Thank you for all of the reviews for the last chapter. It is so great that so many people are still reading this.

Chapter Thirty-two

Tutoring brought two surprises; the first was Mr. Schue saying:

"I have a meeting with Principal Figgins. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, but you'll be okay to start things off, right? The worksheets are here and the answer sheet is in the desk. Not that you'll need it, the two of you are both way above entry level. Just hand out the sheets and go through the questions with them. Try and get them to answer for themselves but don't burst any blood vessels over it." He grinned and swiftly packed things into his satchel. "I really appreciate this, Quinn." He glanced around the room. "More than I thought have shown up, so we are off to a great start."

There were eight in all. Three rowdy jocks, three thick as mud cheerleaders and a couple of stoners who'd probably wandered into the Spanish Tutorial thinking it was after-school detention. She could feel her baby getting stupider just from breathing the same air.

"Between the two of you, you should be able to handle."

"What 'two of us'? I thought it was just going to be you and me, and now you're bailing, so . . ."

"Good afternoon, class! Sorry, I'm late, Mr. Schuester. Finn asked me to talk through some timing problems he is having with his assignment and I'm sure you'll agree Glee always comes first."

Quinn didn't know whether to groan or grin and settled for giving the teacher a stern eye. "You sold me out."

His smile faltered, "I thought . . ."

"It's fine. The intelligence level in this room just went up by ten percent. That can only be a good thing."

"It's okay, Rachel. We haven't started yet anyway." A ball of paper bounced off of her head as she joined them behind the desk. "Karofsky!" Rachel made nothing of it, so he let it go and picked up his satchel. "Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Wait, you're leaving us?" Rachel sounded as thrilled by that idea as Quinn was.

The door closing quietly behind him managed to sound like a heavy rock jamming into the only exit of the Cave of Doom. It was accompanied by her phone beeping from her bag to signal a text but she ignored that because she was sharing a look with Rachel.

"You didn't tell me."

Rachel nervously busied herself with straightening the already straight worksheets. "I wanted to surprise you."

"You did."

"One of us should probably hand these out!" Rachel snatched the worksheets from the desk and power-walked away. She was tripped twice on her way around the class and Quinn made a mental note of who had an unfortunate accident – or at least a dumpster dive – coming in their future. It wasn't long before she was back beside her. "You're still staring at me."

"Is that it a problem?"

Chair legs screeched across the linoleum floor and two big hands slapped a tabletop. "There's no way I'm learning from you queers. I'm out of here."

Karofsky was on his feet, screwing the worksheet into a ball and it saturated Quinn's blood with pure fear. The speculation about her sexuality had almost totally died out since Rachel's fake interview had headlined on Jacob's blog; the news of her pregnancy had taken the fore, and she'd almost forgotten how much it shocked her system to be seen in that light. Obviously, or else she wouldn't have been, what . . . flirting? with Rachel in front of these morons in the first place. Adrenaline spiked, the need to run away and hide was greater than the urge to punch the hockey player in his fat face but she could see Rachel's shoulders straightening, ready to fight back and no, there was no way she was going to stand there mutely while Rachel fought their battles.

She sharply held her hand up, stalling Rachel's response and causing the room to go silent for the first time since the session had begun. At least her gulp was more mental than physical.

"Say that again in Spanish, David, and I'll let you leave without reporting your absence to Mr. Schuester."

His mouth opened, shaped a few words and then closed again when he realized he didn't even know how to start. The Cheerios laughed at him and, turning red he glared hate at Quinn. She really couldn't care less. Idiot! Her anxiety was still high though and she was gripping the edge of the desk with one hand so hard that she thought her knuckles might pop out of alignment.

Rachel sensed she was allowed to take over now. "Why don't you start your worksheets. Would you like another one, David?"

"Fuck off!"

"We're supposed to go through the questions with them," she muttered

"Oh." Rachel pulled a face. "I'm not really sure I want to help them now."

"I know I don't," she sighed. "I can't believe Mr. Schue left us alone with these guys."

"Everyone who hates the both of us in one small . . . cramped . . . room." Rachel looked around, nervous again for an entirely different reason. The hostility aimed their way was more than apparent. "I admit I'm starting to regret offering my services."

"No shit!"

"Language, Quinn."

"Oh, right, sorry. No merde!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Cute."

"What? I'm just trying to inject a little comedy into this tragedy."

"I'll miss you when we're both dead," Rachel sighed.

"Me too. But, um, I apologize in advance, but I don't think showing a united front to this crowd is going to increase our chances of survival."

"Unfortunately, I agree with you."

She'd expected a lecture on how you just had to stand up to bullies or the victory was theirs; so this was better.

Smiling at Rachel wasn't going to help right now either, but they deserved these few seconds as she asked, "Ready to perform, Miss. Berry?"

"Every minute of every day, Bunnykins!"

"No!" Quinn muttered, aghast, "Nothing to do with bunnies!"

"Spoilsport!" Rachel winked, "And action!"

"Stop crowding me, Stubbles!" Quinn shoved her away with a hand on her shoulder. She'd actually barely pushed her, but Rachel stumbled to the side like she'd been body-checked by Puck.

"Quinn, I'm only trying to see the worksheet."

"Seriously? That's your excuse for trying to climb on me?"

There were titters from the cheerleaders in the front row.

"I wasn't . . ."

"Save it, Manhands," she cut her off. "Let's just get this lesson over with. Who knows the answer for the first question?"

Charity took a stab at it but was mostly drowned out by someone shouting, "Is she any good in bed?"

Quinn was only capable of blinking stupidly.

Rachel praised Charity for getting it almost right before pointing out the one word she'd gotten wrong and how she'd used the wrong tense. Charity glared at her for the condescending tone, but seriously, that had been mild. The Cheerio should try coping with Rachel in Glee.

And then Rachel asked, "Which one of us are you asking?" and Quinn had to close her eyes altogether, but the worst was still to come. "Because if you're asking if Quinn is good in bed, well I'm afraid I'll never have the pleasure of finding out. And if you are asking if I am good in bed… well, I'm a virgin so there is no one I can ask for that information, but I like to think that, with the right partner, I would be mind-blowing!"

Her knees nearly gave out.

"So, question two . . .!"

The deadline for the PTA Fall agenda was tomorrow and he'd meant to give Quinn the forms to take in this morning, but he'd left them in his office. It was an annoying oversight, but with work as busy as it was he could chalk it up to a one off under pressure.

He had to pass the school anyway on his way home and despite Figgins' ethnicity, he wasn't a bad guy. Russell prided himself on not being racist – as long as the foreigners were Christians and could speak enough American to hold a decent conversation, he was okay with them being in his country.

After handing the forms over and speaking to the Principal for a few minutes about Quinn – straight A student, always polite, disciplined and promising - naturally, it was Quinn, his shining star – Russell was about to leave the school, but . . .

She was tutoring somewhere right now and was it so wrong for a father to want to indulge a moment of pride in his daughter.

He hesitated in the hall until a kid in a football jersey sauntered by. He had a mohawk! They should never have sent Quinn to this school. He'd never been really happy about it, but they had the best cheerleading squad in the country and Quinn had wanted it and Judy had insisted that Quinn having the chance to go to their alma mater was providence. Besides, he had been happy here and so had Judy, but there hadn't been any reprobates walking the halls with mohawks back then!

"Hey!" The boy gave him a look; the kind that said 'I know you, but I'm not going to admit it.' "I'm looking for the Spanish classroom."

"That way." The boy pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Take a right. The room's somewhere down there on the . . . hell, I don't know, but it's down there."

"Thank. . ." The kid had already disappeared around the corner. Trying not to think too badly of the little punk, Russell followed his directions.

Puck pulled his cell out of his football pants as soon as he turned the corner and sent a text on the sweaty phone.

Your Dads in school lookin for u.

He didn't receive a reply and didn't really expect to, but . . . he'd done what felt right. If Quinn didn't agree then she could kiss his sweet, sweaty ass.

Russell found the Spanish classroom easily because it was the only one voices were coming from. He didn't want to interrupt and just watched through the little window in the door. Look at his little girl standing up there at the front. Frances was the perfect daughter, but Quinn had always been the apple of his eye and seeing her now so beautiful and accomplished made his heart soar.

Until . . . "There's no way I'm learning from you queers. I'm out of here."

Russell jerked his gaze to the boy who had shouted loud enough for his voice to carry clearly through the door. His doughy face was angry and red, but while Russell could appreciate his sentiment, he couldn't understand his reasons for saying such a thing.

When he heard Quinn say, "If you can say that again in Spanish, David, I'll let you leave without reporting your absence to Mr. Schue" he nodded. That was how he'd brought her up. Respectful and tolerant, but with a clear sense of what was right and natural.

He still wasn't sure why the word 'queer' had been brought up at all though, until he shifted his gaze back to Quinn and saw her talking to a short brunette.

The Berry girl.

Well, that explained that. He watched as they conversed. They appeared comfortable together, like they talked all the time, but Quinn had told him they barely even spoke to one another. Had she lied to him?

"Stop crowding me, Stubbles!"

Hey now, that wasn't on! His daughter shoved the smaller girl so hard that she stumbled and almost went down. It was . . . well, it was gratifying in many respects, but he wasn't impressed by Quinn's use of force, especially against a girl so much smaller than her.

He watched as the Berry kid tried to apologize and Quinn shut her down at every turn. He couldn't hear what was being said now, their argument was too low, and then his phone started ringing.

Pulling it free from his shirt pocket, he noted it was Walderson calling, and knowing that this conversation was likely to include language unacceptable in a school environment he took a final fond look into the classroom before making his way out to answer the call.

They were so into their roles now that their acting was seamless. Of course, it wasn't that long ago that Quinn hadn't needed to 'act' to be this mean and also it wasn't exactly hard for Rachel to act like a lovesick fool for her.

"So, for example, if I was to say to Quinn . . ." Rachel was sitting on the edge of Mr. Schuester's desk, legs dangling and ankles crossed as she addressed her students but she turned her torso towards Quinn as she continued, "Mi amor tu, I would use the informal use of 'you' rather than the formal, which is usted."

Quinn was still standing behind the desk, she hadn't moved much at all, allowing Rachel to be the main point of focus. "And if you ever said that to me, Berry, I would say: Go to Hell and then I'd drown you in a toilet."

"It was just for the purposes of a grammar lesson, Quinn."

"And you couldn't think of any sentence that would work other than 'I love you'? Jeez, you're pathetic."

"Spanish is a passionate language, Quinn, and I can't help if it brings forth the passion in me."

"And I can't help that you're about to bring forth the barf in me."

Laughter ran around the class and Rachel had trouble not grinning. The students might not have been any more interested in Spanish than they had been earlier, but they were certainly engaged now, and in her opinion that was half the battle towards a successful learning situation. They were working the room like a classic comedy double act even if they were the only two in on the joke.

"Anyway, if you all turn to page twelve in your textbooks, you'll see a box that . . ."

Hopping to the floor so that she could turn and lean over to grab her own textbook, her wrist was greeted by the back of a wooden ruler. The smack of it against her skin carried around the room, provoking gasps and/or chuckles from their audience and Rachel, wide-eyed, looked down in shock at the pink mark the strike had left behind. The sting faded, leaving the area warm and, well, pink, and she raised big, incredulous eyes to Quinn's as the blonde's mouth fell open in her own shock.

"Ow!" she mouthed and then covered her lips before she could laugh because Quinn looked horrified and clearly wanted to say sorry immediately, but she had to keep a straight face and stay in character and it was hilarious.

"Uh, keep your hands to yourself, Stubbles," she managed to grind out and then turned to the whiteboard behind her.

She nearly fumbled the black marker onto the floor before getting a decent grip on it and writing the various ways to say 'You' in Spanish on the board.

"I was hardly trying to cop a feel, Quinn!" It was pushing it but that nervous edge to Quinn was too delectable to let go. "I would never do that in class."

"How about you never do it ever!" Quinn snapped without turning around.

"Like she hasn't done worse than that already!"

"So, tell the truth, Berry, are you really a dude?"

"If you are, but you have like long hair and boobs and stuff, does that still make Quinn a lesbian?"

"Rachel Berry, are you giving Finn oral sex on a daily basis as revenge on Quinn Fabray for turning you down?"

"You two should just kiss, that'd be awesome."

Rachel couldn't agree more, but there were more pressing matters, like how they were losing control of this lesson. And Quinn, quivering up by the whiteboard, wasn't helping at all.

"The worst I've done is try and kiss her and, no, I am not a boy," she said in a tone that couldn't be argued with. She moved around the desk to Quinn because maybe proximity would unfreeze her and make her be some kind of help. "And, no, Brittany, whether I have a penis or a vagina and breasts has no bearing on whether or not Quinn is gay."

She was close enough to push the board eraser from its place and when it hit the floor by Quinn's foot it roused her into action.

She spun around to face the class. "And I'm not, so can we move on with the lesson."

"You never answered my question, Rachel?" Jacob called out, and what was he even doing here?

Quinn turned back to her. "Actually, I'd like to know that answer too. Is that what you've been doing with my boyfriend in the alcove? Getting back at me?"

"Of course not!" Surely Quinn didn't really believe she'd cheat on her . . . uh, on their friendship. "We were just exchanging class notes."

Quinn advanced on her, "You seriously expect me to believe that's all you were doing in the alcove? You could exchange notes anywhere."

"Honestly, Quinn, I only have eyes for you!"

It was more on the nose than anything she'd said so far and Quinn – now the one with her back to the class – couldn't stop her eye from twitching and a small smirk appearing on her lips. The class was silent once more, patiently waiting for the smack down and even though she was sure it wasn't coming, Rachel still gulped when she felt her back meet the whiteboard.

"I honestly don't know what is worse, Berry – You wanting to get your man hands into my panties or you wanting Finn's hands in your boxers."

She blushed, because, well, if Quinn talking about having her hand in her panties wasn't reason enough the reaction she was having down south to it, in front of a class of their peers no less, certainly was.

This was what being flooded with teenage hormones must feel like and . . . she liked it, but now was not the time.

"From my point of view, Finn's hand in my boxers would be worse."

Quinn's eye twitched again. "You're . . ."

When she didn't seem able to finish that sentence, Rachel stepped in, "Disgusting, I know, you've told me more than once."

Quinn held her eyes until that same stoned voice called out, "Just kiss already!"

She turned casually away from her, "In Berry's dreams maybe. So, are we all clear now on the different forms of 'You'?"

"It's about the only thing we are clear on," a football player said.

"Uh, does that change with tenses too?" a cheerleader asked.

Before either of them could answer, Mr. Schuester came back in, blustering apologies for being so long. "How's it going?" He did a double take. "You're working from your textbooks?"

"Berry took over," Quinn said with a roll of her eyes that was affectionate from Rachel's point of view if not from anyone else's.

"Okay, that's great. So, where are we?"

"Page twelve and I've done my part for today. Now it's your turn." Quinn picked up her bag and made for the door.

"Me too." Rachel quickly gathered her things together.

"If you follow me, Stubbles, I'll burst your nose all over your face!"

Darn! While she wasn't concerned with the threat itself, it probably made it unwise to follow Quinn out. She looked at her feet for a moment and then around the room. Everyone was waiting to see what she would do as the door closed behind Quinn.

Well, the show must go on.

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to teach you today. Bye, Mr. Schuester!"

She bolted into the corridor, but it was already empty. Darn! Now she was all keyed up with nowhere to go. Which, thinking about it, was probably why Quinn had disappeared so fast. Perhaps it was for the best.

All care for what was best went out of the window when she found Quinn staring vacantly into her locker, with a 'why am I here again?' expression that she was more used to seeing on Brittany. She didn't acknowledge Rachel and, thinking that must mean there was someone else around, Rachel didn't acknowledge her either as she opened her own metal door and . . .

Wow, this blank locker stare was catching. What books did she need? Did she need any books? Had she only opened her locker because Quinn was standing at hers and copying her seemed the thing to do? It felt like she was waiting for something, but she didn't know what and the longer Quinn remained still and silent and staring, the higher the anticipation for that something rose.

The tension was eventually broken by an impatient hiss from Quinn. "Would you hurry up and get whatever you need so we can go?"

"Oh." Rachel chuckled and now her head felt clearer she took a more focused look in her locker. No, she really didn't need anything. "I'm ready. I was just using it as an excuse to wait for you."

"Dork," Quinn muttered, but Rachel didn't see her retrieve any books before closing her locker either. "Come on, before anyone sees us."

It was a fast, silent walk to the double doors that led outside, but Rachel loved the little looks Quinn kept shooting her. Not that she could really fathom the meaning behind the tiny smiles or the quick bite of her bottom lip or the slight wiggle of an eyebrow but the simple fact that Quinn couldn't seem to keep her eyes from her was reason enough to be constantly grinning back.

"Awesome, it's raining!"

What was so awesome about that? The forecast had promised it would be dry all day and she hadn't brought her umbrella and now because they'd left early she was going to get wet waiting for her Dad and . . .!

She didn't have time to dwell further because as soon as they hit the bottom of the steps Quinn grabbed her hand, "Quick!" and dashed towards the parking lot "Hurry!" They laughed all the way as fat raindrops stung their faces, although Rachel was laughing mostly at the spontaneity with cheerful confusion. "Quick! Get in the back!"

Wait, what? "Get in the . . .?"

Quinn already had the door open and was pushing her inside before toppling in after her, reaching awkwardly back to seal them in the dry car.

"We're on school grounds, Quinn!"

"It's dark and raining." Blinking wetness from her eyelashes, Quinn pulled her closer by the collar of her coat. "And I don't have time to drive us anywhere."

"But . . . What about . . .?"

"You're right. If someone drives out of the lot while we're in here they might see our silhouettes in their headlights." Quinn bit her lip for a second, deep in thought while she absently smoothed glistening water droplets into Rachel's hair. It would probably lead to it being frizzy later but at least the other girl was coming to her senses. Quinn gave a sure nod, decision finalised. "We have to lay down."

Rachel's eyes bugged, because . . . "Whu-aat?" Quinn was already pushing her back, but she braced herself up on an arm. "Are . . . are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes." And the short answer award goes to . . . Followed by, "Rachel, what have you done with my kiss-mad friend? I'd like to see her, please."

"She's, um . . . she's not currently being kissed, so . . ." And then she was, and if Quinn was giving them away, why not? Rachel felt herself slip back into the mood she'd been in before she'd had it shocked out of her and she giggled against Quinn's lips. "Will we even fit if we lay down?"

"Yes, you're bite-sized," Quinn pulled the bracing arm away, pulling it around her waist and Rachel flopped the rest of the way down onto her back.

She fit along the bench seat perfectly, but as had just been pointed out, she was short. "But you're not."

"I'll make it work."

It took a while, their bodies constantly shifting and fidgeting in the confined space in an effort to get comfortable as they kissed. Quinn smacking the top of her head on the arm-rest didn't slow her down any more than Rachel getting kicked in the shin, twice, slowed her down.

It couldn't last though, and eventually Quinn swore loudly as she fell off of the back seat. Pulling herself back up, she blew an exasperated breath up at the roof of the car and said, "Screw it!"

Rachel was about to protest that she didn't mind being kicked, and kneed and elbowed, it wasn't an excuse to stop kissing! Who knew when Quinn would be in this sort of mood again? She didn't want it to end until the very last second it had to, but she was so busy trying to put that into actual words while breathing hard and bubbling with excitement that she missed any signs that might have told her what was about to happen next.

"Eep!"

Like some kind of pulling out the table-cloth trick Quinn was now under her – knees bent up so that she finally fit comfortably on the back seat – meaning Rachel was very much on top of her, like completely, like no gaps, at all.

"Did you actually just say 'eep'? Are you a Muppet Baby now?"

"Just a second; having trouble forming thoughts!"

Quinn laughed and two hands slipped into her hair, pulling her down almost close enough to kiss, definitely close enough to tease. "Why?"

"Um, will you think less of me if I just say eep again?"

"No. I will if you don't kiss me again. We have thirty minutes tops. Don't waste them trying to think."

"Okay."

It wasn't an eep but it was kind of a squeak. It was partially swallowed by Quinn though so, honestly, who cared? It was different, kissing like this, with literally nothing between them but the clothes they were wearing. For a long time Rachel's mind was just a fog of pleasure and she was happy to be blinded by it, the only words floating in the mist were 'Mmm, soft lips' and 'tasty lipgloss' and 'sooo goood' and 'Quinn's thighs, right there, mmmmm!' and then Quinn pushed up a little so that they could both take in some sorely needed breaths and real thoughts came back.

"What brought this on?" she panted, rubbing a hand over her forehead to push back the thick strands of hair matted there by rain and perspiration. It was getting really warm in the car. "Not that I have complaints; I'm just curious."

"That . . . that in the classroom, that didn't, um, you know, get to you?" Quinn asked awkwardly.

"Oh! Of course it did. I just assumed it was just me. I mean, performing is always a massive turn on for me and . . . and we were amazing in there, Quinn! The way we just played off each other, like zing, zing. We were so in the zone. And none of it was even scripted! That takes real chemistry, Quinn, did you know that?"

"I was talking about the idea of having your hand in my pants, but whatever, the rest of it was fun too," Quinn laughed and pulled her in for another kiss.

Rachel enjoyed the way their lips pressed together until a random connection in her brain made her jerk back. "My hand in your pants?"

Was there a specific word for a sound that was a squeak in your head but a husky purr out loud?

"Don't tell me you forgot that part." Judging by Quinn's tone Rachel wondered if her head was registering it as a squeak too. "It's going to stay with me for weeks."

Quinn pulled her into another kiss. This one slower than before and, Oh Barbra, it was doing things. Good things. And when Quinn pushed for oxygen this time Rachel felt no need for it and trailed her lips slowly over a sweaty cheek as she pushed Quinn's hair aside.

Sensing her intention, Quinn's hands slid up from the small of her back to her shoulders and applied just enough pressure to keep her at bay. "No, Rachel, just kissing."

"But?"

"I know." Quinn licked her lips. "I really know, but friends don't have, you know, ear sex."

"They don't have foot sex either," she lightly pointed out.

Quinn looked away and laughed softly and Rachel could see her blush even in the scant halogen lighting that filtered through the streaky-wet windows. "We weren't friends then."

"True." Rachel nuzzled her cheek and felt Quinn's hands flex on her shoulders. "Do friends even kiss, though?"

Quinn was quiet for long enough that Rachel thought she was closing down and about to push her off, but then she softly said, "San and Britt do."

"No," she said somewhat firmly – she couldn't be completely firm with the way her body was still buzzing. "I don't want us to stop kissing, now or ever, but you can't cite Santana and Brittany as a model of 'what friends don't do' one day and then use them as an example of 'what friends do do' a few days later."

"Okay, you're right." Rachel knew she was, but it was still a surprise to hear it. "Which means we should probably not ever kiss again."

"Noooo!" Rachel whined and another great thing about being on top, she was in a much better position to shut Quinn up with her mouth.

Quinn didn't object but her laughter was kind of throwing off Rachel's rhythm. "What?"

"We'll make our own rules for friendship, just like we did for dating. Kissing is okay, but no ear sex and no foot sex, agreed?"

"Fine."

There was still laughter, but Rachel conquered it this time, kissing all over Quinn's lips until she was helpless to do anything but follow her tempo. Yeah, being on top was awesome. One of Quinn's hands tangled in her hair, stroking the back of her head, and her other hand trailed back down, rubbing the small of her back in time with their kiss and, as Rachel noticed a little late, in time with the way she was pressing down against Quinn.

Had Quinn not noticed the way she was practically rubbing against her thighs? If she had, she wasn't saying anything about it, and it felt too good between her legs for Rachel to be the one to call attention to what she was doing.

Although she probably really should . . .

She nearly lost her mind the first time she felt Quinn copy, pushing up to meet her, and after it had happened a couple of times she had absolutely no chance of keeping it together enough to concentrate on kissing. She breathed in Quinn for a few more seconds (enough time for them to rock together twice more) before moving her mouth to Quinn's cheek.

She kissed it, because kissing was okay, and then murmured, "What about my-hand-in-your-pants? Where do you stand on that?"

"Oh, God." Quinn tilted her head back, hips rocking up once more before she seemed to make a conscious, and possibly painful, effort to still them. "Don't. Rachel, don't."

If Quinn hadn't sounded so utterly desperate (and not in the same way Rachel was feeling) she would have pushed it, but, even though she'd never seen Quinn quite like this, she could read her pretty well now.

"Okay, forget I said that."

"No, I just . . ." Quinn was still breathing funny and tilting her head back to avoid her eyes. Her neck, stretched back like that, was delectable and it was all Rachel could do not to kiss, or possibly suck, her way down it. "Yeah, we probably should."

Rachel nodded, because she did get it. It wasn't as if she wanted her first time to be in the back of Quinn's VW Bug, but she couldn't deny that her thoughts were kind of already heading along that route.

"Okay, if that's what you need." And then her lips fell to Quinn's throat, because impulse control? Not really in the Rachel Berry arsenal. She had time to kiss and nuzzle halfway down before Quinn spoiled her fun.

"Rachel!"

"I'll stay above the collar bone!" she promised in a whisper that had Quinn sort of chuckling.

"No. Stop. Lips only."

"I am just using my lips."

Another strained chuckle and a tug that was almost painful from the hand that had stayed in her hair. "My lips, moron!"

"Oh, right." Grinning, Rachel pecked her.

Quinn pouted, "Is that all I get?"

She considered the question, still grinning, "I'm concerned about the, um, occurrence of more dry-humping if . . ."

"Shut up," Quinn mumbled, pulling her back into a fervent kiss.

Did that mean they could . . . that, uh, dry-humping was okay? Because that was what they had been doing, right? And it had felt really good. Although . . . she thought about the way her legs were spread over Quinn's and how she was maybe getting more out of this and maybe if . . .

"What are you doing?" Quinn mumbled as Rachel shifted about on top of her.

"I have to take care of my pelvis, Quinn. I can't strain it before sectionals!"

"What the hell are you talking . . .?" As Rachel's thigh settled between her own, she trailed off into a noise that had Rachel smirking. "Oh, foul play."