fic: love fool (3/?)
Title: Love Fool (3/?)
Rating: NC-17
Couple: Quinn/Santana
Summary: So, really last night isn’t a big deal. Quinn was just curious and lonely and drunk. Santana was probably the same. So, she shouldn’t be freaking out.
Prompt: none
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I certainly wish I did. They'd hump like bunnies on viagra.
A/N: These first couple of chapters are going to be short and I apologize. I just end them when they feel done. This story took an unexpected turn this weekend and the chapters will be longer as the story progresses. Thanks for sticking it out with me.
Santana’s lips ghost across her jaw and she hears the way her breathing is labored. She’s just as excited, wants this just much as Quinn does. That thought alone has Quinn even wetter and her legs spread wider when she feels fingers teasing the inside of her left thigh. They find her center and she lets out this choked off moan, her hips jumping.
“You might actually be too wet,” Santana breathes into her ear and her fingers slide up, running over Quinn’s clit. “I’m mean I’m not complaining because God, you’re...” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but Quinn can feel the gentle rumble of her soft chuckle all over her body.
Her arousal is acute, licking up her spine sharply and she feels like she’s drowning in Santana. The girl is everywhere. Their hot, sweat-slicked skin moves together and her free hand is in Quinn’s hair. Her lips swallow the blonde’s moans hungrily and those fingers are pushing inside so deep that her breath catches. And she’s just drowning.
There is banging at her door and it jolts Quinn out of her sleep. Her eyes flutter open and all she can think is she will murder whomever is on the other side of it. She’s spent the better part of her day sleeping off her hangover and truthfully that dream has her wanting to touch herself. Only she can’t because the knocking is becoming persistent.
Standing up, Quinn charges towards the door and stops short when her fingers reach the knob. She hesitates as it occurs to her that it could very well be Santana on the other side. That makes her heart beat faster and she feels frozen. She’s so not ready to do deal this this and she knows she’s just being a coward, but she’s just can’t have it ruined. Not yet.
“Quinn, are you in there?”
Instantly annoyed, Quinn opens the door and tries not to growl at Kitty standing on the other side. She tamps down on the disappointment at not finding Santana and looks at the younger girl expectantly.
“Were you asleep? You look...rough,” Kitty says, strolling inside as if she were invited. Quinn has always admired the girl’s confidence, seen parts of herself in the blonde, but there’s something about Kitty that sets her on edge. It’s probably that Quinn sees all of the nasty qualities she used to relish shining through just beneath that icy, good girl Christian exterior Kitty wears proudly like her Cheerios uniform.
“Um yes, I’m a little hungover,” she says quickly, her irritation growing as Kitty starts to make herself at home. “Was there something you wanted?”
Kitty’s blue eyes study her, making her feel like she’s on exhibit. “Damage control. You, more than anyone, should know that I can’t afford for anyone to know I did the horizontal Tarzan and Jane with a Puckerman, specifically Noah Puckerman. It’s one thing to be with a mulatto because everyone knows his mom is still a Jesus-loving good Baptist woman. But Puck is all Jew and all moron and I can’t have that getting around.”
Quinn rolls her eyes. She really doesn’t have time for this drama that she left behind when she said goodbye to her mother her first day in New Haven. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it in the first place. For someone who claims to have admired my Phoenix-like triumph in high school, you seem pretty eager to be following in my footsteps.”
Something flashes across the other girl’s face and it’s so quick that Quinn almost doesn’t see it. But it’s there, like some sort of visible turning point in their relationship and her skin tingles with awareness. “Please, I hardly call letting him treat me to a few casual dining restaurants of my choosing in exchange for a few moments of pleasure following in your footsteps. I mean at least I’m using protection other than prayer and it’s taking more than a six pack and few sweet nothings to get into this promised land.” Kitty’s grin is smug and It’s taking all of Quinn’s might not to cross the room and slap her in her face.
“Don’t kid yourself, honey. You want to be me so hard you’re even gobbling up my sloppy seconds, but like any great film critic will tell you, the sequel is never as good as the original. I’m Grease and you’re Grease 2. You don’t even compare. And you might think you’re in control, but you’re chasing after him like a puppy practically wetting herself for a prized bone.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears Santana’s patented “wanky” and feels herself smirk. “Everyone already sees it whether you want to believe it or not. And I never chased him. I never needed to because he respected me at the end of the day and you’re just another piece of ass to him. And when he gets tired of you, and make no mistake he will, all you’ll have is what is left of your reputation. So, I think you have some decisions to make and I’m not your babysitter, sweetie. Clean up your own mess.” She pulls the door open and looks at Kitty expectantly.
“Well, it looks like we can add bitch to your resume as a washed up, has-been that will probably peak in high school.” Kitty’s eyes are cold as she heads towards the door, glaring at Quinn.
“Well this has-been goes to Yale, and you’re probably going to be stuck in Lima living off of the money Puck makes cleaning pools in a state where there’s a winter. Enjoy being prom queen because that’s all you’ll ever get.” Quinn watches the other girl cross the threshold and her grip tightens on the door. “Oh and Kitty, don’t ever try to outbitch me. You are hardly at my level and it’s just really embarrassing.” Her smile is sickeningly sweet as she slams the door behind her and leans against it.
Santana would be proud of her. She’d high five her and give her that smile she always gave whenever Quinn would verbally destroy anyone they didn’t like. The thought causes an ache in her chest and she feels some of her hollow victory fade away. She wonders when she started needing that, Santana’s silent approval.
She remembers her first day in high school, her first real day as Quinn. The part of her that was still the chubby little nobody with no friends had been terrified. She’d seen Santana, standing by her locker, glaring at anyone who brushed against her accidentally. Puck and a few of the other guys that were standing around had been all over her and she’d smiled seductively at them so completely confident. It had attracted Quinn’s attention, made her want to befriend the girl. She wanted that kind of power for herself because she’d never had it as the girl that no one wanted to even be seen talking to. So, she’d studied Santana from afar for about a week after that. Boys followed her wherever she went and it seemed like most girls either wanted to be her or feared her. Quinn’s sister had been a lot like that, but it was a far more attractive attitude on this girl who Quinn was almost positive could back up every idle threat she issued.
Later she’d seen Santana in the line to tryout for the Cheerios. Quinn had seen the girls in their uniforms walking around and had debated joining. Everyone wanted to be them and she’d figured with her dance and gymnastics training she’d at least have a fighting chance. She’d also figured that this, if nothing else would offer the best possibility of being friends with Santana. Only, she couldn’t be afraid of her. She’d learned that from watching the girl. The moment she sensed even the slightest quiver in your voice, she went in for the kill. Quinn was smarter than that. The first time Puck had checked her out in the hallway two days ago had served to remind Quinn she had just as much to offer if not more. She was a Fabray and she’d worked to become this girl that no longer resembled her past. She shouldn’t be wasting her time wanting Santana to be her friend. She should be the one Santana was seeking out.
Quinn walks over to the line and spots Santana standing there, leaning against the wall and looking very bored as she files her nails. She’s third in line and just as she’s about to step up and sign her name, Quinn steps in front of her. She smiles nonchalantly and steals the pen from the girl’s hand, writing her name smoothly. Inside her heart is practically pounding out of her chest because she doesn’t want Santana to actually attack her.
“Excuse you. Do you have some kind of death wish? I was here first. You need to take your ass to the back of the line with the rest of the losers,” Santana says loudly, her fist clenching at her side.
For a moment, Quinn wants to shrink away, but maybe it’s that word “loser” that has her standing her ground. Lucy heard that word a lot, took it to heart. Quinn isn’t going to do that. She’s not that girl anymore. She gives Santana this condescending smile she’s spent all summer perfecting that she stole from her sister and shakes her head. “Now is that any way to talk to your future captain? I mean, that is if you even make the squad. You look a little scrawny and weak.” It’s a risky thing to say, but Quinn’s feeling bold.
She sees this fire in Santana’s eyes even as the girl looks like she might deck Quinn right where they stand. She reaches up and Quinn has to work not to flinch, but she doesn’t. Santana snatches the pen from her hand and moves right into Quinn’s space, writing her name in big, bold letters with her left hand. She turns back to Quinn and smirks. “You see that name right there? That’s the name of your captain, Fabray is it? I can’t wait to own your ass.”
Of course she didn’t actually win the spot, Quinn did, but they were sort of friends after that. Well until Brittany came mid-year and their duo became a trio. Quinn didn’t mind so much. It was easier to have somebody else do the dirty work when she couldn’t seem to get Santana under control. Brittany calmed Santana and made her less of a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the slightest prompting.
Still there's a pang of something at the memories, like maybe all of this had been some sort of inevitable conclusion that neither of them has had any sort of foresight to predict. She’s not crazy enough to believe that she’s been harboring some sort of crush on Santana since high school because that’s not true. She might not have been as straight as she once thought, but it wasn’t like she scribbled Santana’s name in hearts in her notebook and in hindsight, doing so with Rachel’s name was probably a clear sign that perhaps she had some leanings. It’s just she doesn’t want to go there in her mind either. That’s a therapist’s wet dream, of that she’s certain. Plus Rachel never made her feel like that.
She feels pathetic. She’s actually pining...over Santana and it’s just actually grossing her out. She probably just needs some fresh air. There’s an indoor pool downstairs and she can just go swimming and clear her mind. She promised herself she’d be over this by now. She’s just not working hard enough.
Rating: NC-17
Couple: Quinn/Santana
Summary: So, really last night isn’t a big deal. Quinn was just curious and lonely and drunk. Santana was probably the same. So, she shouldn’t be freaking out.
Prompt: none
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I certainly wish I did. They'd hump like bunnies on viagra.
A/N: These first couple of chapters are going to be short and I apologize. I just end them when they feel done. This story took an unexpected turn this weekend and the chapters will be longer as the story progresses. Thanks for sticking it out with me.
Santana’s lips ghost across her jaw and she hears the way her breathing is labored. She’s just as excited, wants this just much as Quinn does. That thought alone has Quinn even wetter and her legs spread wider when she feels fingers teasing the inside of her left thigh. They find her center and she lets out this choked off moan, her hips jumping.
“You might actually be too wet,” Santana breathes into her ear and her fingers slide up, running over Quinn’s clit. “I’m mean I’m not complaining because God, you’re...” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but Quinn can feel the gentle rumble of her soft chuckle all over her body.
Her arousal is acute, licking up her spine sharply and she feels like she’s drowning in Santana. The girl is everywhere. Their hot, sweat-slicked skin moves together and her free hand is in Quinn’s hair. Her lips swallow the blonde’s moans hungrily and those fingers are pushing inside so deep that her breath catches. And she’s just drowning.
There is banging at her door and it jolts Quinn out of her sleep. Her eyes flutter open and all she can think is she will murder whomever is on the other side of it. She’s spent the better part of her day sleeping off her hangover and truthfully that dream has her wanting to touch herself. Only she can’t because the knocking is becoming persistent.
Standing up, Quinn charges towards the door and stops short when her fingers reach the knob. She hesitates as it occurs to her that it could very well be Santana on the other side. That makes her heart beat faster and she feels frozen. She’s so not ready to do deal this this and she knows she’s just being a coward, but she’s just can’t have it ruined. Not yet.
“Quinn, are you in there?”
Instantly annoyed, Quinn opens the door and tries not to growl at Kitty standing on the other side. She tamps down on the disappointment at not finding Santana and looks at the younger girl expectantly.
“Were you asleep? You look...rough,” Kitty says, strolling inside as if she were invited. Quinn has always admired the girl’s confidence, seen parts of herself in the blonde, but there’s something about Kitty that sets her on edge. It’s probably that Quinn sees all of the nasty qualities she used to relish shining through just beneath that icy, good girl Christian exterior Kitty wears proudly like her Cheerios uniform.
“Um yes, I’m a little hungover,” she says quickly, her irritation growing as Kitty starts to make herself at home. “Was there something you wanted?”
Kitty’s blue eyes study her, making her feel like she’s on exhibit. “Damage control. You, more than anyone, should know that I can’t afford for anyone to know I did the horizontal Tarzan and Jane with a Puckerman, specifically Noah Puckerman. It’s one thing to be with a mulatto because everyone knows his mom is still a Jesus-loving good Baptist woman. But Puck is all Jew and all moron and I can’t have that getting around.”
Quinn rolls her eyes. She really doesn’t have time for this drama that she left behind when she said goodbye to her mother her first day in New Haven. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it in the first place. For someone who claims to have admired my Phoenix-like triumph in high school, you seem pretty eager to be following in my footsteps.”
Something flashes across the other girl’s face and it’s so quick that Quinn almost doesn’t see it. But it’s there, like some sort of visible turning point in their relationship and her skin tingles with awareness. “Please, I hardly call letting him treat me to a few casual dining restaurants of my choosing in exchange for a few moments of pleasure following in your footsteps. I mean at least I’m using protection other than prayer and it’s taking more than a six pack and few sweet nothings to get into this promised land.” Kitty’s grin is smug and It’s taking all of Quinn’s might not to cross the room and slap her in her face.
“Don’t kid yourself, honey. You want to be me so hard you’re even gobbling up my sloppy seconds, but like any great film critic will tell you, the sequel is never as good as the original. I’m Grease and you’re Grease 2. You don’t even compare. And you might think you’re in control, but you’re chasing after him like a puppy practically wetting herself for a prized bone.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears Santana’s patented “wanky” and feels herself smirk. “Everyone already sees it whether you want to believe it or not. And I never chased him. I never needed to because he respected me at the end of the day and you’re just another piece of ass to him. And when he gets tired of you, and make no mistake he will, all you’ll have is what is left of your reputation. So, I think you have some decisions to make and I’m not your babysitter, sweetie. Clean up your own mess.” She pulls the door open and looks at Kitty expectantly.
“Well, it looks like we can add bitch to your resume as a washed up, has-been that will probably peak in high school.” Kitty’s eyes are cold as she heads towards the door, glaring at Quinn.
“Well this has-been goes to Yale, and you’re probably going to be stuck in Lima living off of the money Puck makes cleaning pools in a state where there’s a winter. Enjoy being prom queen because that’s all you’ll ever get.” Quinn watches the other girl cross the threshold and her grip tightens on the door. “Oh and Kitty, don’t ever try to outbitch me. You are hardly at my level and it’s just really embarrassing.” Her smile is sickeningly sweet as she slams the door behind her and leans against it.
Santana would be proud of her. She’d high five her and give her that smile she always gave whenever Quinn would verbally destroy anyone they didn’t like. The thought causes an ache in her chest and she feels some of her hollow victory fade away. She wonders when she started needing that, Santana’s silent approval.
She remembers her first day in high school, her first real day as Quinn. The part of her that was still the chubby little nobody with no friends had been terrified. She’d seen Santana, standing by her locker, glaring at anyone who brushed against her accidentally. Puck and a few of the other guys that were standing around had been all over her and she’d smiled seductively at them so completely confident. It had attracted Quinn’s attention, made her want to befriend the girl. She wanted that kind of power for herself because she’d never had it as the girl that no one wanted to even be seen talking to. So, she’d studied Santana from afar for about a week after that. Boys followed her wherever she went and it seemed like most girls either wanted to be her or feared her. Quinn’s sister had been a lot like that, but it was a far more attractive attitude on this girl who Quinn was almost positive could back up every idle threat she issued.
Later she’d seen Santana in the line to tryout for the Cheerios. Quinn had seen the girls in their uniforms walking around and had debated joining. Everyone wanted to be them and she’d figured with her dance and gymnastics training she’d at least have a fighting chance. She’d also figured that this, if nothing else would offer the best possibility of being friends with Santana. Only, she couldn’t be afraid of her. She’d learned that from watching the girl. The moment she sensed even the slightest quiver in your voice, she went in for the kill. Quinn was smarter than that. The first time Puck had checked her out in the hallway two days ago had served to remind Quinn she had just as much to offer if not more. She was a Fabray and she’d worked to become this girl that no longer resembled her past. She shouldn’t be wasting her time wanting Santana to be her friend. She should be the one Santana was seeking out.
Quinn walks over to the line and spots Santana standing there, leaning against the wall and looking very bored as she files her nails. She’s third in line and just as she’s about to step up and sign her name, Quinn steps in front of her. She smiles nonchalantly and steals the pen from the girl’s hand, writing her name smoothly. Inside her heart is practically pounding out of her chest because she doesn’t want Santana to actually attack her.
“Excuse you. Do you have some kind of death wish? I was here first. You need to take your ass to the back of the line with the rest of the losers,” Santana says loudly, her fist clenching at her side.
For a moment, Quinn wants to shrink away, but maybe it’s that word “loser” that has her standing her ground. Lucy heard that word a lot, took it to heart. Quinn isn’t going to do that. She’s not that girl anymore. She gives Santana this condescending smile she’s spent all summer perfecting that she stole from her sister and shakes her head. “Now is that any way to talk to your future captain? I mean, that is if you even make the squad. You look a little scrawny and weak.” It’s a risky thing to say, but Quinn’s feeling bold.
She sees this fire in Santana’s eyes even as the girl looks like she might deck Quinn right where they stand. She reaches up and Quinn has to work not to flinch, but she doesn’t. Santana snatches the pen from her hand and moves right into Quinn’s space, writing her name in big, bold letters with her left hand. She turns back to Quinn and smirks. “You see that name right there? That’s the name of your captain, Fabray is it? I can’t wait to own your ass.”
Of course she didn’t actually win the spot, Quinn did, but they were sort of friends after that. Well until Brittany came mid-year and their duo became a trio. Quinn didn’t mind so much. It was easier to have somebody else do the dirty work when she couldn’t seem to get Santana under control. Brittany calmed Santana and made her less of a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the slightest prompting.
Still there's a pang of something at the memories, like maybe all of this had been some sort of inevitable conclusion that neither of them has had any sort of foresight to predict. She’s not crazy enough to believe that she’s been harboring some sort of crush on Santana since high school because that’s not true. She might not have been as straight as she once thought, but it wasn’t like she scribbled Santana’s name in hearts in her notebook and in hindsight, doing so with Rachel’s name was probably a clear sign that perhaps she had some leanings. It’s just she doesn’t want to go there in her mind either. That’s a therapist’s wet dream, of that she’s certain. Plus Rachel never made her feel like that.
She feels pathetic. She’s actually pining...over Santana and it’s just actually grossing her out. She probably just needs some fresh air. There’s an indoor pool downstairs and she can just go swimming and clear her mind. She promised herself she’d be over this by now. She’s just not working hard enough.