**First, I want to thank everyone who reviewed, telling me that you are interested in this story; it means a lot. Second, a special thank you goes out to sur1090 because you definitely pointed out the fact that sadomasochism isn't explored all that often in the Faberry world, so I'm glad you have faith in the potential of this story…actually all of you who reviewed made the freak in me smile, so really thank you for not making me feel like a weirdo lol. Anyway, to those of you who commented on Rachel's cruelty…this Quinn likes it; scratch that…she lives it, breathes it, loves it; so not only will this story explore their abnormal relationship, but it will explore Quinn's psyche and all that good stuff. Now, on we go…

RECAP:

As I exit the building, I type in the security code that I know by heart and wobble to my car. Once inside, I look up at Rachel's office and see her silhouette standing in front of the only lighted window. A ridiculous sense of importance flows over me; Rachel always does this. She looks at me through her window until I leave. I never asked her why; a part of me thinks that it's because she cares, but a more realistic part of knows that it's her way of proving that she has her eyes on me, that it's another way for her to assert her dominance. I shake my head at my wishful thinking and turn on the engine. Noticing the clock on my car radio, I realize that I've been here for four hours.

Four hours of pleasurable pain that leaves me aching and wanting more…And even though I'm beat and completely broken down and slightly pissed off still (from the Finn comparison), I know I will gladly come back to her…I will always come back to her, regardless if she's not mine.

CHAPTER 2:

"I haven't really slept," I rub at my eyes, as if to prove my point. "When I do sleep, my dreams are short-lived…flickering scenes, like I'm viewing them from a shuttering camera…moments, memories broken up by black."

She nods and scribbles in her notebook for a few judgmental seconds. "Quinn, what do you dream of? You mentioned memories…what memories have replayed in your mind?"

I laugh at that…I really set myself up for this one. "I dream about her," I fix my stare on the woman's mouth; it purses and she hums, waiting for me to continue. "I can't even have her in my dreams; she's that good." I watch her bite her bottom lip, as she writes, always writing…never listening. "She's perfect, you know. I don't know what you're jotting down on that secret little notepad, but if it's anything bad then it just proves that you're not listening." I move my eyes up to meet hers. "When she bites her lip, like you just did…she does it hard, with purpose, not because she's unsure of what to think. I see you twist your face every time I talk, pulling at your lip in confusion; like you don't know what you're doing. She knows what she's doing…and it's perfect, just like her."

"Do you always do this?" She's clearly not amused. Her sets her notepad and pen on the side table and folds her hands on the tops of her thighs; legs crossed at the ankles. I study her legs; they're long, slender, definitely sexy…but I can almost hear Rachel telling me how her own legs can run circles around this other woman's. I close my eyes, remembering Rachel's legs wrapped around my waist, as she dry humps me, grinding on me, her thighs squeezing so tight I can barely thrust my hips.

"Quinn?"

I open my eyes to see the woman staring at me, worryingly; she's so full of sympathy for me…I hate it.

"Do you always do this? Compare other women to Rachel?"

I don't compare; I merely acknowledge the fact that there is no woman…no being…as beautiful, as powerful, as flawless as Rachel. In truth, no one else can even compare, so "No."

She sighs, sits back in her chair, and crosses her legs, so that they met at the knee. "You said last week that your roommate set you up on a date and when I asked you about it, you spent the whole session talking about how your date laughed with her mouth closed, how she caressed your knee, how she kept trying to link arms with you…and that Rachel would never laugh "half-ass" like that, that Rachel always put in one hundred percent. You said that Rachel would never be gentle and subtle if she wanted to touch you and-"

"Because she wouldn't!" I interrupt, "it was frustrating how delicate she was; every time I moved my leg or arm, she'd pull back…scared…Rachel would just grab me, if she wanted; she wouldn't care."

"And that's what you want…someone who doesn't care?" She eyes the freshly chaffed skin on my wrists; evidence that I have no desire to break my ties with Rachel.

"I want Rachel."

We stare at each other; I'm daring her to question me about what I want. She's the first to look away; her eyes drift to my throat, which is beautifully bruised by the bites Rachel pleasured me with. I like how the woman stares at the marks; she's unaware of how her left brow lifts, slightly intrigued…and annoyed. She's mad that I won't take her advice and stop seeing Rachel. She's mad that I only obey Rachel's word; well, if she doesn't know that by now, she really has no clue about me.

I smirk at her, causing her to quickly look away from my neck, as she determinedly looks to seek control, again. "Is Finn still in the picture?"

I snort, shaking my head; she would bring up that name, knowing what it does to me. "I don't need this," I get up from the ridiculously plush couch and grab my jacket, clumsily shoving my arms through the sleeves.

"Quinn, you know this is mandatory…If you leave, I'll have no choice but to inform the judge that you have failed to follow court order."

"FUCK! I'm not going to sit here and talk about that idiot!" I yell, grabbing the door knob with one tightly closed hand…the metal feeling cool against my sweaty, heated palm. Hearing that name always spreads anger through me like a raging wild fire.

"Fine," she says, slightly raising her hands up, "how about you don't talk and just listen."

"No! I don't need or want to hear whatever you have to say about him…" My chest rises and falls, rapidly; I'm sure I'm about to have a panic attack or explode from all the horrible emotions huffing and puffing inside me. "Just please…don't." I lean against the door, facing away from the trigger happy woman, who seems to know how to aim and shoot at all my emotional targets…with such precision.

"Okay," she speaks, letting the word hang in the air; until she sees my overblown frame deflate. "I'm not your enemy, Quinn. I have no intentions of plotting against you; I only wish to help you recognize that the choices you are making are unhealthy. You're self-destructive, Quinn. Let me help you."

I screw my eyes shut, still hiding my face from the woman. "You don't know anything about me, so don't act like you understand how to fix me. I don't need fixing."

"Quinn, you're in denial. This relationship you have with Rachel…it's not-"

"Don't even!" I cut-off, turning around to show her how fed up I am with her know-it-all attitude. "You don't get to sit there, in that stupid chair like it's a high horse, with your stupid little notepad and pass judgment on something you don't even have the heart or passion to comprehend! Everything you say is pre-recorded; nothing you say is real! It's all just lines you read from a poorly written script from a crappy psychologist role play book that you think applies to everyone's situation. Well, guess what? ! I'm not buying it! You don't care about the people who are forced to be here; you're forced to pretend to give a shit because you need to make money to pay off the student loans you needed in order to go to school and get a piece of paper that makes you believe that you can control someone's way of thinking and feeling. If anything, you're the one that needs to see a shrink! You're the one in denial; I mean, do you really think that this shit works? !" By the time I'm done with my rant, I'm inches away from her composed, emotionless face. Her eyes like dark coals, waiting to be sparked. My hands are gripping the arms of her leather chair, the tendons in my fingers, burning as they tighten with my tight hold. She sits, unmoved, impassive, completely withdrawn from this reality…as if her mind is in some alternate universe. I flex my jaw, pulling back my lips into a snarl, "Go ahead, Lopez…Tell the judge that I refuse to deal with you and your stoic bullshit…I'm done." I release the leather arms and step back, until I'm at the door, again, opening it with newly fanned rage.

"Nice to know you have a backbone," is all I hear, before I walk out, slamming the door shut as hard as possible.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!" The two empty shot glasses are pulled away a split second too late, as the liquid burns, wonderfully, down my throat. "Quinn, slow down, damn!"

I take a swig of my beer and almost see the spit it back out when I see the look on my roommate's face.

"I really don't wanna have to drag your sloppy ass out of the bar after the crowd boos us off the stage, so that's enough drinking for tonight. Plus, you're not supposed to be drinking, you're on probation." He tries to grab my beer out of my hand, chugs as much as he can before spewing it into one of the four empty glasses I have in front me. "Fucking hell! If you're gonna risk getting thrown in the slammer, at least risk it for something that doesn't taste like piss!" He swipes the back of his hand across his wet chin and shakes his head at me.

"With the money I make…I'm lucky I can even drink piss water and still afford a place I can go to pass out. And fuck probation, they won't check up on me until a few days because I had a session today, so as long as they know I showed up, they won't be suspicious."

He sighs and looks at his watch, "Well, we're on in like ten minutes, so…" he looks at me with worried eyes, "just don't puke on stage, alright. I don't them to kick us out and then we'll lose the only place that actually thinks we're decent enough to pay us to play here."

I stupidly smile, suddenly every excited and happy about being able to play my guitar and sing passionately to this dark, dirty room packed with people who are half strangers and half regulars that I engaged drunkenly with, many a time before. This time it'll be even better because I'm not feeling a damn thing, not one bad vibe is turning me out; "Relaxxx, Puck I got thissss, now go find Joe and Lauren." I pat the side of his face, while getting off the highest bar stool, ever, and walking to the restroom to empty the tank.

By the time I'm done taking the longest piss of my life, I see my friends already on stage. Puck and Joe are tuning their guitars and Lauren is testing her cymbals. I stagger to the mic stand and grab the guitar that Puck hands me, as he leans in and whispers "Don't ruin this for us, Q."

I'm offended, but I'm too giddy to care at the moment. I turn to face Joe and Lauren, who are nervously smiling at me, attempting to appear too worried. I wink at them and turn back around to peer into the rowdy crowd; most people are fairly intoxicated, more so than I…but I'm a pro, granted I play in shitty bars, but I'm a pro at being drunk and still sounding like a rock star. "You assholes ready to hear some live music, or what? !" I hoarsely yell, working the disorderly audience into an even louder disorderly group. "Alright then, fuckers! Tonight, we're paying tribute to one of our favorite bands, The Black Keys, so you better sing the hell along if you know the words!"

I throw the guitar strap over my head and start the chords to 'Oceans and Streams;' my friends quickly join in and I smirk against the mic, singing:

"With guilt that no one should carry/ Heavy enough for me to get bur-ri-ri-ri-ri-ried/ I feel death on the road tonight/ It's got me to where I wanna run and hide/" I look to the side and wink at Puck, as he and Joe back me with the hook. "Oh, I used to dream…of oceans and streams/Flowing and growing strong/Where have all those days gone?" I see the relief on their faces when they're sure that I won't collapse off the stage in a drunken stupor. I turn back to look at the happy drunks in the crowd and I shake my head around to Lauren's drumming and start in on the second verse, "These days I'm so slow/All those thoughts and nowhere to go/My aim it used to be so true/My world had a place in it darlin', just for you. Oh, I used to dream…of oceans and streams/Flowing and growing strong/Where have all those days gone?" I whole-heartedly laugh when Joe breaks into full rock star mode, playing and swinging his dreads around like a flying tarantula. I back up next to Lauren, to allow him to cause a screaming riot, as he excites some slutty drunk girls in the front of the stage. I stay beside our drumming Queen, using her mic to finish the last section of the song, "Excuse me, now, I gotta go/Can't stand to be here anymore, no-ooo-ooo-ooo/I'm sick and I gotta go to bed/If I stay now, I'm better off dead/ Oh, I used to dream…of oceans and streams/Flowing and growing strong/Where have all those days gone?"

The crowd loudly stomps the dirty floorboards and pounds the sticky tables, cheering for us when we end the first song.

"Right on, you shitheads are not so bad yourself," Puck jokes with the crowd, as he smiles at me. Joe pats my shoulder and grins, making me feel like my band mates trust me, now. I return the grin and look towards Lauren to tell her that she's tearing these songs a new one, when I see her face fall, as she stares out into the packed bar floor. I follow her gaze to the front entrance and see a tall figure of a man and a much smaller figure beside him. My stomach instantly twists, when the two silhouettes move across the room to get drinks, their faces exposed under the dim lights hanging over the bar.

"This next song is called, Tigh-" Puck starts, but is quickly deadpanned.

"Howlin' for You!" I blurt out, not really knowing what I'm doing. I can feel my friends staring at me; Puck follows my gaze and mutters, a "fuck" into his mic. I make my way back to my original spot; she's watching me; she's been watching me since she heard me. I smirk and look away, satisfied that she knows my voice. "One, two, three," I count off, hoping they can remember the song, since we haven't really practiced this one all too much; luckily it's pretty much a repeated pattern, and Lauren's drumming is amazing enough to drown out any mistakes Joe, Puck, or I make, as we try to catch rhythm. I clear my throat and gulp when Rachel and her anchor of a husband weave through the crowd…coming closer to me. My nerves kick into overdrive and I start to sweat, as I miss my cue and my friends start repeat the opening. Puck shoots me a "what the fuck are you doing" look. I snap back to reality and pray I don't make a fool of myself:

"Alright, Yeah…Well now/ I must admit, I can't explain/Any of these thoughts racing through my brain; It's true…but baby, I'm howlin' for you." I risk a glance at Rachel; she's looking up at me and smirking that deliciously evil smirk; and all I can think is "Alright! There's something wrong with this plot/The actors here, have not got…a…clue." I glare at the idiot standing next to her, bobbing around like a Pilsbury Dough Boy bobble-head. I shake my own head in annoyance, and gaze back at the woman of my dreams and nightmares, "Baby, I'm howlin' for you…" I let the guys take over the guitar playing, as I unhook my mic from the stand and walk across the stage, feeling a sudden urge to move around, excite the mass of drunken fools…well, actually, I just want to excite one person. "Da da, da da, da/Da d a, da da, da/Da da, da da, da/Da da, da da, da/ Da da, da da, da/Da d a, da da, da/Da da, da da, da/Da da, da da, da" I get as close to the edge of the stage, without fallen off and I kneel down, staring into Finn's oblivious eyes, "Mockingbird, can't you see?/ Little girl's got a hold on me…like glue." I switch my focus to Rachel and smile, testing her, "Baby, I'm howlin' for you." She raises an eyebrow, intrigued; I'm about to say fuck it and jump off the damn stage when some drunk blonde girl shoves past Finn and bumps Rachel, in order to grab my shirt and scream "I love this song!" into my face, before kissing the hickeys on the front of my neck. The people around us, including Finn, hoot and holler at the girl-on-girl action happening as I attempt to sing out the next part, as the random girl's tongue brushes over my skin. Rachel looks beyond pissed; and of course it turns me on. "Throw the ball to the stick/A swing and miss, in the catcher's mitt/Strike two…" My head is pulled down, as the drunken girl sings along with me, as we stare each other in the face, "Baby, I'm howlin' for you!" For a second I smile, laughing, enjoying the impromptu rock choir, as the whole bar chants, the last of the "Da da, da's!" The random girl finally let's me go, allowing me to get back to my feet. I notice Finn fist pumping and everyone else, except my band mates, thoroughly pleased, while Rachel is standing completely still, watching me with a burrowing stare. When we bang out the final beat, the audience roars and Joe shakes my shoulders in excitement, pointing and laughing at the lipstick stains the drunk blonde left on me. I hear Lauren say we're taking a brief intermission, as she and Puck drag Joe and I off to the back room. "What the hell? ! We can't take a break! We're killing it out there!" Joe protests, when we're all in the band area.

"Quinn, what were you thinking?" Puck yells, as I search the room for something to drink.

"Hey, man, who cares if she changed up the playlist; Howlin' for You worked out great; the crowed ate it up!" Joe defends me…It's obvious he didn't see Rachel, like Puck and Lauren did.

"Joe, you idiot…That bitch Rachel was in the audience. That's why Quinn decided to switch up the playlist."

"What? ! Where? ! I didn't see her!"

"It doesn't matter!" I exclaim, before twisting of the cap of a beer and chugging it before Puck grabs it out of my hand. "So what if she's here; I'm not doing anything wrong…neither is she; so get your fucking panties out of your asses and let's finish the show." I say, reclaiming the bottle from Puck and finishing it off.

"Finn is out there, Quinn! You can't be singing songs to her like that!" My roommate yells, his Mohawk head steaming with rage.

"Fuck Finn! He's an asshole…and he's stupid! He doesn't even know who I am," I explain shaking my head at Puck's dramatics.

"It's wrong, Q." Lauren refutes. "It's bad enough she treats you like sh-"

"No, fuck this! I hear enough of this shit from that fake psycho doctor. I came out tonight to drink and play some fucking music, so if we're not going back on stage then I'm out of here."

"Goddamn it, Quinn!" Puck yells, as I run back on stage and address the crowd.

"We're back!" I search the cheering crowd and spot Rachel and Finn at a well lit table that's close by. They stick out like sore thumbs…well Finn does at least. He's wearing a freaking suit, for one, and, two, he just looks like a giant tree next to that beautiful tiny woman, who is staring back at me, while her husband chats with some other guy in a suit. Rachel straightens up in her chair when I grab my guitar and when the rest of the band returns to their instruments, as well. "This one is called, Work Me," I say, catching the blonde, who is front and center, as she looks up at me…her eyes full of lust. I try to shake off urge to compare her to Rachel…I look back to the far more attractive woman. God, Ms. Lopez was right; I can't even look at another woman without thinking about the one who has captivated me so. In fact, I'm so captivated by these thoughts, I barely realize I'll miss my cue if I don't look away from her.

"Baby, work me…Till I won't look on/Baby, work me…Till I won't no more." My voice comes out strangled…like she stare is choking me. Thank God, this song has plenty of instrumental between verses. I notice Puck is also staring at Rachel, but with the same expression of love…with hate; though Rachel is completely oblivious to my roommate's death glare because she is focused on me, as I look down at my fingers playing at my guitar's strings…and this blonde girl's heart strings. "Want you to work me, baby/ Lord how, make me feel it." The girl props her elbows up on the stage and leans the side of her face against her two hands, whose fingers are intertwined in one another's. Damn, if she was a few years younger, and this was the 90's, you would think I was a freaking Nsync member or a Backstreet boy. I humor her, though…might as well get a reaction out of Rachel, if I have to suffer through the eye sex that this girl is engaging me in; I kneel back down and sing to the slightly more sober blonde. "Want you to do me/Baby, I will do you, too/If you do me, ahh/ Baby, I will do you, too." She squeals and I let her rub her hands over my shirt and her mouth over my neck, again. "Want you to work me, baby/Lord how it makes me feel." We play out the rest of the song; I'm pretty sure if I wanted, I could go home with this girl…She's literally swooning as I work my fingers over the guitar. I faux wink at her and look up to see what Rachel is doing…She's gone; I guess my act worked a little too well. It's odd though; Finn is still sitting at the table with his business pal, so Rachel couldn't have left the bar. Once the song is over, I tell the crowd that Puck will be taking over the singing for the remainder of the set. I quickly leave the stage, only for the blonde to follow. Before I can head to the back room, she presses me up against the side of the stage and starts kissing me; and I know I'm on the verge of sloppy drunk and I'm highly distracted by a desperate need to find Rachel, but…this girl actually kisses pretty well. I mean, Rachel's lips are much softer and that thing she does with her tongue is - Oh shit! The girl stops kissing me and I stop breathing because I know she can feel it poking her hip. There's no movement, sound, anything between us for a few seconds, until she starts chuckling and kissing my ear. "I'm impressed; most guys can't even get it up when they're as drunk as you are…let alone get it this big and har-"

"Fuck off, slut!" yells someone, I can't see because my eyes closed when she gripped my semi-erect cock. I do, however, recognize the voice; how can I not? I open my eyes in time to see Rachel shove the blonde away, "She's spoken for!" The blonde mutters a "fuck you" or something along those lines, as she walks away, not before winking at me and mouths to me "next time" when Rachel isn't looking. I see her glancing over at Finn, who is so drawn into whatever conversation he and his friend are having, that he's blind to the scene.

I look back to Rachel, finally able to see her entire body; she looks amazing. She's dressed in a low-cut black blouse, and a sinfully short black skirt and the sexiest heels I've ever seen; but the most attractive part of her is her face. She's so gorgeous, adorable, sometimes I can't believe such a sweet-looking girl can be so…so…Rachel. She catches me staring at her, "You look beau-"

"Shut up, Quinn." She then pulls me into the back room and shoves me down on the beat-up couch and straddles me, leaving several inches between our crotches. "Were you going to fuck that slutty bimbo, Quinn? Is this what you do when I'm not owning you? You sing sexy songs to stupid women and get them to come back here and ride that thing of yours? Huh; is this what you do when I leave you all hot and bothered? You get some slut to fuck?" Her voice is so stern and angry…I tremble beneath her, as if her sound waves are rolling through my body, crashing against my groin. "Answer me, Quinn!"

I shake my head and look down at the bulge in the front of my jeans. She lifts my chin up and stares into my eyes, searching for secrets that I keep from her.

"You think she's prettier than me? Sexier? Hot-"

"No!" I squeak out, sounding like a boy going through puberty. "Rachel, you're so beautiful and sexy and perfect; you don't even know how much I-"

"love to kiss my ass?" she interrupts and smirks at me, one eyebrow raised. "You're such an ass kisser, Quinnie…that's how I know you're a liar. You were going to fuck that girl, weren't you? !"

"No," I whimper weakly, as she rubs, dryly, at my throat.

"That bitch left her disgusting lipstick on you. No one can see the bites I left on your neck…No one can see that you belong to me." She quickly latches onto my neck and sucks hard, so hard that she's forced to lower her warm, squishy panty-clad pussy onto my aching, pre-cum dripping jean covered dick. She grinds against it and she moans on the ticklish spot on my neck; I squirm causing more friction and more tingling sensations all over my body. "Say it, Quinnie; say it…Say that you belong to me, or I'll make you say it."

Well, how does she except me to say it after that threat…"Go ahead and make me, Rachel."

She quickly pulls away from my neck and studies me, eyes narrowed and challenging…"Better yet, I'll prove it."

/END CHAPTER\

**This was a little different from the first chapter…I wanted to give you all more of an idea of who Quinn is and how other people view her and her "issues" before I add more physical stuff. Anyway, I'm interested in what you readers think about it all, so far. Any questions will be answered before next chapter, so ask away, if you'd like. Thanks for stopping by!

P.S. Check out the songs I used: "Oceans and streams," "Howlin' for You," and "Work Me." The Black Keys are such an amazing band…I hope listening to the tracks will give you a better feel for Rachel and Quinn's relationship.