A/N 1: Hello Faberry Fandom! This is my first fic, so any feedback you have would be much much appreciated. I have a few chapters written already but I am curious to see what people think I should do with this. Just an idea I had re-watching season 3.

A/N 2: More has been added to this chapter since originally posting!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it's characters, or it's plot. If I did, Finn wouldn't exist other than to be the punch line of all Santana's jokes.

"Fuuuuuuck!" I yelled from the deepest gut I had.

I wasn't sure if it was from the three fingers she had buried deep inside me, or from how hard I hit my head against the cabinets behind me. It was a pleasurable pain, I do know that.

"Shhh," she whispered it against the shell of my ear. Her hot breath sending chills straight down my spine and directly to my core. I moaned even louder, the exact thing she didn't want me to do.

"Jesus fuck Qui-" and then another guttural moan. Words weren't even forming in my head at the moment because she was doing that thingwith her thumb and oh, don't ever stop doing that thing with thumb. It brushes lightly against my clit, coaxing all logical thought out of my head.

"Shhh," she slowed her movements almost to a stop but her mouth never left my ear. I moaned again, but this time out of frustration from how close I had been. Fuck, keeeeeep going.

"He isn't that heavy of a sleeper." She whispered again, flicking the shell of my ear with the tip of her perfect tongue.

I nodded my head because, dear God, I would be as quiet as she wanted if it meant she would pick up her pace again. It seemed to appease her because before I could ask for more she slammed into me. Hard. Shit.

I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from making any more verbal justification. She kept slamming and I kept quiet. I tasted copper on the outside of my lip but felt no pain. I was so close and –

"Come. Come on my hand so I can lick you off my fingers." Another whisper and another taste of blood. But those words were all it took and my body shook. It shook and then it ceased because any motion at all was just impossible. Her thumb continued to stroke my clit and her fingers continued to move until I slumped against the cabinet and rested my forehead on her shoulder.

After what felt like a year and a day trying to regain my breath, she slowly pulled out of me and pulled her head back to look my square in the eye. Hazel orbs coated in black lust locked with mine as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked. The side of her mouth quirked up as she lightly moaned at my taste on her lips.

I pulled her by the neck to have a taste for myself but when her forehead met mine she tilted to the side, just out of reach. She let out a light chuckle, laced with a forcefulness that should have sent a fear down me. Not another flood to my core like it did.

Quietly, so quietly I almost didn't hear the sneer in her tone, she said, "You get so fucking wet when I fuck you, don't you?"

It wasn't a question I had to answer. She had the proof all over her kitchen counter. I was still dripping. I would have been embarrassed, but time and time again she told me how hot it was when she didn't even have to warm me up.

She pulled her head back so I could see her smirk again and God, how I still wanted more. But in the next instant she was gone. Picking up my underwear and shorts off the floor somewhere near the refrigerator where they had been thrown the second I walked in the door. I hoped off the counter because as soon as she walked away, I knew we were done.

She handed them to me without a word and slipped off to wash her hands while I slid them on. Staring at the back of her short blond hair, I wondered how she always gets it to look just a little bit different.

"It's been fun. As always." Her normal cold tone pulls me out of my stupor and I smile her way. It always is fun.

"Next time, I can, you know, for you-" I offer. Although it's I know it is futile. She won't accept next time when I offer, just like she didn't this time. But she nods her head and takes another sip of water and I know it's my cue to see myself out.

I walk over to the door checking to make sure I have my keys. I never bring anything else over because she is too afraid I will leave it behind. Even the vibration of a phone could be a dead give away in her mind. Although, I'm pretty sure the vibration of the pots and pans from the sheer force of her thrusts are way louder than my phone on a table.

I turn back to throw a smile over my shoulder at her but she's already out of the room. I would let the smile fall from my face but hey, she just did that thing with her thumb and the smile won't fade from my face for at least an hour.

"Where are you, bitch?" I heard as soon as I clicked the door shut. Busted.

"In here, Kurt." I called back through a sigh as I drop my keys onto the tray by the door. Already dreading the third degree I was no doubt about to receive. It was already past midnight and I was just getting home. I knew the questions were coming.

"Ah ha!" He yelled when he turned the corner from his bedroom. He must have been studying. I could still hear the faint sounds of Celine coming from his propped open door and he only listens to Celine when he studies. He says it helps him concentrate.

"Where have you been Miss Berry?" He stops right in front of me and grabs my forearms with both his hands and kisses each cheek once. A habit he picked up one summer abroad studying design apparel in France. When he pulls away he keeps his arms steadied on me to keep me in place.

"The library." I lie.

"Oh. Big test coming up, or …" He trails off. A question at the end giving me the opportunity to correct him.

"Yup, Musical Theory test Monday. Big big big." I lie again with a smile on my face.

"Were you there with anybody?" His head tilts to the side.

I shake my head. "All by myself. What smells so good in here?" I try to change the subject and look around the kitchen for something else to focus on. The lies came easier these days, but it didn't mean I didn't still feel a little guilty about it.

"I ordered Chinese. I went by the library earlier to print out my English paper and I didn't see you." He cocks his head to the side, challenging my story.

"I was in a private room in the back." I swat at his pouty face and let out a light chuckle. Keep it light and he will eventually stop. Just be your normal self. Throw your long-winded rant his way. "You know I sing through Musical Theory. I highly doubt my peers would appreciate my breaking out into Barbra's rendition of Don't Rain on My Parade. Even though it is by far the best selection in my vocal repertoire."

He takes a deep breath but leaves it at that. "Okay, well I got some extra Chinese in the fridge. I figured you didn't eat while you were out." Aww Kurt, always caring too much about my well-being. He lets go of my arms and I take the opportunity to scamper off. I really was quite hungry.

Kurt takes a seat at the center island while I heat up the China Fun leftovers. The smell takes over the inside of my nostrils and I realize I haven't eaten all day.

"So…." He taps his fingers against the cool granite on the counter top looking for something to break the silence. "Are you going to Quinn's thing this weekend?"

Hearing her name grabs my attention. What does he know?

"Her bridal shower. It's this weekend." Oh that. "I know you aren't captain of the Quinn fan club, but she's going to be my sister-in-law and I just really think … "

I cut him off with a snarl before he can finish.

"I just don't see the point, Kurt." I huff out. "Where's the soy sauce?"

"Top shelf, right cabinet above the sink. Rachel. You have to let what happened all those years ago go."

"Let it go? Which part? The name calling, the slushie throwing, the boyfriend stealing?" I take a deep breath. "I let all that stuff go." Really, I did. Trust me. "But that doesn't mean I support all of this.

"Is this because of Finn?" He lets it out in a breath so quiet I would think he was scared of the answer.

"No." And that wasn't a lie.

****** FLASHBACK ******

It wasn't what I was expecting it to be. I've been living in New York for nearly 3 years now and it wasn't at all the glamorous life I hoped for.

Sure, I had gotten out of Lima and that was the goal. Sure, I had been accepted into NYADA with my best gay and I was on my way to getting the diploma on the wall accrediting me to live out my dream under the illustrious lights of Broadway.

I walked by the marquees and still got chills thinking that one day it would be my name in people's playbills. I never lost that dream. But I was missing something.

It was a chilly Friday night in October after an impossibly hard showcase for my Junior seminar when I walked into Clydes. It was the only bar I knew on this side of the city that nobody I knew would be. I took my usual perch and flagged down the bartender.

"The usual, Miss Berry?" I nodded as he wiped his hands on the towel. He gave me a short nod and turned to pick up a glass from the shelf behind him and I toyed with a loose thread on the end of my coat.

"Take off your jacket and stay awhile," He laughed his charismatic laugh as he flashed his bright smile my way. I couldn't help but return it, albeit halfhearted.

"Thanks Frank." I wasn't in the mood for chatting. And I wasn't in the mood for taking off my coat.

Frank didn't have to be told. And that's one of my favorite things about him. I've been coming to this spot for 3 years. It was the only place I knew that didn't seem to mind when I was a freshman and my ID said I was a 26 year old named Lily from Queens. They also never batted an eye when I suddenly grew younger and my name changed a few months ago.

I only came here on the days I needed a pick-me-up that came in the form of 80 proof and on the rocks. It was only on days when I couldn't help but think of the what-ifs.

People came in and out all the time. The bell above the door signaled their entrance to seclusion and their return to reality. It wasn't a place to socialize and it wasn't a place to ask questions. It was a place to think inside your own head.

That's why I never ever noticed her walk through the door. I never noticed her sit down next to me and I never heard her voice order a drink. Who knows how long she had been sitting there before I picked my head up to throw a twenty down on the table and retreat back to my apartment on 83rd street. I had no idea. But the raise of her eyebrow told me she had been waiting for me to notice her for at least a little while.

I stuffed Mr. Andrew Jackson back into my coat pocket and walked to the other side of the bar.

I know this is very short. But more is coming!

Thoughts are wonderful :)