A/N: Someone brought up a good point that I should warn that this is technically non-con/dub-con, which I was/am still going to address later on in the fic. I just forgot to disclaim that, initially.
Instead of listening to her English teacher extolling the virtues of Catcher in the Rye, Santana was smirking evilly to herself as she wrote her list of what and how she could play with Rachel next. Brittany, leaning over her shoulder to read along, kept on giggling and whispering ideas of her own. Though Santana vetoed the use of peanut butter, Brittany's idea of massage oils was genius.
It had been three days since her bathroom rendezvous with Rachel, and though the other two non-voodoo inspired trysts that had come before had been no less pleasurable, the second Santana had touched her underwear, Rachel had completely come undone. So wet and hot that her fingers had easily slid back and forth, drawing out the sexiest moans Santana had ever heard, it should have been embarrassing how fast Rachel had orgasmed.
But it hadn't been. It had been the hottest thing Santana had ever seen. So much so that Rachel had only had to barely brush against Santana's clit for Santana to scream out her own orgasm that Rachel swallowed with her mouth. Another thing on Santana's list of sexiest things ever.
Fuck yeah, Rachel was amazing. Fucking spectacular.
Only problem was, Santana wanted to physically touch her. None of that over-the-clothing shit. She'd gotten close to sucking the smaller girl's nipple into her mouth the first time, when she'd managed to lure Rachel into the janitor's closet, but that stunt had almost put a stop to the whole thing. Thankfully, Santana was talented enough with her tongue and Rachel's mouth was delicious enough that she didn't mind kissing her for ever, that she'd managed to get Rachel clinging to her while she bucked into her hand violently five minutes later. That was also when Santana realized that Rachel was a biter; damn, that bruise had taken forever to heal!
Again: hot.
Realizing that she had written grope her at least three times on her list under various different headings, Santana made to go erase some of them… But thought better of it. Though fondling a little Rachel Berry voodoo doll wasn't the most stimulating thing to do, what it gave her, when she orchestrated it correctly, was definitely worth it. Fucking worth it, if she didn't mind making a horrible pun.
"When are you going to play with her again?" Brittany whispered, curled strands of her hair tickling Santana's cheek.
Santana smiled, reaching up to affectionately tuck the flyaway behind the blonde's ear. "I'm not sure yet," she dropped her hand and started tapping her fingers on the paper, "Though I think it'll be soon. I's gots to get me some Berry."
"Can I join in this time? Now that I'm not dating Artie, I want some sweet lady kisses with Rachel, too." Brittany bumped their shoulders together, pouting cutely.
Santana licked her lips, eyes dilating. Fuck, that had just rocketed up to take the top spot on her list of the most arousing things ever. Before she answered, however, she realized that from his spot at the handicapped desk, Wheels McCripple Pants was watching the two of them with a completely morose expression on his face. Smirking maliciously, Santana shifted closer and leaned in, and, making sure he was still watching, pressed her lips directly against Brittany's ear, for all intents and purposes making a lover's gesture, "I wouldn't want to just spring you and me on her yet, but give me some time, and I'll see what I can do."
Brittany's shoulders fell a little, but then she perked up. "Can I go after her as just me?"
"I don't know why you're asking me," Santana answered, sitting back in her chair, "I don't have a claim on her."
"You don't?"
Santana blinked. "What?"
Brittany shrugged, grabbing one of Santana's hands to link their pinkies together, "San, you like her."
"Uh, yeah." Santana looked around and lowered her voice even more, "To fuck."
"Okay, sure. Are you going to play with her in glee today?"
A little thrown by the sudden change in topic, Santana allowed it to pass without comment; for some reason, she hadn't liked the direction that conversation had been heading in. "You know," she picked up her pencil with her free hand, tapping the eraser against her chin, "That sounds like a totally bad ass idea."
And it totally fucking did. They were supposed to be working on what they were going to do for the end of the year recital, and Santana just knew Rachel would be all up in their business, squawking on and on about singing a duet with Finn while also campaigning for the finale as well. God, the girl could fuck, but that didn't mean she didn't still annoy the hell out of Santana most of the time; even if she'd mellowed a little since rejecting Finn after Nationals.
Which, legit, only made Santana happy because that meant it had been easier to seduce Rachel in the first place.
Quickly getting lost in planning how she was going to drive Rachel crazy that afternoon with the end result of Rachel's fingernails biting into her shoulders as she writhed against her, begging for release, Santana could only squeeze her thighs together in a poor attempt at giving herself some relief. Fuck. She could not wait.
It wasn't until she was in the middle of trying to figure out how she could smuggle ice cubes into the choir room without being discovered that she realized, somewhere along the way, her initial game of seduction had turned into a fucking hot addiction.
And, yeah. At this point in time, Santana was abso-fuckin'-lutely okay with that.