The cold has never bothered Santana. Years and years of Lima winters has set her cold tolerance high enough to endure snowstorms and blizzards. If anything, it's the heat Santana finds herself hating. For this very reason, Santana groans loudly when she sees exactly what kind of establishment Kurt and Rachel have so kindly taken her too. She barely has time to stop complaining when Kurt takes her hand and forcibly drags her out of the cab.
The bar, Cubby Hole, is smaller than her bedroom back in Lima and is literally overflowing with drunken lesbians. Unattractive lesbians. A group of laughing girls stagger out from the cramped doorway, barely avoiding the stoic bouncer. Santana grimaces and unconsciously steps back, as a gust of hot air billows from the tiny door.
"Wait. Wait, wait. Are you two serious?" Santana says, stalling on the curb. She grimaces when a 200lb, 5'6 girl in a flannel coat grins at her from across the street. "I can't do this. No," Santana says, quickly turning in her stilettos. Rachel and Kurt, expecting this reaction quickly reach out and catch her arms before she can disappear down the street.
"I know it's not much to look at, but come on! We're here to have fun... Rosario," Kurt says, reading the name off the fake ID peeking out from Santana's neckline. "We promise we won't let any uglies get near you ok?" Kurt says, exchanging a glance with a furiously nodding Rachel.
"Come on Santana. I'll buy the first round," Rachel says. "Fine, the first two rounds," she adds when Santana refuses to budge.
"Three," Santana sighs, uncrossing her arms as she pushes past Rachel.
"Well that was easy," Kurt says. He offers his arm to Rachel, waiting for the girl to latch on before heading towards the packed bar.
"So? Anyone catch your eye?" Rachel asks, sidling up to Santana at the far end of the bar. Santana holds a finger up to silence Rachel. Kurt's eyes widen as Santana downs the double shot of brown liquor. Santana barely blinks as she smoothly raises her Coke back to her lips. She motions to the heavily tattooed, facially pierced bartender. Another double appears on the scarred bar top in front of her. Santana finishes the drink before Kurt can blink.
"Thanks," Santana says to the bartender with a smile, her charm on full throttle. Santana points her thumb at Rachel. "My girl Barbara here is going to start a tab," Santana winks before pushing off the bar, leaving Rachel at the bar.
"Actually, my name is Rachel," Rachel says, fumbling with her credit card. The bartender's smile fades along with Santana's presence. She waits impatiently for Rachel's card. "Two Heinekens please," Rachel says. "Thanks," she musters when two green bottles are slammed on the counter. With beers in hand, Rachel turns around and scans the crowd in search of her friends. She pauses. "Can I get a shot of whiskey please?" Rachel asks. "Make that a double," she adds when she sees Santana and Kurt hunched over a battered digital jukebox.
"Thanks," Kurt says, gently taking a bottle from Rachel's arms. He quickly grabs the other bottle when Rachel's balancing act threatens to collapse all over the front of Santana's dress.
"To Santana's first lesbian bar!" Rachel says with a bit too much cheer. She raises her bottle. Santana stops frowning for a second and smiles at Rachel's earnest expression. Two bottles and a tumbler clink together loudly as the friends cheers to their first night out in the city.
Half an hour and another two rounds of drinks later, the cramped bar becomes nearly bearable for Santana as the liquor coursing through her body eases the scowl off her face.
"Another round?" Santana asks. She holds out her fake ID. "Aunty Rosario is buying." She laughs when Rachel and Kurt give her over zealous thumbs ups. She laughs and stumbles away from her friends. As Santana makes her way through the packed crowd, an un-welcomed hand lingers too long on the small of her back. The offending limb is quickly retracted when Santana whips around and glares at the short and stocky girl with a crew cut. She manages to retrieve another round of drinks without incident. Santana is two feet away from Kurt when a hand cups her ass through her dress, squeezing none too gently. Kurt yelps as Santana shoves the bottles into his arms. "Bitch you better be blind and looking for your cane-," Santana snarls as she wheels around.
"Rosario! Is that any way to greet a friend?" Santana blinks as her brain struggles to process the fact that her eyes are looking at one Quinn Fabray. Before Santana can speak, Quinn is in her personal space, enveloping her in tightening hug. Kurt raises an eyebrow as he watches Quinn's hands slip low on Santana's hips.
"Quinn! You made it!" Rachel squeaks. Quinn pulls away from Santana and turns to Rachel and Kurt. "Surprise!" Rachel says to Santana and Kurt. "Quinn had a long weekend and we thought we'd surprise you guys with a visit.
"My lady, may I buy you an adult beverage?" Kurt grins, leading Quinn to the bar.
"Oh shit. Santana is this ok?" Rachel asks, suddenly remembering that Santana and Quinn may or may not have left things on a bitch slap. Santana consciously stands up straighter. A million thoughts run through her mind. She certainly hasn't said anything about her and Quinn's Valentine's Day activities to anyone.
"What? Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" Santana snaps.
"Oh good. I just didn't know if you and Quinn left Lima on slapping terms again," Rachel says with relief.
"No, not at all. I mean, I think I got the last slap," Santana says.
"Guys, we got car bombs," Kurt says, appearing with an armful of drinks. Rachel and Santana both take a pint glass half filled with beer from Kurt. He hands them both shots of Bailey's. In unison, they drop the shots into the beer and drink as the liquid fizzes.
"Look at you Mr. Big Spender," Rachel coughs after downing the sweet drink.
"Oh it wasn't me honey. Quinn is working it tonight," Kurt laughs, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde at the bar. Santana frowns when she sees Quinn giggling at something a 40 year old bull dyke says. Santana literally gags when Quinn reaches out and swats a meaty arm before laughing.
"Oh no," Rachel says. "Should we?"
"I'll go," Santana says. Within a few seconds she's next to Quinn at the bar. She smiles at the bartender and motions with her empty glass for another round. She leans into Quinn's side and whispers, "Emily, what are you doing?"
"Getting us some free drinks," Quinn whispers quickly before returning her attention to the old dyke.
"Please cease and desist," Santana says in a sing song voice.
"Or what?" Quinn smirks, without turning to face Santana.
"Or you're going to wind up in the back of a Chevy pickup getting fisted by Jo the lumberjack here before the night over," Santana whispers. Santana smiles to herself, seeing the grimace on Quinn's face without actually looking at her. At this, Quinn finally turns to face Santana.
"I was just trying to get us free drinks," Quinn says. 'Jealous?' Quinn's eyes seem to say. Santana rolls her eyes before leaning into Quinn, sliding an arm around Quinn's waist.
"Just making sure you're not getting yourself into anything you can't handle…" Santana says, pressing up again Quinn. Quinn closes her eyes, expecting Santana's full lips to press against hers at any moment. She opens her eyes when the contact never happens. "Thanks for the drinks, Em," Santana smirks. She grabs the glasses on the bar behind Quinn and pulls away.
"Hey," Quinn says. She reaches out and takes Santana's wrist in her hand, sloshing the shot of Bailey's over her hand. Santana quickly drops the shot into the half full beer and presses the glass to Quinn's lips.
"Emily you messy bitch. Look at what you did," Santana laughs, holding up her wet hand. The sweet sticky liquor runs down her hand as she tries in vain to lick her hand clean. Quinn laughs and grabs Santana's wrist again. This time she brings Santana's hand to her mouth, licking at stray drops of liqueur. The blush on Santana's cheeks deepens as Quinn's warm tongue runs across her skin. At this, the woman talking to Quinn sighs and turns around to nurse her now warm beer.
"Um, guys?" Rachel says with wide eyes. Quinn laughs and drops Santana's wrist upon Rachel and Kurt's arrival at the bar. Kurt's eyes scan Quinn and Santana's body language all too quickly. Santana can hear the wheels in his clicking and he processes the not so incognito gay flirting happening in front of him.
"Yes?" Santana says, hoisting herself up on the bar to reach for some napkins.
"You guys want to get out of here? I want to get home before we have to carry these two back…especially if we have to take the train," Kurt says quickly.
The journey back to the loft is uneventful, save the one moment when Quinn makes the mistake of making eye contact with a loincloth covered street performer writhing on the ground at the Williamsburg platform (definitely one of the worst stops to get off on mistake. Thank God Santana is too drunk (and completely wrapped up in Quinn) to notice the hoards of hipsters. It's nearly 4 in the morning when they stagger back into their loft.
"Quinn, I'm sorry we don't have an extra bed, but I put a sheet on the couch for you," Rachel says. The Jewess quickly retrieves a folded blanket from her room. "I did laundry last night so we're all fresh," Rachel smiles, pressing the linens into Quinn's arms.
"Thanks," Quinn says.
"But no thanks," Santana continues. "Berry and her boy toy had this place all to themselves quite recently and I'm almost 99.9% sure they've sullied this couch beyond repair and we haven't had any of the furniture dry-cleaned yet," Santana says. She gives Quinn a hard look before sighing. "If you promise to keep those bitch slapping beauties off my cheeks tonight, you can sleep in my bed," Santana says.
"Are you sure?" Rachel asks. Her eyes dart between Quinn and Santana's scowling faces. Kurt hides a smile behind his hand. He sees exactly what's going, but he decides to let the girls suffer a bit longer before jumping in (Quinn and Santana owe him one, and he's not going to let them off easy for keeping this from him). "I don't want to wake up to you two duking it out-,"
"They'll behave. Right?" Kurt says, looking expectantly at Quinn and Santana.
"I will if she will," Quinn says.
"Good enough for me. Goodnight!" Kurt says, herding Rachel into her bedroom. "You too," Kurt says, pointing at Santana and Quinn before shooing them towards Santana's new makeshift bedroom.
Quinn's hands are all over Santana's body the moment the last light in Rachel's room clicks off and Kurt's white noise machine clicks on. The sound of drizzling rain and rustling sheets and fabric fill the loft as Quinn's back meets the mattress. Her legs part to welcome Santana as the shorter girl crawls between her knees. Santana's head swims as she looks down at Quinn. Since Valentine's Day they've been texting pretty much every single day, if not every other waking hour. Whether the texts be about shitty weather, bad campus food, boring lectures, bad midtown traffic to creepers on the subway, both girls have found it entirely too easy to stay in touch. However, the subject of their desires never materialized in texts or late night phone calls.
Until now. Quinn's hands slide around Santana's knees and up the back of her thighs up into her dress. The blonde smiles in the dark when she realizes her hands are on Santana's exposed ass. Her fingers travel a bit further and find the thin strap of silky fabric at Santana's hips. With a firm tug, Quinn forces Santana to fall forward. Leaning on her forearms, Santana exposes her neck to Quinn. The blonde eagerly sits up, biting the soft skin below Santana's jawline before peppering kisses along her pulse.
"You fucking told Berry you were coming, but not me?!" Santana whispers into Quinn's hair as the blonde continues her assault on her neck.
"It was a surprise," Quinn breathes against Santana's collarbone. Santana slips her fingers into Quinn's hair before pulling her head back for a kiss. Their lips meet softly, pushing, gliding over each other smoothly before parting. Quinn pauses as Santana draws her lower lip in, sucking before pushing her tongue against Quinn's. A gasp escapes Quinn's lips when Santana's warm lips find that spot on her neck. Santana's dress rides up over her hips, completely exposing her as she straddles Quinn's lap. Long stiletto heels dig into the sheets as Santana's struggles to press herself against Quinn. Santana reaches to pull her heels off when Quinn stills her hand. Santana gives Quinn a puzzled look. "Leave em," Quinn breathes.
Santana's eyes fill with lust as Quinn's voice rolls over her in the darkness. The blonde slowly runs her hands from Santana's ankles all the way up to a smooth ass before resting on the small of her back. Gripping Santana's hips in her hands, Quinn leans forward and kisses the top of Santana's cleavage. Santana breathing grows ragged when she looks down to see Quinn's teeth pulling at the fabric of her neckline. Releasing one hand from Quinn's hair, Santana pulls her dress down, shuddering as cold air runs over her exposed nipples. She can feel Quinn's lips curving in a smile against her skin. Santana bites her own lip hard when a warm tongue covers her nipple. Her hips rock against her will, seeking friction against Quinn's body. The blonde gets to work, hands guiding rolling hips. Lips and tongue, sucking and licking hardening nipples. It's too much for Santana. Before she knows what she's doing, she's grabbing Quinn's hand and guiding it between their bodies. The thong is quickly pushed aside and Santana is pushing Quinn's fingers into her wetness. Quinn takes the cue and eases the entire length of her middle finger into Santana. She marvels at the tight warmth pulsing around her finger. Santana gasps loudly when the pad of Quinn's thumb slips against her hardening clit. She rocks her hips forward, keeping Quinn's finger deep inside of her.
"Fuck Quinn," Santana whispers, a tremble running through her body. "Put another one in," she commands. Quinn pulls out, rubbing Santana's wetness over her ring finger before slipping both fingers into her tightness. She remembers the way Santana expertly curled her fingers. Quinn reaches up and wraps a hand around Santana's neck, pulling her down for a kiss, before curling her fingers. The blonde smiles to herself when the pressure around her fingers intensifies. Santana slowly rolls her hips, fucking herself on Quinn's pulsing fingers. The alcohol and weeks of buildup do nothing for Santana's stamina and she coming within minutes. Quinn feels Santana's wall tightening. A gush of warm liquid covers Quinn's hand as Santana finds her release. She gasps and pants into Quinn's shoulder, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Quinn marvels at the strength of Santana's PC muscles as the girl comes.
Not wanting the fun to end just yet, the tall blonde leans forward, laying Santana down the bed. In a move that surprises even Santana, Quinn pulls Santana's knees up, pinning them to bed on either sides of her elbows. The sound of slick fingers fucking into and out of Santana fill the room as Quinn sets to fucking her pussy. Long, deep strokes quickly bring Santana close to the edge again as Quinn's fingers fill and stretch her core. Without realizing it, Quinn's slipped a third finger in to the knuckle. She leans back to watch as her shiny fingers disappear into her lover over and over again.
"Jesus Santana," Quinn whispers, admiring Santana's form in the moon light. Tan abs flex tight, as a perfect chest rises and falls with jagged breath. Santana reaches out and pulls Quinn close again, her exposed body not enjoying the chilly night air at all. The front of Quinn's dress rubs excruciatingly against Santana's exposed skin.
"Just like that baby," Santana breathes in Quinn's ear. Quinn follows her instructions, keeping her fingers deep in Santana, pressing against her spot rhythmically. This time when Santana comes, she's not able to silence herself enough. A moan from deep within spills from Santana's lips. Quinn quickly kisses Santana in an attempt to quiet her, but it's too late. The damage is done. Both girls freeze. The sound of breathing and thundering heartbeats fill their ears. Nothing. Santana smiles lazily up at Quinn.
Santana frowns when Quinn starts easing her fingers out of her still tight pussy. Both girls flinch when Rachel's voice rings out through the still loft.
"What was that?" Rachel's groggy voice calls out. Sheets rustle in Kurt's room.
"Nothing. I bumped the volume on my white noise machine on mistake," Kurt says. "Go to sleep Rachel."
"Mmkay," Rachel mumbles something about kosher cupcakes before a soft snore starts up in her room.
"Sorry," Santana mouths silently with a shrug. Quinn smiles and shakes her head. Quinn flinches when an object sails through the air before thudding into the mattress besides Santana. Santana raises an eyebrow as she makes out the brand new ball gag sprawled on the bedsheets besides her. Quinn's phone buzzes. A text from Kurt flashes on the screen. Gag that bitch, please. Quinn smirks and shares the screen with Santana. Santana smiles slyly, reaching for the gag. "If you insist on giving me thirds..." Santana says. Quinn quickly snatches the gag away from her. "That's what I thought...But I want that mouth free and working," Santana says, pulling the gag from Quinn's hands. Santana kisses Quinn deeply before turning her around. Quinn compliantly flips to her stomach, pressing her face against a soft pillow. Santana smiles as Quinn lifts her ass, allowing her to slide a pillow under her hips.
"Santana...Hurry," Quinn whispers into the pillow.
Santana kisses a trail along Quinn's back before tugging at her zipper. The dress peels away to reveal a smooth back. With a quick tug, the dress is discarded and only a single black silk thong lays between Santana and her prize. Quinn shudders as Santana presses against her exposed skin. A hand slips between the mattress and Quinn's stomach. As fingers reach past the silk around her waist, another hand slips over her mouth. Quinn moans into Santana's palm as expert fingers glide against her wetness. The blonde reaches out and grips the wrinkled bedsheets in tight fists. Santana's hips move in unison with her fingers, pushing and rolling against Quinn's ass, fucking her steadily against the mattress. Labored breathing fills the room as sweat gathers between the girls' bodies. Santana takes a gamble and removes her hand from Quinn's mouth. She grasps Quinn's jaw and leans down to kiss her. Reaching down with her free hand, Santana palms Quinn's tits, kneading and rolling her nipples, eliciting gasps from the blonde. Quinn smashes her face into the pillow and gasps as Santana presses her fingers against her slippery clit.
Santana's lips never leave Quinn's neck as she holds the writhing girl down in bed. As Quinn's orgasm nears, her hips start bucking hard between Santana's hands and hips. Quinn releases her death grip on the sheets and reaches down to hold Santana's hands steady as her orgasm wracks her body. She grinds her hips down, holding Santana's hands hostage against the mattress as she rides out the aftershocks of pleasure.
"What?" Quinn whispers, opening her eyes to see Santana watching her quietly. Santana shakes her head, reaching out to push sweat slicked hair off Quinn's neck. She places a lingering kiss on the heated skin, pausing to taste the salt before pulling away.
"How long is your weekend?"