santana's scheme - part four
Title: Santana's Scheme
Author:
kalexico
Pairing, Character(s): Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez
Rating: NC 17
Word Count: 2418
Summary: Santana has a thing or two to teach. And how better to teach than by demonstration?
_______
part one, part two, part three
The world is a haze. Everything is blurry, sound and vision equally distorted. She feels hollow but for the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her senses are cut off, focusing solely on Quinn. Quinn’s smell, her cold, soft skin. The regular breaths Quinn utters, rolling over Santana’s neck, gives her chills running down her spine, tingling to the tips of her fingers and toes and her brain. The sound of those breaths, barely audible, an explosion in her ears.
Upon entering the bedroom, Quinn lies down, positioning herself in the very center of the bed. Santana feels her chest contract as she looks at her friend, lying there - so vulnerable, subject to Santana’s every need. Santana climbs on top of her, her knees catching her weight as she places them next to Quinn’s hips. She leans down, placing a soft and tender kiss right below her jaw. She cups Quinn’s face, turns her head lightly.
“I want you to tell me if I hurt you or if I do anything that you don’t like,” Santana says with sincerity. She can’t bear the thought of possibly hurting Quinn - she’d rather kill herself.
“Mhm,” Quinn mumbles.
“Quinn, look at me.” Santana brings her face closer, staring straight into Quinn’s eyes. Quinn looks back at her. “Promise me to tell me if I hurt you or if I make you uncomfortable,” she repeats, more sternly this time.
“I promise,” Quinn whispers, looking straight into her eyes and Santana knows that she means it. She leans in and kisses her softly. She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, allowing her eyes to flicker over Quinn’s face, her features standing out sharply in the moonlight falling through the window. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her thumb grazing her cheek. Another kiss - she finds it unable to stop kissing her. Her lips feel so good, soft, smooth. Her tongue is so warm and when she strokes it with her own, she feels it in her entire body. She feels every inch of Quinn echo within herself.
Quinn moans softly, pushing her body up a little bit in an attempt to intensify the contact between their bodies - almost as if her body begs for Santana’s touch. Santana lets go of her lips and moves her mouth to her jaw, then her neck. The sensation makes her dizzy with desire. She licks her skin, softly sucks it, nips at it. Quinn reaches up and tangles her fingers in her thick, black hair, moaning. Santana needs a second to compose herself. When she reaches her pulse point, Quinn moans again, once again pushing her body upwards. Santana can almost hear their bodies talking - pleading, teasing, begging, momentarily giving in, pulling back. All at once.
Santana leans back and takes a moment to look at Quinn, to allow the thought that she is actually going to sleep with her seep in. Quinn looks at her, confusion etched in her hazel eyes. Santana scoots back and places her hands on Quinn’s waist. Her fingertips burn at the touch, burn right through Quinn’s skin to her core. She can feel their connection.
Gently, she pushes up the hem of her shirt to reveal her stomach. Bending, she brushes her lips over the unbelievably soft skin. She groans in appreciation. Quinn’s breath hitches, her body archs upwards. Santana kisses her stomach, her belly button. She now pushes the shirt up with two hands, kissing each inch of skin that is exposed, tenderly so. She nearly cries with how perfect Quinn is. It’s almost as if, after all this time, it’s too good to be true - and as if Quinn is too good to be true, as if Santana is dreaming and she will wake up any moment to an empty bed and collapse again. Alcohol again, or maybe pills this time. She needs to make this real, tangible.
“Lift your arms,” she softly whispers. Quinn obeys and Santana pulls the shirt over her shoulders, tossing it behind her. Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of Quinn’s naked upper body. She can hardly contain herself or her body’s reactions.
“Quinn,” her voice cracks, full of lust.
The room is lit only by the moonlight. She unknowingly licks her lips, her wide eyes drinking in the sight of her nipples, hardening under the brunette’s hungry stare. She feels an animalistic need rise inside of her, the need to touch Quinn, take her, be in her.
She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she has to take this slow. She can’t rush it, she can’t give in to her primal instincts of jumping Quinn, nearly ripping her apart in her irrational lust. She has to be tender, loving. She has to settle Quinn’s mind.
She leans down and kisses her at the top of her sternum, trailing down over the cool skin. Quinn throws her head back into the cushions and moans. The sound doesn’t help Santana very much in suppressing the crazy need to touch every part of Quinn. She looks up, staring at Quinn’s face in wonder as the other girl shuts her eyes. She has to stop herself from overthinking what is happening. She cannot fathom that this is really Quinn, really her, really the one person she wants and not some substitute. She doesn’t have to pretend, she doesn’t have to use her imagination. This is real. This is it. It leaves her feeling all over the place, not herself. As if a part of her is detached in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge the harsh reality present by the feeling of Quinn’s skin.
Quinn, growing impatient, pushes her chest into Santana. Santana closes her eyes and takes a second to gather herself before she brings her fingers to one nipple and softly strokes it. She circles it with her thumb, flicking the pad over the tip of the hard nub. She watches Quinn’s body react. She’s seen this happen before, but with Quinn, it holds so much more meaning. Fascinated, she repeats the motion with every finger. She rests her head on Quinn’s chest to take a closer look as she rolls the nipple between thumb and index finger, tweaking it ever so lightly. Quinn moans and grunts, clearly approving. Santana feels out of this world.
She brings her head to the other nipple and rests her lips on it. The nipple strains against her lips and it takes everything she has not to bite down on it savagely. She breathes in through her nose, taking in Quinn’s scent, before tentatively flicking her tongue over Quinn’s nipple, using the tip to circle it. Quinn becomes more vocal, more desperate, her body moving in an attempt to intensify the contact. Santana sighs, air rippling over Quinn’s nipple, making it even harder. As she wraps her lips around it and sucks it in her mouth, Santana caresses Quinn’s side, leading it downwards to the hem of her shorts. Her mouth burns, her fingers burn, everything burns and flashes in her mind. The sensation blinds her. She slips her hand under the waistband and cups her hip. Her senses overwhelm her once again, her hormones raging. When she’s satisfied with her work on Quinn’s nipple, she moves her mouth to the other one. Somewhere in the process of sucking at Quinn’s breasts, she let her body slump down, now fully on top of the blonde. She can’t stop herself from pushing her hips downwards forcefully.
When Santana’s done, she leans up and watches Quinn. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly, her voice barely audible.
Quinn, breathing heavily, lifts her head. “Santana. Please. I’m not a doll. I’ll tell you if I’m not okay.”
Shit. Fuck. Fuck, you’re doing this wrong.
“I’m sorry.”
I never apologize.
“Just get on with it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay.” Santana closes her eyes, shakes her head, opens them again.
As she moves her trembling hands to Quinn’s shorts to pull them off, Quinn speaks. “Uhm… I love what you’re doing, but it’s kind of weird that you’re still wearing your clothes, so…”
“Do you want me to take them off?”
I’m going to fucking explode here!
Quinn nods. Santana wastes no time and quickly gets rid of her shirt and bra. She flushes at Quinn’s gleaming eyes. The blonde reaches out a hand, cupping one breast, taking the nipple between thumb and index finger. Her breathing grows heavier as she touches Santana’s other breast as well. Santana squeaks, reveling in the feeling. She pushes her chest into Quinn’s hands, throwing her head back. Then she remembers.
“As much as I love this, this is about you,” Santana says, softly grabbing Quinn’s wrist and pinning it down on the bed.
Quinn nods again and Santana pulls her shorts off. Quinn lifts her hips to assist and once again, Santana needs a moment. She looks at Quinn, lying before her in nothing but her panties.
This is it, ‘re going to touch her. It’s really her. You’re going to touch Quinn Fabray. Just like you’ve always wanted to. This is your-
She stops herself. She has to, if she wants to continue this. If she thinks too much, she might freak out and hate herself for it later. She brings her face to Quinn’s sex and presses a kiss over her clit. Her nose pressed against Quinn, making her light in the head. The soft tissue of those panties, wet… It sends a jolt to Santana’s core. Quinn gasps, groans as Santana’s tongue pushes against it. The smell of Quinn’s arousal fills her nose, has her nostrils flaring as she tries to take it all in. With her teeth, she pulls the panties down and then uses her hands to lead them over her legs and ankles. It lands on the floor without a sound. She scrapes her nails along Quinn’s legs.
“You’re so gorgeous, Quinn. So perfect.” Santana’s voice is raspy, her pupils dilated, her heart pounding in her chest. She remembers Quinn’s earlier request and quickly takes her own shorts off beforing bending over to kiss Quinn’s neck. She doesn’t notice the thin trail of tears running over her cheek. Quinn moves her head to accommodate her friend and whimpers as Santana runs a finger over her slit. She bites her lip as Santana uses her hand to urge her to spread her legs. She complies. Whimpers.
Santana is dazzled at the feeling, the sight. She leans down again.
Santana dips her finger inside and can’t believe how wet Quinn is. She moves her mouth over her neck and wonders if she’s found Quinn’s sweet spot when the blonde groans heavier than ever before. Santana’s stomach is in knots. She rests the pad of her finger just above Quinn’s entrance and rubs her with short, strong strokes. Quinn cants her hips, but Santana moves her finger higher, resting it just below her clit.
She kisses Quinn’s jaw, but has to settle for resting her cheek against Quinn’s when she finally circles her clit - she needs air, her mind is exploding. Without fully realizing it, she’s bucking her hips, assisting her hand in rendering the movements more forceful. She starts with slow movements, but gradually increases her pace and also the pressure she applies. Finally, she flicks the pad of her finger over Quinn’s clit and the blonde’s body is going wild underneath her. She now rubs her clit, scraping her nail over it every now and then, earning a hiss of pain and pleasure. She presses down one last time before swiftly slipping her finger downwards. Quinn protests, but is soon shut up when Santana replaces the finger with her thumb and now circles her entrance.
Quinn whimpers when Santana slips her finger inside and touches her walls, slowly inching deeper inside, allowing her friend to adjust to the feeling. She takes it slower than even she can take, but knows that she has to. She doesn’t realize that she’s holding her breath until she notices that she needs air. Her breathing is uncontrolled and erratic as Quinn moves her hips. Santana drags her finger back, slips it inside again. She repeats this over and over, creating a steady rhythm. Her thumb is still working her clit. Quinn gasps, moans, squeaks. Santana’s body moves along and she feels herself growing wetter by the second. Quinn’s hips buckle up violently and she groans when Santana finds that one spot, rubbing it with enough force to send Quinn over the edge.
Santana knows it’s a total cliché, but it feels magical. Quinn’s walls tightening around her finger, locking it inside of her, clamping down on it. Purely magical. She faintly realizes how her own hips are bucking into Quinn, desperate as her body is for release.
Quinn is loud when she comes. She utters some incoherent words, her breathing erratic. Santana doesn’t know what hits her when she feels herself losing it. Never before has she had an orgasm without being touched.
When Santana looks up, she notices the tears in Quinn’s eyes as she slowly brings her down from her orgasm, lazily drawing circles around her clit. Both whimper when she pulls out her finger, licks it clean and crawls up to Quinn. She takes her friend in her arms and Quinn rests her head in Santana’s neck, tears still flowing over her cheeks. Santana holds her tightly, still baffled at the feeling.
“Are you okay?” Santana mumbles softly in her ear, her voice full of concern.
She feels Quinn nod. “Yes. Totally. I’m - I - I just -“
“I know,” Santana offers, rubbing her back. “I know.”
Except she doesn’t. She has no fucking clue what just happened. It was beyond anything she’d imagined it to be. She had almost been fairly certain that after all those years of lusting, it would be disappointing to finally sleep with Quinn - but it wasn’t. Her entire body still buzzes, she’s still shaking slightly.
Quinn falls asleep, her breathing finally steadying. Her head against Santana’s shoulder. Santana slowly comes down from her high.
For the first time ever, Santana tumbles into a deep sleep with Quinn by her side. In her arms.
Outside, the sun rises. Neither of both girls notices the moonlight being ever so slowly replaced by the early morning sun.
>> next
Author:
kalexico
Pairing, Character(s): Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez
Rating: NC 17
Word Count: 2418
Summary: Santana has a thing or two to teach. And how better to teach than by demonstration?
_______
part one, part two, part three
The world is a haze. Everything is blurry, sound and vision equally distorted. She feels hollow but for the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her senses are cut off, focusing solely on Quinn. Quinn’s smell, her cold, soft skin. The regular breaths Quinn utters, rolling over Santana’s neck, gives her chills running down her spine, tingling to the tips of her fingers and toes and her brain. The sound of those breaths, barely audible, an explosion in her ears.
Upon entering the bedroom, Quinn lies down, positioning herself in the very center of the bed. Santana feels her chest contract as she looks at her friend, lying there - so vulnerable, subject to Santana’s every need. Santana climbs on top of her, her knees catching her weight as she places them next to Quinn’s hips. She leans down, placing a soft and tender kiss right below her jaw. She cups Quinn’s face, turns her head lightly.
“I want you to tell me if I hurt you or if I do anything that you don’t like,” Santana says with sincerity. She can’t bear the thought of possibly hurting Quinn - she’d rather kill herself.
“Mhm,” Quinn mumbles.
“Quinn, look at me.” Santana brings her face closer, staring straight into Quinn’s eyes. Quinn looks back at her. “Promise me to tell me if I hurt you or if I make you uncomfortable,” she repeats, more sternly this time.
“I promise,” Quinn whispers, looking straight into her eyes and Santana knows that she means it. She leans in and kisses her softly. She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, allowing her eyes to flicker over Quinn’s face, her features standing out sharply in the moonlight falling through the window. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her thumb grazing her cheek. Another kiss - she finds it unable to stop kissing her. Her lips feel so good, soft, smooth. Her tongue is so warm and when she strokes it with her own, she feels it in her entire body. She feels every inch of Quinn echo within herself.
Quinn moans softly, pushing her body up a little bit in an attempt to intensify the contact between their bodies - almost as if her body begs for Santana’s touch. Santana lets go of her lips and moves her mouth to her jaw, then her neck. The sensation makes her dizzy with desire. She licks her skin, softly sucks it, nips at it. Quinn reaches up and tangles her fingers in her thick, black hair, moaning. Santana needs a second to compose herself. When she reaches her pulse point, Quinn moans again, once again pushing her body upwards. Santana can almost hear their bodies talking - pleading, teasing, begging, momentarily giving in, pulling back. All at once.
Santana leans back and takes a moment to look at Quinn, to allow the thought that she is actually going to sleep with her seep in. Quinn looks at her, confusion etched in her hazel eyes. Santana scoots back and places her hands on Quinn’s waist. Her fingertips burn at the touch, burn right through Quinn’s skin to her core. She can feel their connection.
Gently, she pushes up the hem of her shirt to reveal her stomach. Bending, she brushes her lips over the unbelievably soft skin. She groans in appreciation. Quinn’s breath hitches, her body archs upwards. Santana kisses her stomach, her belly button. She now pushes the shirt up with two hands, kissing each inch of skin that is exposed, tenderly so. She nearly cries with how perfect Quinn is. It’s almost as if, after all this time, it’s too good to be true - and as if Quinn is too good to be true, as if Santana is dreaming and she will wake up any moment to an empty bed and collapse again. Alcohol again, or maybe pills this time. She needs to make this real, tangible.
“Lift your arms,” she softly whispers. Quinn obeys and Santana pulls the shirt over her shoulders, tossing it behind her. Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of Quinn’s naked upper body. She can hardly contain herself or her body’s reactions.
“Quinn,” her voice cracks, full of lust.
The room is lit only by the moonlight. She unknowingly licks her lips, her wide eyes drinking in the sight of her nipples, hardening under the brunette’s hungry stare. She feels an animalistic need rise inside of her, the need to touch Quinn, take her, be in her.
She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she has to take this slow. She can’t rush it, she can’t give in to her primal instincts of jumping Quinn, nearly ripping her apart in her irrational lust. She has to be tender, loving. She has to settle Quinn’s mind.
She leans down and kisses her at the top of her sternum, trailing down over the cool skin. Quinn throws her head back into the cushions and moans. The sound doesn’t help Santana very much in suppressing the crazy need to touch every part of Quinn. She looks up, staring at Quinn’s face in wonder as the other girl shuts her eyes. She has to stop herself from overthinking what is happening. She cannot fathom that this is really Quinn, really her, really the one person she wants and not some substitute. She doesn’t have to pretend, she doesn’t have to use her imagination. This is real. This is it. It leaves her feeling all over the place, not herself. As if a part of her is detached in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge the harsh reality present by the feeling of Quinn’s skin.
Quinn, growing impatient, pushes her chest into Santana. Santana closes her eyes and takes a second to gather herself before she brings her fingers to one nipple and softly strokes it. She circles it with her thumb, flicking the pad over the tip of the hard nub. She watches Quinn’s body react. She’s seen this happen before, but with Quinn, it holds so much more meaning. Fascinated, she repeats the motion with every finger. She rests her head on Quinn’s chest to take a closer look as she rolls the nipple between thumb and index finger, tweaking it ever so lightly. Quinn moans and grunts, clearly approving. Santana feels out of this world.
She brings her head to the other nipple and rests her lips on it. The nipple strains against her lips and it takes everything she has not to bite down on it savagely. She breathes in through her nose, taking in Quinn’s scent, before tentatively flicking her tongue over Quinn’s nipple, using the tip to circle it. Quinn becomes more vocal, more desperate, her body moving in an attempt to intensify the contact. Santana sighs, air rippling over Quinn’s nipple, making it even harder. As she wraps her lips around it and sucks it in her mouth, Santana caresses Quinn’s side, leading it downwards to the hem of her shorts. Her mouth burns, her fingers burn, everything burns and flashes in her mind. The sensation blinds her. She slips her hand under the waistband and cups her hip. Her senses overwhelm her once again, her hormones raging. When she’s satisfied with her work on Quinn’s nipple, she moves her mouth to the other one. Somewhere in the process of sucking at Quinn’s breasts, she let her body slump down, now fully on top of the blonde. She can’t stop herself from pushing her hips downwards forcefully.
When Santana’s done, she leans up and watches Quinn. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly, her voice barely audible.
Quinn, breathing heavily, lifts her head. “Santana. Please. I’m not a doll. I’ll tell you if I’m not okay.”
Shit. Fuck. Fuck, you’re doing this wrong.
“I’m sorry.”
I never apologize.
“Just get on with it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay.” Santana closes her eyes, shakes her head, opens them again.
As she moves her trembling hands to Quinn’s shorts to pull them off, Quinn speaks. “Uhm… I love what you’re doing, but it’s kind of weird that you’re still wearing your clothes, so…”
“Do you want me to take them off?”
I’m going to fucking explode here!
Quinn nods. Santana wastes no time and quickly gets rid of her shirt and bra. She flushes at Quinn’s gleaming eyes. The blonde reaches out a hand, cupping one breast, taking the nipple between thumb and index finger. Her breathing grows heavier as she touches Santana’s other breast as well. Santana squeaks, reveling in the feeling. She pushes her chest into Quinn’s hands, throwing her head back. Then she remembers.
“As much as I love this, this is about you,” Santana says, softly grabbing Quinn’s wrist and pinning it down on the bed.
Quinn nods again and Santana pulls her shorts off. Quinn lifts her hips to assist and once again, Santana needs a moment. She looks at Quinn, lying before her in nothing but her panties.
This is it, ‘re going to touch her. It’s really her. You’re going to touch Quinn Fabray. Just like you’ve always wanted to. This is your-
She stops herself. She has to, if she wants to continue this. If she thinks too much, she might freak out and hate herself for it later. She brings her face to Quinn’s sex and presses a kiss over her clit. Her nose pressed against Quinn, making her light in the head. The soft tissue of those panties, wet… It sends a jolt to Santana’s core. Quinn gasps, groans as Santana’s tongue pushes against it. The smell of Quinn’s arousal fills her nose, has her nostrils flaring as she tries to take it all in. With her teeth, she pulls the panties down and then uses her hands to lead them over her legs and ankles. It lands on the floor without a sound. She scrapes her nails along Quinn’s legs.
“You’re so gorgeous, Quinn. So perfect.” Santana’s voice is raspy, her pupils dilated, her heart pounding in her chest. She remembers Quinn’s earlier request and quickly takes her own shorts off beforing bending over to kiss Quinn’s neck. She doesn’t notice the thin trail of tears running over her cheek. Quinn moves her head to accommodate her friend and whimpers as Santana runs a finger over her slit. She bites her lip as Santana uses her hand to urge her to spread her legs. She complies. Whimpers.
Santana is dazzled at the feeling, the sight. She leans down again.
Santana dips her finger inside and can’t believe how wet Quinn is. She moves her mouth over her neck and wonders if she’s found Quinn’s sweet spot when the blonde groans heavier than ever before. Santana’s stomach is in knots. She rests the pad of her finger just above Quinn’s entrance and rubs her with short, strong strokes. Quinn cants her hips, but Santana moves her finger higher, resting it just below her clit.
She kisses Quinn’s jaw, but has to settle for resting her cheek against Quinn’s when she finally circles her clit - she needs air, her mind is exploding. Without fully realizing it, she’s bucking her hips, assisting her hand in rendering the movements more forceful. She starts with slow movements, but gradually increases her pace and also the pressure she applies. Finally, she flicks the pad of her finger over Quinn’s clit and the blonde’s body is going wild underneath her. She now rubs her clit, scraping her nail over it every now and then, earning a hiss of pain and pleasure. She presses down one last time before swiftly slipping her finger downwards. Quinn protests, but is soon shut up when Santana replaces the finger with her thumb and now circles her entrance.
Quinn whimpers when Santana slips her finger inside and touches her walls, slowly inching deeper inside, allowing her friend to adjust to the feeling. She takes it slower than even she can take, but knows that she has to. She doesn’t realize that she’s holding her breath until she notices that she needs air. Her breathing is uncontrolled and erratic as Quinn moves her hips. Santana drags her finger back, slips it inside again. She repeats this over and over, creating a steady rhythm. Her thumb is still working her clit. Quinn gasps, moans, squeaks. Santana’s body moves along and she feels herself growing wetter by the second. Quinn’s hips buckle up violently and she groans when Santana finds that one spot, rubbing it with enough force to send Quinn over the edge.
Santana knows it’s a total cliché, but it feels magical. Quinn’s walls tightening around her finger, locking it inside of her, clamping down on it. Purely magical. She faintly realizes how her own hips are bucking into Quinn, desperate as her body is for release.
Quinn is loud when she comes. She utters some incoherent words, her breathing erratic. Santana doesn’t know what hits her when she feels herself losing it. Never before has she had an orgasm without being touched.
When Santana looks up, she notices the tears in Quinn’s eyes as she slowly brings her down from her orgasm, lazily drawing circles around her clit. Both whimper when she pulls out her finger, licks it clean and crawls up to Quinn. She takes her friend in her arms and Quinn rests her head in Santana’s neck, tears still flowing over her cheeks. Santana holds her tightly, still baffled at the feeling.
“Are you okay?” Santana mumbles softly in her ear, her voice full of concern.
She feels Quinn nod. “Yes. Totally. I’m - I - I just -“
“I know,” Santana offers, rubbing her back. “I know.”
Except she doesn’t. She has no fucking clue what just happened. It was beyond anything she’d imagined it to be. She had almost been fairly certain that after all those years of lusting, it would be disappointing to finally sleep with Quinn - but it wasn’t. Her entire body still buzzes, she’s still shaking slightly.
Quinn falls asleep, her breathing finally steadying. Her head against Santana’s shoulder. Santana slowly comes down from her high.
For the first time ever, Santana tumbles into a deep sleep with Quinn by her side. In her arms.
Outside, the sun rises. Neither of both girls notices the moonlight being ever so slowly replaced by the early morning sun.
>> next