Author's note - primarily an experiment in accurate character voice, smut, and not taking myself too seriously. Feedback welcome!

The first time it happens, it is entirely accidental.

Having sexual urges is completely normal for a young woman of her age, and meeting these needs with self gratification is a healthy, and perfectly reasonable response.

Besides the last few days have left her a little... on edge, what with one thing and another. Having one's future career in jeopardy, as well as fielding an entirely unsolicited marriage proposal would be enough to put a strain on anyone, and Rachel Berry knows she is not anyone. Her emotional experiences are way off the scale compared to everyone else.

On another day, she might sing, but that'll just wind up with her thinking about how NYADA have seemingly decided that she isn't good enough, and the aim is to take her mind off such ridiculous notions.

Plus, it is almost two in the morning. She does have some sense of time and place.

Right then. Door is locked. Room is warm, but not too warm. Sleep shorts are loose enough for access.

Right.

Masturbation. Go.

She's always been a bit perplexed about how she is supposed to get going, as it were. Because, right now, lying in bed panicking about her future and whether or not Finn is the one, or just the one right now, doesn't leave her feeling very sexy.

Huffing slightly at her body's failure to lubricate instantaneously, Rachel casts around for suitable erotic material.

Finn. Okay, Finn. What does she like about Finn? He's, well, he's tall, and sweet, generally, and wants her to be his wife. Umm, his kissing technique could do with a touch of refining, but the enthusiasm is admirable. He can pick her up really easily, she likes that. Good tone to his singing voice. Burgeoning leadership skills. They've had sex, which was... well, mainly nerve-wracking and uncomfortable, so maybe not the best fantasy fodder, but he was really caring afterward, and told her she was beautiful, which was an appropriate thing to do at that moment, and left Rachel feeling grateful that she had chosen to not give him the 'Post Sex Sweet Nothings' prompt sheet she had designed, but had instead trusted in his ability to ad-lib.

Brief exploration shows Rachel that this mental avenue does not appear to be setting her body aflame with desire. Feeling slightly guilty, she settles on another option.

Jesse. Fantastic hair, of course, very good for running her fingers through when she had been kissing him. Their voices sounded excellent together, and Rachel appreciated the competition rather than resenting it. Their rendition of Rolling in the Deep in the auditorium that day had been exhilarating and emotionally charged, and Jesse had adapted to the role well, throwing her lust filled, infuriated looks, while she had responded with mistrust and anger, but it had left her breathless nevertheless. At one point Rachel had wondered whether Jesse was going to pin her up against the piano and kiss her senseless, which is in her top five of romantic fantasies, and thus far more appropriate for tonight's intended activities.

Fingers dip slightly lower to check, and... there! Not much, but a start. Okay, more Jesse.

Umm, well, his leading man skills are not in question, and it had been exceptionally gratifying, once the mortification had faded, when Jesse and Finn had fought over her at Prom. Though, that thought leads her back to preparing for the Prom, and that makes her think of kissing Jesse in her room, and how he would always try and subtly more them so they were kissing in front of her full length mirror, and how every now and then she would catch him watching the reflection. And then, of course, there was the whole situation with the eggs, which she has forgiven him for, of course, she completely understands the notion of getting carried away in the run up to a completion, but the humiliation is still sharp, when she thinks about it. Which she isn't supposed to be because she is trying to get herself off and this isn't helping.

Like trying to hang on to a memory of a dream, whatever it was that she had been feeling flickers and dies, until she is left fumbling at nothingness beneath her shorts.

Well. This is all deeply unsatisfactory.

Rachel considers calling the entire idea off, but that would imply failure, and she's feeling a bit too much like one of those generally to concede defeat. No, through grit, determination, tenacity and dexterous fingers, she will bring herself to orgasm if it takes all night.

Firmly reminding herself that it isn't cheating if it happens in her head, she imagines kissing Puck.

She'd liked kissing Puck. Granted, his lips were chapped, and on both the intellectual and talent front he couldn't hold a candle up to her, but based solely on kissing ability he was her best experience. He'd kissed her like he'd expected to get further, rather than behaving as if he was just expecting to be stopped with each passing second. She'd felt desirable.

He'd been surprisingly good at dealing with breasts as well, and with this thought Rachel changes tack, bringing a hand up to cup herself through her vest top. His hands had been purposeful, direct, and confident. Finn always seemed vaguely astonished he got to touch her there, even after all this time.

Shifting slightly, Rachel tries to rein herself back from making direct comparisons, because that didn't seem fair, but at least things were making gradual progress. Puckerman. How annoying.

He'd wanted her, in those brief moments they were together. She'd felt sexy. Equally, when Rachel considers Puck's other romantic dalliances, she was keeping some very good company, aesthetically speaking. Granted, Lauren must been in possession of different forms of attractive qualities, but Santana was gorgeous. And Quinn...

Rachel has seen Puck kissing Santana, back in the days when celibacy club and appearing heterosexual had been important to Santana. But she'd never seen Puck kissing Quinn.

They'd be an attractive couple. Aesthetically, of course. Rachel had no doubts that romantically they'd be horrible, and Quinn would probably have her sights set far higher these days, what with Yale, and all that, but still. They'd be gorgeous together.

Would Puck kiss Quinn like he had kissed her? Would he have touched her in the same way he had touched Rachel? And how would Quinn have kissed back? Rachel imagines Quinn would be insistent and demanding and passionate and really a rather excellent kisser, and plus imagine the feeling of knowing that Quinn Fabray approves of her, enough to kiss her, and maybe push her up against a wall and bite on her bottom lip.

Oh... goodness.

Rachel flings her hands as far away from her body as possible, and lies very still.

Right. Okay. That was... an unexpected response. She's just tired, she supposes, and Quinn has been on her mind alot lately, what with Quinn telling her not to sleep with Finn and telling her not to marry Finn. So, yes. Bit odd, but nothing to be unduely concerned about. Just a bit of a blurring of the imaginative narrative.

Unsettled, Rachel gets up, and pads over to the door. Still closed. She checks her phone. Two thirty.

Dammit, now she is all worked up and restless. When Rachel gets back into bed the sheets move against her in a peculiar way, and this is all very unnerving, whatever her body is deciding to do.

Things had been going well with Puck, she decides. Back to Puck. (She ignores that Puck now feels like the safe option.)

Okay, so. Mustering every ounce of focus, Rachel applies herself to the task of finding Puck attractive. He was musical – good. He was loyal to Glee club – good. He was talented at playing guitar – good. His hands had applied a suitable amount of pressure at the correct moments – good. He must have kissed Quinn on her neck and gripped at her hips, and Quinn must have rocked into him and maybe moaned and arched her back – good. What – no! Bad. Very... focus, Berry! Puck. With his eyes, and hands, and breathing in her ear, and smooth skin that feels really good when Rachel touches it, and Quinn strokes a hand along her sternum, which is just...

What the hell is happening?

Because, unless she is very much mistaken, her inner voice keeps switching to some Sapphic fantasy involving Quinn. Which was certainly not what Rachel had intended when she started this venture.

Rachel makes to remove her hand from her shorts again, but just ends up trailing it over her lower stomach, and then has to squash down a moan as goosebumps erupt on her skin.

After taking a few deep breaths, Rachel opens her eyes to stare at the ceiling and decides that this is entirely, unequivocally, Finn's fault. If Finn hadn't asked her to marry him, then Rachel wouldn't have gone to speak to Quinn, and Quinn wouldn't have told her not to dream of throwing her future away like that, and Rachel wouldn't have this alternative reality playing out in her head in which Quinn had sang to her in Glee club after her Yale acceptance, and then waited until everyone had left before pressing Rachel up against the piano and kissing her senseless. And Rachel would moan in response and it would only encourage Quinn to shift position, so that she was pressed right there, and Rachel would be one eighth scandalized but primarily just aroused at how forward and desperate the entire thing was, and oh god, what if Quinn had felt like this for a long time, and had told her not to have sex with Finn because Quinn had wanted her, and what if Quinn thought about her all the time, and when Rachel had hugged her in the bathroom if she had held on for a fraction of a second longer Quinn's self restraint would have snapped and they'd have been fucking, five minutes later.

Oh christ, she is so wet.

It isn't cheating if it is in her head.

But... it is probably a bit wrong to feel this good this fast whilst thinking of somebody other than her potential fiancé.

Particularly whilst thinking about the woman her potential fiancé used to date, and the friend that Rachel appears to go to for honest, well thought through advice these days.

Rachel has to fight down a bubble of laughter this time, when she imagines the conversation she could potentially have with Quinn after the discovery of this new dilemma.

Quinn, I appear to get spectacularly aroused when I think of you kissing me, any thoughts on this quandary?

Quinn would be mortified.

Or...

Quinn might look at her as if to say, duh, have you seen me? Of course you get aroused. And then Rachel would probably laughed, delighted at having discovered Quinn's ability to joke. And Quinn might smirk at her a bit, and two days later she'd get a text from Quinn inviting her to Breadstix.

Or...

Rachel bites her lip, because she's warm and turned on and really alive with this new concept of Quinn wanting her, and slips her hand into her shorts again, tracing fingers over moisture.

Or... Rachel might have held on a fraction too long in the bathroom, and Quinn's grip on her back might have just tightened, and they'd have just held there, until Rachel felt Quinn's head tilt and her heart almost stopped when she realised Quinn was inhaling her shampoo.

And Quinn's arms would have been strong, and showed no sign of letting up, so, despite the constant risk of getting caught, Rachel would have inched her face closer and closer to Quinn's, until they were almost tucked up in each other, sharing the same space.

Quinn would have kissed her, a gentle press of lips.

It would have been astonishing.

God... and it would have kept going. Not for very long in the bathroom, because McKinley toilets were fairly disgusting and Rachel is always vaguely paranoid about hidden CCTV cameras, but instead Quinn would have grabbed her arm and tugged her away from the sink, and they'd have been running down the hallway, and lots of people would have seen them but Quinn would have ignored them all and when they get to Quinn's car Rachel would have been unbalanced and dizzy from the sprint and Quinn would have kissed her until she thought she was going to pass out.

And then, maybe the backseat...no, no, not much room for manoeuvre in the backseat of a car. Instead, after a lightening quick drive home in which Rachel considers calling Finn and announcing the entire thing is off because Quinn Fabray likes inhaling her shampoo, they're in Rachel's bedroom.

Rachel briefly toys with imagining a piano into her room so that Quinn can press her up against it and kisses her senseless, but this is going too quickly now and her fingers are covered in moisture and her hips appear to have taken on a life of their own, so she flicks forward a couple of scenes.

Oh god, Quinn is on top of her. And, ugh, they're naked except for panties, and Quinn's bracing both her arms on either side of Rachel's shoulders, and just rolling her hips against Rachel's thigh. And then, to hell with logistics, Quinn is managing to defy gravity and continue that motion whilst dipping her head down and taking one of Rachel's nipples into her mouth, as one hand cups the other breast and another presses against the wet cotton, before agile fingers shift it to one side.

Quinn probably swears softly at that point, and looks into her eyes. Rachel finds herself whimpering at the idea, and presses two fingers lower.

And god, god, Quinn's fingers would probably feel a great deal like Rachel's do right now, and so when Rachel pushes two fingers inside, she thinks of Quinn sliding into her, before managing to roll one nipple between her tongue and lips whilst simultaneously murmuring into Rachel's ear how sexy she is, and how Quinn has thought about doing this forever.

Fuck. Fuckkkkk. Quinn would start moving again, and she'd be everywhere, kissing every part of Rachel whilst stroking and caressing and god knows how many extra arms Rachel is equipping Quinn with at this stage, but somehow Quinn's fingers are in her hair, and ghosting over her breasts, and holding her hand and tugging Rachel's hips up to meet with the thrusts of her thigh and impossibly managing to thumb over Rachel clit, oh god and now it is her tongue and fuckfuckgodyes.

Yes.

Oh, god, yes.

...

(Rachel kind of knows that she's in a whole heap of trouble when she imagines Quinn holding her afterward, telling her how beautiful she is, and how having Rachel like this will always be the best moment of her life, until the next time.)

After a while, Rachel smoothes a hand over her thigh, blushing slightly at the accumulated residue she leaves behind.

That was... unexpected. And. Well.

Nonsense. The entire thing is utterly ludicrous. As if, as if any of that could ever, as if she would actually want any of that.

She must be hormonal. And experiencing unusual sexual urges were totally par for the course. Perfectly healthy. Perfectly normal.

She'll marry Finn. That'll be as good a distraction as any.

She doesn't sleep.

The second time it happens, it isn't an accident.