A/N: Just a short story to free me from writer's block. As for my other stories, I'm working on them, but school is extremely overwhelming, so I'm trying my best. Thanks for all your support! You guys are the best! :)
It's a common sight – Santana's head in between two pale thighs, Quinn's hands tangled in those dark locks, pressing her even closer, and moans emitting from the blonde's mouth. Santana's makeshift bed squeaks as it heaves in rhythm with the girls' bodies. When the blonde comes, with Santana's nose rubbing her clit and tongue in her pussy, her shudders shake the bed even harder, and Santana makes sure she catches every last drop with soft, delicate licks.
Santana moves up and captures Quinn's lips as the blonde moans at the taste of herself. She licks a little cum that has dribbled down Santana's chin, and the brunette breaks into a smile.
It's been two months since Will and Emma's so-called "wedding," when the two first hooked up. Twice. Neither knew who exactly started it, but it had been an ongoing occurrence ever since. The two would text each other nonstop throughout the week, and every Friday, either Santana or Quinn would hop on a train and spend the rest of the weekend wrapped in a mixture of blankets and arms.
This Friday, it's Quinn's turn to come down from that prestigious Ivy League of hers to Santana's (and Rachel's and Kurt's) little place they call "home." Santana's been looking forward to Quinn's visit all week, mainly because that's all she can think about these days.
"I'm tired," Quinn sighs lightly, arching her back as she stretches. Her nose wrinkles as she yawns, and it mesmerizes Santana, who continues to trace her fingers lightly against the blonde's stomach, their faces only inches apart. Quinn nuzzles closer to Santana.
"I totally wore you out, didn't I," Santana smirks against Quinn's lips. Quinn only hums in response, marinating in the feeling of soft lips brushing against her own lips gently.
Santana studies Quinn in the fading light. She thinks Quinn is absolutely breathtaking and more, with her golden blonde hair and contagious smile. There's something in the way the blonde acts that draws Santana to her. When Quinn opens her eyes to look at her, she feels it. There's a simple intimacy in the way those hazel eyes capture her and turn her heart into jelly.
"I can hear your thoughts, they sound like elephants," Quinn rolls her eyes. Her toes brush against Santana's cold feet as she gazes at Santana underneath her eyelashes.
"Go out with me," Santana blurts out. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. I did not just say that. Shit. Santana's heart is beating fast now; Quinn hasn't spoken for a good three seconds, and judging by the look on her face, Santana probably doesn't want to hear it.
"W-w-what?" Quinn asks. Santana wishes she could take it back, maybe it was too early, but it's already out now. What's done is done.
"Go on a date with me," Santana says again, this time with a little more confidence. Quinn sighs deeply.
"Santana…" This is it. The rejection. Santana's heart already strains with hurt, and her mind is chastising herself for being so stupid and ruining the best thing in her life. She knew she should've kept quiet, but she couldn't help herself. Stupid, stupid! Of course she doesn't have feelings for you. Stupid!
"That wasn't part of the plan," Quinn finishes. Santana bites her lip.
"I know, but-"
"Santana, we agreed on this casual sex thing, remember? No feelings. Feelings always screw things up," Quinn says, and Santana's heart clenches painfully.
"But, well, what if I don't want this to be a casual sex thing anymore?" the brunette asks shyly, looking away from the blonde. Quinn's mouth falls open in a perfect circle. Santana feels vulnerable in the silence that follows, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she's bare naked under the covers.
"I don't…I don't get…" Quinn tries to find the words but her speech fails her.
"Quinn," Santana says, "let me take you on a date."
"Why?" It's almost a dare, a challenge.
"Because I want to. I've been thinking a lot these past few weeks, about us, really. And…I…I like you. A lot. You're beautiful, charming, and sexy. You're smart and funny and you make me really happy. You're all I can think about. I just…I want to try this," Santana gulps. She's not usually one for this kind of sentimental stuff; in fact, she despises it. But this is Quinn, and Quinn has a way of tearing her walls down that makes Santana want to do this, want to romance her with cheesy sayings and lovey-dovey stuff.
"I don't know…" Quinn says slowly. By this point, Santana's desperate. She's poured her heart out, made herself completely vulnerable, she needs more than this. She wants more than this.
"Please?" Santana whispers. "Just one? If it doesn't work out, we can go back to keeping it things casual, it's just…Just one? Please?" Oh God, what's happening to her? Oh, that's right. Quinn. Quinn, the only one that can make her beg on her knees for just about anything. Because, let's face it. Santana never begs. Until Quinn that is.
"See that's thing, Santana. We can't. I can't. It won't be the same," Quinn tries to fight back.
"What do you mean? It'll just be us. It's always us."
"No, that's not what I meant," Quinn sighs. "Like I said, feelings mess everything up. Someone will get hurt, and I don't want that to happen. I don't want to lose our friendship."
"We won't lose our friendship. We've gone through shit and we're still here," Santana pushes. She's not ready to give up, not yet, even when her heart is literally splitting into two.
"I can't," Quinn repeats.
"Why not? It's just one date."
"I'm not gay." The statement makes Santana laugh.
"Not gay, are you, Quinn? Then what exactly is this, hmm?" Santana gestures to the space in between their naked bodies.
"You're just my stress reliever, that's all." A look of guilt and regret flashes across Quinn's face immediately after the words leave her mouth, but she can't change what she said.
"Just a stress reliever. Huh," Santana spits out. She tries to mask her pain by cracking her a smile, but it ends up looking like some sort of grimace.
"I'm sorry, Sanny," Quinn says softly. She hasn't used that nickname for Santana since the fourth grade, and it makes Santana's heart clench more painfully, if that's even possible.
"Whatever."
"I'm going to sleep," Quinn announces. "I'm tired and it's late." She turns away from Santana, her back towards the brunette. Santana's face contorts in pain; she squeezes her eyes shut and takes slow, deep breaths. It's not supposed to hurt this much but it does.
Santana rolls to the edge of the bed, as far away from Quinn as possible. This is the first time in two months that they're not spooning. And honestly, Santana misses it. A lot. She misses the way Quinn melts into her arms, the way her blonde hair tickles her nose. But Santana's too hurt to care.
She moves her head up to look at the clock. The first thing she notices is that her pillow is damp, and so is her face. She's crying. The second thing she notices is that it's only 9:45 pm.
Last Friday they stayed up til two.
