Author's note: Alright, this is my contribution toward Quinntana week, I had to write something, and this is what came out. It's my first posted fic in 3rd POV, so it might not be my best work, but I hope it's at least tolerable lol ;P This starts off in 'Silly Love Songs', though the outcome is obviously going to turn out different.. and then goes from there. Also, this is supposed to be 'Unresolved sexual tension' and since this is my first time playing around with that theme, it's light. I tried, I'm just not that great at it, but oh well, I'm posting it anyway. ^.^
Disclaimer: I do not own glee or the beautiful, sexy Quinntana. What I wouldn't give.. -_-
Warnings: Eh, other than the obvious.. tension, there is language. Probably light R for the all the fucks I give ;)
A familiar raspy chuckle resounding throughout an almost empty hallway has Quinn Fabray shivering pleasurably, and the blonde turns in the direction the sudden sound came from, finding Santana exiting the nurse's office. Quinn's eyes widen owlishly as she instantly spots Santana strutting confidently towards her in a candy striper outfit, with a very trademark Lopez smirk in place, and the unexpected sight wracks Quinn's body with a shudder. Santana doesn't seem to notice her at first, but then dark eyes dart to the side, and then they lock on hazels right before going wide to match Quinn's own. Staring each other down, their gazes never waiver as Quinn's sexy frienemy closes the distance between them, and before they realize it, they are just inches apart, eyes still locked heatedly.
"W-Why are you wearing that?" Quinn finally manages to stutter something, breaking the tension-filled silence.
"Because my dear Quinnie, I happen to volunteer with the nurse." Santana replies, while rolling her eyes and moving back.
Quinn blinks, skeptical. It isn't like Santana to volunteer to do anything, let alone work in a cramped space with sick teenagers contaminating said space.
"In that? I don't believe you. What are you up to, S?" Quinn throws her hand out, wildly pointing at Santana's choice of clothing.
So what if her hand happens to graze confined abs in the process, Quinn can admit to Santana being extremely hot, and what she has on only makes Quinn want to touch her.
Everywhere.
"Listen, Q, as much fun as it is standing here and watching you try to figure me out, I needs to get the hell away from you." Santana retorts, eyes narrowed dangerously.
A flash of anger - and hurt - shoots through Quinn, and she immediately invades Santana's space, "Why? Am I so horrible to be around now?"
Santana huffs irritably, she seriously does not want to answer that, because whatever comes out her mouth will be a lie. There is no way in hell she could ever tell Quinn how it really feels to be around her, which is nothing short of sexually charged frustration. Almost every time they are together, there is this… tension between the two; most of it is fought out by throwing barbs at each other or like now, by getting Quinn and Finn caught. They are both sly, manipulative bitches, and know how to push the others buttons, and Santana was hoping that if she broke Quinn and Sam up, Quinn would realize what she was doing with Finn needed to stop. But no, she had to go behind everyone's back to suck face with the guy Santana despises the most. Finn has always been in the way of her taking Quinn for herself.
"Whatever, stop taking things so seriously." Santana finally snarks out. "And toughen up, Q, because this bitch is here all week." Santana moves her head closer, chuckling in Quinn's ear.
Quinn feels lips glide along her earlobe, then Santana is pulling back with a smirk, and striding off with an extra sway to her hips that has Quinn hypnotized.
Seconds later, Santana is in front of the kissing booth Finn set up, but the 'out' sign's up and Finn is nowhere around for her to spread mono to. Santana bites her lip, frustrated, because she just went through having to kiss some geeky loser, who is a guy no less, only for the big lug to disappear on her. With a roll of her eyes, Santana goes to sulk away, but a blonde blur zips past her, blowing a gust of air filled with Quinn's signature perfume in her face. Santana is sure that whatever the hell Quinn uses will some day become a lingering scent in her bedroom. In Santana's sheets.
When she glances up, Quinn is standing in front of her. Quinn is behind the booth, which is in front of Santana. Quinn is behind the kissing booth.
Santana has no idea when the sign flipped over to 'in'.
"Q, what the hell are you doing?" Santana throws at her, confused as she moves closer to the booth. Closer to Quinn.
"Finn texted me, said he and Rachel were talking, and asked if one of us could take over for a bit." Quinn shrugs out a nonchalant answer, apparently having volunteered herself.
"So, you chose yourself? You really want to chance kissing the duds in this hellhole? What if Jewfro comes at your dumb ass with a shit load of dollar bills?" Santana, not understanding why Quinn is doing this, and not liking it at all, questions her, hoping to shine light on the possible outcomes of her brilliant choice.
Santana has had it hard enough watching their mutual boy toys mack on Quinn, but this is too much, she doesn't want every walking STD in school anywhere near her girl.
Only she can give out mouth-to-mouth diseases to Quinn, and even then, Santana knows that she will feel like shit afterwards, but she has to remember that it's for the best in the long run.
Quinn does not need Finn. Or any guy for that matter.
"Then you better hurry." She hears Quinn say, though doesn't understand what the hell she means.
"What?" Santana asks; face scrunched up adorably.
At least, that is how Quinn sees it, though she would never tell that to Santana.
"What?" Quinn quips back, eyebrow rising playfully.
Santana blinks, and then she narrows her eyes at Quinn as she moves her face closer to the girl.
"Want me to keep him away?" Santana questions, a smirk playing at her lips at the very thought of keeping any and all guys from Quinn's perfect mouth.
Quinn shakes her head no, of course, if that was what she had meant, then yeah, she'd choose Santana for the job, however, Quinn has plans for Santana's other raved about abilities.
"Then what do you want? I'm not standing here all day, Fabray." Lie, Santana thinks. She would stay here or somewhere very, very near so long as Quinn remains behind that booth.
"I want a dollar." Quinn smirks, eyes glimmering with mirth under the schools bright ass lights.
Santana frowns, more blinking ensues, then when her mind catches up to what Quinn is getting at, deep brown eyes lock onto heated hazels.
"Are you saying you want a kiss, Q?" Ghosting her cheek along Quinn's, the words whisper in the blonde's ear, so that no one else can hear them.
Outside, Santana may seem cheeky, but inside? She is freaking. Her heart is thudding heavily, and all the moisture has sucked right out of her mouth.
Moving her head to peer at Quinn, Santana licks her lips, wetting them, and Quinn eyes the movement, getting the sudden urge to mimic it. On Santana.
"You don't have to use this as an excuse to get up on these lips, all you have to do is say the word and they're yours." Santana flirts, winking as her insides flame with arousal.
Quinn's eyes flitter about, searching for any signs of foul play, then seeing none; she instinctually tilts her face, needing no other prompting even as thoughts of this heading into dangerous territory race through her mind. Santana knows what's about to happen, and no matter how badly she wants it, she reluctantly turns her head just in time, making her lips land on Quinn's flushed cheek instead.
Sparks. That is what she feels even though they did not kiss for real, for Santana it doesn't matter what body part her lips touch, she knows she will feel that connection either way. She has kissed Quinn on the cheek before and vise versa, and it is a gesture Santana will never tire of, not when it feels this good. However, Santana really cannot wait for lip contact; she is sure that she will combust at first touch.
This isn't the time or place for kissing though, Santana has mono dirtying up her lips, and there is gossip-mongers littering the hallways. No doubt someone will already be talking about what just happened, even if they didn't actually kiss, the moment was intimate, and one thing Quinn and Santana are not is physically close. People talk. And there is the matter of Jewfro lurking around with his camera.
Little fucker is sneakier than a ninja.
"Uh, thanks, Santana, but you're blocking my costumers, so if you would just kindly move along…" Quinn bats Santana away with ice coating her tone, and a pointed gesture behind the zoned out girl. Santana has her all worked up, and Quinn was for some reason dumb enough to believe that she would actually kiss her, so now Quinn is not only pissed but titillated as well.
Santana turns, looking at the sizable crowd of leering guys standing too close behind her, and then almost violently shakes her head, "Uh, no, I'm not-"
"Hey, guys." Finn stomps over to them. "Sorry, Quinn, but you know how Rachel is." He apologizes, shrugging his giant shoulders at her, while doing a double take at Santana's outfit.
Quinn barely manages a half smile in reply, struck hard with guilt not for the first time since she and Finn kissed behind her boyfriend's back. The guys waiting in line to kiss her all groan in unison when she gladly walks around to the opposite side. Further away from Finn, and more importantly, further away from Santana.
Santana sneers as Finn reclaims his spot, and he recoils back as if she had physically struck him, which just makes her laugh mockingly in his face. Santana wants nothing more than to finish the mission so that Quinn will be rid of him once and for all, fuck the consequences, Finn needs to get the hell out of the picture, their picture, before she seriously harms the oaf.
So, with that in the forefront of her mind, Santana pulls out a crisp dollar bill from her cleavage and slaps it on the table.
"I'm not kissing you. Ever. That one is all for Quinn." She explains as he picks the dollar unsurely up, then without waiting on a response, she strides away with her head held high.
No, Finn will never again have the pleasure of kissing her. Santana's lips are now a strictly Quinn zone area and Santana will earn that damn kiss if it is the last thing she ever does.
She will just need to find another way to break Quinn and Sam up first.
The air in the choir room is cool when Brittany and Santana walk in to join the others, and the breeze has Santana rubbing her arms to knock off the chill. Brittany directs a soft smile at her friend before jogging over to Artie and practically hopping onto his lap, Santana lets out a sigh, wanting to do the same with her other favorite blonde. Guard up and mask in place, Santana's gaze drifts from Sam to Quinn, and as soon as longing eyes land on her, Santana's mind screams to 'woman up' and just do it. She would do it; she'd walk the inches separating them, plant herself on Quinn's lap, and then claim what is hers in front of everyone. Santana's heart though, just quivers and squeezes in fear until she has to lay a hand on her chest to calm the erratically beating organ.
Quinn would only give Santana a disgusted look and shove her off, so there is no point in even attempting it.
No me gusta.
Santana bites her lip in frustration, sinking sideways onto Sam's lap instead; it's the only way to be close to Quinn. It's been a week since she last directly spoke to Quinn at the kissing booth, and three days since Quinn caved in and confessed what she was up to with Finn. Sam was hurt to say the least, so he broke things off, and Santana didn't have to lift one finger. Just in case he got any ideas of forgiving Quinn and taking her back, Santana did swoop in to 'mend his heart.' She wasn't taking any chances. Santana crosses her legs, stretching them out until the tips of her shoes rest against the side of Quinn's chair, and it immediately makes curious hazel eyes dart to them, and then to Santana with that damn sexy arched eyebrow of hers.
Santana swallows down the instant lust, replacing it with a tossed wink and a slow smirk.
The sexy eyebrow drops, and her face contorts into a snarl, "You know what Santana? Fuck you."
Santana blinks, taken aback, because what the actual fuck? She looks back at Quinn, about to ask just that, but she is already storming out the door.
"Go after her." Berry pipes up from behind them.
Santana swivels around to glare at her; this is none of Rachel's business, "Back off, hobbit."
"Santana, I'm just trying to help. You should-"
"Why don't you take your 'help' and shove it up your beak, because Santana Lopez doesn't need it." Santana scoffs and cuts her off, not needing or wanting to hear anything Rachel has to say.
Because Santana knows that she will be right.
"I don't buy into your tough bitch act, Santana. You may not want to admit needing help, especially when it is offered by me, but there is one thing I know that you need more than anything." Rachel, somehow having snuck up on Santana, whispers in her ear, voice not cocky per say, but knowing nonetheless.
It both pisses Santana off and piques her interest.
"Tell me then, what is it that I need, Rachel?" She asks in a bored tone, 'focusing' on her perfectly kept up nails, though she is actually curious to know what Berry thinks it is that she needs.
"Quinn. Go after her, Santana." Rachel husks confidently before backing away as if she were never there.
Sam is tense under her in more than one-way, having heard everything, and he apparently has mixed feelings. Santana doesn't blame him, for one, Quinn is his ex, and two, she and Quinn would be hella hot together. Hell, she already has a lady boner for the bitch, one that grows for her every single day. Dazed, Santana shakes her head, trying to make sense of Rachel's sudden knowledge and interest in her needs. Then Santana is darting off Sam's lap because said Berry is fuckin' right. She passes Mr. Schue on the way out, and he gives her a double take, but Santana ignores him, not even throwing an explanation his way. As soon as she is free, Santana makes a break for it, running down the hallway as quickly as those sexy legs will go.
After last week, Santana has some explaining to do.
She sprints out the door so fast that her foot catches on something solid, propelling her body toward the pavement.
She squeezes her eyes shut, bracing for impact, but the weight of strong arms wrap around her, and it never comes. A heavy breath rushes past Santana's parted lips as her heart steadily hammers against her ribcage, and those agile arms supporting her secure their hold, making Santana's eyes pop open. She is met with the ground just inches from her face.
"I've never had someone fall for me that fast." Quinn. Quinn's voice.
Which mean Quinn's arms are the ones around her. Holding her.
A familiar chuckle has Santana's body doing familiar things, and when she doesn't respond to Quinn's joke, the cheerio halls Santana upright until her feet are safely planted on the hard, gray cement.
Sliding her cocky Lopez smirk on, Santana turns to face Quinn fully, "That's because you have been playing with boys, Q, and those idiots don't know what is right in front of them."
"Oh, and I suppose you do?" Quinn retorts, laughing humorlessly, as if the thought alone were ridiculous.
To her, yeah, it probably is, but to Santana? Nothin' but truth. She has just been to chicken shit to do anything about it.
She moves in until they are toe-to-toe, head tilting in the direction of Quinn's neck, "I do. In fact, my eyesight has never been clearer."
Up this close, with her hair that she wore down today tickling Santana's cheek, and the sexiest perfume known to man making her eyes roll back, Santana's senses warp into hyper mode.
"S-Santana?" Quinn rasps out, confused, and her fingers clench around Santana's bicep.
"I love it when you say my name." Nose grazing along the shell of Quinn's ear, Santana whispers against it, zero percent fucking with her head, and 100 percent serious.
Quinn reels back, angry and confused, because the girl in her personal space has done nothing but screw with her head none stop, and after what happened last week, Quinn knows she cannot handle any more.
The hand holding Santana's arm captive tightens almost painfully, before Quinn shoves the other girl off, "That is not funny."
"Who's laughing?" Santana quips, though again, she is nothing less than serious.
Quinn does not know that though, and she takes it the wrong way, "God, you're such a bitch, Santana!"
"Was Sam not good enough? Was he just too easy of a conquest and now you're back for me, for more? Well guess what, I have had enough of you screwing up my life, actually, I've had enough of you period. We're through. Stay the hell away from me." Listening to her yell, ignites within Santana a flickering flame of anger, and one of arousal, but cuts her deep as well.
Quinn just threw their friendship under a fuckin' tank that she herself was driving, and ran it the hell over.
And on this day, no fucks were given by Quinn Fabray.
No me gusta.
"I did it for you!" Santana hollers at Quinn's retreating back, and not wanting to lose her, she follows, jogging to keep up.
Quinn whirls around on her, fury pouring off in waves, "Excuse me?"
"It's all for you, Quinn, every fucking thing I do." Santana continues, feeling desperate, and like she would lose any chance if Quinn were to just up and leave.
Rage, that is what Quinn feels right at this very moment, because how dare Santana?
Outraged, a battle cry is released, followed by everything around Santana losing sound and focus, before it all rushes back into a sharp, stinging pain.
"You're twisted, Santana, if you honestly think I'd believe that anything you do is for me. Nothing you do is for my benefit, you hurt me, I hurt you, it's what we do, and I am sick of it!" Quinn doesn't even react to the fact that she slapped her once best friend; she just continues to yell with tears spilling down her cheeks.
Santana does her best to overlook everything coming out of Quinn's mouth, re-closing the distance between them, and when her body presses into the toned one of Quinn's, she backs them up to the nearest car, trapping Quinn so that she cannot get away. The impact of being so close to the other throws both of them off kilter, and Quinn can literally feel a surge of crackling energy in the spaces where their bodies meet.
"You hate me, Santana." Quinn's voice is no longer shrilling, but it is still edgy, and she attempts to push Santana away.
"No." Santana states simply, her eyes boring into Quinn's face as she easily stops her from getting away.
She quite likes where she is and honestly does not want to move from Quinn's warmth.
"Yes. You do. Why else would you hurt me? Why seduce my ex boyfriend and then parade him in front of me like a damn prize?" Quinn grits out a pissed off reply, her own eyes catching San's angrily.
Santana clenches her jaw, this is it, this is where she hammers down the walls to bare herself, and she hopes that Quinn does not go for her jugular.
"Jealousy." She tosses out the answer, scared of the word, and scared of Quinn.
Quinn's eyebrows narrow, she cannot believe what she just heard come out of Santana's mouth.
"Jealous? So when you are not happy no one gets to be happy? Is that it? You see someone happy, start planning, and then when they're struggling you go in for the kill, ruining everything and making it ten times worse." And there's that damn humorless laugh again, this time though, Quinn's head is lent back, giving Santana full view of smooth, creamy skin.
Skin that Santana wants to taste. She barely got a preview last week at the kissing booth, and all it did was make her want more. Every pale, though flushing from anger, inch of it.
"No." Santana repeats, at a loss for words, and as her face slowly inches closer, Quinn's whole body stiffens up.
Quinn is so conflicted, on one hand, she is pissed at the audacity of Santana's words and actions, yet on the other, said actions are stoking a fire deep within her belly.
"No? I beg to differ. I know you, and I have personally experienced what I just-"
"I fucked up, Q, I did it all wrong, I know that, but I have never hated you." Santana cuts Quinn off, needing her to understand everything.
Quinn understands nothing.
"Do you want to know what I hated? What I hate?" Santana advances on Quinn, lips brushing against her neck.
Santana feels her swallow, hard, "I-If you don't hate me, then what?"
Quinn is slightly scared of the answer, because she was pretty damn sure that Santana has hated her for some time now. Quinn is however, intrigued as well; it's hard not to be with the girl who nearly kissed her before now whispering things in her ear and touching her so, so intimately. Heat encompasses Quinn's face when Santana's hot breath puffs against sensitive skin.
Then the rest of her body follows as Santana begins to speak,
"Finn, Puck, Sam, I hated seeing their fucking grabby hands and over eager mouths touching you. Tainting you. It makes me sick." Santana's voice comes out deep, the raspiest either of them has ever heard it, and it makes Quinn's eyes flutter shut, before snapping open as the words Santana uttered register in her mind.
Quinn's mind whirls, if what Santana said is true, than that means...
"You-San, I don't understand." The words will not come for Quinn, her head is spinning too much with jumbled thoughts, and none of them are making it out her mouth.
Santana presses closer, covering Quinn's body with her own and planting a single kiss along the tense girl's jaw line. Quinn shivers. Santana then feels hands gripping at her hips, and Quinn's head dips down until their foreheads are resting against each others, causing Santana's heart to flop and her libido to rise.
"You do, Q, but maybe you just aren't ready to accept what I'm saying." It kills Santana even to suggest that that is what's happening, because she wants Quinn, and she wants her now.
She needs her.
Whoever's car they are against would do, the owner would just have to fuck off, because Santana can hardly stand the ache building inside. An ache only Quinn would be able to rub out.
Quinn lifts her head, shaking it, and then looks Santana in the eye, "You don't want me."
Santana shifts to where she is melded snuggly with Quinn, no space left between them, "I do."
Quinn releases an airy moan, one that affects Santana so much that her core clenches in need, a whimper breaking free in response.
Fuck, Q, I'm gonna to take you right on the hood of this car." Santana growls out, her limbs entrapping Quinn in a tight embrace as her hips rock forward.
Quinn, body buzzing with electric currents, latches onto Santana's head, tugging it toward her yearning lips.
With Santana pressed so, so deliciously against Quinn, sending her nerve endings aflame with desire, she is too damn hard to resist, especially since Quinn has longed for Santana forever now.
A throat clears behind them, scaring Quinn so bad that she wrenches back with wide eyes while roughly shoving Santana away, who almost falls backwards from the force. After catching her balance, Santana, apparently not having heard the interruption, scowls and rushes Quinn, her hands pushing at the frustrating girl's chest until she is once again trapped between the random car and Santana's body.
"Stop pushing me away, I need you." Seven pleading words. That is how many it takes to strike lightning through Quinn's veins.
Santana snakes her hands under Quinn's shirt, and as teeth sink home into the crook of Quinn's neck, Santana's manicured nails scrape up her sides, marking her everywhere that she can reach. Quinn groans, excitement and pleasurable pain zipping throughout her body as Santana lays claim on her flesh.
"Rachel." Quinn manages to ground out, and then dark, hazel orbs pin the fiery girl in front of her sharply.
Santana licks her lips when she sees that Quinn's pupils are blown, "What about her? You want her to join or somethin'? I mean, she's hot and all, but I thought-"
"No, Santana, the whole glee club is staring at us!" Quinn hisses out, HBIC glare set, as her face burns up for a whole other reason than Santana's affect on her.
Under that, Quinn is terrified, but she can only do what she does best… Hide.
"While I can appreciate sexual spontaneity, I do have a dance class at 6PM, and I highly doubt that either of you want to rush your encounter or have numerous sets of eyes watching." Rachel speaks up as she moves past them and to the driver door, ready to get in and take off, though if she were to be honest, she wouldn't mind staying and watching Santana and Quinn dry humping against her car.
They are two of the three hottest girls in the school, who wouldn't want to see them making out? Even Rachel cannot deny how much of a turn on that would be.
Santana curses under her breath, if it were up to her; she would grab Quinn's face and crush their lips together to show everyone here, including Quinn, that she does not give two fucks who is watching. However, Santana refrains, growling and jerking back instead. No need to overwhelm Quinn all at once, though she is far from being done, "This isn't over, Q. You can't quit me."
With that, Santana stalks away, putting a sashay to her hips for Quinn's benefit and then glancing over her shoulder to see if the infuriating woman is paying attention. She is. Those sexy eyes of hers are trailing Santana, but when she notices that Santana turned her head, Quinn's eyes dart away from her and back to the gleeks starting to crowd around Rachel's car.
No, this was not over by a long shot, Quinn is hers, and Santana is going to make sure that it stays that way.