Soooo um this is my first try at Faberry porn. Why do I even own a computer. What am I doing with my life. Oh my God. Set post season one and, obviously, completely disregards canon pairings. Title is from 'Starry Eyed' by Ellie Goulding.

Quinn pinches her own nipples through the cotton of her shirt. Breath shallow, she stands and walks across the room, sliding her shirt off.

She is not wearing a bra – Rachel is awarded a full view of her torso, her chest, her breasts. Pale and stretch mark riddled as they are, she still finds them beautiful - Quinn despises them.

Rachel supposes this is part of the reason they're together. Well, not 'hold hands and write cheesy love notes' together, but they're fuck buddies, and sex with the right person, Rachel thinks, will eventually boost your self-esteem. She'll laugh if she ever finds a medical publication concerning emotional health and sexual experiences – specifically, how the two are woven together – because she has a feeling that 'orgasm withdrawal syndrome' isn't in the diagnostic and statistical manual.

At any rate, Quinn shares her feelings on the subject and as such, is willing to have sex whenever the mood strikes them. Tonight will be their third encounter. So far, there are no changes in the way Quinn sees herself, but Rachel remains optimistic that they will occur.

Maybe the mindset she holds is the result of having two gay dads.

But she doesn't think about this, doesn't think about much of anything, as she falls to her knees before Quinn like she is a goddess to be worshipped – and in Rachel's eyes, the metaphor is more or less true.

Quinn is blonde and beautiful even with a hint of remaining baby weight and those damned stretch marks, as she puts it sometimes only to be shushed by Rachel – evidently she is corrupting her child fresh out of the womb if she so much as hints at swearing. Quinn doesn't necessarily believe that this is true, but she'll cater to Rachel's whims simply because a lot of the time, she's really fucking horny and will always be afraid of scaring Rachel away with any inadvertent anger from either of them, thus losing the sex.

If it were a romantic relationship, they'd be more worried about priorities and morals. But it's not, there is a very slim chance of their little tete-a-tete evolving into such a thing, and on top of that they're steadily running on very few fucks left to give. They reserve caring for more important events.

Such as now, with Quinn's skirt rucked up around her waist, the Cheerios perfection suddenly marred by teenage libido and the lightest touch of hands to flesh. Rachel hooks her index finger around the bottom of Quinn's underwear, lightly tapping the skin she finds there in a way that really shouldn't be sensual but so, so is.

It's funny to Quinn – Rachel is such a clinically-minded, perfectionistic person, and Quinn has started to realize that's just an act; the real Rachel Berry is someone even Rachel herself barely knows. She is confident. Brazen. Sexy.

At least until they're in public – then the curtain of neurosis falls once more and Quinn has to grip Rachel good-naturedly by the elbow and tell her, in the nicest way possible, to chill out because she's already made three kids cry with the tone of voice she's using.

Unintentionally, of course, but still.

Rachel's hand snakes up Quinn's leg, bringing forth a moan from the taller girl.

"Fuck," she hisses through gritted teeth, feeling the backs of her legs burn as she starts to shake against the desk. "Fuck, fuck, Rachel…" Quinn's words trail off, fading into near-silent whispered pleas. She recognizes just how ridiculous it is to be on the verge of an orgasm when Rachel hasn't even fingered her yet.

But, tough shit. She's a teenager, she's horny and she's definitely not going to be working the 'sweet, innocent Christian' angle anymore. There's more to life, she has learned, than simply living in the shadow of what everyone else expects you to be.

"Please," Quinn is almost whining, practically begging Rachel to ravage her.

"Please." Rachel, smirking as Quinn writhes in the grip of intense lust, pulls Quinn's underwear to her ankles in one swift movement. The meticulously ironed Cheerios skirt follows the panties south, leaving Quinn's pussy bare. As the wood bites into the skin above her hips and cool air races over her clit, Quinn jerks her body forward, trying to lurch towards Rachel's fingers.

The point of contact, when it is finally found and slammed into with quick thrusts of Rachel's hand and the erratic motion of Quinn's hips, is enough to lead Quinn into an orgasm. She rides it out as Rachel's tongue slides experimentally inside of her, just once.

Still shaking, she clutches the desk behind her as though it will save her from drowning in the waters of lust, bending her arms at an odd angle that makes them burn as, somehow, she cums again, the long wave of pleasure only slightly less concentrated this time.

Rachel laps at the liquid she finds between Quinn's legs, drinking the sweet nectar of corruption.

Their actions contain such a wild desperation, it's almost plausible to say that they are saving the two young women somehow.

When it's all over and they both lie spent, naked and curled around each other, Quinn and Rachel can both say with certainty that they will not be afraid to face any events in their future – they have come to the realization that nothing quite tops the fear they felt upon really seeing each other for the first time.

At some indefinable point, all of the half-truths and snide comments were peeled aside, leaving only the most primal parts of themselves behind for the other to see.

In the center of this tangling of souls rested a single beating heart – their secret admiration for each other had grown into mutual acceptance of the spark, the attraction, that had always pulsated between them.