Disclaimer: Don't own the characters.
Author's note: Written for the Glee Kink Meme on LJ.
The first time that Santana's hand finds its way down his pants, he knows he should tell her that it's wrong. She's standing behind him, one hand working on the button of his jeans and the other one down his pants. He doesn't know what the hell she's doing with her finger, or how she knew that was a sensitive spot for him but her thumb is rubbing at it as her hand moves in small but firm strokes and it just feels so fucking amazing that he's pretty sure he would have agreed to anything to make sure that her hand stayed wrapped around him. They're in the choir room and he knows full well that he could get caught but he doesn't really care. "It's just a hand, Finnocence," she reminds him, after he voices yet again, out of guilt, that this would probably count as cheating. "You were already hard before my hand was wrapped around your dick, so my hand or yours, what does it really matter so long as you come?"
That seems like reasonable logic to him. He was going to have to jerk off after anyways, so he's just getting some...help. Yeah, some help and- shit her hand feels so good. She's pressing herself up against him and he can feel her breasts and he remembers, briefly, what it was like when she let him touch them – the first time he had ever touched girl boobs and the fact that they're pressed up against his back is too much for him to take. He twitches and comes with a groan, and instantly, her hands pull away from him and he has to hold up his pants to keep them from falling. When he turns around, fastened up again, she's moaning as she licks her fingers and she giggles as she looks at him. She's licking his come off of her fingers and she's fucking giggling. He's distracted enough by the fact that watching her is making him hard again that he doesn't notice Rachel walk in, even though she's talking, and it's not until she asks Santana what's on her finger that he panics.
"Frosting," she replies, tossing him a glance as she licks up the final hint of evidence that anything was amiss in the room. "My favorite flavour," she adds, winking at him at she makes her way to her seat, and they're both ignoring Rachel as she goes on a rant about processed frosting.
He can't remember a single dance step at the end of practice.
The second time that Santana's hand wraps itself around his dick, he's just come out of the shower after winning a game. He has a red towel wrapped around his waist and she tugs it off. "You probably shouldn't -" Finn begins, before his thought was lost in a haze of lightheaded awesome as her hand gives him a particularly forceful tug.
"You think too much," she informs him, her thumb rubbing over the head of his dick in slow circles as her hand moves along his length quickly. Deep down, he was hoping she'd come to see him, and after the game, the Cheerios uniform was especially hot. He looked over at her during the game and she gave him the most alluring smirk, the kind that told him that if he won, she was going to do what she was doing right then
"I'm just congratulating you on your win. You threw that touchdown pass.The crowd was cheering your name. I was cheering your name, Finnocence," she mumbles, her breath hot against his ear, and that's all that it takes. He's moaning loudly and coming, and he's briefly aware of the fact that her eyes were pointed down the whole time. Like she was just waiting to watch him come. "Good boy," she whispers, humming as she licks her hand clean, wiping her saliva off on the towel and tightening up her pony tail as he watches her walk off.
Rachel's right outside the door when she walks out, but she just smirks as she walks by, not bothering to address her at all. Finn walks out a minute later, surprised to find her there.
"What – what was Santana doing in the locker room?"
"Oh uh... Puck," he replies, trying not to bite his lip or run his hand through his hair or do anything that will give away the fact that he's lying.
Rachel's brows furrow in confusion, but when she finally gets it, she makes a gagging noise (he doesn't know that she doesn't actually have a gag reflex) and proceeds to ramble on about something called public indecency.
He has no idea what she's talking about.
The third time Santana wants to give him a hand job is in history class. Rachel is sitting in the front, Santana is next to him in the back, and the latter is palming his crotch. She's been cupping and stroking and fondling for the last few minutes, and it's taking everything in him not to moan. He tries to push her hand away, but she keeps outsmarting it, and okay...he'll admit it, he kind of likes that she's smarter than him. Rachel, of course, is paying attention to the teacher so intently that a bomb could probably go off next to her and she wouldn't notice, and she hasn't looked back at him in at least twenty minutes. Thank you, Grilled Cheesus.
He was running late, so he's not wearing boxers, and the feel of the denim against him is getting a little uncomfortable. "Santana, stop it!" he writes quickly on his notes, turning is paper towards her.
Unfortunately, she's a lefty so she can write and cup him through his jeans all at once. "Maybe I would, if you weren't totally hard. We've been through this already. I bet your dick is hurting right now, it's so hard," she wrote back. He wondered if she added the hugs and kisses at the end just to be a bitch.
"And whose fault is that?" he replied, his handwriting slightly shaky.
Her only response was a smirk as her hand moved to his zipper, tugging it down carefully as her hand made its way through the small slit. Finn didn't even have to watch to know that her eyebrow was arching as she realized that he wasn't wearing any underwear.
"Full commando. I approve," she scrawled quickly on the paper, her hand moving at the same speed as her writing.
"I was in a – shiiit, that feels good," he writes, visible shaking happening.
"How good?" she replies.
"Fucking good." His writing is barely legible.
"It'd be even better if my hand was my mouth."
Finn never thought that reading could make him come, but he was wrong. He was coming into her hand and trying so hard not to moan that he was literally shaking.
He goes back to taking notes on his paper, and he forgets what she's written as the teacher asks for their notes. The next week, he's sick so Mrs. Rembrandt gives Rachel his notes. When he's studying for his test, he's alarmed to see a little gold star with a handwritten note from Rachel. "Finn, I commend you for telling Santana and Noah to avoid writing profane things on your paper! Gold star for you."
He makes a mental note to screen his notes before handing them in from now on. Just in case.
The fourth time Santana gives him a hand job, they're at a party. He's a little drunk, and she's totally wasted, and she finds him and pulls him to an empty room. He knows that Rachel's around and she's still sober but she's probably talking to Quinn, which means that she won't see him. And drinking makes him horny and she won't put out. As Santana just reminded him again, he was going to jerk off anyways, so a hand is a hand, and he's learning that hers is more talented than his.
She's straddling his legs and her hands are working fast. The room is dark and they never bothered to turn on the light. Because Santana's drunk, she's being extra dirty. "How badly do you want to come?" she asks, arching an eyebrow even though he can't see.
"So fucking bad," he whimpers, fisting the sheets. It's true. He really wants to come, because it's getting to that point where he's so hard, it's hurting. But while her hands are moving fast, they're not moving fast enough to get him where he wants to go. He's sure that she knows that too, and she's torturing him to prove a point.
"Do you come like this for anyone else?" she asks, moving her hand a little faster, and he can't help but grunt in approval.
"No," he assures her, and it's the truth. It's not like Rachel's ever made him come. She won't even let him touch her, nevermind her actually touching him.
"And you never will," she says, in a way that makes it seem like a promise, not simply a statement. His hips are bucking involuntarily and she strokes him just fast enough and...
"Oh God, Santana," he mumbles, his moans muffled by the pillow his head is resting on.
It's then that a knock comes at the door. "Hello, is the bathroom occupied?" The door opens just a crack, not enough to see who it is, or for them to see her, but they both know who it is.
"Berry, get the fuck out!" Santana yells, and the door closes quickly.
They laugh when they hear a "Santana, I apologize for interrupting your drunken trysts with Brittany!"
He's so not Brittany.
The fifth time that Santana is giving Finn a hand job, they're on his bed. He's home alone and he's not expecting anyone so he doesn't close his bedroom door. He wasn't expecting her to even show up but there she was. He was already naked and he'd been jacking himself off, because he was a teenage boy with a house to himself and a video porn stash hidden under his bed. She offered to finish him off and who was he to deny her? Santana Lopez was way better than porn. But something was different. Her hands were moving slowly and she seemed to be deliberately making his life difficult.
"San," he whines, bucking his hips up slightly in an attempt to give her the message to hurry up because he was pretty sure he was going to die before this hand job was over, she was torturing him so much. She's been pumping him for a while, and every time he seems like he's enjoying himself a little bit too much, she slows down. It's like she doesn't really want him to come, and he doesn't understand why.
He groans, and he rolls his head to the side, which is when he notices a very distinct reflection in his mirror. A pair of sparkling silver knee socks, and as his gaze moves up, a pair of saddened eyes sparkling with tears, watching silently. Their eyes lock and he feels instantly guilty. This does count as cheating.
"Rachel, wait!" he calls out, but she's already turned on her heels and is bounding down the stairs.
Finn doesn't know if Santana doesn't hear him, or if she just ignores him, but he's brought out of his shocked state by something wet... it's not his come though, so he instantly looks down.
Shit, it's her tongue.
Suddenly, he thinks to himself, Rachel can definitely wait.