Half Was Never The Agreement
Title: Half Was Never The Agreement
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: NC-17
Character: Finn/Santana
Prompt: "It's not like I'm never gonna put out again. I'm a sure thing. I promise." left by nicalyse at the Santana Lopez Drabble Meme. Follow up to Thank Me Later and Yeah, I Know What I Said. Let's call this 'Freshman 'Verse'.
Word Count: 5,100
Disclaimer: Don't own.
He must be pissed at her or something. Actually, it's pretty clear he is. And the really shitty thing is that the only reason she even came to this stupid fucking party was because she knew he'd be here and she kind of wanted to see him. And it's not even because of the sex. She could have sex with anyone. After the last time they were together, she actually felt kind of bad just leaving. He made her come so hard on his tongue that she still wasn't recovered when he pressed into her and she finally got to feel (and so did he) what it was like to come with him inside her.
But yeah, she still left at the end of the night and grabbed a cab home. It was late and dark and she was cold in her stupid skinny jeans, and for once, she actually thought she'd rather be in his warm (stupid, small) bed instead of on her way to her own.
It's been a week and she wants to see him. It's not a big thing.
She's talking with Puck. Because fuck no, she wasn't coming to this thing alone, and fuck no she wasn't telling Rachel she's been sleeping with the same guy for longer than a week. Puck gets her; they're practically the same person or something. He won't say anything to Rachel, either, and he didn't have plans tonight, since Rachel's got her face buried in her books. And he won't be pissed if in like, 10 minutes or an hour or three, she blows him off to leave with Finn. They understand each other.
But Finn's ignoring her. She knows ignoring and he's apparently been working on it. She caught his eye once and he didn't even crack a smile before raising his bottle to his mouth and turning away from her. She doesn't know what the fuck that's about, but she doesn't like it, and honestly, if he's going to be a dick, she doesn't want his.
Totally not true. He's getting so much better. She's going to credit the panties she left him with that one time. He can last longer, which means he has time to do more, and she is not complaining about him being a little experimental. She loves it, actually.
And look, she knows he always wants her to stay. He's stopped asking, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want it. So she doesn't know why he's pissed at her and acting like a little bitch, because she didn't do anything last time that she doesn't do every time.
"So, which one is he?" Puck asks, looking around the room. Santana sips her beer slowly and honestly feels like shit, because she's going to have to point Finn out as the guy with his back to her.
"Tall one. Black shirt."
"That guy?" Puck points to not Finn and she hits his hand.
"The one with the brown hair standing with the douche in the pink polo."
"That his friend?" Puck asks. Santana doesn't know and it doesn't matter, so she shrugs. "He's a lanky fucker, isn't he?"
She laughs a sips her beer. "He's big all over," she tells him. She can tell he doesn't want to smile, but he does.
"Why's he over there?"
"What's with the fucking Spanish Inquisition, Puck?" she asks. She's kind of starting to think he's told Rachel about tonight and his reason for coming with Santana, and honestly, if he's just gathering info, she's going to stab them both in their sleep.
(Not really, but she has rage issues which are intensified when she's being ignored by people who shouldn't fucking ignore her.)
"Just asking! Fuck." Puck gives her a look. "Go over there."
She scoffs. "Fuck that. I'm not going to talk to him if he's being a dick."
"What's with you and this kid?" he asks. He turns to her a little and she can tell he wants an actual answer. She hates that he can tell there's something more than just casual sex here.
Well, at least Finn seems to think there is. Santana just wants to bang him regularly, and she didn't realize that'd be a fucking issue for him. He should be fucking thanking her for being so willing.
"I don't know. The sex is decent, but he's like a fucking puppy dog." Puck chuckles. She feels more and more out of place the longer she stands here, 20 feet away from Finn with him avoiding her. "I think he likes me or something."
"I think you like him." She pins him with a glare and he just smirks and drains his beer. "You're doing a pretty shitty impression of someone who doesn't give a fuck, Lopez."
She punches him in the arm and hands him her empty bottle. "Eat a dick, Puckerman, and get me a refill."
"Of dick, or beer?"
She narrows her eyes into slits. "Fuck you."
He laughs. Asshole.
She watches Finn, without making it obvious. He sees Puck walking to the kitchen, then turns to look over his shoulder to make sure she's alone. She's playing with her phone. She's not actually going to text Rachel, but she's typing something out so that if Finn comes over here, she can hit 'send' and it won't look like she just didn't want to seem as though she wasn't paying attention to him.
She hates playing the game. She likes it when things are easy. She likes that she sees him at these parties, they talk and share a drink, then he takes her to his dorm and fucks her. That's easy. It's what works. He's changing the game plan and she doesn't like it.
He turns back around, though, and doesn't come talk to her even though she's alone, and she's really fucking annoyed.
She's thinking of her next move when Puck comes back with her beer. She realizes that Finn has no clue who Puck is, and that's probably got something to do with him ignoring her. She's allowed to have guy friends, though, and considering the only time she's even touched Puck tonight was to hit him, she doesn't think Finn should be jumping to conclusions so quickly. Maybe she's pissed at him.
But that just makes her think that the sex would be all rough and hot, and fuck, she wants to talk to him. She hates what he's doing to her.
Finn migrates into the kitchen and comes back still ignoring her.
"Yo, this kid's an idiot," Puck says. She thinks he means it. "Wanna make him jealous? I mean, I can just like, talk all close or something. Nothing more, 'cause Rachel'd dump my ass." Santana laughs. It's not fake or to get Finn's attention, Puck's just funny. "Whatever. Now that she's my girl I gotta keep that shit locked down, alright?"
Santana shakes her head and casts her eyes on Finn again. At least he's facing her this time. He's not paying attention, but then she sees his eyes shift over and land on her. She doesn't do that lame thing where she looks away and pretends she wasn't looking. She does the hot thing where she makes it clear she was staring at him and it's like a game of chicken to see who'll look away first.
He loses.
"Hold this," she says to Puck, passing him her beer. She could just hang onto it herself, but not for what she has to do right now.
She fucking hates playing the game.
She smiles at this guy as she passes him because she's seen him looking all night and he's directly within Finn's line of sight. Yeah, she's trying to make him jealous. She's not going to use Puck for that. Actually, she's not going to use anyone for that. She doesn't know Finn all that well, but she assumes this is enough to get his blood boiling and make him talk to her.
She's in the kitchen searching for something to do a shot of. Surely to god someone brought hard liquor to this party.
Finn doesn't come in after her, which pisses her off further, and even the burn of the JD down her throat doesn't distract her.
She's sweating this freshman far too much.
The guy she smiled at comes towards her when she steps out of the kitchen. Puck's drinking her beer (she should have seen that coming) and talking to a couple guys it appears he knows.
"I got her, man," Finn says, hand coming out to hold her arm above the elbow.
The other guy just looks at Finn. "You got her?" he asks.
She's kind of pissed, too. She doesn't pull her arm from his. "Finn, what?"
He just looks at her all pathetic-like. "Santana." The guy walks away and Finn pulls Santana towards the wall, where apparently he thinks it's quieter. Yeah, that 10 feet really made a difference. "Who's that guy?"
"I don't know," she says, brow furrowed.
"No, not him. The other guy."
She rolls her eyes. His thumb's moving over the skin on her arm. He just likes touching her. He told her that. "Puck. My roommate's boyfriend. I didn't wanna come alone."
"You're trying to make me jealous."
"You're trying to avoid me," she fires back. "What the fuck is with that?"
He sighs. He won't look her in the eye. "I don't know," he practically mumbles. "I just...I felt weird last time." He lifts his gaze and it makes her so fucking uncomfortable she almost looks away. "When you left. Again."
"That's how this works, Finn."
"Yeah." He finds the floor pretty fucking enthralling again.
"Hey," she says. It comes out a little quieter than she wants it to. "What?"
"Nothing." He smiles and brings his hand up to play with her hair and push it back off her face. "I was kind of hoping you'd be here."
"Really? So what's with the fucking hour and a half of silent treatment?"
He shrugs. "I saw you with that guy. I got pissed."
She smiles at him and leans in closer, slips her arm around his neck. His cold beer bottle presses against the small of her back, but she doesn't care. "Ever had angry sex before?"
"Santana," he laughs. "I'm not angry now."
She rolls her eyes. "Play along, dumbass. I would have let you call all the shots."
"All of them?" Yeah, she knew that'd catch his interest. She nods, licks her lips. "Okay."
Yeah, he's not angry at all, but whatever. He does this annoying thing where he drains his beer and then slips his hand into hers, and she knows Puck sees her leave the party. She doesn't make eye contact because she doesn't want to see whatever expression he's wearing.
She lets him hold her hand on the walk to his place, because she feels like he thinks he needs to or something, and it's kind of cold out and she doesn't mind. He's not saying anything, and it weirds her out. She doesn't know what she wants him to be saying, or what she thought he'd talk about, but whatever.
Halfway to his place, she's sick of the silence.
"What do you want to do to me?"
"Santana!" he chokes out. "You can't just ask me that!"
She laughs at him and he loosens his hold on her hand, so she tightens hers. "Sure I can. Haven't you been thinking about it?"
He stares straight ahead, but she sees his lip curling up at the corner. "No."
"Liar," she says under her breath. He bumps her shoulder with his.
Tonight might be the most they've ever talked. She doesn't totally mind. And by that she means his voice is pretty sexy and she's okay with hearing it. She also doesn't hate that he actually did get jealous. She didn't really think about that when she decided to drag Puck out tonight. She likes that she didn't even have to try to make him jealous.
She's acting like an idiot with this one and she doesn't know why, exactly.
They run into a few of the guys who live on his floor as soon as they walk into his building. They're just going out and they know exactly why Finn is coming home early with her. She doesn't care, but Finn seems a little embarrassed. Whatever. She keeps walking towards the elevator and he jogs to catch up to her.
"What's your rush?" he asks, laughing as she pushes the elevator call button for the third time.
"No rush, I just don't give a shit about your stupid friends." He shakes his head, but whatever. She knows he's not really friends with those guys. "And you ignoring me was completely idiotic, but it made me totally hot for you." The elevator doors open, so she turns to face him and his eyes are all dark as she walks backwards and hits the button for his floor. "And I know you have dirty shit in your head that you're waiting to put on me."
"Santana."
The doors start to close and he kind of has to jump to get in on time, and that's not nearly as funny as it should be.
Seriously, she wants to fuck him now.
They get to his room (that elevator ride has never felt longer) and he's pretty smooth with the key, which she's impressed by. He usually fumbles with it a bit. He seems a lot more calm than usual, and she doesn't get it. Shit. She hopes he hasn't been fucking someone else, too, and that's what's making him all confident. Well, confident would be a stretch. She knows he'd tell her if he was with someone else. Not out of courtesy or whatever, but because he's not bright enough to keep that shit to himself.
The door clicks behind them and she turns to face him again. He's just standing there looking at her with his hands in his pockets. It's weird. Tonight is so fucked up already. She hopes he doesn't want to do anything too crazy. Actually, she knows he won't. He probably doesn't know how.
"Come here," he says.
His voice is all quiet and he's smiling at her, and she doesn't normally like taking orders, but she can admit she's in the mood for it tonight. She walks towards him and he sets his hands on her hips, then slides them to the small of her back and pulls her closer right before he kisses her. It's not what she expects. Which is kind of stupid, because he's been freakishly quiet and calm since they were talking at the party.
The kiss is total bullshit, to be honest. His lips are barely even touching hers, just kind of brushing over them. It's not what she wants, but he won't let her do anything other than take it, and fuck, if she wasn't so frustrated by that, she'd think it was hot. His hand dips beneath her shirt, but just sits on her skin. How is he not as impatient as she is?
"Ever had someone like, treat you right?" he asks, pulling back.
Asshole! What the fuck is he trying to say?
"What?" She narrows her eyes and he continues to just stand there smiling like an idiot.
"That's what I wanna do to you." He's running his hands over her body - her back, her hips and waist - and this look on his face actually makes her really fucking intrigued as to what he thinks 'treating her right' will entail.
She's not stupid. It's pretty much a given that he's a little more into her than she is into him. But the fact that she spent all night worried about him ignoring her tells her maybe she's more invested than she thinks.
And she did say she'd do whatever he wanted, and if this is it, she's thinking it might work out well for both of them.
"Okay." She slides her hands up his arms to settle on the back of his neck. He's still smiling when he kisses her, pulls her flush against him and lets his hand cradle the back of her head as he walks them towards his bed.
This is fucking trouble. Letting him treat her like this is just going to get them into shit. But then his lips are making a path down her neck and his thumb is rubbing the skin right above her jeans, tracing the line of her hip, and he says, "You're so pretty," against her throat, and she doesn't really fucking care about liking him.
Maybe she does. Whatever.
He takes his fucking time, she'll tell you that much. He undresses her slowly and seems to want to kiss every single inch of skin he can, and she doesn't stop him. She might let him know he should hurry up, but she doesn't tell him to, and she knows her hands in his hair as he kisses below her navel show him that she doesn't hate this.
They've always done it her way, which was to get naked as quickly as possible, kiss a minimal amount of times, and find a condom within five minutes of getting to his room. She's pretty sure he's just been kissing her for a half hour, and she knows she's wetter than she's been in fucking ages. Her jeans aren't even off yet. He's got the button undone and he's dragging down the zipper, and he kisses her lips, runs his hand up her side and circles her nipple with his thumb through her bra.
"Finn," she whines. It sounds stupid, but whatever. She's getting desperate. "You're making me crazy."
He grins down at her, sits back a bit so he can pull his shirt over his head. "Good crazy," he states. He nips at her lips, brushes his thumb along her hairline just behind her ear. "It's a good crazy. Right?"
"Yeah," she manages. She angles her hips against his, but he's not really on top of her, so it does fuck all for her. She wants to be naked. She wants him between her legs. She's never had anyone work her up quite like this. "Baby, please."
"Not yet," he murmurs against the skin between her breasts. He takes her bra off and brings both hands to her chest, and fuck, he should not have that stupid little smile on his face as he stares at her tits. It's like he's in love with her body or something. He probably is.
He kisses his way across her chest, makes her arch her back against his mouth. She honestly doesn't feel like she can get enough of him under her hands, and she hates that he seems perfectly okay with that. She knows he's hard for her, but he seems to be keeping his shit in check. She'd mention that, but it feels wrong to bring it up right now. She doesn't want to make fun of him.
When he finally hooks his hands into the sides of her jeans, she actually sighs in relief. He drags his mouth down her bare thigh, scrapes his teeth along the inside before kissing the inside of her knee. She parts her legs when he has her jeans off and dropped onto the floor, and he kisses up the opposite leg, then completely bypasses her center, which she knows he can see is wet, even through the scrap of lace she's wearing.
"Finn." It's totally a pathetic sound. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to," he says, pushing her hair off her face. He kisses her forehead, makes her relax. "I wanna show you..." His voice trails, so she opens her eyes to look at him. "I'm good at this part."
He's been competent at almost everything they've done.
But fuck. He knows he's good at this.
"God, yes," she breathes. He gives her a cocky smirk, then works his hand into her panties and rubs gently, like he just wants to feel her or something.
"I knew you'd like it," he tells her, lips against her ear. She mewls and rolls her hips against his hand. He circles her clit and her head falls back against the pillow. "You look so hot right now."
He better think so. He's still wearing his fucking pants and she's down to her underwear and his hand is inside. If he didn't think she looks hot, she'd be questioning his sexuality.
She manages to reach down and unbutton and unzip his jeans, and she's pretty sure he'd stop her if he didn't want her to take them off yet. She can't push them down far, though, and she's thinking it's pretty stupid that she's trying, because he pulls his hand away and stands up, pushes his jeans to the floor. She misses his hand. She misses his whole fucking body. He tugs her panties down her legs and pushes her thighs apart.
"You're beautiful," he says from where he's kneeling on the bed. "You have no idea."
Yeah, she does, but she's not about to argue. And honestly, no one's ever really looked at her the way he's looking at her right now, so maybe he sees something they don't.
And she's wondering if there are any other words he can use to describe how she looks, because he's used a few different ones tonight.
She doesn't really have to worry about it, because he puts his mouth on her and she's so fucking close already that her hips buck immediately when he circles her clit with his tongue. She thinks it's so fucking sexy that he's only ever done this for her. She pushes her hands into his hair and he hums against her when she scratches his scalp a bit with her nails. He fucking loves that, and she loves making him let out that sound. He presses his tongue inside her and the noise she makes is completely embarrassing, but it feels so good, but still not enough at all, and fuck, he really is trying to prove some kind of point here, and she's really enjoying letting him.
He pulls away, licking his lips. "Taste so good," he says, eyes on her pussy. Any other time, she'd ask if he's talking to her, or what's in front of him. This time, she just closes her eyes and tugs at his hair.
"So close, baby," she admits, even though she doesn't really want to. It's fucking true, though. He's been going down on her for like, three minutes and she's about fall apart.
His teeth graze her clit, then he sucks hard and releases it, and she knows he can feel her thigh quaking under his palm. He buries his face against her, flattens his tongue, and she comes undone, her eyes snapping closed and her mouth opening. No sound comes out - just breaths - which is probably a first, and he holds her hips down and keeps sliding his tongue over her until she's coming down and she pushes him away.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, voice all quiet, when he's leaning over her again.
"Yes," she says, a little too desperately. She's too out of it to realize that he was joking until she sees the stupid smile on his face. They've done this enough times for him to know she loves kissing him after. He presses his tongue into her mouth right away, and she moans more because she likes that he remembers shit like that than she does from anything else.
He finally pushes his boxers off and reaches for a condom, and she's so fucking relieved that she's going to have him inside her soon that she can't help but tell him how bad she wants it. He kisses her to shut her up, tells her, "I'm not done," and she figures he means with this whole 'treating her right' thing and not anything else.
He pushes into her smoothly and kisses up her throat, across her jaw to her ear. "'S'gonna be slow." She nods, because she has no say in any of this, and fuck, he feels so good that she doesn't care. "And strong."
"Fuck, Finn, baby."
He presses her down into the mattress with his hand on her hip, thrusts into her slowly. "So good like this," he says like a promise against her lips.
She just nods. He's not wrong.
And if she'd known he could last so long this way (he probably couldn't until now, to be honest) she would have told him to do it sooner. She was about to say something about him using the word 'strong' to describe it, but shit, he actually manages to pull it off. She's honestly never had sex like this before, and it's freaking her the fuck out that she loves it as much as she does.
She comes first. He grinds down on her when he's buried inside her and has his tongue in her mouth, and she's taken completely off guard by her orgasm. It hits her hard and makes her fingers dig into his arms and all the breath leave her lungs. He thrusts shallowly through it, then snaps his hips a few times and follows her over the edge.
She shouldn't like the feel of him on top of her as much as she does. When he tries to move, she hooks her arms under his and says (begs), "Not yet." He nods against her and kisses her, soft and slow and totally in line with everything else that's happened since they walked into his room tonight.
She's so fucked, because she loved every single fucking thing he just did to her. Even the teasing, to a degree.
When he finally slips out of her, he chucks the condom and she's pretty sure she's not meant to see him kick her clothes under his bed, but she totally does. She's not moving yet, because the clock on his table is telling her it's just after midnight. Early, by most standards.
Then he gets back onto the bed so she's between him and the wall. Trapped, basically.
"Stay," he commands, eyes closed. He puts his arm over her middle and pulls her close, presses his lips against her temple. "You said I could have what I want."
He's arguing with her and she hasn't even said anything. He apparently knows she was about to. She was planning on staying for a bit, but not all night or anything insane like that.
But then she thinks of last time, of leaving and going out into the cold and knowing his bed is warm. Right now, she's chilled, because her body temperature has come down and she's got sweat on her skin, but she knows his room will be a hell of a lot warmer than going outside.
"I don't really cuddle, or whatever," she says. He smiles like he's won (he has) and opens his eyes to look at her.
"Okay."
He probably only agrees because his bed is fucking tiny, and they both know damn well they're going to end up pressed together.
She's about to tell him she'll probably want sex in the morning, but then he gets up and grabs her arm, pulls her up with him and shoves the covers down. She gets into his bed (a first, really) and he lays next to her. He's still got her between him and the wall, but it doesn't feel as confining this time.
"I thought you were with that Puck guy," he says needlessly. "And that we weren't gonna do this again." She makes a non-commital noise. She doesn't feel the need to talk about this again. "I thought you were really mad."
"I was," she says. "Don't ignore me." He nods his head and kisses her shoulder. He's already closer than she likes. She doesn't like to be crowded when she sleeps, but he can't really help it on this tiny mattress. "But it's not like I'm never gonna put out again. I'm a sure thing." His smile is annoying and cute and she likes it. "I promise."
He sneaks his hand onto her hip and closes his eyes, and she knows he feels really fucking smug when she doesn't push him away.
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: NC-17
Character: Finn/Santana
Prompt: "It's not like I'm never gonna put out again. I'm a sure thing. I promise." left by nicalyse at the Santana Lopez Drabble Meme. Follow up to Thank Me Later and Yeah, I Know What I Said. Let's call this 'Freshman 'Verse'.
Word Count: 5,100
Disclaimer: Don't own.
He must be pissed at her or something. Actually, it's pretty clear he is. And the really shitty thing is that the only reason she even came to this stupid fucking party was because she knew he'd be here and she kind of wanted to see him. And it's not even because of the sex. She could have sex with anyone. After the last time they were together, she actually felt kind of bad just leaving. He made her come so hard on his tongue that she still wasn't recovered when he pressed into her and she finally got to feel (and so did he) what it was like to come with him inside her.
But yeah, she still left at the end of the night and grabbed a cab home. It was late and dark and she was cold in her stupid skinny jeans, and for once, she actually thought she'd rather be in his warm (stupid, small) bed instead of on her way to her own.
It's been a week and she wants to see him. It's not a big thing.
She's talking with Puck. Because fuck no, she wasn't coming to this thing alone, and fuck no she wasn't telling Rachel she's been sleeping with the same guy for longer than a week. Puck gets her; they're practically the same person or something. He won't say anything to Rachel, either, and he didn't have plans tonight, since Rachel's got her face buried in her books. And he won't be pissed if in like, 10 minutes or an hour or three, she blows him off to leave with Finn. They understand each other.
But Finn's ignoring her. She knows ignoring and he's apparently been working on it. She caught his eye once and he didn't even crack a smile before raising his bottle to his mouth and turning away from her. She doesn't know what the fuck that's about, but she doesn't like it, and honestly, if he's going to be a dick, she doesn't want his.
Totally not true. He's getting so much better. She's going to credit the panties she left him with that one time. He can last longer, which means he has time to do more, and she is not complaining about him being a little experimental. She loves it, actually.
And look, she knows he always wants her to stay. He's stopped asking, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want it. So she doesn't know why he's pissed at her and acting like a little bitch, because she didn't do anything last time that she doesn't do every time.
"So, which one is he?" Puck asks, looking around the room. Santana sips her beer slowly and honestly feels like shit, because she's going to have to point Finn out as the guy with his back to her.
"Tall one. Black shirt."
"That guy?" Puck points to not Finn and she hits his hand.
"The one with the brown hair standing with the douche in the pink polo."
"That his friend?" Puck asks. Santana doesn't know and it doesn't matter, so she shrugs. "He's a lanky fucker, isn't he?"
She laughs a sips her beer. "He's big all over," she tells him. She can tell he doesn't want to smile, but he does.
"Why's he over there?"
"What's with the fucking Spanish Inquisition, Puck?" she asks. She's kind of starting to think he's told Rachel about tonight and his reason for coming with Santana, and honestly, if he's just gathering info, she's going to stab them both in their sleep.
(Not really, but she has rage issues which are intensified when she's being ignored by people who shouldn't fucking ignore her.)
"Just asking! Fuck." Puck gives her a look. "Go over there."
She scoffs. "Fuck that. I'm not going to talk to him if he's being a dick."
"What's with you and this kid?" he asks. He turns to her a little and she can tell he wants an actual answer. She hates that he can tell there's something more than just casual sex here.
Well, at least Finn seems to think there is. Santana just wants to bang him regularly, and she didn't realize that'd be a fucking issue for him. He should be fucking thanking her for being so willing.
"I don't know. The sex is decent, but he's like a fucking puppy dog." Puck chuckles. She feels more and more out of place the longer she stands here, 20 feet away from Finn with him avoiding her. "I think he likes me or something."
"I think you like him." She pins him with a glare and he just smirks and drains his beer. "You're doing a pretty shitty impression of someone who doesn't give a fuck, Lopez."
She punches him in the arm and hands him her empty bottle. "Eat a dick, Puckerman, and get me a refill."
"Of dick, or beer?"
She narrows her eyes into slits. "Fuck you."
He laughs. Asshole.
She watches Finn, without making it obvious. He sees Puck walking to the kitchen, then turns to look over his shoulder to make sure she's alone. She's playing with her phone. She's not actually going to text Rachel, but she's typing something out so that if Finn comes over here, she can hit 'send' and it won't look like she just didn't want to seem as though she wasn't paying attention to him.
She hates playing the game. She likes it when things are easy. She likes that she sees him at these parties, they talk and share a drink, then he takes her to his dorm and fucks her. That's easy. It's what works. He's changing the game plan and she doesn't like it.
He turns back around, though, and doesn't come talk to her even though she's alone, and she's really fucking annoyed.
She's thinking of her next move when Puck comes back with her beer. She realizes that Finn has no clue who Puck is, and that's probably got something to do with him ignoring her. She's allowed to have guy friends, though, and considering the only time she's even touched Puck tonight was to hit him, she doesn't think Finn should be jumping to conclusions so quickly. Maybe she's pissed at him.
But that just makes her think that the sex would be all rough and hot, and fuck, she wants to talk to him. She hates what he's doing to her.
Finn migrates into the kitchen and comes back still ignoring her.
"Yo, this kid's an idiot," Puck says. She thinks he means it. "Wanna make him jealous? I mean, I can just like, talk all close or something. Nothing more, 'cause Rachel'd dump my ass." Santana laughs. It's not fake or to get Finn's attention, Puck's just funny. "Whatever. Now that she's my girl I gotta keep that shit locked down, alright?"
Santana shakes her head and casts her eyes on Finn again. At least he's facing her this time. He's not paying attention, but then she sees his eyes shift over and land on her. She doesn't do that lame thing where she looks away and pretends she wasn't looking. She does the hot thing where she makes it clear she was staring at him and it's like a game of chicken to see who'll look away first.
He loses.
"Hold this," she says to Puck, passing him her beer. She could just hang onto it herself, but not for what she has to do right now.
She fucking hates playing the game.
She smiles at this guy as she passes him because she's seen him looking all night and he's directly within Finn's line of sight. Yeah, she's trying to make him jealous. She's not going to use Puck for that. Actually, she's not going to use anyone for that. She doesn't know Finn all that well, but she assumes this is enough to get his blood boiling and make him talk to her.
She's in the kitchen searching for something to do a shot of. Surely to god someone brought hard liquor to this party.
Finn doesn't come in after her, which pisses her off further, and even the burn of the JD down her throat doesn't distract her.
She's sweating this freshman far too much.
The guy she smiled at comes towards her when she steps out of the kitchen. Puck's drinking her beer (she should have seen that coming) and talking to a couple guys it appears he knows.
"I got her, man," Finn says, hand coming out to hold her arm above the elbow.
The other guy just looks at Finn. "You got her?" he asks.
She's kind of pissed, too. She doesn't pull her arm from his. "Finn, what?"
He just looks at her all pathetic-like. "Santana." The guy walks away and Finn pulls Santana towards the wall, where apparently he thinks it's quieter. Yeah, that 10 feet really made a difference. "Who's that guy?"
"I don't know," she says, brow furrowed.
"No, not him. The other guy."
She rolls her eyes. His thumb's moving over the skin on her arm. He just likes touching her. He told her that. "Puck. My roommate's boyfriend. I didn't wanna come alone."
"You're trying to make me jealous."
"You're trying to avoid me," she fires back. "What the fuck is with that?"
He sighs. He won't look her in the eye. "I don't know," he practically mumbles. "I just...I felt weird last time." He lifts his gaze and it makes her so fucking uncomfortable she almost looks away. "When you left. Again."
"That's how this works, Finn."
"Yeah." He finds the floor pretty fucking enthralling again.
"Hey," she says. It comes out a little quieter than she wants it to. "What?"
"Nothing." He smiles and brings his hand up to play with her hair and push it back off her face. "I was kind of hoping you'd be here."
"Really? So what's with the fucking hour and a half of silent treatment?"
He shrugs. "I saw you with that guy. I got pissed."
She smiles at him and leans in closer, slips her arm around his neck. His cold beer bottle presses against the small of her back, but she doesn't care. "Ever had angry sex before?"
"Santana," he laughs. "I'm not angry now."
She rolls her eyes. "Play along, dumbass. I would have let you call all the shots."
"All of them?" Yeah, she knew that'd catch his interest. She nods, licks her lips. "Okay."
Yeah, he's not angry at all, but whatever. He does this annoying thing where he drains his beer and then slips his hand into hers, and she knows Puck sees her leave the party. She doesn't make eye contact because she doesn't want to see whatever expression he's wearing.
She lets him hold her hand on the walk to his place, because she feels like he thinks he needs to or something, and it's kind of cold out and she doesn't mind. He's not saying anything, and it weirds her out. She doesn't know what she wants him to be saying, or what she thought he'd talk about, but whatever.
Halfway to his place, she's sick of the silence.
"What do you want to do to me?"
"Santana!" he chokes out. "You can't just ask me that!"
She laughs at him and he loosens his hold on her hand, so she tightens hers. "Sure I can. Haven't you been thinking about it?"
He stares straight ahead, but she sees his lip curling up at the corner. "No."
"Liar," she says under her breath. He bumps her shoulder with his.
Tonight might be the most they've ever talked. She doesn't totally mind. And by that she means his voice is pretty sexy and she's okay with hearing it. She also doesn't hate that he actually did get jealous. She didn't really think about that when she decided to drag Puck out tonight. She likes that she didn't even have to try to make him jealous.
She's acting like an idiot with this one and she doesn't know why, exactly.
They run into a few of the guys who live on his floor as soon as they walk into his building. They're just going out and they know exactly why Finn is coming home early with her. She doesn't care, but Finn seems a little embarrassed. Whatever. She keeps walking towards the elevator and he jogs to catch up to her.
"What's your rush?" he asks, laughing as she pushes the elevator call button for the third time.
"No rush, I just don't give a shit about your stupid friends." He shakes his head, but whatever. She knows he's not really friends with those guys. "And you ignoring me was completely idiotic, but it made me totally hot for you." The elevator doors open, so she turns to face him and his eyes are all dark as she walks backwards and hits the button for his floor. "And I know you have dirty shit in your head that you're waiting to put on me."
"Santana."
The doors start to close and he kind of has to jump to get in on time, and that's not nearly as funny as it should be.
Seriously, she wants to fuck him now.
They get to his room (that elevator ride has never felt longer) and he's pretty smooth with the key, which she's impressed by. He usually fumbles with it a bit. He seems a lot more calm than usual, and she doesn't get it. Shit. She hopes he hasn't been fucking someone else, too, and that's what's making him all confident. Well, confident would be a stretch. She knows he'd tell her if he was with someone else. Not out of courtesy or whatever, but because he's not bright enough to keep that shit to himself.
The door clicks behind them and she turns to face him again. He's just standing there looking at her with his hands in his pockets. It's weird. Tonight is so fucked up already. She hopes he doesn't want to do anything too crazy. Actually, she knows he won't. He probably doesn't know how.
"Come here," he says.
His voice is all quiet and he's smiling at her, and she doesn't normally like taking orders, but she can admit she's in the mood for it tonight. She walks towards him and he sets his hands on her hips, then slides them to the small of her back and pulls her closer right before he kisses her. It's not what she expects. Which is kind of stupid, because he's been freakishly quiet and calm since they were talking at the party.
The kiss is total bullshit, to be honest. His lips are barely even touching hers, just kind of brushing over them. It's not what she wants, but he won't let her do anything other than take it, and fuck, if she wasn't so frustrated by that, she'd think it was hot. His hand dips beneath her shirt, but just sits on her skin. How is he not as impatient as she is?
"Ever had someone like, treat you right?" he asks, pulling back.
Asshole! What the fuck is he trying to say?
"What?" She narrows her eyes and he continues to just stand there smiling like an idiot.
"That's what I wanna do to you." He's running his hands over her body - her back, her hips and waist - and this look on his face actually makes her really fucking intrigued as to what he thinks 'treating her right' will entail.
She's not stupid. It's pretty much a given that he's a little more into her than she is into him. But the fact that she spent all night worried about him ignoring her tells her maybe she's more invested than she thinks.
And she did say she'd do whatever he wanted, and if this is it, she's thinking it might work out well for both of them.
"Okay." She slides her hands up his arms to settle on the back of his neck. He's still smiling when he kisses her, pulls her flush against him and lets his hand cradle the back of her head as he walks them towards his bed.
This is fucking trouble. Letting him treat her like this is just going to get them into shit. But then his lips are making a path down her neck and his thumb is rubbing the skin right above her jeans, tracing the line of her hip, and he says, "You're so pretty," against her throat, and she doesn't really fucking care about liking him.
Maybe she does. Whatever.
He takes his fucking time, she'll tell you that much. He undresses her slowly and seems to want to kiss every single inch of skin he can, and she doesn't stop him. She might let him know he should hurry up, but she doesn't tell him to, and she knows her hands in his hair as he kisses below her navel show him that she doesn't hate this.
They've always done it her way, which was to get naked as quickly as possible, kiss a minimal amount of times, and find a condom within five minutes of getting to his room. She's pretty sure he's just been kissing her for a half hour, and she knows she's wetter than she's been in fucking ages. Her jeans aren't even off yet. He's got the button undone and he's dragging down the zipper, and he kisses her lips, runs his hand up her side and circles her nipple with his thumb through her bra.
"Finn," she whines. It sounds stupid, but whatever. She's getting desperate. "You're making me crazy."
He grins down at her, sits back a bit so he can pull his shirt over his head. "Good crazy," he states. He nips at her lips, brushes his thumb along her hairline just behind her ear. "It's a good crazy. Right?"
"Yeah," she manages. She angles her hips against his, but he's not really on top of her, so it does fuck all for her. She wants to be naked. She wants him between her legs. She's never had anyone work her up quite like this. "Baby, please."
"Not yet," he murmurs against the skin between her breasts. He takes her bra off and brings both hands to her chest, and fuck, he should not have that stupid little smile on his face as he stares at her tits. It's like he's in love with her body or something. He probably is.
He kisses his way across her chest, makes her arch her back against his mouth. She honestly doesn't feel like she can get enough of him under her hands, and she hates that he seems perfectly okay with that. She knows he's hard for her, but he seems to be keeping his shit in check. She'd mention that, but it feels wrong to bring it up right now. She doesn't want to make fun of him.
When he finally hooks his hands into the sides of her jeans, she actually sighs in relief. He drags his mouth down her bare thigh, scrapes his teeth along the inside before kissing the inside of her knee. She parts her legs when he has her jeans off and dropped onto the floor, and he kisses up the opposite leg, then completely bypasses her center, which she knows he can see is wet, even through the scrap of lace she's wearing.
"Finn." It's totally a pathetic sound. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to," he says, pushing her hair off her face. He kisses her forehead, makes her relax. "I wanna show you..." His voice trails, so she opens her eyes to look at him. "I'm good at this part."
He's been competent at almost everything they've done.
But fuck. He knows he's good at this.
"God, yes," she breathes. He gives her a cocky smirk, then works his hand into her panties and rubs gently, like he just wants to feel her or something.
"I knew you'd like it," he tells her, lips against her ear. She mewls and rolls her hips against his hand. He circles her clit and her head falls back against the pillow. "You look so hot right now."
He better think so. He's still wearing his fucking pants and she's down to her underwear and his hand is inside. If he didn't think she looks hot, she'd be questioning his sexuality.
She manages to reach down and unbutton and unzip his jeans, and she's pretty sure he'd stop her if he didn't want her to take them off yet. She can't push them down far, though, and she's thinking it's pretty stupid that she's trying, because he pulls his hand away and stands up, pushes his jeans to the floor. She misses his hand. She misses his whole fucking body. He tugs her panties down her legs and pushes her thighs apart.
"You're beautiful," he says from where he's kneeling on the bed. "You have no idea."
Yeah, she does, but she's not about to argue. And honestly, no one's ever really looked at her the way he's looking at her right now, so maybe he sees something they don't.
And she's wondering if there are any other words he can use to describe how she looks, because he's used a few different ones tonight.
She doesn't really have to worry about it, because he puts his mouth on her and she's so fucking close already that her hips buck immediately when he circles her clit with his tongue. She thinks it's so fucking sexy that he's only ever done this for her. She pushes her hands into his hair and he hums against her when she scratches his scalp a bit with her nails. He fucking loves that, and she loves making him let out that sound. He presses his tongue inside her and the noise she makes is completely embarrassing, but it feels so good, but still not enough at all, and fuck, he really is trying to prove some kind of point here, and she's really enjoying letting him.
He pulls away, licking his lips. "Taste so good," he says, eyes on her pussy. Any other time, she'd ask if he's talking to her, or what's in front of him. This time, she just closes her eyes and tugs at his hair.
"So close, baby," she admits, even though she doesn't really want to. It's fucking true, though. He's been going down on her for like, three minutes and she's about fall apart.
His teeth graze her clit, then he sucks hard and releases it, and she knows he can feel her thigh quaking under his palm. He buries his face against her, flattens his tongue, and she comes undone, her eyes snapping closed and her mouth opening. No sound comes out - just breaths - which is probably a first, and he holds her hips down and keeps sliding his tongue over her until she's coming down and she pushes him away.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks, voice all quiet, when he's leaning over her again.
"Yes," she says, a little too desperately. She's too out of it to realize that he was joking until she sees the stupid smile on his face. They've done this enough times for him to know she loves kissing him after. He presses his tongue into her mouth right away, and she moans more because she likes that he remembers shit like that than she does from anything else.
He finally pushes his boxers off and reaches for a condom, and she's so fucking relieved that she's going to have him inside her soon that she can't help but tell him how bad she wants it. He kisses her to shut her up, tells her, "I'm not done," and she figures he means with this whole 'treating her right' thing and not anything else.
He pushes into her smoothly and kisses up her throat, across her jaw to her ear. "'S'gonna be slow." She nods, because she has no say in any of this, and fuck, he feels so good that she doesn't care. "And strong."
"Fuck, Finn, baby."
He presses her down into the mattress with his hand on her hip, thrusts into her slowly. "So good like this," he says like a promise against her lips.
She just nods. He's not wrong.
And if she'd known he could last so long this way (he probably couldn't until now, to be honest) she would have told him to do it sooner. She was about to say something about him using the word 'strong' to describe it, but shit, he actually manages to pull it off. She's honestly never had sex like this before, and it's freaking her the fuck out that she loves it as much as she does.
She comes first. He grinds down on her when he's buried inside her and has his tongue in her mouth, and she's taken completely off guard by her orgasm. It hits her hard and makes her fingers dig into his arms and all the breath leave her lungs. He thrusts shallowly through it, then snaps his hips a few times and follows her over the edge.
She shouldn't like the feel of him on top of her as much as she does. When he tries to move, she hooks her arms under his and says (begs), "Not yet." He nods against her and kisses her, soft and slow and totally in line with everything else that's happened since they walked into his room tonight.
She's so fucked, because she loved every single fucking thing he just did to her. Even the teasing, to a degree.
When he finally slips out of her, he chucks the condom and she's pretty sure she's not meant to see him kick her clothes under his bed, but she totally does. She's not moving yet, because the clock on his table is telling her it's just after midnight. Early, by most standards.
Then he gets back onto the bed so she's between him and the wall. Trapped, basically.
"Stay," he commands, eyes closed. He puts his arm over her middle and pulls her close, presses his lips against her temple. "You said I could have what I want."
He's arguing with her and she hasn't even said anything. He apparently knows she was about to. She was planning on staying for a bit, but not all night or anything insane like that.
But then she thinks of last time, of leaving and going out into the cold and knowing his bed is warm. Right now, she's chilled, because her body temperature has come down and she's got sweat on her skin, but she knows his room will be a hell of a lot warmer than going outside.
"I don't really cuddle, or whatever," she says. He smiles like he's won (he has) and opens his eyes to look at her.
"Okay."
He probably only agrees because his bed is fucking tiny, and they both know damn well they're going to end up pressed together.
She's about to tell him she'll probably want sex in the morning, but then he gets up and grabs her arm, pulls her up with him and shoves the covers down. She gets into his bed (a first, really) and he lays next to her. He's still got her between him and the wall, but it doesn't feel as confining this time.
"I thought you were with that Puck guy," he says needlessly. "And that we weren't gonna do this again." She makes a non-commital noise. She doesn't feel the need to talk about this again. "I thought you were really mad."
"I was," she says. "Don't ignore me." He nods his head and kisses her shoulder. He's already closer than she likes. She doesn't like to be crowded when she sleeps, but he can't really help it on this tiny mattress. "But it's not like I'm never gonna put out again. I'm a sure thing." His smile is annoying and cute and she likes it. "I promise."
He sneaks his hand onto her hip and closes his eyes, and she knows he feels really fucking smug when she doesn't push him away.