Summary: She's never lied to herself but she's also never said the truth. Santana g!p.
Warning: sex and Santana g!p.
It's actually has almost no plot. It's more just a sex story, nothing to kinky or sexy, well at least in my eyes, but I wanted to give it a try.
I hope you would like this.
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I Need You
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And here there are- once again Quinn found herself with her, with Santana Lopez- in a hotel room.
A strange sound escaped her lips-something between a whine and a throaty moan, when her eyes fell to Santana's crotch.
Quinn knew, she had this scene memorized, it's always the same- Santana's going to fuck her and she'll surrender to everything she'll give her, even if that's mean walking with an ache between her legs for a next day.
Quinn lifted her eyes, falling into deep brown orbs without protection.
It was always the same look Santana gave her- be patient, it said. But she couldn't, she never could because her core was dripping, running her panties.
It was always the same look that left her breathless. A so needed spark ignited Santana's eyes. Quinn felt secure because she knew she wasn't the only one to want this, she wasn't the only one with betraying eyes.
Lust like a liquid spread inside Santana's eyes. Slowly transforming into fire.
But today will be slow, agonizing slow, because she wants to be a good patient girl. Even if she twitches to rip her clothes, to bit and scratch her caramel skin with intentions of leaving a mark.
But that didn't mean she won't rip her dress off. She took it off, as fast as she could, it pooled at her feet, revealing her stomach and tights. Her skin yearned to be gazed over and touched with hands that knew her.
She stepped over it, her heels clicking as she stalked to her. Her hips swayed seductively, she knew it'll drive Santana crazy, it always does.
A gasp left her lips, when her chest rubbed against Santana's. Another gasp when Santana enveloped her body. Santana didn't even give her a chance to act, she never did, before she brought her lips to hers.
Santana never waited for permission for anything- if it'd taste good and look good she'd take it. And Quinn let her. She surrendered, exposed her soul and body, exposed her mind because it was Santana. Simple as that. It was Santana. Santana understood.
She wanted to protest, to tease Santana, to get on her nerves, but her lips were warm and soft, and they tasted as peaches.
She forgot about Biff, about his promise sitting inside the pocket of her coat.
It was just her, her and Santana. That's all she needed.
Moaning, she let her needy finger tug at Santana's jacket. She wanted it gone, but she'll be patient, because they just met after two months.
A sexy growl ripped from Santana's throat.
"I have missed you," Santana whispered into her mouth.
Oh, how Quinn has missed her too. Her lips, eyes, hair, skin. She missed her laugh and her raspy voice. She longed for those silly conversations and her singing pervert songs.
They part away, for a second, to catch their breaths.
And something inside Quinn, inside her brain and her heart, itches.
If you have missed me as you say, you'd have stayed that night.
They were both breathless, their faces were flushed and eyes were hooded. And Quinn almost wanted to say- stay with me, love me, steal me away from Biff.
Santana cupped her clothed breasts, her eyes didn't wander over her body, she, just, looked into her eyes.
It was heavy and intimate, it spoke an unknown language.
Quinn sucked her bottom lip.
She should be patient, but Santana did everything to break her.
They both are taken aback when Quinn kissed her ferociously, her hands undressing Santana.
Santana laughed- chuckled, from her forwardness.
Soon, Santana was only in her underwear, she kicked off those high heels, those one which made her taller than Quinn, and then she had to tip toe to reach Quinn. She embedded her fingers into Quinn's blonde locks.
Santana's lower half rubbed against her, letting her feel how hard and needy she was.
Quinn's hand danced on Santana's stomach, on her muscles, they were firm thanks to cheerleading. She slid her hand till she cupped her through her short boxer briefs.
"Fuck, Q." Santana panted, her tongue traced the swell of Quinn's bottom lip, making her shudder and arch into her.
"Bed," Quinn said, barely above a whisper.
They found the mattress, but not before they hit every surface. Quinn pushed her on it, breathing in so needed air.
Santana bounces on it few times, her legs were spread, showing her bulge. She unclasped her bra (and Quinn almost pouted because she wanted to do it).
However, when she reached to take off her underwear, Quinn stopped her. She slowly bent, sliding her fingers tips under the fabric, her nails grazing her skin. She slid it down, exposing and releasing her erection.
She took her erection into her hands, running her thumb over the tip, smearing her pre-cum.
She loved seeing her like this- without walls, knowing that she made her this panting mess was more than ego stroking.
Talking about stroking.
She pumped her length, receiving a loud groan.
Santana swatted her hand away. "Babe, come here." Santana urged, pushing her body to the center of the bed.
But she was a tease, she was Quinn Fabray. She crawled on the sheets like a predator, fire in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. She took the head of her pulsing length into her mouth, swirling her tongue.
"Q." Santana whined. "C'mere, I want to feel you around me."
"Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet." Quinn muttered around her.
Santana growled. "You know what's going to be sweet? When I'll shoot my cum into your throat and then you and your hand will be best friends."
But Quinn stroked her, ignoring her threat. She raised her eyes, seeing a beautiful sight. She took her deeper in her mouth. Santana lifted her hips, with a shaky breath, and Quinn knew that she was close, too close. So, she stopped, withdrawing her hand and mouth.
"Wouldn't want to come too soon, would we, grasshopper," Quinn said, smirking like a devil.
She straddled Santana's hips, grounding her drippling core on her twitching length, laying on her stomach.
"You're such a bitch." Santana barked, grabbing her ass and lifting her hips.
Quinn gasped. "But I'm your bitch."
It was actually true. No, not that bitch part because they both knew that Santana was whipped one. She was hers. Hers, and only hers. She has Biff, she can have everybody, but her heart is only Santana's. It's hers to protect, to break, to burn.
Her lips may be sealed, but her eyes and touch will always tell unspoken I love you, I want you, I need you.
Quinn leaned forward to kiss her again, fumbling her, pressing the head of her dick to her opening.
They both groaned.
Two months of nothing. No calls, no text message. How could they just pass this possibility to be together?
Quinn rocked back and sheathed her length inside her.
They both stopped breathing, closing their eyes, they both shuttered.
She missed this.
Soon they found a rhythm. It was slow at first, just to feel them together, just to be, but then it got stronger and faster as they lost themselves. They both enjoy the feeling of friction. It felt good for her body and her soul.
She felt connection.
When Santana would tease her, she'd whisper into her ear to be patient. Quinn would always whine and say it's not fair, but now she understood. It shouldn't be just mindless sex, once in a while it's okay, but a connection, that intimate moment wasn't to waste.
She slowed them, setting gently, steady but strong pace. Her fingertips, her nails scratching Santana's stomach.
"Keep your eyes open," Quinn said. She wanted to see how they change, she wanted to see that breathless light inside the endless abyss.
She shuttered as Santana hit the same spot with every stroke.
They were sweating, panting messes.
Her muscles fluttered and convulsed. She took her lower lip between her teeth.
She was close, so fucking close. Just few more thrusts and she'll be gone.
Santana exploded first and Quinn followed. Her insides spasmed rapidly as Santana filled her up.
And she almost slipped.
She almost said I love you, stay with me. But she just let out a shuddering breath and fell on top of the small body.
"You should come to New York," Santana said into her hair, still hardly getting a breath into her lungs.
Quinn frowned. "We are in New York."
"No." Santana breathed out deeply. Quinn listened to her heart, the fast thumping of her heart was distracting. "Come to New York, like, live here."
"I can't, Santana," Quinn said.
"Why? Why not? Is it because of that McIntosh idiot?" Santana spat his surname like it was a poison.
Suddenly Quinn felt very uncomfortable, it was weird, talking about him with her still deep inside her, with their juices mixed up.
"Santana." She warned.
"Do you really want to be the Stepford Wife," Santana asked.
Did she?
No.
"Then give me a reason, Santana," she said.
A silence.
"I could give you more."
Quinn though her mind was playing tricks.
But then-
"I love you, Q."
And was it enough?
It was.