fics: bored with sin
Title: Bored with Sin
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Prompts: from smc-27 AU: Meeting at Mardi Gras (or for some other reason in New Orleans.)
Summary: Sometimes all you need is some drunken logic and the perfect song to eye-fuck a person to.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, they'd probably go at it like bunnies.
A/N: I'm super nervous about this prompt for very many reasons, but it was super fun to write and I hope it is enjoyed by you all.
The humidity is thick in the air as they stumble into the bar. There’s loud music blaring everywhere in the French Quarter, a sure sign that Mardi Gras is in full swing. The locals say it’s unseasonably warm, but Santana will take it over the arctic chill of Ohio anyday. They don’t even bother to flash their I.D. at the bartender as they stumble up to the bar. No one really cards down here to her surprise. Besides, Quinn’s is a pretty shitty fake anyway and it’s got a fucking picture of a rainbow on it. Like really, Quinn? That’s super gay and Santana isn’t convinced otherwise no matter how many guys Quinn tongues down in exchange for the plastic beads she could easily buy for a dollar at one of the many souvenir shops they’ve been passing. Besides she totally saw Quinn looking this morning when she stepped out of her room naked because she’d left the bag with her new underwear in it in the living room area and she’d thought Quinn was still asleep’. She can deny it all she wants, but Santana knows when bitches want her. And that bitch wants her. It’s just so not happening because she really doesn’t want to deal with any sort of straight girl panic come the next morning. This is her vacation away from her shitty school that she hates and the shitty relationship she was just in for five fucking years. She’s not bitter or anything. Like fuck Brittany and her whole “I need to fly like a butterfly.” Whatever the fuck that means. High school sweethearts, her ass. She should’ve just taken the scholarship in New York instead of going to OSU and waiting around for Brittany to decide what she wanted. It bit her in the ass because in the end, Brittany clearly didn’t want her. But that was four months ago and she’s done being bitter or something.
Anyway, she’s here to have a good time and just forget about it all. Which means no fucking friends with whom she’ll have return home and awkwardly pretend it didn’t happen. Besides, she wants something new. A fresh start of sorts. She hasn’t screwed anyone on this vacation yet, but it’s only been like a day and a half, and okay, she isn’t really looking forward to hooking up with a different girl everyday this week. As hot as that sounds in theory, she isn’t trying to take anything home with her in her lady parts either. Just...no. But if someone is up to being a fling, she’s down with that, like a thousand percent.
There’s someone speaking loudly into a mic behind her and Quinn bumps into her as the voice announces that they’ll be doing karaoke in about five minutes if anyone is interested. Quinn’s screaming like they’re asking her to audition for “Girls Gone Wild” or something and that shit is super annoying. So Santana moves away from her to a table some other chicks vacate. Quinn grabs her drink and sits at the table as well, but there’s already some blonde guy with a goofy grin and lips the size of Santana’s head eying her up. Quinn isn’t fucking subtle at all and maybe it’s because they’ve been drinking since nine and didn’t really sleep the night before, but Quinn’s practically eye-fucking this kid. Whatever the guy is with a bunch of other guys and normally Santana would wingman, but she’s so not interested in getting dick this drip. So Quinn’s on her own.
A few people make it onto the stage and they’re just fucking awful. Seriously, they’re worse than the auditions for American Idol and Santana’s so happy she’s drunk because it just makes everything funny as hell. She gives each of them a standing ovation like they were the best thing on the planet and the DJ even calls her out on it, but she just shrugs and goes back to sipping on her vodka sour, which at this point just tastes like lemonade. There’s this tiny little brunette making her way to the stage, but Santana didn’t catch her name because Quinn was talking loud as fuck beside her and she’s annoyed because this chick is hotter than anyone she’s seen since she arrived at the airport. She’s got long dark hair and this awesome tan that looks too natural to be a spray on. Santana can’t really tell because she’s a little far away, but it really doesn’t matter to her. The girl’s wearing these shorts that are just asking to be on her bedroom floor and she’s got legs for days though Santana’s pretty sure she’s at least got a couple inches on this girl.
She has to adjust the microphone when gets center stage and for whatever reason, Santana thinks that’s the cutest fucking thing she’s ever seen. The first Muzak beats of an Aretha Franklin song start and Santana groans inwardly. God, why do people pick Aretha? Don’t fuck with the classics. Britney Spears she could take, but not Aretha. This chick is totally going to ruin this and with it, Santana’s lady boner.
“Looking out on the morning rain...I used to feel so uninspired...and when I knew I had to face another day...Lord, it made me feel so tired...Before the day I met you...life was so unkind...”
That voice wasn’t something Santana had been expecting and she sat up in rapt attention, her drink momentarily forgotten as this girl sings the hell out of some Aretha. The lady wood was going stronger than ever and in Santana’s drunk mind, there was a moment where she thought “this could be the next Mrs. Lopez.” Of course, this isn’t shit she’d actually think sober, but maybe if the way the girl was practically making love to the room with her voice was any indication, she fucking might.
The guys in the room whistle and catcall and Santana’s like so there with them. She isn’t one that goes for straight girls usually because what’s the point? And the girl is kind of pinging the dar, but Santana can’t be sure if that’s legit or just her own libido deciding to trick. That would suck because straight girls are just...not impossible, but she already went through the straight-girl experimental phase in high school. She’s over it. But hey, she might have to try it again because this girl is just practically oozing sex and Santana wants up on that. She sits completely enthralled throughout the performance, her dark eyes scanning every sway of the girl’s body as she sings.
By the end, everyone is on their feet, clapping wildly and hollering. She takes this cute little curtsy, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and blushing as she makes her way back to her seat. The DJ says her name once again and this time, Santana catches it. Rachel. Santana watches as Rachel moves back to the table where two guys are sitting. She’s waiting to see which of them is her boyfriend. She doesn’t really care because she’s hotter than either guy, but she wants to size up her competition. When the two guys lean forward and kiss each other, Santana reasons that she’s at least gay-friendly. That’s a start. Gay-friendly is good. She can work with that.
She’s no slouch in the singing department herself and decides, with her superior drunken logic, that she needs to see if she actually stands a chance. She grabs one of the slips of paper and the large binder of songs and picks the one that will tell Rachel exactly what her intentions are and she plans to eye-fuck the crap out of her on the stage while she does. This is an awesome plan, she thinks and Quinn agrees when she runs it past her. Later she’ll think that perhaps she shouldn’t rely on the logic of two wasted college sophomores, but right now, she’s feeling pretty fucking invincible.
It takes an entire rotation of songs after she hands the DJ her slip before it’s actually her turn to sing and when they call her name, she practically jumps out of her seat and runs to the stage as people clap for her. She’s happy to see Rachel’s eyes on her as she takes the stage. She smirks back at her and adds a little wink, but that just seems to confuse the girl, who shifts in her seat uncomfortably. However, Santana is unfazed.
There’s a beat count on the screen before the song starts, but Santana doesn’t need the words. She doesn’t even bother to look at the monitor as the first beat that cues her in starts and she lets the timber of her voice drop just a little as she starts to sing, her eyes locked on Rachel’s.
"In the thunder and rain you stare into my eyes...I can feel your hands moving up my thighs...skirt around my waist...wall against my face...I can feel your lips...” She pauses and winks and the crowd goes crazy. Santana watches the blush crawl to Rachel’s cheeks and smirks, feeling encouraged. "I don’t want to stop just because...people walking by are watching us...I don’t give a damn what they think...I want you now...” She walks down off the stage, all drunken courage mixed with her usual high level of confidence and stands in front of Rachel’s table, singing directly to her. “I don’t want to stop just because...you feel so good inside, oh my love...I not gonna stop, no, no, no...I want you...all I want to say is...” She leans forward and strokes Rachel’s cheek, grinning when she hears the sharp inhalation of breath and the guys at the table laugh hysterically. Her voice takes on this breathy tone and she makes as if it’s whisper. "Anytime...and anyplace...I don’t care who’s around...”
She continues to sing to Rachel, even sitting in her lap at one point much to the crowds delight and by the time she’s done the song, everyone’s chanting that they should kiss. She’s still sitting across the girl’s legs, her arms wrapped around her neck. She laughs a little at the shy expression on Rachel’s face and shrugs when their eyes meet. She’s not actually going to do this without some kind of consent. It’s one thing to sing a song, but she’s not about to be rejected in a room full of people, strangers or not. Still everyone seems to be waiting with baited breath and there’s the tiniest nod from Rachel. It’s really all she needs before her lips are brushing over soft full ones.
It’s not much of a kiss, but there’s a bit of a spark as Rachel’s lips move against her’s slowly and without hesitation. There’s cheering around her, but it sounds far away. She pulls back, meeting Rachel’s eyes and there’s this sexy little grin on her lips that makes Santana’s stomach flip. The DJ comments on how the next performer will have a hell of a job following up that act, but Santana’s not really paying attention to all of that.
“You know, I don’t usually go around kissing strange women whose names I don’t know,” Rachel says, amusement dancing in her dark brown eyes.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Yes, but now that you’ve sang to me, very publicly I might add, that you’d like to have sex with me regardless of who’s playing audience, I think the least you could do is tell me your name.”
This girl is smart which is...a step up from Brittany, if she’s honest and it’s a huge turn on. “It’s Santana.”
“I’m Rachel.”
“Yeah, I know.” The guys at the table introduce themselves, but Santana isn’t really listening. She and Rachel are just kind of watching one another, the smiles never leaving their faces. She thinks she hears the names “Kurt” and “Blaine,” but she can’t be certain.”Do you want to get out of here?” She asks, instead of acknowledging the other occupants at the table.
“I don’t think I should.” Rachel’s saying this, but she has yet to push Santana out of her lap and they just kissed. So, Santana’s failing to see the problem here.
“Are you straight?”
“Isn’t it a little late to ask me that after that little performance? And for the sake of argument, why would you kiss a girl without knowing if she’s straight? That seems risky. Though I did kiss you back.”
“That could’ve been for show,” Santana counters. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“True, I’ve heard straight girls do that from time to time. There’s a whole song about it.”
This girl is frustrating, but something about it is hot instead of annoying. Maybe it’s the way she’s smiling up at Santana and not just straight up saying no. “Yeah there is, but I don’t care about it. So, unless you were trying to impress someone with that kiss, you totally should just come with me.”
“I’m not looking to impress anybody here, but I still don’t know you.”
“Are you from around here?”
Rachel frowns at the question. “No, I’m from New York, but I fail to see how that is pertinent to-”
“Ohmygod, chill out. I’m not asking you to marry me. I just want to get out of here so that we can go someplace and...talk.”
Rachel seems skeptical of that. “Talk?”
“Yep, talk...you’ll say my name and...it’ll be totally clothing optional.” Santana hasn’t had to work this hard for it in a while and she’s not loving it. But Rachel’s seriously the hottest girl in this room and that song has her all keyed up. “You’re on vacation. Have a little fun.”
“What makes you think I’m not already having fun?”
Santana just looks at her dubiously. Rachel couldn’t be having more fun than she would be with Santana if they left right now and got horizontal. She knows it and so does Rachel. She’s just trying to not come off as easy. Santana totally gets that.
“I’ll admit that your argument is compelling and, I mean, you took a huge risk singing that song to me.”
She can see the victory line just ahead. So she stands and offers Rachel her hand. She has six blocks to justify this to herself all she wants as they make their way to the house Santana and Quinn are renting. Rachel wants this or she would’ve just said no and when she takes Santana’s hand, there’s no more conversation about it.
Her friends tell her to have fun and she promises to call them later. Santana doesn’t bother to mention that it probably won’t be until much later and she definitely doesn’t bother to stop and tell Quinn she’s leaving when she sees the other girl going at it with fish lips.
She and Rachel walk silently up the streets back to her villa and she takes the most direct route, even though it’s longer, because she doesn’t want to seem completely sketchy. She’s in a hurry, sure, her body is wound super tight and she wants to get Rachel out that tank and those shorts, but she’s not going to be creepy about it.
There’s people everywhere and she narrowly misses bumping into this girl that’s a complete drunken mess. She doesn’t have time for all of that. Not with this hot girl lacing their fingers together and running her thumb along Santana’s palm. It’s driving her nuts, making her goosebumps spring to her arms and her skin prickle and tingle with awareness.
There’s only about eight steps up to her unit, but they’ve never felt this excessive before. But they make it and she manages not to fumble her key as she opens the door. The air is thicker than the humidity outside after they close the door and Santana locks it. Rachel’s looking at her expectantly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. it’s like she’s wondering “now what?”
For an awkward moment Santana wonders if she should she offer Rachel a drink but decides that pleasantries were left at that bar. She crosses the room to where Rachel’s standing and grips her jaw, kissing her hungrily. Rachel makes a surprised squeak but kind of sinks into the kiss with a sigh. Santana softens after a moment and just nibbles at Rachel’s bottom lip, pillowing it between her own.
It starts off gentle, the teasing of one lip to another, but it escalates quickly and Santana’s backing Rachel into a wall and kissing the breath from her lungs. Her tongue sweeps past parted swelling lips, tasting the faint taste of alcohol and something fruity. Rachel’s fingers kind of do this slow crawl up the middle of her back, which is just shy of tickling, and grips the back of her neck. They massage gently as her tongue’s being sucked into the other girl’s mouth.
She’s so distracted by the slow burn starting in her stomach that she doesn’t feel herself being flipped around until the cool plaster hits the little bits of exposed skin on her back. Rachel’s body is pressing against her’s and the fingers of her right hand are twisting in Santana’s shirt, pulling at it until it can slip beneath the fabric. Teeth sink into her bottom lip and she moans just as she feels fingers brushing at the underside of her breast. She’s not wearing a bra. She couldn’t underneath of this top, and when Rachel plucks at her nipple, she thanks god she chose to wear it.
“Which one’s your room?” The words are mumbled against the column of her neck and she loses the ability to think for a moment when teeth scrape along the same path and nip at her collarbone.
Santana hisses out a breath and tries to regain her composure. “Second door on the right.” The master suite because she did all of the planning and most of the paying on this trip. Quinn’s lazy ass is just along for the ride and she can take the second rate room without the awesome ensuite and balcony.
Rachel tugs her hand, pulling her free from the wall, and leads the way to her room. It strikes Santana that they both seem to have forgotten who was seducing whom. She closes the door behind them and pulls Rachel to a stop. The girl looks over at her curiously, the question in her eyes clear. Santana only says one word. “Strip.”
Dark eyes never leave hers as Rachel takes off every single article of clothing she’s wearing. She straightens, standing proudly before Santana and it’s even sexier that she’s so confident. Not that she shouldn’t be. Her breasts are small, but rounded with tiny dusky nipples that stand at attention and beg for Santana’s mouth. Her skin is smooth and evenly tanned all over. She’s kind of perfect all over in a completely natural way. Her eyes rake over Rachel’s body and there’s a steady hunger that builds within her. She’s not even sure where she wants to start.
“Like what you see?” It’s a rhetorical question, but Santana nods anyway because who wouldn’t like this? “Good, but how about we make this a little more even? I’d like a chance to...see if you’re body is a hot as I’ve been imagining it since you walked on that stage or if it’s better.” Her voice has dropped a little and Santana practically shivers at the husky tone.
How the fuck is this girl even real? She doesn’t know and doesn’t care, but she’s happy she fucking sang that song now for more reasons than one. Santana isn’t shy, not by any means and she sheds her clothes quickly, a smug grin on her lips as Rachel inhales noisily. “Well?” She doesn’t need to ask. She’s almost obsessed with taking care of her body. She hits the gym four times a week and is mindful of what she eats on a regular basis. Living with a dancer for a year made her less lazy and she’s never been happier than she is right now about it.
Rachel nods and seems to have trouble forcing her eyes away from Santana’s breasts. “Definitely better.”
Santana closes the distance between them, walking Rachel backwards until her knees are hitting the bed. “Yeah, so is yours.” Rachel sits down on the side of the mattress and like immediately, her tongue is mapping its way over Santana’s taut abs. The heat shoots up Santana’s spine sharply. She hadn’t exactly been expecting that. She tries to regain control, placing her knee on the bed outside of Rachel’s thigh, but the girl just grips her hips tightly.
“You smell so good,” Rachel murmurs into her skin. Her tongue is circling Santana’s nipple and then darting across it and she’s pretty much helpless to do anything other than take it. There are definitely worse fucking things in the world, but Rachel’s driving her crazy. She’s taking her dear sweet time, licking and teasing, blowing and sucking, and Santana’s overstimulated as fuck by the time Rachel releases her hips and pulls her down onto the bed.
This girl is stronger than she looks and Santana’s not usually one for being dominated. Only Rachel doesn’t seem to be giving her a choice in the matter. She straddles Santana’s thigh and they both moan as the wetness at her center coats it. Rachel kisses her hotly, her tongue pushing into Santana mouth. And Santana starts to care a whole lot less about who’s doing the topping here. She’s kind of aching for it anyway and there’s fingers teasing at the inside of her thighs. She spreads her legs a little wider and a shiver makes its way through her when she feels them dip between her folds.
The words that leave Rachel’s lips as her fingers circle Santana’s clit are some of the filthiest she’s ever heard. She’s actually fucking impressed or she would be if her body wasn’t practically twitching to orgasm. Two fingers enter her roughly just as Rachel’s telling her how wet the idea of Santana coming on her fingers makes her and she almost does because god, it’s been so long since she’s had sex this good. Plus Rachel’s kind of riding her thigh and she can feel just how much fucking Santana is turning her on.
The fingers drum lightly against her spot and Rachel uses her thumb to press down right just to the right of her clit and Santana’s so close it’s embarrassing. “Shit...gonna come.”
Rachel makes this sexy little growl noise in the back of her throat and leans forward until her lips are brushing against Santana’s ear. Her fingers work faster and she’s just whispering about how sexy Santana sounds and how good it feels to be this deep inside of her. And like that she just shatters, Rachel’s name a fucking mantra on her lips.
It actually takes her a moment to catch her breath and she’s just staring at the ceiling feeling a little like maybe she got hustled. Like Rachel was some kind of sex shark and she just got fucking hustled. Which is ridiculous because it’s not like Rachel told her she hadn’t done this before. She definitely hadn’t asked, but fuck she feels like she just got her world rocked. She looks over at Rachel and the girl is practically preening.
Yeah, but fuck that because two can play that game and Rachel’s so wet against her thigh she’s practically slipping. So, there’s no way she’s not aching for it too. And paybacks are definitely a bitch.
Where Rachel explored her slowly, Santana’s got this shit at a torturous pace. She spends a good twenty minutes on Rachel’s breasts alone, learning what things make her shiver or gasp or tug at Santana’s hair. Her hips keep bucking up like they’re trying to get friction, but Santana is having none of that. She licks a path down Rachel’s stomach and sucks at the skin over her hip, which makes Rachel’s legs tremble. She can smell her and god her mouth’s practically watering to taste her. But she’s not done teasing the fuck out of her and she starts and Rachel’s right knee and trails little kisses up the inside of her thigh and repeats the same on the left, skipping the center all together.
It’s not until Rachel’s writhing and growls out, “Goddammit Santana, fuck me,” that she thinks the girl’s probably had enough. She settles between Rachel’s thighs and parts her, flattening her tongue against the hot, red flesh and licks a stripe up the middle. This isn’t something she ever does with random hook-ups because that’s just not smart ever, but as she’s moaning at the taste, she’s definitely happy she broke her own rule this time.
Her tongue circles the little nub and she takes it between her teeth carefully, flicking it back and forth. There’s a litany of curse words that leave Rachel’s mouth and she does it again. She releases it moments later, letting her tongue dip below and tease at Rachel’s opening. Hips buck and Santana reaches up to hold them steady as she stiffens her tongue and pushes it inside. She swirls it, licking at the inner walls. She can feel Rachel start to tighten around her and she curls her tongue upward and sort of drags it back and forth over this little ridge just inside of her. Rachel’s whole body sort of freezes and then she’s shuddering, crying out.
Santana sort of lazily licks at her clit as she’s coasting on her orgasm, but she pushes two fingers inside of Rachel just as she’s coming down, working her up again quickly. Her fingers are are curled against her spot and Rachel’s moans are crescendoing and she comes again, moments later, screaming Santana’s name.
The room is quiet for long moments after that, save for panting breaths, but it’s not awkward or anything. This is the part she usually hates because girls seem to think this means you’re ready for them to like show up with a U-Haul and head down to the SPCA to pick out some mutt who’s like named “Buddy” or “Shane” or some shit. But she doesn’t find herself eager for Rachel to leave. At least not yet. In fact, she’d hoping this is just a temporary break before they do it all over again.
Rachel rolls to her side and covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I have never done that before.”
“That as in with a stranger or that as in with another female?” Because one of those is definitely a lie.
“Which do you think it is?” Rachel looks at her curiously, but there’s a challenge there.
Santana trails her fingers along the length of Rachel’s arm and smiles when the other girl giggles. “You’re definitely not straight. Like that I know for certain.”
There’s this little smirk and a devilish glint in Rachel’s eye and she tries to shrug, making as if it’s out of nonchalance. It’s totally cocky, but Santana’s feeling that. She should be cocky. She’s totally hot. “What if I am? You are awfully fixated on it. Besides, do you often serenade straight girls with provocative songs in the middle of strange bars?”
“You’re not straight. So...”
Rachel sighs, rolling her eyes at Santana. “That’s not the point here. For all you knew I was.” She holds her finger up at Santana’s grin. “That is not me confirming or denying my sexuality in any way. I just want to know if this is the sort of thing you do often.” It’s not an accusation. Santana doesn’t feel trapped in the way other girls try to.
Her grin turns to get cocky because Rachel’s totally not straight, but fuck if she is then there’s a sort of victory there because she definitely won’t still be by the end of today, if Santana has her way. Her index finger traces along Rachel’s cheek and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t totally love the looks she gets on her face when she leans into the touch. Their eyes are locked and she hears Rachel’s breathing kind of stutter when she murmurs, “no, just you.”
There’s this pretty little blush that colors her cheeks even as she clears her throat and shifts a little to hide her face. Santana thinks her giggles are both adorable and incredibly sexy and she’s not sure how that even works, but Rachel’s totally pulling it off. “I think you’re just saying that so that I don’t leave this bed.”
“I don’t believe in fake flattery,” Santana says, nudging Rachel until she’s on her back and rolls over her, tangling their legs together. The little whimper that she makes in the back of her throat shouts a spike of arousal through her gut and she leans down until their lips are inches apart. “But you’re right. I’m not quite done with you yet,” she whispers just as she closes the distance.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Prompts: from smc-27 AU: Meeting at Mardi Gras (or for some other reason in New Orleans.)
Summary: Sometimes all you need is some drunken logic and the perfect song to eye-fuck a person to.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, they'd probably go at it like bunnies.
A/N: I'm super nervous about this prompt for very many reasons, but it was super fun to write and I hope it is enjoyed by you all.
The humidity is thick in the air as they stumble into the bar. There’s loud music blaring everywhere in the French Quarter, a sure sign that Mardi Gras is in full swing. The locals say it’s unseasonably warm, but Santana will take it over the arctic chill of Ohio anyday. They don’t even bother to flash their I.D. at the bartender as they stumble up to the bar. No one really cards down here to her surprise. Besides, Quinn’s is a pretty shitty fake anyway and it’s got a fucking picture of a rainbow on it. Like really, Quinn? That’s super gay and Santana isn’t convinced otherwise no matter how many guys Quinn tongues down in exchange for the plastic beads she could easily buy for a dollar at one of the many souvenir shops they’ve been passing. Besides she totally saw Quinn looking this morning when she stepped out of her room naked because she’d left the bag with her new underwear in it in the living room area and she’d thought Quinn was still asleep’. She can deny it all she wants, but Santana knows when bitches want her. And that bitch wants her. It’s just so not happening because she really doesn’t want to deal with any sort of straight girl panic come the next morning. This is her vacation away from her shitty school that she hates and the shitty relationship she was just in for five fucking years. She’s not bitter or anything. Like fuck Brittany and her whole “I need to fly like a butterfly.” Whatever the fuck that means. High school sweethearts, her ass. She should’ve just taken the scholarship in New York instead of going to OSU and waiting around for Brittany to decide what she wanted. It bit her in the ass because in the end, Brittany clearly didn’t want her. But that was four months ago and she’s done being bitter or something.
Anyway, she’s here to have a good time and just forget about it all. Which means no fucking friends with whom she’ll have return home and awkwardly pretend it didn’t happen. Besides, she wants something new. A fresh start of sorts. She hasn’t screwed anyone on this vacation yet, but it’s only been like a day and a half, and okay, she isn’t really looking forward to hooking up with a different girl everyday this week. As hot as that sounds in theory, she isn’t trying to take anything home with her in her lady parts either. Just...no. But if someone is up to being a fling, she’s down with that, like a thousand percent.
There’s someone speaking loudly into a mic behind her and Quinn bumps into her as the voice announces that they’ll be doing karaoke in about five minutes if anyone is interested. Quinn’s screaming like they’re asking her to audition for “Girls Gone Wild” or something and that shit is super annoying. So Santana moves away from her to a table some other chicks vacate. Quinn grabs her drink and sits at the table as well, but there’s already some blonde guy with a goofy grin and lips the size of Santana’s head eying her up. Quinn isn’t fucking subtle at all and maybe it’s because they’ve been drinking since nine and didn’t really sleep the night before, but Quinn’s practically eye-fucking this kid. Whatever the guy is with a bunch of other guys and normally Santana would wingman, but she’s so not interested in getting dick this drip. So Quinn’s on her own.
A few people make it onto the stage and they’re just fucking awful. Seriously, they’re worse than the auditions for American Idol and Santana’s so happy she’s drunk because it just makes everything funny as hell. She gives each of them a standing ovation like they were the best thing on the planet and the DJ even calls her out on it, but she just shrugs and goes back to sipping on her vodka sour, which at this point just tastes like lemonade. There’s this tiny little brunette making her way to the stage, but Santana didn’t catch her name because Quinn was talking loud as fuck beside her and she’s annoyed because this chick is hotter than anyone she’s seen since she arrived at the airport. She’s got long dark hair and this awesome tan that looks too natural to be a spray on. Santana can’t really tell because she’s a little far away, but it really doesn’t matter to her. The girl’s wearing these shorts that are just asking to be on her bedroom floor and she’s got legs for days though Santana’s pretty sure she’s at least got a couple inches on this girl.
She has to adjust the microphone when gets center stage and for whatever reason, Santana thinks that’s the cutest fucking thing she’s ever seen. The first Muzak beats of an Aretha Franklin song start and Santana groans inwardly. God, why do people pick Aretha? Don’t fuck with the classics. Britney Spears she could take, but not Aretha. This chick is totally going to ruin this and with it, Santana’s lady boner.
“Looking out on the morning rain...I used to feel so uninspired...and when I knew I had to face another day...Lord, it made me feel so tired...Before the day I met you...life was so unkind...”
That voice wasn’t something Santana had been expecting and she sat up in rapt attention, her drink momentarily forgotten as this girl sings the hell out of some Aretha. The lady wood was going stronger than ever and in Santana’s drunk mind, there was a moment where she thought “this could be the next Mrs. Lopez.” Of course, this isn’t shit she’d actually think sober, but maybe if the way the girl was practically making love to the room with her voice was any indication, she fucking might.
The guys in the room whistle and catcall and Santana’s like so there with them. She isn’t one that goes for straight girls usually because what’s the point? And the girl is kind of pinging the dar, but Santana can’t be sure if that’s legit or just her own libido deciding to trick. That would suck because straight girls are just...not impossible, but she already went through the straight-girl experimental phase in high school. She’s over it. But hey, she might have to try it again because this girl is just practically oozing sex and Santana wants up on that. She sits completely enthralled throughout the performance, her dark eyes scanning every sway of the girl’s body as she sings.
By the end, everyone is on their feet, clapping wildly and hollering. She takes this cute little curtsy, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and blushing as she makes her way back to her seat. The DJ says her name once again and this time, Santana catches it. Rachel. Santana watches as Rachel moves back to the table where two guys are sitting. She’s waiting to see which of them is her boyfriend. She doesn’t really care because she’s hotter than either guy, but she wants to size up her competition. When the two guys lean forward and kiss each other, Santana reasons that she’s at least gay-friendly. That’s a start. Gay-friendly is good. She can work with that.
She’s no slouch in the singing department herself and decides, with her superior drunken logic, that she needs to see if she actually stands a chance. She grabs one of the slips of paper and the large binder of songs and picks the one that will tell Rachel exactly what her intentions are and she plans to eye-fuck the crap out of her on the stage while she does. This is an awesome plan, she thinks and Quinn agrees when she runs it past her. Later she’ll think that perhaps she shouldn’t rely on the logic of two wasted college sophomores, but right now, she’s feeling pretty fucking invincible.
It takes an entire rotation of songs after she hands the DJ her slip before it’s actually her turn to sing and when they call her name, she practically jumps out of her seat and runs to the stage as people clap for her. She’s happy to see Rachel’s eyes on her as she takes the stage. She smirks back at her and adds a little wink, but that just seems to confuse the girl, who shifts in her seat uncomfortably. However, Santana is unfazed.
There’s a beat count on the screen before the song starts, but Santana doesn’t need the words. She doesn’t even bother to look at the monitor as the first beat that cues her in starts and she lets the timber of her voice drop just a little as she starts to sing, her eyes locked on Rachel’s.
"In the thunder and rain you stare into my eyes...I can feel your hands moving up my thighs...skirt around my waist...wall against my face...I can feel your lips...” She pauses and winks and the crowd goes crazy. Santana watches the blush crawl to Rachel’s cheeks and smirks, feeling encouraged. "I don’t want to stop just because...people walking by are watching us...I don’t give a damn what they think...I want you now...” She walks down off the stage, all drunken courage mixed with her usual high level of confidence and stands in front of Rachel’s table, singing directly to her. “I don’t want to stop just because...you feel so good inside, oh my love...I not gonna stop, no, no, no...I want you...all I want to say is...” She leans forward and strokes Rachel’s cheek, grinning when she hears the sharp inhalation of breath and the guys at the table laugh hysterically. Her voice takes on this breathy tone and she makes as if it’s whisper. "Anytime...and anyplace...I don’t care who’s around...”
She continues to sing to Rachel, even sitting in her lap at one point much to the crowds delight and by the time she’s done the song, everyone’s chanting that they should kiss. She’s still sitting across the girl’s legs, her arms wrapped around her neck. She laughs a little at the shy expression on Rachel’s face and shrugs when their eyes meet. She’s not actually going to do this without some kind of consent. It’s one thing to sing a song, but she’s not about to be rejected in a room full of people, strangers or not. Still everyone seems to be waiting with baited breath and there’s the tiniest nod from Rachel. It’s really all she needs before her lips are brushing over soft full ones.
It’s not much of a kiss, but there’s a bit of a spark as Rachel’s lips move against her’s slowly and without hesitation. There’s cheering around her, but it sounds far away. She pulls back, meeting Rachel’s eyes and there’s this sexy little grin on her lips that makes Santana’s stomach flip. The DJ comments on how the next performer will have a hell of a job following up that act, but Santana’s not really paying attention to all of that.
“You know, I don’t usually go around kissing strange women whose names I don’t know,” Rachel says, amusement dancing in her dark brown eyes.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Yes, but now that you’ve sang to me, very publicly I might add, that you’d like to have sex with me regardless of who’s playing audience, I think the least you could do is tell me your name.”
This girl is smart which is...a step up from Brittany, if she’s honest and it’s a huge turn on. “It’s Santana.”
“I’m Rachel.”
“Yeah, I know.” The guys at the table introduce themselves, but Santana isn’t really listening. She and Rachel are just kind of watching one another, the smiles never leaving their faces. She thinks she hears the names “Kurt” and “Blaine,” but she can’t be certain.”Do you want to get out of here?” She asks, instead of acknowledging the other occupants at the table.
“I don’t think I should.” Rachel’s saying this, but she has yet to push Santana out of her lap and they just kissed. So, Santana’s failing to see the problem here.
“Are you straight?”
“Isn’t it a little late to ask me that after that little performance? And for the sake of argument, why would you kiss a girl without knowing if she’s straight? That seems risky. Though I did kiss you back.”
“That could’ve been for show,” Santana counters. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“True, I’ve heard straight girls do that from time to time. There’s a whole song about it.”
This girl is frustrating, but something about it is hot instead of annoying. Maybe it’s the way she’s smiling up at Santana and not just straight up saying no. “Yeah there is, but I don’t care about it. So, unless you were trying to impress someone with that kiss, you totally should just come with me.”
“I’m not looking to impress anybody here, but I still don’t know you.”
“Are you from around here?”
Rachel frowns at the question. “No, I’m from New York, but I fail to see how that is pertinent to-”
“Ohmygod, chill out. I’m not asking you to marry me. I just want to get out of here so that we can go someplace and...talk.”
Rachel seems skeptical of that. “Talk?”
“Yep, talk...you’ll say my name and...it’ll be totally clothing optional.” Santana hasn’t had to work this hard for it in a while and she’s not loving it. But Rachel’s seriously the hottest girl in this room and that song has her all keyed up. “You’re on vacation. Have a little fun.”
“What makes you think I’m not already having fun?”
Santana just looks at her dubiously. Rachel couldn’t be having more fun than she would be with Santana if they left right now and got horizontal. She knows it and so does Rachel. She’s just trying to not come off as easy. Santana totally gets that.
“I’ll admit that your argument is compelling and, I mean, you took a huge risk singing that song to me.”
She can see the victory line just ahead. So she stands and offers Rachel her hand. She has six blocks to justify this to herself all she wants as they make their way to the house Santana and Quinn are renting. Rachel wants this or she would’ve just said no and when she takes Santana’s hand, there’s no more conversation about it.
Her friends tell her to have fun and she promises to call them later. Santana doesn’t bother to mention that it probably won’t be until much later and she definitely doesn’t bother to stop and tell Quinn she’s leaving when she sees the other girl going at it with fish lips.
She and Rachel walk silently up the streets back to her villa and she takes the most direct route, even though it’s longer, because she doesn’t want to seem completely sketchy. She’s in a hurry, sure, her body is wound super tight and she wants to get Rachel out that tank and those shorts, but she’s not going to be creepy about it.
There’s people everywhere and she narrowly misses bumping into this girl that’s a complete drunken mess. She doesn’t have time for all of that. Not with this hot girl lacing their fingers together and running her thumb along Santana’s palm. It’s driving her nuts, making her goosebumps spring to her arms and her skin prickle and tingle with awareness.
There’s only about eight steps up to her unit, but they’ve never felt this excessive before. But they make it and she manages not to fumble her key as she opens the door. The air is thicker than the humidity outside after they close the door and Santana locks it. Rachel’s looking at her expectantly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. it’s like she’s wondering “now what?”
For an awkward moment Santana wonders if she should she offer Rachel a drink but decides that pleasantries were left at that bar. She crosses the room to where Rachel’s standing and grips her jaw, kissing her hungrily. Rachel makes a surprised squeak but kind of sinks into the kiss with a sigh. Santana softens after a moment and just nibbles at Rachel’s bottom lip, pillowing it between her own.
It starts off gentle, the teasing of one lip to another, but it escalates quickly and Santana’s backing Rachel into a wall and kissing the breath from her lungs. Her tongue sweeps past parted swelling lips, tasting the faint taste of alcohol and something fruity. Rachel’s fingers kind of do this slow crawl up the middle of her back, which is just shy of tickling, and grips the back of her neck. They massage gently as her tongue’s being sucked into the other girl’s mouth.
She’s so distracted by the slow burn starting in her stomach that she doesn’t feel herself being flipped around until the cool plaster hits the little bits of exposed skin on her back. Rachel’s body is pressing against her’s and the fingers of her right hand are twisting in Santana’s shirt, pulling at it until it can slip beneath the fabric. Teeth sink into her bottom lip and she moans just as she feels fingers brushing at the underside of her breast. She’s not wearing a bra. She couldn’t underneath of this top, and when Rachel plucks at her nipple, she thanks god she chose to wear it.
“Which one’s your room?” The words are mumbled against the column of her neck and she loses the ability to think for a moment when teeth scrape along the same path and nip at her collarbone.
Santana hisses out a breath and tries to regain her composure. “Second door on the right.” The master suite because she did all of the planning and most of the paying on this trip. Quinn’s lazy ass is just along for the ride and she can take the second rate room without the awesome ensuite and balcony.
Rachel tugs her hand, pulling her free from the wall, and leads the way to her room. It strikes Santana that they both seem to have forgotten who was seducing whom. She closes the door behind them and pulls Rachel to a stop. The girl looks over at her curiously, the question in her eyes clear. Santana only says one word. “Strip.”
Dark eyes never leave hers as Rachel takes off every single article of clothing she’s wearing. She straightens, standing proudly before Santana and it’s even sexier that she’s so confident. Not that she shouldn’t be. Her breasts are small, but rounded with tiny dusky nipples that stand at attention and beg for Santana’s mouth. Her skin is smooth and evenly tanned all over. She’s kind of perfect all over in a completely natural way. Her eyes rake over Rachel’s body and there’s a steady hunger that builds within her. She’s not even sure where she wants to start.
“Like what you see?” It’s a rhetorical question, but Santana nods anyway because who wouldn’t like this? “Good, but how about we make this a little more even? I’d like a chance to...see if you’re body is a hot as I’ve been imagining it since you walked on that stage or if it’s better.” Her voice has dropped a little and Santana practically shivers at the husky tone.
How the fuck is this girl even real? She doesn’t know and doesn’t care, but she’s happy she fucking sang that song now for more reasons than one. Santana isn’t shy, not by any means and she sheds her clothes quickly, a smug grin on her lips as Rachel inhales noisily. “Well?” She doesn’t need to ask. She’s almost obsessed with taking care of her body. She hits the gym four times a week and is mindful of what she eats on a regular basis. Living with a dancer for a year made her less lazy and she’s never been happier than she is right now about it.
Rachel nods and seems to have trouble forcing her eyes away from Santana’s breasts. “Definitely better.”
Santana closes the distance between them, walking Rachel backwards until her knees are hitting the bed. “Yeah, so is yours.” Rachel sits down on the side of the mattress and like immediately, her tongue is mapping its way over Santana’s taut abs. The heat shoots up Santana’s spine sharply. She hadn’t exactly been expecting that. She tries to regain control, placing her knee on the bed outside of Rachel’s thigh, but the girl just grips her hips tightly.
“You smell so good,” Rachel murmurs into her skin. Her tongue is circling Santana’s nipple and then darting across it and she’s pretty much helpless to do anything other than take it. There are definitely worse fucking things in the world, but Rachel’s driving her crazy. She’s taking her dear sweet time, licking and teasing, blowing and sucking, and Santana’s overstimulated as fuck by the time Rachel releases her hips and pulls her down onto the bed.
This girl is stronger than she looks and Santana’s not usually one for being dominated. Only Rachel doesn’t seem to be giving her a choice in the matter. She straddles Santana’s thigh and they both moan as the wetness at her center coats it. Rachel kisses her hotly, her tongue pushing into Santana mouth. And Santana starts to care a whole lot less about who’s doing the topping here. She’s kind of aching for it anyway and there’s fingers teasing at the inside of her thighs. She spreads her legs a little wider and a shiver makes its way through her when she feels them dip between her folds.
The words that leave Rachel’s lips as her fingers circle Santana’s clit are some of the filthiest she’s ever heard. She’s actually fucking impressed or she would be if her body wasn’t practically twitching to orgasm. Two fingers enter her roughly just as Rachel’s telling her how wet the idea of Santana coming on her fingers makes her and she almost does because god, it’s been so long since she’s had sex this good. Plus Rachel’s kind of riding her thigh and she can feel just how much fucking Santana is turning her on.
The fingers drum lightly against her spot and Rachel uses her thumb to press down right just to the right of her clit and Santana’s so close it’s embarrassing. “Shit...gonna come.”
Rachel makes this sexy little growl noise in the back of her throat and leans forward until her lips are brushing against Santana’s ear. Her fingers work faster and she’s just whispering about how sexy Santana sounds and how good it feels to be this deep inside of her. And like that she just shatters, Rachel’s name a fucking mantra on her lips.
It actually takes her a moment to catch her breath and she’s just staring at the ceiling feeling a little like maybe she got hustled. Like Rachel was some kind of sex shark and she just got fucking hustled. Which is ridiculous because it’s not like Rachel told her she hadn’t done this before. She definitely hadn’t asked, but fuck she feels like she just got her world rocked. She looks over at Rachel and the girl is practically preening.
Yeah, but fuck that because two can play that game and Rachel’s so wet against her thigh she’s practically slipping. So, there’s no way she’s not aching for it too. And paybacks are definitely a bitch.
Where Rachel explored her slowly, Santana’s got this shit at a torturous pace. She spends a good twenty minutes on Rachel’s breasts alone, learning what things make her shiver or gasp or tug at Santana’s hair. Her hips keep bucking up like they’re trying to get friction, but Santana is having none of that. She licks a path down Rachel’s stomach and sucks at the skin over her hip, which makes Rachel’s legs tremble. She can smell her and god her mouth’s practically watering to taste her. But she’s not done teasing the fuck out of her and she starts and Rachel’s right knee and trails little kisses up the inside of her thigh and repeats the same on the left, skipping the center all together.
It’s not until Rachel’s writhing and growls out, “Goddammit Santana, fuck me,” that she thinks the girl’s probably had enough. She settles between Rachel’s thighs and parts her, flattening her tongue against the hot, red flesh and licks a stripe up the middle. This isn’t something she ever does with random hook-ups because that’s just not smart ever, but as she’s moaning at the taste, she’s definitely happy she broke her own rule this time.
Her tongue circles the little nub and she takes it between her teeth carefully, flicking it back and forth. There’s a litany of curse words that leave Rachel’s mouth and she does it again. She releases it moments later, letting her tongue dip below and tease at Rachel’s opening. Hips buck and Santana reaches up to hold them steady as she stiffens her tongue and pushes it inside. She swirls it, licking at the inner walls. She can feel Rachel start to tighten around her and she curls her tongue upward and sort of drags it back and forth over this little ridge just inside of her. Rachel’s whole body sort of freezes and then she’s shuddering, crying out.
Santana sort of lazily licks at her clit as she’s coasting on her orgasm, but she pushes two fingers inside of Rachel just as she’s coming down, working her up again quickly. Her fingers are are curled against her spot and Rachel’s moans are crescendoing and she comes again, moments later, screaming Santana’s name.
The room is quiet for long moments after that, save for panting breaths, but it’s not awkward or anything. This is the part she usually hates because girls seem to think this means you’re ready for them to like show up with a U-Haul and head down to the SPCA to pick out some mutt who’s like named “Buddy” or “Shane” or some shit. But she doesn’t find herself eager for Rachel to leave. At least not yet. In fact, she’d hoping this is just a temporary break before they do it all over again.
Rachel rolls to her side and covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. “I have never done that before.”
“That as in with a stranger or that as in with another female?” Because one of those is definitely a lie.
“Which do you think it is?” Rachel looks at her curiously, but there’s a challenge there.
Santana trails her fingers along the length of Rachel’s arm and smiles when the other girl giggles. “You’re definitely not straight. Like that I know for certain.”
There’s this little smirk and a devilish glint in Rachel’s eye and she tries to shrug, making as if it’s out of nonchalance. It’s totally cocky, but Santana’s feeling that. She should be cocky. She’s totally hot. “What if I am? You are awfully fixated on it. Besides, do you often serenade straight girls with provocative songs in the middle of strange bars?”
“You’re not straight. So...”
Rachel sighs, rolling her eyes at Santana. “That’s not the point here. For all you knew I was.” She holds her finger up at Santana’s grin. “That is not me confirming or denying my sexuality in any way. I just want to know if this is the sort of thing you do often.” It’s not an accusation. Santana doesn’t feel trapped in the way other girls try to.
Her grin turns to get cocky because Rachel’s totally not straight, but fuck if she is then there’s a sort of victory there because she definitely won’t still be by the end of today, if Santana has her way. Her index finger traces along Rachel’s cheek and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t totally love the looks she gets on her face when she leans into the touch. Their eyes are locked and she hears Rachel’s breathing kind of stutter when she murmurs, “no, just you.”
There’s this pretty little blush that colors her cheeks even as she clears her throat and shifts a little to hide her face. Santana thinks her giggles are both adorable and incredibly sexy and she’s not sure how that even works, but Rachel’s totally pulling it off. “I think you’re just saying that so that I don’t leave this bed.”
“I don’t believe in fake flattery,” Santana says, nudging Rachel until she’s on her back and rolls over her, tangling their legs together. The little whimper that she makes in the back of her throat shouts a spike of arousal through her gut and she leans down until their lips are inches apart. “But you’re right. I’m not quite done with you yet,” she whispers just as she closes the distance.