I'll Be There for You -- Glee: Quinn/Santana -- Chapter 6/8
Title: I'll Be There For You
Chapter: 6/8
Author: perfectly_vague
Rating: R (language, adult themes)
Disclaimer: I own zero rights to Glee.
Summary: Quinn's had it with Santana being a different person out in the world than she is behind closed doors. Same sucky summary... same request that you don't let it deter you! :p This is the result of one of the iTunes shuffle drabbles I posted not long ago. As always, any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
Santana was only airborne for a second before she hit the bed on her back, but it felt like flying; soaring even. Her still-nude body was engulfed by the white feathery down comforter, and the cool and airy surface caused goosebumps to spring up all over like fresh flowers aching for a gentle rain.
She was soon pulled down from her fictional cloud and brought back to a tangible heaven when she felt the weight of Quinn's body on top of hers. The blonde's silk-like palms ran up her midsection and over her breasts before settling on either side of her face, leading their lips into a collision once more. Santana didn't even try to stop herself from smiling into the kiss, suddenly remembering Quinn's passion for topping her: a feat no one else could claim to have ever done.
Before she and Quinn started dating, the Latina was famous for the constant need to dominate her conquests. But once they started having sex, and Quinn's nervous inexperience gave way to confident know-how, the more hidden, yet still existent, head bitch in charge within began to emerge in the bedroom. Stubborn and put off at first by this unusual change in the balance of power, in time, Santana started to enjoy the mischievous expression that commanded Quinn's features whenever she would crawl out from under her. Eventually, it became an expectation, something she awaited eagerly; after all, she took pride in the fact that she had taught her girlfriend very, very well.
Santana's eyes snapped open at the feeling of her nipple trapped between Quinn's pearly, perfect teeth, and she pushed a pillow under her thrown back head so she could enjoy the view that she still could barely believe. Quinn was the fire to her ice, and together, they created some amazing steam.
Right as Quinn's heated tongue was painting teasing lines over Santana's bikini line, the blaring ringtone that they both knew signified a call from Jerry sounded from the other room. Slitted green eyes flashed up a warning before continuing her mouth's descent, and Santana herself tried to block out the distraction, but the bedside clock reading 1:10 taunted her to take the call.
Combing blonde hair through her fingers to get her attention, she planted a kiss on the other girl's lips before shimmying quickly off the bed. "It's probably about my trip, baby, one second..."
Santana barely caught her breath before answering, leaving it on the defaulted speakerphone that she had it set to for driving. "Hello?" she asked, pacing the area outside the open bedroom door.
"Lopez!" Jerry barked, "Why is your external hard drive here? Don't you need it for the trip?"
She rolled her eyes. His lack of faith in her after years of flawless, tireless work never failed to astound. "Don't worry, I have a back-up. It's already packed."
He cleared his throat. "Oh. Good. You gonna be on time? Not out, getting your nails done or something?"
This time she let flecks of her disdain show in her voice. "I can handle it, Jerry."
"You better. 'Cause this account is gold for us, so I don't care what you have to do. Kiss their ass, rape their ass, show them your ass, whatever it takes."
She rolled her eyes yet again and let out a faintly amused, mostly nervous chuckle. Jerry's crude candor was nothing new. "I've got it covered. I'll call you when I get there."
"Good," Jerry stated before hanging up the phone.
Tossing her phone and running back into the bedroom, Santana came to a short stop when she saw Quinn putting her clothes back on. Her own clothes back on. She knew she was fucked.
When Quinn's tremors faded to slow, shuddered breathing, Santana smirked and kissed her way back up her girlfriend's body before showering her with short, sweaty kisses, enjoying the deep exhale against her lips when she pulled her fingers out of Quinn.
A lazy smile played on Quinn's mouth as she spoke in a whisper. "That was incredible."
"I know, babe," Santana affirmed with another, longer kiss. "But my parents are gonna be home soon, so we should probably get dressed."
Quinn feigned a sigh of annoyance before smiling once more. "If we must."
Santana reached over the side of the bed onto the floor and picked up Quinn's clothes. "Here you go, babe," she said before leaning back down to find her own.
Instead, Quinn stood from the bed and walked over to Santana's hamper and started going through shirts.
Santana wore a bemused expression as she pulled on her underwear. "What are you doing?"
The blonde assessed one of Santana's pajama shirts and slipped it on before doing the same with a pair of her shorts. "I don't know, I kind of like the idea of wearing your clothes after... that," she said as if it were obvious.
"Well, you could wear something clean there, Babe," Santana replied with a laugh.
Quinn walked back over to the bed with a blush, shuffling her feet on the side of the bed that Santana's now dressed legs dangled off of. "Yeahhhh, but... then they wouldn't smell like you. And then what's the point? This way... I feel close to you."
One of Santana's rarer, full-toothed smiles broke out over her face as she leaned in once more to kiss her girlfriend. "Of course. What was I thinking?" she asked playfully. "Wanna make out until they get home?"
Raising an eyebrow wickedly, Quinn formed a smirk of her own. "As long as I get to be on top," she conditioned before pushing Santana backward and lunging toward her lips.
"Oh.. um.. are we... done?" Santana asked awkwardly, suddenly feeling both very naked and very cold in contrast to her racing heartbeat. "It was work on the phone, Babe, I had to take it."
Quinn faced away from the Latina while she fed her arms through her bra straps. "Yeah, I heard," she remarked flatly, "I didn't realize there was so much ass showing and kissing and raping in your job, Santana."
"That's just the way Jerry is --"
"And that couldn't have waited five minutes?!" Quinn shouted, and Santana would have been offended if it wasn't a fairly accurate estimation of how long it took the Latina to finish under the other girl's expert touch. "You just showed me once again who the real Santana is and what your real priorities are!"
Feeling just as vulnerable as she did frustrated, Santana quickly pulled her clothes on in an attempt to make things even a fraction less awkward, if it all possible. "God, that's so unfair! You can't just always focus on the negative, Quinn! I'm human, I make mistakes!"
"That is not the issue here! A mistake is losing your temper or misjudging a situation or taking out a bad mood on someone, both of which we've done to each other and forgiven countless times, but your heart and time and energy constantly being invested in something else above me first and foremost ALL the time isn't a mistake, it's a choice! You know, I almost did it, I almost fell back into this with you just now, and I can't ignore the fact that right before I could fully give in, the epitome of everything I've been battling against happens, and I think that just says it all."
The muscles jumped in her balled-up fists. She wanted to punch something. She took a moment to fume silently instead. "All right, you know what? I realize I dropped the ball. Yet again. What a fucking surprise. But since you've made it clear that you're not even going to hear me out, then you're right, I guess there is nothing left to say. And I have a plane to catch."
"Whatever, Santana. Have a good trip," Quinn laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes before slamming the bedroom door.
Santana didn't even try to conceal the pent up, almost primal scream that came from somewhere deep within her battered soul. No time left to primp, she yanked her briefcase and suitcase from their resting places on the floor and didn't even bother to look in the mirror before leaving, deciding she would worry about that later when she was several time zones away and far less steamed. Every opportunity, every attempt, everything she had tried to do to prove herself worthy to Quinn, a task that never used to be a task, had failed. Her charm and affection, which used to be effortless, were now non-existent, and as Santana was coming to realize, likely gone forever. She wiped away a few threats of tears before coming to what seemed to be an inevitable conclusion:
She was done trying. It was really over.
Chapter: 6/8
Author: perfectly_vague
Rating: R (language, adult themes)
Disclaimer: I own zero rights to Glee.
Summary: Quinn's had it with Santana being a different person out in the world than she is behind closed doors. Same sucky summary... same request that you don't let it deter you! :p This is the result of one of the iTunes shuffle drabbles I posted not long ago. As always, any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
Santana was only airborne for a second before she hit the bed on her back, but it felt like flying; soaring even. Her still-nude body was engulfed by the white feathery down comforter, and the cool and airy surface caused goosebumps to spring up all over like fresh flowers aching for a gentle rain.
She was soon pulled down from her fictional cloud and brought back to a tangible heaven when she felt the weight of Quinn's body on top of hers. The blonde's silk-like palms ran up her midsection and over her breasts before settling on either side of her face, leading their lips into a collision once more. Santana didn't even try to stop herself from smiling into the kiss, suddenly remembering Quinn's passion for topping her: a feat no one else could claim to have ever done.
Before she and Quinn started dating, the Latina was famous for the constant need to dominate her conquests. But once they started having sex, and Quinn's nervous inexperience gave way to confident know-how, the more hidden, yet still existent, head bitch in charge within began to emerge in the bedroom. Stubborn and put off at first by this unusual change in the balance of power, in time, Santana started to enjoy the mischievous expression that commanded Quinn's features whenever she would crawl out from under her. Eventually, it became an expectation, something she awaited eagerly; after all, she took pride in the fact that she had taught her girlfriend very, very well.
Santana's eyes snapped open at the feeling of her nipple trapped between Quinn's pearly, perfect teeth, and she pushed a pillow under her thrown back head so she could enjoy the view that she still could barely believe. Quinn was the fire to her ice, and together, they created some amazing steam.
Right as Quinn's heated tongue was painting teasing lines over Santana's bikini line, the blaring ringtone that they both knew signified a call from Jerry sounded from the other room. Slitted green eyes flashed up a warning before continuing her mouth's descent, and Santana herself tried to block out the distraction, but the bedside clock reading 1:10 taunted her to take the call.
Combing blonde hair through her fingers to get her attention, she planted a kiss on the other girl's lips before shimmying quickly off the bed. "It's probably about my trip, baby, one second..."
Santana barely caught her breath before answering, leaving it on the defaulted speakerphone that she had it set to for driving. "Hello?" she asked, pacing the area outside the open bedroom door.
"Lopez!" Jerry barked, "Why is your external hard drive here? Don't you need it for the trip?"
She rolled her eyes. His lack of faith in her after years of flawless, tireless work never failed to astound. "Don't worry, I have a back-up. It's already packed."
He cleared his throat. "Oh. Good. You gonna be on time? Not out, getting your nails done or something?"
This time she let flecks of her disdain show in her voice. "I can handle it, Jerry."
"You better. 'Cause this account is gold for us, so I don't care what you have to do. Kiss their ass, rape their ass, show them your ass, whatever it takes."
She rolled her eyes yet again and let out a faintly amused, mostly nervous chuckle. Jerry's crude candor was nothing new. "I've got it covered. I'll call you when I get there."
"Good," Jerry stated before hanging up the phone.
Tossing her phone and running back into the bedroom, Santana came to a short stop when she saw Quinn putting her clothes back on. Her own clothes back on. She knew she was fucked.
When Quinn's tremors faded to slow, shuddered breathing, Santana smirked and kissed her way back up her girlfriend's body before showering her with short, sweaty kisses, enjoying the deep exhale against her lips when she pulled her fingers out of Quinn.
A lazy smile played on Quinn's mouth as she spoke in a whisper. "That was incredible."
"I know, babe," Santana affirmed with another, longer kiss. "But my parents are gonna be home soon, so we should probably get dressed."
Quinn feigned a sigh of annoyance before smiling once more. "If we must."
Santana reached over the side of the bed onto the floor and picked up Quinn's clothes. "Here you go, babe," she said before leaning back down to find her own.
Instead, Quinn stood from the bed and walked over to Santana's hamper and started going through shirts.
Santana wore a bemused expression as she pulled on her underwear. "What are you doing?"
The blonde assessed one of Santana's pajama shirts and slipped it on before doing the same with a pair of her shorts. "I don't know, I kind of like the idea of wearing your clothes after... that," she said as if it were obvious.
"Well, you could wear something clean there, Babe," Santana replied with a laugh.
Quinn walked back over to the bed with a blush, shuffling her feet on the side of the bed that Santana's now dressed legs dangled off of. "Yeahhhh, but... then they wouldn't smell like you. And then what's the point? This way... I feel close to you."
One of Santana's rarer, full-toothed smiles broke out over her face as she leaned in once more to kiss her girlfriend. "Of course. What was I thinking?" she asked playfully. "Wanna make out until they get home?"
Raising an eyebrow wickedly, Quinn formed a smirk of her own. "As long as I get to be on top," she conditioned before pushing Santana backward and lunging toward her lips.
"Oh.. um.. are we... done?" Santana asked awkwardly, suddenly feeling both very naked and very cold in contrast to her racing heartbeat. "It was work on the phone, Babe, I had to take it."
Quinn faced away from the Latina while she fed her arms through her bra straps. "Yeah, I heard," she remarked flatly, "I didn't realize there was so much ass showing and kissing and raping in your job, Santana."
"That's just the way Jerry is --"
"And that couldn't have waited five minutes?!" Quinn shouted, and Santana would have been offended if it wasn't a fairly accurate estimation of how long it took the Latina to finish under the other girl's expert touch. "You just showed me once again who the real Santana is and what your real priorities are!"
Feeling just as vulnerable as she did frustrated, Santana quickly pulled her clothes on in an attempt to make things even a fraction less awkward, if it all possible. "God, that's so unfair! You can't just always focus on the negative, Quinn! I'm human, I make mistakes!"
"That is not the issue here! A mistake is losing your temper or misjudging a situation or taking out a bad mood on someone, both of which we've done to each other and forgiven countless times, but your heart and time and energy constantly being invested in something else above me first and foremost ALL the time isn't a mistake, it's a choice! You know, I almost did it, I almost fell back into this with you just now, and I can't ignore the fact that right before I could fully give in, the epitome of everything I've been battling against happens, and I think that just says it all."
The muscles jumped in her balled-up fists. She wanted to punch something. She took a moment to fume silently instead. "All right, you know what? I realize I dropped the ball. Yet again. What a fucking surprise. But since you've made it clear that you're not even going to hear me out, then you're right, I guess there is nothing left to say. And I have a plane to catch."
"Whatever, Santana. Have a good trip," Quinn laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes before slamming the bedroom door.
Santana didn't even try to conceal the pent up, almost primal scream that came from somewhere deep within her battered soul. No time left to primp, she yanked her briefcase and suitcase from their resting places on the floor and didn't even bother to look in the mirror before leaving, deciding she would worry about that later when she was several time zones away and far less steamed. Every opportunity, every attempt, everything she had tried to do to prove herself worthy to Quinn, a task that never used to be a task, had failed. Her charm and affection, which used to be effortless, were now non-existent, and as Santana was coming to realize, likely gone forever. She wiped away a few threats of tears before coming to what seemed to be an inevitable conclusion:
She was done trying. It was really over.