"I didn't know you wore glasses," Rachel comments as she finishes drying her hair with her roommate's last extra towel. Not feeling too bad because she figures Eliza wouldn't care if she washed it with her bed sheets, she smiles when Santana gives her a lazy look over her black-wire frames.

"Mmhm," Santana answers neutrally, going back to flipping through the clothes in Rachel's closet. "Didn't really jibe with my Cheerio image, so I practically lived 24 hours in my contacts during high school. And right now…" She yawns quietly before smirking at Rachel, "My eyes are a bit too tired."

Rachel finds herself automatically smiling back at her. Drinking in the tan legs and strong shoulders she can see below and above the towel wrapped around Santana's body, she pulls the chair Santana had kicked to the floor upright so she can take a seat on it, pretending like images of why Santana had kicked it weren't playing in her head. "I had something to do with it?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Santana's lips curl up, and she pulls one of Rachel's old animal sweaters out. "You still have this? Why?"

"Would you accept sentimental reasons?" Tightening the strap around her robe, Rachel nods her head, "Try farther back in the closet. That's where the clothing Kurt picked out for me are." Ignoring the snort that gets, Rachel watches Santana do as she suggested anyway. As she turns, the red lines and raised skin caused by Rachel's nails crisscrossing her back and neck are plain to see from behind her wet, curling hair. Though Rachel had already taken a look at them in the shower (…and may have contributed more when Santana had gone down on her under the water, giving her a slow, soft orgasm to make up for how sore she'd contributed her to being), she still can't believe she'd actually caused them.

But, Rachel bites her lip, smiling widely, there's just something about Santana that lets her let herself go.

Santana glances back, catching Rachel's smile out of the corner of her eyes, and quickly returns to digging through the closet before allowing her own lips to widen into a smile as well. She doesn't know why, really, but every time she sees Rachel smile she has the intense urge to do so herself.

And kiss the girl.

But she's getting to where it feels like she always wants to kiss Rachel so that isn't really the point. "Ay Dios, woman… You are a toddler, I swear…" She takes out a casual dress, lifting it up against herself and scoffing.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Santana, you are barely three inches taller than I am."

She gets a raised eyebrow in response before Santana moves the dress and points to her chest. "Hun, you're forgetting about the twins here."

Eyes going straight to the cleavage the towel is creating, following the last remains of the shower water sliding down the girl's neck and disappearing into said cleavage, Rachel's eyes go back up to meet Santana's, and this time she doesn't blush upon seeing the knowing smirk she's getting. Instead, she smirks back, licking her lips. "Don't be silly, Santana. I couldn't possibly forget about something that makes you putty in my hands."

Rachel's voice is so innocent and casual, that smirk so challenging, that Santana can't do anything but let out small laugh as she turns away, searches a little more, and finally finds a pair of black sweat pants that probably bag on Rachel a bit and a purposefully oversized, grey shirt with a lower neckline than she's ever seen the smaller girl wear on her own accord. It'll do until she can get back to her apartment, at the very least. She drops the towel without a thought and moves around the room to find her underwear and bra.

Letting her eyes slide over Santana's nude form once again, smiling once more at seeing the red lines all over her back, Rachel stands up and heads over to the closet to find clothing for herself. She gets wrapped up in thinking about what she can wear when she is then reminded of the dark, angry bruises covering her neck and shoulders. She groans, catching Santana's attention. "Santanaaaa… There is no possible way I can wear anything nice." And yes, she is in fact pouting as she turns her head to look at the other girl, already half dressed and picking up the shirt to put on.

Santana smirks, gaze drifting to the marks she's left all over Rachel's skin.

She's not exactly ashamed, and seeing that makes Rachel pout even more.

Shrugging the shirt on, enjoying the light stinging from her cuts as the cool fabric settles on them and taking the time to pull it down and adjust it around her rambunctious twins, Santana pads over to Rachel and leans in to give her a quick, firm kiss. Sucking gently on the plumped up lower lip as she pulls back, she reaches behind Rachel to find the turtleneck sweater she'd seen earlier. Actually stylish unlike every other sweater she'd seen the girl wear during high school, Santana smiles and pushes it into Rachel's hands. "Wear this for now," she kisses Rachel again, "It should work until we can find you some heavy duty makeup.

"Even if," she smirks again, hands sliding around Rachel's waist, "We both know that's not the last time I'mma be marking you."

The huskiness of her voice and the pure certainty with which Santana utters her promise makes Rachel shiver. Heat coils in her stomach again, because - because that's a confirmation of future. But, lifting up to only peck Santana's mouth before sliding out of her grasp, she walks over to her dresser. "Even if that may be so," she smiles down into her underwear drawer, aware of Santana's gaze on her back, "Right now I'd think you'd be more interested in chewing on food, instead."

"Spoilsport. I am disappointed in you." Clucking her tongue, Santana picks up the bedazzled hairbrush off of the dresser, starting to run it through her hair. Using the mirror on the roommate's part of the wall, she asks, "So, what are you hungry for?"

Mortified that her first thought is, you, deep in my throat, Rachel clears her throat to try to get rid of the feeling. "There's a new restaurant that promises to have a vegan menu," she shimmies into powder blue boy shorts, attaching her bra behind her back after dropping her robe to the floor, "But I think it's mainly meat-based. You'd like that, right?"

"I can eat meat." Santana shrugs. Grabbing one of the hair ties wrapped around one of Rachel's bedposts, she quickly and neatly throws her hair up into one of her old Cheerio ponytails. "Hey, did I have anything with me when you picked me up? From the bar?"

"Close the closet door." Rachel points.

Doing so, Santana grins as her purse comes into view. Opening it and making sure everything's in her wallet, inordinately glad she doesn't have to call her bank to cancel her credit cards again, she pauses, stomach flipping when she realizes that the missed call glaring at her from the screen of her phone is from Brittany. Blinking, frowning, and quickly keying it away, Santana stuffs the phone back into her purse and searches for her lip gloss. Applying some, she's about to smack her lips when Rachel's small hand suddenly appears on her upper arm, turning her around so the girl can kiss her.

Rachel's cheeks are pink when she pulls back. "I'm sorry. I just, I've never kissed anyone with lip gloss on before."

Santana feels like maybe she should roll her eyes, or smirk, but all she can do is feel her cheeks heat up a touch and a small, teasing smile curl her lips as she sets her hands on Rachel's hips and replies, "Mmm, you should probably get used to it." She kisses the girl again, and it's almost chaste in comparison to the vast majority of kisses they've shared up till now. "'Cause I totes plan on gettin' my sweet lady-kisses on as often as possible with you."

And there it is again. Implications of future repeats of this kissing, and holding, and teasing, and of course the sex. Rachel isn't foolish enough to think there'd be a lack of sex, and she can't honestly say she minds.

Smiling brightly, she has to bite down on her lower lip (which comes off as more coy than she intended) to hold back the excited squee that trying to escape. She nods her head, then steps back to put the turtleneck on. "Good," she says through the fabric of the turtleneck just before her head pops through and she starts to adjust the neck accordingly. "I would expect as much." She turns around then, moving to a different part of the closet to rake through her various skirts.

Santana watches her, one hip popped out and her arms crossed casually under her chest as she unabashedly stares at Rachel's ass. "Please, please tell me Kurt was a saint and burned your knee-high socks."

Rachel turns her head long enough to stick her tongue out at Santana, who winks in return, smiling innocently, before she grabs a suitable, plaid skirt that coordinates well enough with the turtleneck and steps into it. Zipping it up at the side, she adjusts it, grabs the brush from where Santana dropped it on the floor, and parts her hair to the side.

Ten minutes and a short argument ("Oh my god why do you still own those things?! You are not wearing knee-highs, Berry!" "But what about-" "No!" "Well then find me some shoes that I can wear with this skirt if you're going to be so adamant about it! And for the record I do not appreciate-") that was mostly short-lived and cut-off by Santana tossing her a nice pair of sandals that she didn't remember owning before pulling her into a heated kiss, they've hit the streets and are making their way to the restaurant.

And it's only 15 minutes after that that they're seated at a two person table in the corner of the small establishment next to a large window. Setting her menu down and drinking her water, Rachel manages to work up the courage needed to ask the question she's been dying to get some kind of answer to since waking up with Santana still at her side. "So… I think that we can both agree… That is to say, I'm sure that…-" When Santana gives her a questioning look, one that isn't completely mocking and seemingly genuinely curious as to what Rachel is trying to say, the smaller girl simply blurts out, "What is this? I mean, I know what this is," she continues hurriedly, in hopes of cutting off the sarcastic response she's sure she was about to get. "But… What are we… Is this going to go anywhere? I mean, you know… I just…" She trails off, fingers curling nervously into her skirt under the table.

There it is. Berry's need to have everything defined. And though she understands, and though she remembers everything she's said since she'd been sober, Santana doesn't know how much she wants to say.

So she shrugs. "Aren't you having fun?"

Rachel's lips purse. "Yes, but - "

"No butt. Unless you're into that. Personally, I can get into it." Rachel frowns, looking confused, but Santana waves her off, continuing, "Look. Berry." She leans forward, elbows on the table, meeting Rachel's eyes squarely, "Can you tell me you're completely over Finnwad?"

Red blossoms on Rachel's face. "I… It's been almost three months… I mean, it's over. Definitely. Was, really, even before he broke - let me go…" Her eyes fall, and she sighs, shoulders lifting slightly, "Before it ended."

Santana nods. "And you've had no one between him and me." It's a question, but Santana phrased it in a way it's obvious she already has figured out the answer.

Picking up her water, it's Rachel's turn to nod.

Santana lifts up her hands. "The same with me an' Brittany. Don't get me wrong, it was mutual." Her lips firm, "And I knew it was coming." She decides it wouldn't do any good to explain why it happened. "But you've had three months. I've had two weeks."

"I thought you said this wasn't rebound," Rachel whispers, feeling herself deflate. Though she knew the conversation may not have turned out in her favor, she still kicks herself for starting it.

"It's not." Her voice coming out harsher than she meant it, Santana watches as Rachel flinches, her walls quickly being pulled up. She sighs in frustration. "Berry."

Rachel shakes her head. "Tell me, then, how this is not rebound."

"I'm getting to that." Biting back the next exclamation she can feel at the tip of her tongue, Santana quickly rattles off her order when the waitress steps up to the table. Then, waiting for Rachel to do the same, Santana reaches for Rachel's hand even before the woman can form a disgusted look as she walks away. "Rachel. Sweetie. Just because Britts and I broke up two weeks ago doesn't mean the relationship wasn't dead long before that. But." Santana hated this feely-crap, and she wasn't even sure why she was telling Rachel as much as she was. But as those big brown eyes gazed at her with such a look of expectation that it honest-to-god made Santana's heart skip a beat, Santana sighed. "Can't we just have fun?"

Rachel's teeth chews on her lower lip, long eyelashes fluttering along her cheeks as her eyes drop to think deeply. Fingers curling in Santana's grip, aware of how strong the other girl's hand really is, Rachel lets herself slowly lace their fingers together. "I think…" she starts, still trying to give herself time to make sense of everything but not willing to let the silence stretch on too much longer.

"Come on." Santana's voice deepens, cajoling, "You know we felt fucking amazing together."

They had. There's no doubt about that. In fact, if Rachel is honest, Santana had felt like she belonged inside her.

…But that's what this could be, wasn't it? Had Santana felt like that, too? That she belonged inside Rachel? And was that making her scared? Was her heart pounding as hard as Rachel's was?

Rachel's thoughts race. Lifting her eyes, she does her best imitation of Santana's smirk. "We have time before the food comes, right?"

And not even two minutes later, Santana can only thank fuckin' God that she'd agreed because here she is, in the restaurant's bathroom, Rachel's pants shoved down her thighs as Rachel's hands pull her underwear down just far enough so her fuckin' amazing plump lips and tongue can curl around the head of her throbbing cock, taking her farther and farther into her mouth as her hand strokes her like she was born to.

And okay, so Rachel doesn't know where this is going (the relationship, not what's currently happening because she definitely knows where that's going), and maybe she has more than a few insecurities about the whole thing, but she can't deny that whenever Santana calls her some sort of term of endearment (Sweetie, hun, baby) that her heart skips a few beats, or that every time Santana touches her it's like a shock to her running across her skin and down her spine.

And, she really, really can't say she doesn't love the way Santana's cock pulses and hardens inside her mouth and down her throat.

Which, she muses as she flexes her nails into the girl's thighs and slowly draws back enough to breathe in deeply through her nose before taking the entire length back into her throat completely and flexing her well-trained muscles around it, is kind of funny because she could never quite get into it with Finn but with Santana sometimes it feels like she can't get enough.

Rachel lets that thought pass, however, and focuses all of her attention on the job at hand— that being, get Santana off hard and fast and be allowed some amount of smugness for it.

Letting her eyes look up as she draws back again, the moment her gaze meets Santana's dark, hooded one there are hands in her hair and the thighs in her own hands tremble. "Holy— fuckin'— shit-" exclaims Santana under her breath as her abs lock up and she just barely manages to keep from fucking Rachel's throat right there and then. She's trying to let the smaller girl have control here, because she's aware of how often that scale is tipped in her favor, and though that's how she likes it, she also kinda loves when Rachel takes the initiative (like now) and does what she wants to Santana, how she wants.

Seeing Santana struggling with herself, Rachel pulls back almost completely, smirks, winks, and goes to town.

She wraps her tongue around the head, then her lips, and sucks hard, drawing out a low groan from the girl above her before finally starting to bob her head back forth consistently, deep-throating the throbbing dick every other time and letting her throat muscles massage the length as her tongue continues to twist and swirl at every inch of skin it can reach.

Pulling back, off of Santana and completely understanding her groan of protest, Rachel replaces her mouth with her hand as she husks, "What do you like?"

"What? Fuck, Rache. Did you not just feel me practically cumming down your throat?" Santana's fingernails scratch along Rachel's scalp, Santana's hips twitching as she pulses in Rachel's grasp.

Deciding not to answer the obvious, Rachel licks her lips before dropping her head to slowly, slowly purse her lips around the crown of Santana's cock again. "Really?" she asks, pausing her hand still circling Santana so her thumbnail lightly scratches along the throbbing vein on the underside, "There's nothing you want me to do?"

Cursing, hips bucking, the muscles in Santana's arms tense as she barely stops herself from forcing herself deeper into Rachel's mouth. "Babe, Rache, please," she croaks, "Just… Fuck, swallow me so I can fucking cum and give you what you want."

"And what is it I want?" Smiling, flicking her tongue around Santana's head to gather up her precum, pursing her lips around her to push down, slow, almost moaning herself as she stretches the muscles in her throat. Then, as soon as Santana is completely inside her, she pulls back.

"Rachel. Oh my god." Throwing her head back, trembling, Santana's hips jerk as her cock presses into Rachel's lips, sliding back and forth, practically jumping with the strength of her heartbeat.

Rachel's hand presses into Santana's abs, strong, unyielding. "What…" she leads, fingers circling her again, pumping slowly, "Is it I want?"

Fingernails dig into Rachel's scalp again as Santana groans. "My cum," she hisses out hotly, throatily, "Fuck, you want my cum."

And as Rachel rewards her by swallowing her right to the root, so deep and sucking so hard Santana practically explodes as soon as she's buried completely inside her, Rachel doesn't think Santana's knows just how right she is.

The force of which Santana's cum shoots down her throat is almost a little overwhelming, and Rachel has to work her muscles hard in order to make sure that she gets every, single, drop. She's almost positive she can feel the hot load travel down her system before settling in her stomach, and her thighs squeeze a little at the thought. But, pulling off slowly, letting the softening cock slide up her throat and past her lips, Rachel kisses the tip, eyes on Santana the whole time, before using her tongue to quickly clean the girl off, then gently tucking the flaccid member back into Santana's boyshorts and pulling the sweats back up.

Standing up, the smile on her face far too sweet for what she's just done, Rachel swipes her tongue over her lips once. "There? Was that so hard?" she asks, using her fingers to move some stray strands of hair from Santana's lightly sweat coated brow and back behind her ear.

She gets pulled in for a quick and smoldering kiss then, Santana's tongue immediately seeking out her own essence and taking back control. Rachel melts into her approvingly, hands curling around the girl's biceps and a smile trying to break out through the kiss.

Breaking it off, taking a moment to catch her breath and regain her composure completely, the taller girl finally unlocks the stall (and is relieved at finding the bathroom empty) before placing her arm around Rachel's waist and leading them out. "Let's go get our eats on," is all she says in return. As Rachel goes to wash her hands quickly Santana squeezes her ass, making her squeak in surprise, and decides she'll have to see if she can get that sound out of the other girl again in the near future.

They make it back to their table less than a minute before their food arrives, the waitress looking completely unimpressed, and Santana can't quite keep the little grin off her face as she reaches out a foot under the table to slide up and down Rachel's calf. "I suppose you think that makes us even, don't you?"

Pausing in her quest to take a bite of her vegan lasagna, the smaller girl quirks an eyebrow. "Of course not," Rachel answers evenly. She takes a bite and swallows before going on, lifting her chin just a smidge. "If anything I'd say I'm ahead now, after that," she deadpans.

"I'll let you believe that for now," Santana takes a bite of her hamburger before raising her water in salute, tapping her fingernails against the glass, "But, so you know, you're mistaken." Her voice practically smolders, "And I'll remind you why."

The heat that builds in Rachel's core at those words lasts the whole meal.