Author's note: This is a reposted work from my Tumblr, where I have more of my fics set up, along with one short preview of upcoming story. So check that out if you want. If not, it will probably end up being posted on her anyway. I hope you guys like this little oneshot too, let me know what you think! Until the next time :)

If anybody ever asked Rachel if Quinn was human, she would have to think about it for a moment or two.

Because Rachel never saw Quinn showing any kind of emotion to this point of her life.

Which is why she was so stunned when she walked into the restroom only to see Quinn pacing around the room, her bottom lip worried between her teeth, fingers rhythmically tapping on her tight.

She just looked so…so…worried.

To say that Rachel was surprised was an understatement.

And apparently Quinn was so worried that she forgot that she hated Rachel and that she would rather be dead then seen alive talking to her.

"I think someone is hurting Brittany." Quinn spluttered out, her wide eyes on Rachel.

Rachel was aware that Quinn expected her to answer or react or run away or do something, but she was to busy staring at her.

Because Quinn said a full sentence to her that didn't have Man Hands or Treasure Trail or RuPaul in it.

And she was stunned.

So Quinn sighted and whispered a low 'Never mind." under her breath before bumping her shoulder into Rachel to get to the door.

And that was enough for Rachel to realize that Quinn just talked to her and that this was once in a lifetime opportunity and oh my God did she say someone is hurting Brittany?

She reached her hand out impulsively and grabbed Quinn's wrist.

And ignored the electricity that touch of their skin made.

And the softness of Quinn's skin.

And she definitely ignored how Quinn's cheerios skirt rosed when she came to a sudden stop, exposing her spanks for a single second.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice huskier and unsure because she was actually speaking with Quinn.

Fabray.

Captain of the Cheerios.

Rachel faintly wondered if she was woke up that morning.

Quinn just looked at her for a few second (years, if you ask Rachel), but this time Rachel didn't run away because Quinn's eyes weren't distant and cold, but warm and vulnerable.

"I think someone is hurting Brittany. I saw a bruise on her neck." Quinn said, her voice quiet and unsure, eyes glued to the floor.

Rachel furrowed her brows. She had a bruise…on her neck? She was trying to figure out why in the world would Brittany have a bruise on her neck when realization hit her.

She waved her hand at Quinn. "It's probably just Santana."

And Quinn gasped, hand covering her mouth, wide eyes on Rachel again.

Rachel flattered. "I mean, Q-Quinn, you are surely aware of Brittany and Santana's relationship." She air-quoted the word relationship because really, she had no idea how to put it differently.

"But Santana would never hurt her!"

"No! No, of course not! It's probably just a hickey."

"A…hickey?"

Rachel looked at Quinn's rosed eyebrow and tilted her head at her. "Yes, a hickey."

Quinn just kept looking at her.

Rachel wondered if she passed out and missed out on Quinn's response.

Quinn squinted her eyes and crossed her hands over her chest. "And what exactly…is a hickey?"

Rachel's both eyebrows shoot upwards. Rachel was aware that Quinn was a president of Celibacy Club and that her religious parents and upbringing forbid her engaging in any sexual activities before marriage, but she didn't think it would go that far that she wouldn't know what a hickey is.

She tried to hide her laugh.

Quinn tilted her head and her eyes became hard again. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No! No…I just…Well, a hickey, or how some people call it; love bite, is a bruise that forms on your skin due a passionate biting and sucking on it." Rachel explained, keeping her face serious.

She actually pitied Quinn a little bit.

And she could actually see the blush rising from Quinn's neck all the way to her face. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Few more seconds passed before Quinn's face scrunched up in a frown. "How that could even be enjoyable?"

"Oh, well, it's the act of passion. And your skin is really sensitive, so it's really enjoyable. In fact, it's one of the most used forms of foreplay because it get's your partner really aroused."

Quinn huffed. "Yeah, right. If you have a vampire fetish."

"You can't beat a fact Quinn."

"I just don't see the appeal."

"I bet that you would be none the wiser when it comes to the actual act."

"I can't believe you would even think such a thing! That's completely disgusting!"

Rachel sighted. "It's not Quinn, it's natural."

"Yeah. If you are a pervert."

And that is how Rachel Berry found herself pinning Quinn Fabray to the wall of William McKinley's restroom, trying to get her point across.

"W-what are you doing?" Quinn stammered out, her voice low and panicked.

Rachel pinned her hands to the wall firmer and ran the tip of her nose along the valley of her neck, taking in the fruity smell. "I'm showing you that you are wrong."

Now. Rachel was by no means expert at this kind of stuff. Okay, so she wasn't expert at all, but she did a fair share of research and she new the basics.

And she was going to perform them perfectly, as every other thing.

Not showing fear or hesitation or her nerves, she licked a broad stroke along Quinn's pulse point, trying not to moan at the taste. Quinn went completely still next to her and she was sure that she even stopped breathing, but she could feel the furious rhythm of her heartbeat under her tongue, so she didn't stop.

She run her teeth slowly over her skin before biting down gently.

She felt Quinn shudder and all rationality she ever had flew out of the window.

She bitted down hard and sucked like her life depended on it and Quinn actually moaned out loud and now she was sure she was dreaming.

But it turned out that she wasn't actually dreaming because fifteen minutes later Quinn was yelling at her while trying to cover up the bruise on her neck with a corrector.

Nothing could swipe the smirk of off Rachel's face thought.

And Quinn totally slipped her number in her bag.

And oh, after that night she could with a certainty say that she was at least a semi pro at kissing and giving hickeys.

And that she really needed to learn how to cover them up, too.

Author's Note part II. : I responded to everyone who reviewed my previous Faberry story, the only ones who didn't get an answer are anons, but I would just like to make sure that you know I appreciate your comments too. Anyway, have a great day lovelies!