"God fucking dammit!"
Quinn laughs as Santana throws her controller across the room and pouts into her pillow. Quinn reaches over to pat her shoulder in comfort, her own controller still in hand. Santana growls into the pillow -
"If he drops a goddamn woodblocker one more goddamn time-"
"I know, babe. I know."
Santana shoots up to glare at Quinn properly.
"Don't you condescend to me, goddammit!"
Quinn tries, though she just can't help but grin at Santana's expense.
"I'm not, I swear!"
"I'm not being ridiculous!"
Quinn looks away to hide her barely-controlled laughter.
"Of course you're not! It's… it's perfectly reasonable to be upset after farming for all of fifteen minutes."
Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn's shaking form, crawling out from under the covers and straddling Quinn - she pinches her chin between two fingers so she can ever so slowly turn the girl's head so as to look her in the eye.
"You're making fun of me."
Everyone has a breaking point. Even seasoned professionals can only take so much before they burst into tears of laughter. Quinn has always had a great poker face herself. But… come on…
"You are perfectly rea-"
She can't finish her sentence before bursting into peals of strained laughter. Santana growls and starts shaking Quinn by the shoulders.
"Stop laughing at me!"
Quinn just laughs harder, shaking her head as she tries to catch her breath whenever she can.
"I - I mean come - on, Santana!"
Santana crosses her arms and grumps down at her girlfriend.
"It's not funny."
"You're mad about farming. In Borderlands. It's a little funny, babe."
When Quinn does eventually stop laughing, things stop being so comfortable. She notes Santana's not meeting her eyes and any sense of fun dies in her throat and leaves a bitter taste in it's place.
When they decided to to therapy, Quinn had been anticipating the worst; That Santana would hear the shit that goes through her head on a regular basis and would be horrified - disgusted at the vile things Quinn has thought. The things she's imagined.
What she didn't anticipate was the real issue coming from Santana.
"You want to ta-"
Santana silences her by forcefully kissing her, lips bruising against one another. Quinn loses her train of thought as Santana sucks her tongue into her mouth, both of them moaning at the sensation. Quinn slides her hand up Santana's shirt, nails dragging lightly up her back until they reach Santana's bra strap. Quinn goes to undo the strap with the one hand, but growls in frustration when she can't get even one of the hooks to come out right. Santana laughs into the kiss, pulling away from Quinn's lips to smirk down at her.
"Having some trouble back there, cap?"
Quinn rolls her eyes.
"I don't have as much experience taking them off from this angle, alright?"
Santana just grins and reaches behind to undo it herself, pulling the bra off and taking her shirt with it - leaving her bare breasts hanging only inches from Quinn's face. Or more specifically - her mouth. Quinn wastes no time and dives forward to suck a nipple into her mouth, where she licks it into hardness. The nails she grazed up her back only moments ago now
Scratch their way down again, carving a deliciously painful trail down Santana's spine.
Santana groans and grinds forward in Quinn's lap - Quinn moaning herself when she feels Santana's member hardening against her stomach. She guides her other hand from the underside of Santana's unoccupied breast up her neck before grabbing at her hair roughly and pulling her back from the kiss. She presents her hand, dark eyes staring into the latina's plump lips.
"Lick it."
Santana groans at the commanding tone pushing the words through and complies, licking Quinn's palm from wrist to fingertip. Quinn lunges forward again to bite and suck on Santana's lips as she slides her moistened hand down her pajama pants and wrapping around Santana's hard co-
—
"Ooooookay, that's a little more than I needed to know. A lot more than I needed to know, actually."
Quinn pouts for a moment before taking another sizable bite of her sandwich, Rachel avoiding Quinn's eyes at all costs. Though not with the same tension that she had during their conversation nearly two weeks ago.
As shocked as Rachel had been that day, seeing Quinn Fabray standing in her doorway, she had been even more surprised to find her there again the following day. In fact, Quinn had been back nearly every day after school - eating every strip of pork hidden within the house, and having long talks with Leroy Berry and even Rachel herself. She would usually spend the first half-hour or so with them in the kitchen, Leroy manning the stove with piles of bacon, while Rachel sits across from her at the table, holding a steaming mug of tea up to her nose in an effort to overpower the worryingly alluring scent of cooking pigflesh, all the while listening to Quinn as she vents to her about Santana. Speaking of -
Quinn swallows down her BLT, self-consciously glancing down at the tabletop.
"Sorry. Hormones."
Quinn groans in frustration at herself as well as at Santana.
"Listen to me! I can't believe I'm even saying all this crap. I feel like I'm losing control of myself. All I can think about is food and sex! This baby is turning me into Noah Puckerman!"
Leroy lets out a single loud laugh, drawing the attention of both girls, including the infamous Fabray brow.
"Something to say, Leroy?"
Uh Oh.
Leroy clears his throat and straightens up, eyes down at the skillet below him.
"Me? Oh, no sweetie, I didn't say anything. Well done."
Quinn narrows her eyes at the man until he slowly turns his head to peer over his shoulder. The moment he meets her eyes, his own widen and he snaps back to look at the skillet.
"Oh look, the bacon's done! And would you look at the time, I'm missing Maury!"
Leroy flips the stove off, scrapes the last of the bacon onto Quinn's plate, then powerwalks out of the room. Rachel calls after him,
"Daddy, that show is going to rot your brain!"
Quinn just rolls her eyes and continues munching on her pork.
"The point is, she dodged the conversation. She keeps doing it. Any time I try to talk to her about what happened in therapy and she changes the subject, if I persist, she seduces me. It's not fair, she knows I can't resist her lately. Hell, before all this it was hard enough. Now, the only things that sound good to me at any given moment is meat, and… well, her meat. I think her dick might be enchanted."
In a desperate attempt to get Quinn to stop talking about Santana's junk, she pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to cut straight to the heart of the conversation.
"So what happened in therapy that has you so worried? If you don't mind me asking."
Quinn rolls her eyes.
"Five minutes ago I was about to describe in vivid detail how I jerked my girlfriend off. I think boundaries are kind of a dead concept with us right now."
She sighs and takes a healthy bite, speaking sullenly around her mouthful of bacon.
"It's not what happened. It's what didn't. She wouldn't talk."
"Then entire time?!"
Quinn swallows her food, but instead of continuing her assault on pigkind, she grabs a paper towel to clean the grease from her fingers. Her eyes stay fixated on the tabletop, sadness swirling within them. Quinn feels so heavy in that moment. And not just from the fatty foodstuffs.
"No, she spoke. We had some long talks with the doc. Important talks. I said a lot of things to her then that I've been terrified to say out loud… to anyone. Especially her. But she was holding back. I'm worried."
Quinn looks up to Rachel's searching brown eyes.
"If she could sit there and listen to me say the horrible things I said, and still be too scared to talk about herself… What does that mean? What could be worse than that?"
Quinn's eyes flinch away from Rachel's again, to hide the deep shame pouring from them.
"What could be worse than me?"