AN: Just a small scene from this Finntana WIP I've been writing for... hmm probably two years at this point. Finchel shippers probably won't like this, even though Rachel is not in it and I do not bash her in any way (I still love my bb girl), so please do not read this if it's not for you. I don't wish to read contrary or hostile views or how much you dislike Santana or Finn and Santana together. I understand I have only posted Finchel stories so this might be unexpected from people who read my shit, but I have been having a truly awful relationship with my Finchel muse for a long time (although it is coming back to me so fucking yay, I could not have been happier!), so I just gave in to the hotness that is Finntana after being incredibly inspired by smc_27's stories (check them out in her LJ account if you haven't yet because she is, to me, the best Glee fanfic writer that has ever existed in this universe, ever).

Also, it was seamountain's birthday a few days ago so here it is, gorgeous! Happy belated birthday, I love you! You are the best thing the Finchel fandom has brought to my life !s2!

Happy reading! :)

~.~

i can be a piece of sunshine, inner peace, entertainer

~.~

Finn slips inside his mostly dark bedroom with a beer in his hand and closes the door, trying to get away from all the loud – and surprisingly handsy – women in his house. All over his house. Really, like everywhere. How is it that Quinn and Camila know all of these people? There are so many people in his house right now and he likes to think he knows Quinn's friends, mostly because they are his friends too, but there are too many unfamiliar faces. And he's not talking about the strippers.

He lost sight of Sam, Matt, Artie and Mike quite a while ago. They're probably hooking up with women or getting private dances. Ugh, sometimes he wishes he'd like that stuff with random strangers. If he did, he could have had someone on his lap right about now. Or maybe if he wasn't so chicken shit scared, he could have had Santana on his lap. Not like she's a stripper or anything, but women generally sit on the laps of the men they're dating. But whatever. She's probably going out with someone by now anyway. A beautiful woman like her has no shortage of requests, he knows it from experience. People at the bar are usually all over her pretty much all the time. He can't blame them.

He sits on the chaise lounge by his bedroom window and closes his eyes for a second whilst he rubs his temples. The loud music from downstairs was seriously giving him a headache. Goddamn, he's getting old. The music is still loud because this is a party Quinn organised so it's bound to have one hundred speakers all over the place, but it's now muffled so it's pretty bearable. He throws his head back and sighs when he hears the very distinct sound of high heels coming from inside his bathroom.

Great. Another bathroom in his house that people chose as a suitable place to trade bodily fluids.

He groans and turns his head towards the bathroom door. He's actually surprised when Santana comes out. He could have sworn he saw her downstairs with her Tina just a few minutes ago.

Was he appreciating her gorgeous, curvy figure in her in her tight red dress? Maybe.

It's not like it's a crime. Her looking that breathtakingly stunning might be a crime, though. Or maybe he wishes, just so other men wouldn't look at her.

Get your shit together, Hudson. She doesn't belong to you.

He hopes someone won't come out after her, just because he doesn't want to brush his teeth or whatever knowing she was getting it on with someone inside his own private bathroom.

She tries to tip toe away from the door when she raises her head and sees him, stopping immediately. "Oh shit, sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to barge in like a rude asshole, it's just so fucking loud out there."

He chuckles, amused that she's running away from the same thing he is. He gestures for her to sit down anywhere if she wants and responds, "It's fine, I know what you mean."

She walks closer to him and the light coming from the open window leading to his balcony makes her skin glow and fuck if he doesn't want to run his hand all over that smooth skin. He shakes his head a little to get rid of his thoughts and now she's even closer. So close he can actually smell her.

This is fucking agony.

She raises her glass of white wine to her lips and smirks when she says, "You know, there are a lot of people making out inside the bathrooms in this house. Like, multiple people. Inside the same bathroom no less."

He laughs at her words because he's not surprised at all. "My friends fucking suck, basically."

"I gotta say," she says, moving closer and closer to his window, her body passing in front of him and she really is beautiful. And if he closes his eyes as she's walking it's just because the light of the moon was like, sort of getting to his eyes and it bothered him, it's totally fine, not a big deal. "I've been to plenty of parties, Finn, but not anything like this," she admits. "Quinn really knows what she's doing."

"Yeah, she really knows what to do to annoy me," he huffs. He's paying really close attention to her and he can see her body shaking as she laughs.

She takes a deep breath and stays quiet for a while. He can imagine she's taking in the view, which is what he does a lot. He's not really over it yet. When the sky is clear and it's really late, like right now, you can actually see the moon and it's pretty impressive. For Manhattan at least. And this was definitely one of the selling points of this house for him. He asked the realtor if he could come over at the night a few times, so what? He was going to buy the house and he has every right to know how the moon looks from his bedroom. That's not unheard of. It's like not he's one of those weird famous people who order food and lay on the bed to feel what it's like to live in a place so it's fine. Nothing outrageous.

After a while, Santana slowly turns towards him and smiles. Fuck, she's so pretty when she smiles.

She has her left arm over her stomach, her left hand supporting her right arm with her now almost empty wine glass close to her mouth. She takes the last sip and reaches down his side to put her glass on the small table next to his chaise lounge. She stands straight up again in a way that she's blocking the light from the moon, which makes her entire silhouette illuminated by the remaining light and he might be a little bit intoxicated, but it looks like she's glowing and he can't breathe or think.

He takes a sip from his beer and tries to think of anything else to say, but Santana speaks first. "So, Finn, you're not into strippers?"

He coughs, choking on his beer because he was not expecting this particular question. "What?"

"Strippers," she repeats, if only a little bit annoyed that he seems to be dodging her question. "Not into them? Your house is currently filled with semi-naked women and men."

He sits up a little, his right leg sliding off the chaise whilst he sets down his beer down and looks up at her. "Just, hmm, not into women I don't know getting cosy on top of me."1

She nods, a thoughtful look on her face. She takes a step closer to him, their legs almost touching, and something is happening. He doesn't know what exactly, but the atmosphere feels so fucking different and… sexy. Well, Santana is always sexy, but this is different. There's a tension in the air that's almost unbearable.

Finn can almost hear her breathing, and he can see her chest moving. She's twisting her index finger over her thumb in this hypnotising way she always does and he can't take his eyes off her slender fingers spinning back and forth, back and forth. It's like she knows just how to captivate his attention and all he can think about it's the first time he saw her drunk with Quinn and Camila, and she said she wanted to climb him like a tree if her head wasn't so fucked up.

Is her head fucked up right now?

She laughs. "Definitely not fucked up."

Oh shit, did he say that out loud?

Fuck!

"I like to think we know each other," she declares. "Do you agree, Finn?"

She takes another step closer and her smooth left calf is pressing against the inside of his right leg. If what he thinks is going to happen is really going to happen right now, he might freaking pass out right here and that would be most embarrassing moment of his entire fucking life.

"Well, I—I, well, I mean," he stammers and Santana actually giggles at his failed attempt to answer her question. He curses himself for looking like a dumbass teenager, and tries to recover when he clears his throat and says, "I mean, yeah. I want to think we do."

"It's okay, Finn," she whispers in this new, throaty voice he never heard from her before. "This isn't torture."

"For you maybe," he breathes.

She laughs again and bites her lower lip, never breaking eye contact. Resting her left hand next to his head, Santana leans towards him excruciatingly slowly. He doesn't know how much of this she is controlling and how much of it it's his brain trying to slow things down because he has been thinking about being this close to her for a very long time. She pulls her dress up as her right leg comes over his and she finally, finally straddles his lap.

Finn feels a rush run through his entire body when Santana reaches for both of his hands, putting them on her waist and he wastes no time in rubbing his right thumb against the soft fabric of her dress, which is now even higher on her thighs. She gives him a coy smile and leans impossibly closer, her right hand resting next to his head.

He wants to kiss her so fucking badly.

He never wanted anyone like this before. It's like every single nerve of his body is aware of her, and this is pretty much all the time. Well, all the time he's awake anyway. And now… right here…. she truly makes him feel like they're the only two people to have ever existed. He can't hear anything, he can't see anything, he can't smell anything that's not her. Santana.

Santana.

All over him.

It's intoxicating and he can't get enough.

She carefully moves her right hand to rest against the side of his neck and it sends a shiver down his spine. He reacts by squeezing her waist and she takes the moment to slide a little bit higher on his lap, pressing down against his crotch whilst her fingers rub slowly against the hair at the back of his ear.

"I love this song," she says and it instantly brings him back to where they are and what they're doing. He can hear people cheering, probably over the song. He sort of recognises it, although it's really fucking hard to think about anything else when Santana is so close to him. He's not an expert on striptease or lap dance songs or whatever, but this one is definitely appropriate given that the first line states Let me sit this aaaaaaaaaa-ass on you.

Santana starts moving on top of him and softly singing the song under her breath. Her centre is touching-him-but-not-touching him, her hands are all over his body, she's moving swiftly and gracefully over him. She goes back and forth, she throws her head around, her hair covering and uncovering her face, her tongue darts out of her mouth, she bites her lower lip and she never stops moving.

He has never seen anything so beautiful and entrancing in his entire life. If he could kissed her, this would be even better.

She seems to read his mind because she approaches his face with a mischievous smile on her lips. She gets so close to his face he can actually feel her breath on his skin.

Her hair is falling around them like a curtain, and he's looking up at her just waiting for her to make the first move and he can't fucking breathe. This entire thing has been about her taking her time and he's loving it, even if he wants to take charge and fuck her here and now.

He'll wait for her, though. He could wait for a long time if it means anything for the rest of his life will be half as good as this.

Santana closes the space between them and finally kisses him. Her lips are soft and full and he can hear her sighing like she has been anticipating this, too. He takes a moment to hug her against him and then doesn't waste another second, deepening the kiss whilst he grabs the back of her head and her hair, pulling her to him. She slides her hands over his torso, her nails making him shiver as she grabs his shirt like she's as desperate as he is. His lungs are burning and yet he never felt better.

Finn kisses her deeper, tasting the delicious taste of his favourite wine inside of her mouth as she moans on top of him. He tightens his hold on her hair, groaning against her mouth. She slides her hand inside his shirt and bites into his lips.

"Finn," she breathes in this sexy voice and he's pretty sure he could live off her taste and this fucking sexy breathy voice of hers. She laughs a little, biting her lips and staring deep into his eyes.

"I've wanted this for a long time, San," he admits.

She's almost shy when she smiles, "Me too."

The song is Beyoncé's Rocket. Sexiest song ever. I was going to choose Despacito for this, Sarah, but that's for another chapter, hehehe. You're welcome lmao.