You Can't Decline [santina]
Title: You Can't Decline
Rating: PG-13.
Fandom/Pairing: Glee. Tina / Santana.
Spoilers: n/a.
Warnings: Implications of sexual activity; slight language.
Summary: Latinas do it better. Or maybe it's just Santana.
Words: 148.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or Queen's "Killer Queen." i have no explanation for the sudden influx of queen as my titles
a/n: For the "Sleeping Beauty" prompt of my fairytale claim at femslash100.
In a way, it’s like waking up after years of slumber. It’s like seeing everything that Tina thought she knew, and realizing that it’s so remarkably different from what she had been assuming.
She blinks hastily, not wanting to miss anything - not a flicker of shittily-wired lighting; not the questionable scurrying of a frighteningly-shadowed creature; certainly not the slight tug of a smirk against the corner Santana’s lips - and takes a long, slow breath.
“Oh,” Tina says simply, because she can’t think of anything better to say.
Santana laughs quietly, and rolls onto her side to face Tina. The creamy pink of her sheets is a startling contrast to the caramel of her skin, and Tina licks her lips unconsciously.
“I told you Latinas do it better.”
Tina’s not entirely sure that it’s a matter of racial background, but she doesn’t think that it’s worth arguing over it.
Rating: PG-13.
Fandom/Pairing: Glee. Tina / Santana.
Spoilers: n/a.
Warnings: Implications of sexual activity; slight language.
Summary: Latinas do it better. Or maybe it's just Santana.
Words: 148.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or Queen's "Killer Queen." i have no explanation for the sudden influx of queen as my titles
a/n: For the "Sleeping Beauty" prompt of my fairytale claim at femslash100.
In a way, it’s like waking up after years of slumber. It’s like seeing everything that Tina thought she knew, and realizing that it’s so remarkably different from what she had been assuming.
She blinks hastily, not wanting to miss anything - not a flicker of shittily-wired lighting; not the questionable scurrying of a frighteningly-shadowed creature; certainly not the slight tug of a smirk against the corner Santana’s lips - and takes a long, slow breath.
“Oh,” Tina says simply, because she can’t think of anything better to say.
Santana laughs quietly, and rolls onto her side to face Tina. The creamy pink of her sheets is a startling contrast to the caramel of her skin, and Tina licks her lips unconsciously.
“I told you Latinas do it better.”
Tina’s not entirely sure that it’s a matter of racial background, but she doesn’t think that it’s worth arguing over it.