What Happens In New York...Doesn't Stay In New York
Title: What Happens In New York...Doesn't Stay In New York
Author: fascination_64
Pairings: Santana/Rachel, Quinn/Brittany
Summary: Sequel to When In New York.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: It's 2am, all mistakes are my own.
It had been a trying journey home. The New Directions didn’t even place and the entire blame was being dumped on Rachel’s shoulders. She hadn’t even written the dumb song that caused all this!
To top the unapproving glares from her teammates and increasingly frightening Spanish expletives from Santana, Rachel had an extremely pissed off Quinn to deal with.
It had taken all her feminine wiles to convince her not to let Santana loose on her. Although Rachel had a sneaky feeling violence wouldn’t be the kind of ravaging she’d receive.
However, after explaining that as an aspiring young actress she’d simply improvised for the show of it, and furthermore using her tongue to show Quinn how much she loved her most, Quinn had reluctantly sat next to Rachel on the plane, rendering her untouchable.
Once back in confines of William Mckinley tempers neutralised considerably. The Gleeks seemed to have come to a peaceful acceptance. Except Santana. Whilst hidden in a bathroom cubicle Rachel had overheard Brittany begging Santana to stop being mad, but she stubbornly refused and Rachel vowed to stay away from the intimidating girl.
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It so happened that just a few days later that what she was avoiding became unavoidable.
Realising she’d left some sheet music in the choir room, Rachel left Quinn waiting at her locker whilst she scurried to retrieve it. Bursting through the doorway and clattering her way towards the piano, she was far too absorbed in her mission to notice the present and equally determined missionaries. That is, until she flies headfirst, smack bang into one of their chests.
“Watch it short stuff” growled the voice of the one person she’d determined to avoid.
“Aww San, don’t be mean, she’s flustered!” reasoned a sweet voice from behind, “besides, you promised we could help her feel better. No closets allowed!”
Santana struck up a devilish smirk as she ordered Brittany to lock the door and pushed Rachel with her back to the piano.
“S-Santana,” Rachel immediately internally scolded herself for the stutter, “while I understand you are reasonably upset and take it upon yourself to blame me, this is unreasonable behaviour considering our whereabouts and situation and I request you let me leave unscathed or at the very least avoid my nose.” Rachel scrunched her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose awaiting her sure fate.
However, five minutes later no surprises hit her and upon hearing Brittany remarking she looked like a frightened baby bunny rabbit, she tentatively peeled one eye open to take a peep. She’s met with Santana gawping at her unnervingly and Brittany close behind, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Opening her eyes fully and puffing her chest up she starts to demand that they unhand her, only to be cut off by a set of shockingly pleasing lips against her own. She feels her stiffened body completely surrender to the the ministrations and every tense muscle turns to jelly as the other girl swipes her tongue along her bottom lip before pulling back and snidely remarking, “Well, if you really want to give up getting up on this, I guess we could unhand you as you wish.”
Rachel briefly mumbled incoherently, before giving in and simply pulling the girl back towards her, settling for a gentle, but still sensual brush of the lips, explicitly portraying her answer.
Brittany practically leaped in the air before easily leaning forward and getting a taste of Rachel’s lips for herself.
“We know you spied on us in New York, and we thought you might need some air from the closet, and some of the fun too, but we can totally stay in the choir room if you like, it’s bigger than closets!” Brittany rushed out. “Plus you seem sad, and Santana got mad at you, but whenever San gets mad at me she makes it up, and it feels a lot better, so I told her to do that to you too, so you can smile again.” She beamed at Rachel, before kissing her girlfriend and discreetly backing towards the door.
Rachel, who’d turned an embarrassing shade of pink, turned to Santana to instigate a form of planning, but barely got a sound out as she was basically jumped. Her back was pressed harshly against the piano and her shirt over her head before her senses even acknowledged the assault. Santana was sucking her neck almost sweetly, and palming her breasts with such rehearsed talent and her knee was pressed so perfectly between her thighs that she forgot her embarrassment and guilt and fright and just moaned. She moaned. Such a guttural sound she barely believed it had come from herself.
Santana chuckled, tearing herself away from the appetising job of necking the girl. Then, surprising the smaller girl with a show of compassion, she gently bumped their noses, before looking her straight in the eye, and asking if this was okay, in barely more than a whisper. Rachel nodded, because this felt amazing and Santana was acting almost trustworthy and gentlemanly. But then her eyes darkened and she fervently kissed her before grabbing her thighs and heaving Rachel up to sit on the edge of the piano, procuring a squeal. She spread the lush tan legs in front of her and planted a trail of burning kisses upwards from those knee-high socks, to within inches of the cotton barrier ahead. Rachel pushed her hips and and keened, desperate for the barrier to be torn away, desperate for the job to be finished, hell for it to be started! Santana wasn’t one to tease, and she had some making up to do, so within seconds the panties were gone and forgotten and Santana was burying her nose into the dainty little curls and burying her tongue in the small girls sweet spot. Rachel cried out, grasping for something to hold on to, settling for one hand on the edge of the piano and one on the Cheerios style ponytail between her legs, and babbled words that were meant to assure Santana she’d forgive her anything as long as she just didn’t stop doing THAT.
Which Santana swore she’d never ever do, for anything, because the way Rachel’s back was arching, her fingernails digging into her scalp, her toes curling, her voice begging, was so damn hot, and if she’d known it’d be this good she would have thrown the girl over the piano a long time ago! She switched from her tongue to her fingers to cast a glance around to find her girlfriend. As expected she was sitting back on one the chairs, fingers fervently pumping away, as unexpected they weren’t pleasuring herself. They were pleasuring a different blonde. A Quinn Fabray. Brittany flashed her a grin, before using her free hand to send a thumbs up her way. But then Quinn was pulling her back in to a heated kiss and Santana groaned and plunged back to her previous job with renewed rigour.
Keeping a steady rhythm with both her fingers and tongue it was not long until she saw Rachel’s abs tauten and felt her tighten around her. She pummeled her fingers so fast and so deep she was sure her wrist would ache for days, and focused on flicking her tongue repeated and firmly over the girls clit, until she felt Rachel’s hands grab onto her ponytail for dear life as she came undone so completely.
Santana kept a slow movement up with her fingers as Rachel’s aftershocks died down, and alternated sweet kisses between her abs and chest as her breathing calmed down. Within minutes Rachel was almost composed and she slid off the piano, leaning heavily on Santana for support, when she spotted Brittany and her girlfriend still watching. She opened her mouth to apologise, but Quinn beat her to the post, blurting out, “Sweet heavens that was hot!” and made her way over to kiss her girlfriend.
Brittany actually clapped.
Quinn in turn kissed Santana, and moaned when she tasted Rachel’s juices on her lips, before fixing Rachel with a steely gaze, causing her to cower slightly. Brittany and Santana immediately thought the worse was coming, and were ready to snatch Rachel and themselves out to safety, but all that came was a sly
“Don’t good little bitches say thank you for treats? Now, why don’t you find your manners and offer to repay Santana for her troubles, Rachel.”
Rachel violently nodded her head and obeyed, but not before she pulled Quinn in for a rough and deep kiss.
Kneeling down before Santana, Brittany settling behind her, and Quinn settling next to Santana, she thought that maybe losing wasn’t that bad a thing after all, and maybe it was going to be a long evening. Not that she had any complaints. Not at all.