Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. This will include lesbian sex.

"We should technically be in church today," Santana pointed out as she sat cross-legged in front of the couch.

"I should have technically gone to temple yesterday but I suppose the ghosts of Christmas and Hanukkah past will forgive us."

"Let's just accept the fact that we're in this for the hallmark of it."

I perked up, "Speaking of which, we need to take pictures for our cars."

"I'm not getting dressed," Santana stated.

"Fine then, we can send everyone a picture of you in front of the tree in your underwear."

"Go for it," she shrugged, "I'm sure your dads and Shelby will love it."

I scowled at her, "As well as your boss."

She met me with a glare of her own.

If it weren't so early she'd have probably put up more of a fight, instead all I got was an eye roll as she grumbled, "Whatever."

I grinned successfully as I moved from the couch to go to the room. I dug through Santana's drawer and pulled out something appropriate before grabbing my camera from our desk. I grabbed her brush and went back to the living room. I dropped the objects onto her lap and went to the bar connected to our kitchenette, setting up the camera and angling it perfectly, zooming in and out until I was certain I could capture us as well as the tree.

Santana huffed as she came into my shot, the red silk camisole and shorts I'd chosen on and her hair tamed for the time being.

"Do you think, maybe, you could attempt to look a little," I smirked teasingly, "And any tiny little bit will do, happier about this picture. Otherwise, I fear you might convince everyone you're actually suffering."

"Go d forbid they actually think that," she rolled her eyes so hard I worried she'd strain herself.

I set the camera timer and went to Santana's side, posing her quickly so her body was slightly angled toward angled towards the camera. She'd long ago adjusted to my perfectionist ways, following each motion until I was pressed firmly against her chest and holding the hands at my waist. She'd adjusted that didn't mean she enjoyed it; it took an hour for us to get a picture I deemed perfect enough for our friends and family. At first, Santana was scowling, she sighing, and eventually yawning. She'd blink or her smirk would look far too predatory. At one point she even resorted to juvenile behaviors ranging from making faces at the camera to groping and trying to get a rise out of me. It took forever before we got it right, but when we did I couldn't have been happier.

"So, our relatives, associates, and friends get to see me in my most conservative lingerie and you in your snowman pajamas?" She asked as we sat at the computer with me on her lap while I edited the pictures for the postcards.

"Well, if you owned a decent, more festive, pair of pajamas you could have worn them."

"Because "Ravishing Red" is so festive," I couldn't see it as I started printing the postcards but I knew she was rolling her eyes once more.

"Here," I grabbed the cards, counting out three before handing them to her, "Write your parent's, Abuela's, and boss's addresses on these."

"Accepting our relationship is not the same as hoping for borderline pornographic spam at every holiday," she muttered.

"I know for a fact that your mother thoroughly enjoys each and every one of the cards we've sent," I pointed out as I grabbed a pen, scribbling addresses furiously, "Besides, I can't be blamed for the fact that you take every holiday as an excuse to dress as a stripper. Adding bunny ears to a mini dress does not make you a rabbit Santana."

"It was pastel," she excused as she reached for her own pen.

I felt the paper and pen tip press into my back slightly. After a few minutes of us filling the silence that fell over us with scribbling, Santana noisily dropped her pen onto the desk and let her cards fall messily onto my neat pile of finished ones. I groaned as I finished, straightening the pile before shuffling through them to make sure each name and address was printed neatly. When I was certain that they were legible, I dug through the desk drawers until I found the small paper roll. I peeled on off and turned in Santana's lap to see the boredom scrawled across her face.

"Lick," I commanded as I held one to her lips.

She quirked an amused eyebrow but did as told.

I pressed the small square firmly to the corner of the first card on the stack. I felt her fingertips brush from my knee slowly up my thigh, under the hem of my shorts. "Behave," I chastised.

I didn't bother looking up to the smirk I knew would be there, "Or what?"

I pressed another tamp gently to her lips, "Or I can finish on my own."

"I know you can," she mumbled as she gripped my wrist, letting the stamp fall from her lips as she kissed my fingers, "But you like it better when I help."

I shuddered slightly as I watched but shook my head, picking up the stamp to lick myself and place it on the next card, "We need to finish and take these to the post office."

"It's closed today," she pointed out, not being hindered in the least as her lips found my shoulder and the hand on my thigh moved to my hip. Unconsciously I tilted my head for her but kept up my task.

"That's why there's a drop box," my voice was breathier than I liked as her teeth grazed a spot she'd long ago found to be very sensitive.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" She wondered as her lips brushed just under my ear.

"Santana," I whined, finally dropping the card in my hand to brush her off.

I couldn't see myself denying her any further as I saw the mischievous arch of her lips. She wiped the cards and stamps from my lap, letting them fall to the floor.

I pushed the urge to scold her to the back of my mind as I situated myself more appropriately on her lap, my legs on either side of her waist as I felt the desk pressing slightly against my back.

"Stupid fucking snowmen," she mumbled, mostly, under her breath as she pushed the fabric up my stomach, peppering kisses across each inch of exposed skin until I finally raised my arms to let her remove the article entirely. It wasn't even entirely off when she had me writhing under her touch, one palm rubbing my breasts firmly while the other threw the shirt to the ground.

There were times I couldn't stand Santana's impatience; her need to have everything when she wanted it and how she wanted it. That certainly wasn't one of them. Especially, as my hips canted up at familiar warmth surrounding my left nipple. Her hand held my hip in place as I felt her tongue, stroking and flicking my pebbled node. What Santana frequently described as my "mad hot sex soundtrack," only sounded like a constant resonance to me, but she liked it and I liked her efforts to encourage it. She switched nipples, maneuvering her hands to tend to the other while still maintaining control over my hips. I didn't even notice when my hands had taken hold of the dark locks between them, but I had no intention of letting go.

"Tell me you don't like how I celebrate," she challenged.

I lost any response I'd had when she sucked firmly on the flesh between her lips.

She rolled the chair back slightly pushing me onto the desk.

"The laptop," I all but shouted, flustered as I tried not to crush the expensive piece of equipment.

She glowered at the device behind me before standing up awkwardly, tearing away wires and less than delicately placing it on the ground away from her chair. She wasted no time tugging my shorts and underwear down as she took her seat. Instinctively I parted my legs, but she pushed them even further, scratching gently up from my knees to my hips as she kissed my stomach. I knew I was blushing as I watched her, trailing wet kisses from my navel to my apex. I gripped the edge of the desk in anticipation, enjoying the familiar sensations of dark locks brushing the tops of my thighs and warm breath tickling my skin. I could feel a slight whine building up in the back of my throat when she finally slipped her arms under my thighs.

"Oh god," I moaned as I felt her lips on mine.

She chuckled between my legs as I struggled against her grip.

"You're terrible," I meant for it to come out more scolding but I doubted she'd take it that way.

She hummed her concurrence against me and I shuddered at it, "And you love me anyway."

"I don't know w-why," I faltered as she parted my lips gently, seeking out my sensitive node.

"I think you do," she breathed against me, wrapping her lips around me as she sucked gently.

I nodded unconsciously and let my hips roll lightly against her mouth. I felt the warmth only Santana could ever bring me begin to build in my stomach. The more active her tongue became against me the warmer the waves came. I'd built up a subtle pattern to match that of her mouth against me. Her arms gripped my thighs tightly as I began to shudder against her, the warmth growing to heat, until finally I couldn't contain it. Her name spilled out of my lips just as a swell of my passion spilled over hers. I couldn't even keep my eyes open as I arched and writhed in pleasure, taking in each excess press and glide of her tongue as she rode out my ecstasy with me. Finally, when I'd stilled and my breathing calmed, I felt her head rest on my thigh as one arm reached up to brush over my hip affectionately.

"Still want to finish those cards?" She wondered, a haughty leer on her lips.

I shook my head and slid from the desk back onto her lap, "No, I'm fine with you finishing them tomorrow."

"I didn't agree to-" she was going to protest but I cut her off with a bruising kiss, moaning into her mouth at my own essence on her.

I bobbed my head slowly up and down, enjoying her compliance as she followed my lips and mimicked my motion. I licked her lips gently as I let my hands fall to the hem of her shirt, "I'm pretty sure you just did."