This isn't a love story. I don't do love stories. Whatever happened to me? It's kind of the opposite.

I've known Quinn Fabray since my Sophomore year of college. That's where the story really started. She was a transfer, she'd decided that school in Chicago wasn't really working for her, and our Cheerleading team was more than eager to take someone who'd managed to last their entire High School career under the famed Sue Sylvester. The team was buzzing at practice before she came. I'd seen her before - when Nationals had aired. I'd barely missed going, and I wanted to catalogue every mistake I could see people make, note every team we could have beaten if we'd pushed that little bit extra and managed a flawless program.

I think it made it a little easier to hate her the moment she walked into practice, ponytail perfect, not the least bit friendly looking. I could swear I could see that first place gleam still in her eyes.

She was hot, though, Anyone could admit it. So it wasn't really a surprise to me when I ended up practically throwing myself at her at the first team party. It was at my house, I roomed with two other girls on the team, and that afternoon I'd called Brit. Which is usually fine, but she kept talking about how much she loved Columbus, and Ohio State, and her new boyfriend Artie and I was feeling a little needy.

I was needy and Quinn wasn't as unfriendly and angry as she appeared because she kept taking nervous little sips of her drink, and her free hand was hovering awkwardly at hip level. She was barely talking to anyone. It was a match made in heaven.

"Quinn Fabray," my voice was too loud even to myself, and I saw her flinch before I slung my arm heavily around her shoulder. "Aren't you just what our team needed."

"Honestly, I just wanted to live somewhere warm again," she replied dryly, and several of the other girl's laughed. But she didn't pull out from under my arm - she just kept taking those little nervous sips.

"Chicago's loss is our gain."

She looked at me, our faces far too close for how early in the night it was, and her eyes flickered to my lips. I smiled. It was too easy. She kept nervously drinking, despite the fact that her voice was never less than flawlessly confident, and I kept refilling her drink, arm never shifting from it's place over her shoulders. A few of the other girls obviously recognised my technique and I could see them rolling their eyes. I just don't fault things that work.

Because when most people were gone and she started making noises about calling a taxi I said, "Hey, I've got a double bed; if you don't mind sharing you could just stay here," and she, eyes flickering to my mouth again, accepted the offer.

The make or break moment came once I got her into my room. The door shut behind us and my sloppy self was pressing her up against the door and kissing her. For a moment I felt every muscle in her body tense, and I thought she was going to push me away and I was going to be left with my hand, but then her tongue slid across my upper lip, and her hands clenched in the sides of my shirt. She tried to slow down the kiss, her rhythm languid, but I wasn't interested in that. I nipped at her lips, feeling her mouth drop open with a tiny whine. Her hands slid to my hips and suddenly we were stumbling towards the bed in a blur of legs and her teeth tracing over my tongue.

She was wearing this stupid, fifties inspired, stripy dress and I needed it off her as quickly as possible, no matter how clumsy my fingers were as they scrabbled at the zip. Her mouth was tracing an aimless pattern along my jaw, and all I could think was if her tongue felt that good flicking at the skin below my ear I couldn't imagine how good it would feel elsewhere. Her dress finally slid off, and when I pushed her to the bed she looked down to kick her ugly as fuck brogues off and her hair slid in front of her face. For a moment I just watched, almost able to believe Brittany was the one sitting on my bed, but then she looked up, eyes wide, hungry and frightened in a way I'd never seen Brit's, and I surged forward, straddling her lap and pushing her back onto the bed.

Her breasts were smaller than Brittany's and when my tongue curled around her nipple her head fell back and she let out this breathy, wondering sound, fingernails digging into my shoulder. She was being too passive and it rubbed me up the wrong way.

"This isn't just about you, y'know," I said as I sat up, grabbing her hands and moving them to the hooks of my bra. "I mean I know you won't be as good I am at this, but not trying isn't a free pass."

She just stared for a long moment, before her eyes narrowed. Her fingers were clumsy where they unhooked my bra and scrabbled to pull the straps down my arms. Her mouth found my collarbone, and if I were sober I would have stopped her from leaving a mark, but I just let my head fall back as she cupped my breasts, thumbs tracing circles on my skin. When she pulled away her lips were too red and slick for me to resist, but as we kissed her hands stayed firmly above my waist and that was most definitely not enough, so I pushed her onto her back, and started to crawl down. I could feel the heat of her as I trailed my fingers over the crotch of her panties. Her legs drew up a little and she stifled a whine. The jerk her hips gave when I pressed my thumb about where her clit would be made me smile, but I pulled my hand away before she could rock up into it.

"Me first." My voice was hoarse as I took her hand, gently pressing it into the crotch of my shorts. Even through two layers the pressure felt good, and I closed my eyes. She popped the button of my shorts, and gently tugged my underwear down with them. I had to stand to kick them off, but it gave me a moment to enjoy the trace of her eyes over my body. When I knelt over her again she slid her hand between my legs of her own accord, fingers tracing lightly over the lips of my pussy. It wasn't enough, and I told her so. She bit her lip before sliding them further back, tentatively sliding over my entrance. I must have made a noise because her lips quirked with a little more confidence before she pushed just a little, two fingers sliding into me. She hardly moved her hand but I rocked my hips onto her fingers, tiny moans escaping my mouth with each breath. Her thumb brushed over my clit, it seemed by accident, but I automatically pressed down harder. She shifted, sitting up a little as she pressed her thumb more purposefully against me. I was whimpering in time with the way my hips were moving.

I said Brittany's name when I came.

Quinn's eyes narrowed as she pulled her hand away, pushing herself further upwards. "Who the fuck is Brit?" The profanity made me smile, and I was feeling good-natured from my orgasm, so I just pressed a hand on the centre of her chest, pressing her back down flat.

"Sweetie, let's not either of us pretend we're actually here for each other." I kissed her again, slower now that I was feeling warm and lazy, and the only thing she did close to protest was dig her nails into my upper arms. Then she was the one trying to speed up the kiss, hips pressing up against mine. I wanted to set the pace though, crawling down her body at my own speed regardless of her hands tugging at my hair, or the insistent little noises spilling out of her mouth. She arched when I slid her panties down, the skin of her stomach stretching under my lips. I couldn't help smiling. She spread her legs easily for me. When I looked up she was staring down at me, mouth hanging slightly open. The noise she made when I slid my tongue up her folds for the first time was this kind of half vocalised warbling gasp, and I had to seal my mouth over her quickly to stop myself laughing. I'd aimed on taking a moment to savour the taste of her, salty and slick on my tongue, but she responded so quickly I didn't get the chance. She kept gasping, little hitching breaths in time with her hips rocking against me. I had to press my hands into the tops of her thighs harder, trying to keep her still. I was fighting a losing battle. I circled my tongue around her clit and her hands flew to my hair, finger nails scraping against my scalp. I sucked lightly and was rewarded with a moan, quiet as it was.

She wasn't loud and I wanted her to be. I wanted her to fall apart like Brit always did under my tongue, arching high off the bed and crying out so loud both of my roommates would hear. But Quinn's moans were mostly breath, even as I used every trick I had, thrusting my tongue into her before running it up to press into her clit, moving back and forth just barely. I dug my fingers into her thighs, holding them further apart and sucked at her until her chest was heaving and her breath was sobbing out of her. When she came it was with a particularly violent jerk of her hips and a quiet "Oh my god." I was disappointed.

I licked the taste of her off my lips, crawling back up to the top of the bed, and flopping down with my head on the pillow. Her fingers traced a light path up my forearm.

"If you think I'm going to cuddle you we need to have some words about exactly what just happened," I said. I was tired. I wanted to sleep.

A few moments later she snorted, and I felt her turn around. Then when I next woke up she was already gone.

For a while that was that.