"Fingers..." Quinn pants, turning her head to push her cheek against the door, "Oh fuck, just fill me, Rach."

Rachel straightens, dragging the tip of her tongue softly along Quinn's jaw line before reaching for the blonde's chin, pulling her face back toward her so she can connect their lips. It's soft, tentative and Quinn can feel a hand slowly slink down her body, nails dragging across her stomach. She twitches, whimpering against Rachel's mouth.

Rachel slowly teases her fingers along the waistband of Quinn's jeans, the pads of her fingers brushing against heated skin. She presses her forehead against Quinn's and watches her arch against her hand and it never ceases to amaze her how she doesn't even have to touch her too intimately and she's already falling apart.

Their eyes lock and Quinn gasps as the first button on her jeans in popped, but her eyes don't move, they stay locked on dark brown as another button, then another and then finally the last button is popped.

Quinn grinds her hips up toward Rachel, silently pleading for her to touch, but Rachel's hand is still, the pads of her fingers teasing her hipbones in gentle circles.

"Rachel I swear to God..."

"Hm?" The singer answers with a slight smirk, "What's wrong baby? Is this too much for you?" She asks, glancing down to her hands.

"It's not enough. Please, Rach."

"It's not enough?"

"No."

"Then what will be...?"

Quinn bites down hard on the corner of her bottom lip, glancing away from Rachel's probing eyes for only moments before flicking back, "You know what I want."

"Tell me."

"Why...?" Quinn whispers raggedly, feeling the tips of Rachel's fingers breach the waistband of her panties, brushing against the neatly trimmed hair. She feels sharp tugs and her hips instinctively jolt toward the touch. It's a pleasurable pain and if it wasn't for Rachel, she never would have realized she liked it a bit rough.

"Because I know what you're capable of saying, Q. I know what filth can come out of your mouth."

And then she feels it, fingers diving low into her panties, middle finger sliding straight down through a dripping slit. "Oh God, fuck." Quinn groans, clasping her hands on her girlfriend's stable shoulders, "More."

"More what, Quinn?"

"You know what, Rachel!"

Rachel dips the tip of her finger inside, teasing the sensitive dripping hole with tight circles, dipping in ever so slightly before pulling back out against and repeating. Quinn's stubborn, she's known this ever since they met, but it's only a matter of time until the blonde snaps. So as she feels Quinn's breath was across her lips, her panting heavier and faster, she waits, patiently until she reaches breaking point.

Dipping in, pulling out, circling, dipping in, pulling out, circling. It's a fucking vicious circle that has Quinn clawing at her shoulders. It's driving the blonde insane, driving her to an edge that she just can't tumble over. She needs those fingers, she needs to be fucked.

"Rachel...if you don't put your fingers inside me right now, I'm fucking leaving you."

"No you won't..." Rachel leans forward, brushing her lips softly against Quinn's, "No one can fuck you like I can, Quinn. You'd just come running back, begging me, begging me to lay you down and just fuck you until you can't even stay awake."

"Oh fuck yes..."

"More, Quinn. I know you can say more than that."

"I need you to finger fuck me."

"Why?"

"Because I want to come around you, I want ride your fucking fingers and come so hard as I scream your name."

Then a finger is slipping inside her, pushing in as deep as it can go, touching sensetive and soaked walls and Quinn let's out a groan of appreciation. Fuck, it's only one finger, but it'll do.

"You don't deserve anymore than that right now, Quinn."

The blonde runs hand up to rest behind Rachel's head, clutching at the brown hair, pulling her closer, nose to nose, lips to lips. Hazel eyes narrow dangerously, "You're going to fuck me, Berry. You're going to fuck me just the way I like it and I'm going to stand here like a good little girl while you do it. I'm going to do anything you ask, I'm going to scream, I'm going to moan and I couldn't give a flying fuck if other people can hear me. I want them to know that Rachel Berry can fuck my brains out."

Rachel gulps, tearing her eyes away from Quinn's, barely holding back the urge to rip her own clothes off and have Quinn fuck her. This is the Quinn she always wants in the bedroom. This is the Quinn, free minded, unabashed, needy.

"Oh fuck, Jesus, fuck! Oh God, yes!" Another finger slips inside her and Rachel's mouth opens as she watches Quinn moan, feeling that finger slip inside her to meet it's partner. She watches Quinn's eyes squeeze shut, she watches a pink tongue dart out to wet dry lips.

"Is that what you want?" Rachel asks before clearing her throat, voice suddenly deep and husky.

But Quinn shakes her head, hips rising and falling, ass bumping back against the door as Rachel pins her, "Then what do you want, Quinn...? Tell me."

"I can't..." She whispers raggedly, hips forcing themselves against Rachel's fingers, shoving them in deeper, pushing the palm of her hand against her aching clit.

"You can tell me anything..." Rachel whispers in reply, her free hand working on pushing down those jeans and panties, never pulling her fingers free from their hot confines. Eventually the jeans and panties are kicked away and that's left before her is a sexually frustrated blonde in a ripped open chequered shirt.

Well fuck, if that isn't every dirty fantasy she's ever had.

Quinn presses a kiss to her lips, the hand from behind Rachel's head slowly descending down her body, sliding down between them both, coming to a stop above Rachel's slowly working hand, "Another..."

"You've only taken two."

Quinn's eyes blaze with lust, "I want you to fill me. Do I have to beg? Because I'll fucking beg for you."

And Rachel's taken back, because fuck, Quinn can be so commanding when she needs to come and so fucking beautiful. Her lips are swollen from their kisses, her chest still heaves, breasts and nipples teasing Rachel in her peripheral vision, pussy clenching and tightening around her fingers. Quinn is tight, so fucking tight and she's always wondered what it would be like to really fill her girlfriend up.

What she'd sound like when that third finger was pushed in, how she'd clutch at her and whimper as she was stretched to her limit.

"You're so fucking hot…" Rachel whispers, allowing Quinn to angle a third finger against her, "Are you sure?"

Quinn just nods and waits with a bated breath as that finger slowly slides inside her. It stretches her so deliciously, sliding through moisture so effortlessly and it burns, but it's such a delicious burn that she pushes against Rachel's hand, pushing her in faster and harder.

"Oh fuck yes…" She whispers, slamming her head back against the door, "Fill me…" She holds Rachel's hand there, enjoying the way she clenches and adjusts around that additional digit, "Baby, I'm so full."

Rachel whimpers, dotting soft kisses to Quinn's collarbone, "Do you want it hard?" She whispers against scorching hot skin.

She barely hears Quinn chuckle, "Is there any other way to fuck me, Rach?"

It's a challenge and one that Rachel instantly takes on. Slowly, she moves her fingers, in and out, continuing to let Quinn adjust, throwing her into a false sense of security. And when Quinn is writhing against her and the door, whimpering, head thrashing back and forth against the door, does she speed up her fingers.

Quinn's body is slammed against the motel room door and she barely has time to get her breath back because Rachel's fingers are thrusting deep and fast inside her. It heats her whole body and she vaguely registers her own scream when the palm of Rachel's hand comes to contact with her overly sensitive clit.

She's soaked and Rachel's fingers work so easily inside her. They twist and scissor and tease her so effortlessly and all she can do is watch her girlfriend's arm work, arm tense, driving her to her much needed orgasm.

"I'm so…so close…oh fuck, I need to come…baby make me come, please…don't you dare stop…please…fuck…"

Rachel pants with excursion against Quinn's heaving chest, arm aching, but she pushes through, luxuriating in the way the strong muscles of Quinn's pussy clench and tighten around her three fingers, the way her come covers the palm of her hand and drips down her wrist.

And when she hears her girlfriend squeak and her thighs tremble around her hand, she thrusts her fingers as deep as they will go and holds them there, feeling every spasm, every clench around her fingers as Quinn comes.

"Yes! Oh fuck yes! Baby, so good! Fuck!" Quinn's hips thrust manically against Rachel's still hand, milking those fingers for all their worth. And then she's panting, feeling the wave of her orgasm wash through her and die down. She collapses back against the door, gasping for air.

"Who'd have thought Quinn Fabray wasn't such a conservative girl, after all?" Rachel quips playfully, slowly pulling her fingers free from their confines. She presses a kiss to Quinn's forehead when she mews as the fingers are pulled free, before bringing them up to her lips and sucking the come straight from them.

"Taste good…?" Quinn asks, watching her girlfriend with hooded eyes as she sucks her essence off her fingers.

"You taste perfect, Q. Here," And she leans up and runs her tongue along Quinn's lower lip before diving in, letting Quinn taste herself. She knows Quinn likes it; she likes tasting herself, tasting what Rachel does to her, what no one else can do to her.

She moans against Rachel's lips, sucking on that working tongue, luxuriating in the taste that floods her taste buds. "So good…" She whispers as she pulls back, "You okay?" She suddenly asks, noticing the discomfort of Rachel's face.

"Just…really need you to touch me."

"I worked you up that much?" She asks, suddenly smug as she steps forward, pushing Rachel back towards the bed in the centre of the room. It's only small, but it'll do, it's not like they're performing gymnastics or anything. She hopes.

"I've always wondered if you could take three…" Rachel whispers, eyes locked with Quinn's, trusting her to send them directly to the bed, "And you can…and you were so hot baby…"

"Trust me…what I'm about to do to you, will make you forget about what just happened?"

"Hm…?" Rachel asks, eyes drifting to those working lips, "What do you mean?" And Quinn sits her down on the edge of the bed, and that's when she notices the white non-labelled bag by the bedside. "What's that?"

"Well…It's always been a fantasy of mine to take you." She leans over and grabs the bag, pulling it open, "I don't know if you want to do it, and it's okay if you don't, but I bought a strap on…"

Rachel's clit throbs as she stares at the unopened package, "How big?"

"Seven. I thought that'd be enough…?"

"Oh God," Her throat bobs as she swallows, eyes still trained to that package. "Fuck me with it." Then her eyes flick to Quinn's, "Fuck me with it while I sing."

"Sure you can handle it…?" The blonde smirks, already tearing open the package. It's been under her bed for two weeks, she's waited long enough. "Singing a Broadway song while I fuck you with this?"

She stands up and straps it on, smirking as Rachel watches her avidly, but when she moves to pull off her tattered shirt, Rachel's hands rest on her stomach, "Keep it on…"

Quinn stares for only a moment, then nods, "Okay. Take your clothes off, baby." Rachel stands and pushes her down to the bed. Then Rachel is stripping, slowly unbuttoning the cardigan Quinn had bought her for her birthday when they were still 'friends'. She unbuttons it and pulls it from her body, letting it drop to the floor in a useless heap.

The blonde watches as the tank top comes next, then the red lacy bra, then the skirt and the matching red panties that truly proved how dirty Rachel Berry really was. They were soaked and Quinn had to clutch down hard on the side of the bed to stop herself from lunching forward and tasting.

"You're so beautiful…truly." Quinn whispers, tearing her eyes away from between Rachel's legs as those panties are pulled down and kicked away, "So damn beautiful."

"You make me feel beautiful." Rachel replies, suddenly shy as she takes a step toward Quinn, hand running through her own hair, "It means the world to me when you tell me."

"I'll tell you everyday, Rach."

"Promise?"

Quinn smiles, resting her hands on the swell of Rachel's hips, "Promise." And then she's pulling Rachel forward, letting her drop to her knees, hovering over Quinn's lap, "Ready to get on with The Theatrical All Singing Hand Gestured Faberry Porno?"

Rachel giggles, "I honestly think that this is the ultimate training a singer could get. If they can have something make love to them and ultimately come, all the while keeping in pitch and time with the music-,"

"Rachel…shush." Quinn chuckles, leaning forward slightly, left arm wrapping around Rachel's body to secure her as her hand hovers over the iPod dock she'd settled on the bedside table earlier on in the evening. "Ready?"

"One second," She hears above her, then a few steady breaths, "Maybe I should drink some water," Quinn's forehead lands against Rachel's shoulder, "I mean, I am a little parched and I always believe before I performance one should always take three sips of water just to lubricate the throat."

"You're lubricated enough somewhere else, isn't that enough?" Quinn asks, pulling her head back to look at her girlfriend.

"Touché, Quinn Fabray, Touché."

"So, ready?" She asks, finger hovering closer to the play button.

"Wait, you're…going to have sex with me like this?" She gestures to herself, "On your lap?"

Quinn shrugs, "Would you prefer to be on your back?"

"Perhaps for better harmonics," And she's moving and Quinn's barely fighting back a chuckle; how one person could go from 'Fuck me' to 'I need better harmonics' is beyond her, but then again, Rachel Berry is an enigma. A beautiful but strange enigma.

She crawls over her girlfriend, settling smugly between parted thighs, "Ready?"

"I think we should test this out first…before we start the music, after all, this is the first time we've done this, is it not?"

"Fair point." Quinn adjusts her arms beside Rachel's head. She looks down, locks eyes with Rachel and smiles, "You okay?"

"Fine, just a little nervous." She rests her hands on Quinn's hips, teasing the flesh with gentle strokes of her fingers, "Go ahead."

Quinn grabs the base of the strap on and slowly, carefully, she pushes her way in, slamming her hand back down in place to stabilise herself as her hips slowly move forward. Rachel takes it, inch by inch, mouth agape, eyes narrowed as she watches herself swallow every inch of the strap on.

It stretches her so perfectly and fits so snugly when she feels Quinn's hips back against hers, "You okay?" The blonde whispers, kissing the shell of her ear softly.

"More than…" She groans, her hips already moving up against the stoic dildo, "Move a little…"

Quinn starts tentatively, slow shallow thrusts that are only meant to test the waters. She looks down and watches the extension of herself disappear inside of Rachel before returning slick and wet, "Fuck, you're soaked." Then she locks eyes with Rachel, "I wish I was really inside you, baby…"

"Me too…" The singer mews, hand extending out toward the iPod dock, "Oh fuck me too…" And with a few fumbles, her fingers finally hit the play button and the music that Quinn had familiarized herself with over the past few days filled the room.

"Where I go, when I go there…no more memory anymore." Quinn watches, entranced as she hears that crystal clear voice erupt from Rachel. She sounds so utterly fantastic and it's weird, because although she's heard Rachel sing before, this is the first time she's really heard her.

But then Rachel's arms are wrapping around her back, fingernails digging into the skin in a silent warning. Move or you'll ruin it.

So she does, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Rachel's forehead, then slowly begins her rhythm, trying with all her might to follow the rhythm of the music. She'd practiced in her mirror for day; that was mortifying enough, there was no way in hell she'd mess it up now.

Rachel whimpers slightly, but covers it up just in time for the next line, "Only men on distant ships, the women with them, swimming with them, to shore." Quinn kisses down her neck, nipping and licking at the expanse of tan skin before settling against her chest, enveloping a nipple in her mouth.

"Where I go, when I go there. No more whispering anymore. Only hymns upon your lips, a mystic rising with them, to shore."

Quinn bites down gently upon the puckered flesh, flicking her tongue in time with the thrusts of her hips, sliding the strap on deeper inside Rachel's aching pussy. "Touch me. Just like that. And that o-oh yeah, now that's heaven." Rachel's hand thread through her golden curls, pulling her down closer to her chest, hips rising up to meet each and every one of Quinn's thrusts, "Now that I like, God that's so nice. Now lower down, where the figs lie."

Rachel takes a breath and arches her back, whimpering as Quinn thrusts harder into her, teeth nipping down hard on her nipple, tongue flicking violently. Her body feels as if it's on fire, she feels as if she's going to burst because that fucking thrusting between her legs just feels so deliciously perfectly. She holds Quinn close, grasping at her open shirt for support as the bridge hits. She knows she has to sing, but fuck, it feels too good. Quinn feels too good inside her.

She's being fucked so good.

"Where I gooo! When I go there! No more shadows anymore. Only men with golden fins, the rhythm in them, rocking with them to shore."

Quinn smirks against Rachel's chest, as she looks up, watching as Rachel's hand waves through the air, almost mimicking a boat on the sea, before pulling back to hold herself up by her arms, looking down directly at Rachel as she writhes under her touch, barely holding back moans of pleasure. It's getting harder to thrust, she can tell that Rachel is close and fuck, she looks as if she's barely able to keep herself together. So she quickens her thrusts, angling herself so her hips hit Rachel's throbbing clit. Rachel's hips rock up to the rhythm she's creating; they move in unison to the music and Rachel whimpers before letting out the next line.

"Where I go…when I go there. No more weeping anymore. Only in and out your lips, the broken wishes washing with them to shore."

Then Rachel's hand is clawing at the back of her head, pulling her down again, brushing their lips together, and Rachel's smirking, because even though she's about to come, she knows she can finish the fucking song. She knows she can nail it and then scream for her girlfriend right afterward.

"Touch me." Rachel pleads, her free hand gripping Quinn's ass and pulling her down, pushing the strap on deeper inside her, "All silent. Tell me please, all is forgiven. Consume my wine, consume my mind…" She pulls her hand away from Quinn's hair, reaching up to grab a stoic hand, letting Quinn adjust herself onto her elbows before running that hand down her body, resting it down between her legs, fingers brushing against her clit. Rachel smirks, eyes still connected with Quinn's, "I'll tell you how, how the winds sigh…"

And she helps Quinn, using her own hand to move Quinn's against her clit. Fingers brush tentatively against the throbbing flesh while the thrusts continue, in and out, filling and pleasuring and Rachel bites back a scream, arching her back, eyes clenched shut for just a moment before their open again.

Quinn gasps, taking in those almost black orbs and it's almost like Rachel is telling her how she feels because she's opening her mouth again, singing like a fucking pro, "Touch me! Just-just-just try it. Now there that's it, oh God that's heaven!" She screams, back arching, driving Quinn inside of her, "Oh I love your light…I'll love you right. We'll wonder down, where the figs lie."

And Rachel's legs are wrapping around her waist, pulling her down further, and those thrusts are turning urgent and Rachel lets out a squeak of pleasure. She's so unbelievably close and Quinn is touching her just right. She's rubbing and pinching and twisting that little bud into submission while that strap on fucks her into submission. She's so fucking close…so close.

"Touch me! Oh-oh ho, oh-oh-Oooooh-yeah yeah." Quinn drives herself faster into her girlfriend, watching as Rachel clutches desperately to her, opens her mouth to scream, but instead, as she comes, sings, "Oh love me, yeah! Love me, just for a bit. We'll wander down, where the winds sigh…"

She shivers and holds Quinn close as she collapses on top of her, panting desperately for air. And as Rachel quakes, the after shocks of her own orgasm rushing through her body, she holds her shivering girlfriend, presses a kiss to a sweating temple and whispers, "Where the winds sigh…Where the winds sigh…"

"How'd it go…?" Santana asks as she drops by on Sunday afternoon. She found out Rachel had only gone home minutes before, so she felt as if she could get her gossip on when the annoying little midget was finally out of the picture.

"You know…it was oddly…hot?"

"For serious?" Santana asks, leaning back against Quinn's bedroom door, arms crossed over her chest. Quinn smirks from her spot on the bed, finishing off the homework she'd put off thanks to yesterday's festivities.

"I can honestly say that The Theatrical All Singing Hand Gestured Faberry Porno was a complete success."

"The Thea-," Santana shuts her eyes, "Hold up, you named the damn thing?"

"She insisted," Quinn shrugs with a light smile, "I kinda warmed to it in the end."

"…You're both fucked up, like…seriously. Who the hell sings while they have sex?"

"Then what should we call yours? The Brittana Duck Sex Fest of 2011?"

"Go fuck yourself."