authors note: Thank you to the people who told me about the age of consent being 16 in Ohio, but ill keep it as 18 haha. I'm obviously not from the u.s so my knowledge isnt great, however I'm thankful for the info :) This chapter addresses a few things people were asking or stating in reviews so I hope you enjoy it. You guys really know how to make me smile and I appreciate that. Sorry for any mistakes!

disclaimer: I do not own glee or its characters.

As much as I wish I could wake up to a beautiful girl riding me in the morning, this is so much better. I'm facing the wall and Brittany's behind me, snuggled really tight against me. It's almost 11 o'clock when I look at my phone and we still haven't gotten out of bed. I'm sure Brittany was an early riser back in California and I've just changed her routine. I don't want my mom thinking she's making herself comfortable already because as far as she knows this is Brittany's first night here.

I reluctantly turn over, effectively breaking free of Brittany's embrace. She grumbles and then blindly reaches for my hand and tugs it to her chest. I think I feel my heart grinning.

"Britt, we have to get up." I brush my free hand across her forehead and all of sudden everything is starting to feel domestic. I think if someone wanted to marry me they would have to buy me a sandwich toaster first.

"Mm Santana, right there," she moans. My hand freezes, hovering just above her forehead. Holy shit, she's having another sex dream. I shake her hand with the one that she's holding until her eyes fall open. A small smirk appears on her face and she giggles. "Just kidding."

I roll my eyes and shove her lightly, unaware that she's basically hanging off the edge of the bed. She scrambles to grab the sheets to stay up but fails and falls flat on her butt.

"Shit, Brittany are you okay?" She rubs her back and looks up at me.

"You're stronger than you look, you know that?" She grins. I laugh and quickly hop off the bed to help her up.

"Come on, we should get some breakfast."

"Would your parents mind if I bring Lord Tubbington down? After all those years he spent in alleyways filled with smoke and cat fleas I'm sure he could use some fresh air."

I giggle and click my fingers towards Tubbs. He slowly perks his head up and gives us a once over before resting his head back down. "He had a big night last night, we'll give him another hour," I joke.

"He's not the only one," Brittany teases back. I poke her side as we step out of my room and she pokes back harder.

"Britt, stop!"

She continues jabbing at me. "That's not what you said last night," she winks.

"As I recall you were the one that didn't want me to stop touching your leg." I poke her stomach as she tries to dodge out of the way.

She approaches me with her hands shaped like claws and a devious glint in her eye. "At least I'm honest about it."

"Oh, sure," I say playfully. She creeps forward until my back hits the wall and I realise we're just above the stairs. My eyes flicker left and my heart starts racing because my parents are right there in the kitchen. They aren't looking in this direction, they're actually too pre-occupied with a recipe. I suddenly feel a pressure applied to my hips and I look back to Brittany and realise how close she's gotten.

"Tell me again," she whispers close to my mouth, "tell me how much you want me to touch you right now."

I grunt, actually grunt. It isn't a sexy grunt, in my ears anyway, but Brittany has this predatory look in her eye that tells me she loved hearing that sound come out of my mouth. "Mm, Britt, my p-parents," I stutter out and watch her look backwards to where they're standing.

Her head falls forward as she thinks of what to do. I decide to make the decision for her. I lean forward until my head is in the crook of her neck and place my lips against her skin. She sucks in a sharp breath and grips my hips tighter. I gently nip on her skin until I feel her fingers press against my chest and push me back so my head is against the wall again.

Her eyes don't find mine immediately. They linger on my chest. She watches my boobs rise and fall, licks her lips and meets my gaze. She steps further against me so one of her thighs is between my legs. Oh my fucking lord.

I tilt my head up to suck in a deep breath but realise that's a bad idea because Brittany quickly takes the opportunity to devour my neck. I bring my hand to my mouth to muffle my gasps and grunts and whatever other unattractive sounds wants to sneak out. She pushes up into me and I'm sure she already feels how wet I am for her.

I can hear my parents speaking but it's all inaudible because of the fucking beautiful girl pressing into me, so desperate to get even closer. I want to as well, so badly that I can barely think clearly anymore. Right now isn't the time though. I gently push Brittany back and when we're face to face again she frowns and wipes her lips. My god, she's so gorgeous.

"We can't," I breathe.

"You kissed my neck Santana," she says, "and you said you didn't want to hide me." I can sense the disappointment in her voice so I rub my hand down her arm.

"I know I say one thing and then do another, ugh I'm an idiot, but we can't do this right here my parents could catch us."

She shakes her head. "You're not an idiot, I just - every time I see you I just want to touch you; sexually or not, I just need to touch you."

I bite my lower lip and smile bashfully. "I shouldn't have hid you like you were some unwanted pimple," I bring my hand up to cup her cheek, "you're more than that and you should be treated like a queen." She giggles the most adorable giggle and turns her head to kiss my hand.

"At least Quinn and Sam don't mind what I do," she says shrugging.

"I don't mind either Britt," I say firmly, "I don't want you to ever think that you're your career and that's it. You're just, ugh, you're perfect."

Brittany pinches her lips together and shakes her head. "I'm okay I guess," she jokes and I giggle and poke her cheek. I take her hand and lead her downstairs. When we approach my parents they either don't notice that we're holding hands or they just don't mind. My dad whispers to my mom that she should have mentioned they have a guest because he would have brought out baby pictures of me. I give him a threatening look and he sends me back a blank stare, pretending to be oblivious to what he just said.

"That smells awesome," Brittany says to my mom as she places the eggs and bacon down on the table.

"Thank you dear," she grins, "now I wasn't sure how you like your eggs so I decided to make scrambled, poached and an omelette."

Oh right, my parents don't normally make breakfast because on weekends we normally head out to eat at this cafe which is always suspiciously out of apple juice when I go there. I think I should start giving them surprise weekday visits before school.

"I'm fine with anything, as long as it's an egg with an egg in it and not a baby chicken."

I look towards my dad and notice his lips poking out and his eyebrows lowered. My mom's face is frozen into this awkward grin. "Good," she states. I grab a fork and pile my plate with bacon and scrambled eggs, while Brittany takes the omelette and pours herself a glass of juice.

"Thank you for letting me stay Mr. and Mrs. Lopez," she says wiping her mouth.

"Well I for one am glad Santana's made a new friend," my dad chirps. Brittany grins at him and continues eating. I notice my mom eyeing me up and down and I know why. Normally I'm the most talkative of the three of us and now I'm eating in silence. All that's audible from my mouth is the crunch of the bacon. I think Quinn can hear bacon from a mile away, I wouldn't be surprised if I turned around and she was looking down on me with a fork in her hand. Bacon is her guilty pleasure.

I keep my eyes glued to my plate as I ask Brittany if she could please pass me the apple juice. "Sure babe," Brittany replies automatically and the room falls eerily quiet. My fork is hovering just above my plate and I swear if I look up towards my mom she'll also look shocked or maybe even amused.

"Babe?" I hear her question from across the table.

I swallow a big lump and nod my head slowly. "Yeah, I didn't really know how to tell you guys but," I look between both my parents, "I'm a famous pig."

Brittany snorts, effectively squirting some juice onto the table. My mom is laughing too and handing Brittany a napkin. "Santana you know you can tell us anything," my dad reassures me with a slight chuckle.

When we've all settled down I can almost feel the burning questions in my mom's throat. She wants to know everything about Brittany. That's how she was with Quinn - it wasn't a simple 'thank you for being friends with our outrageous kid', it was 'I will thank you for entering Santana's life after I've asked you a million questions about yours'.

"So how was your sleep Brittany?" Here we go. It always starts with the soft, easy questions that don't immediately make your heart drop out of your ass.

Brittany swallows her food and then answers, "It was awesome, Santana's bed is really comfortable."

"You slept in Santana's bed?" My mom replies, arching an eyebrow at me. I respond with a simple eye roll and she smirks. "We do have a spare bedroom dear."

"You mean the pool house?" Brittany questions.

"No, no, an actual bedroom, right next to Santana's," she explains. My dad folds his newspaper and places it in front of him then side eyes my mom.

"You didn't tell me there was another bedroom," Brittany says accusingly and I bite my lower lip and shrug innocently.

My dad laughs, "well she didn't tell me we had a guest and I'm not wearing the awesome t-shirt Santana gave me for Christmas a few years back."

"Dad please stop," I say quickly.

"Santana don't be embarrassed I'm sure Brittany doesn't care if she's a close friend." I try and hide my smirk and just end up flaring my nostrils. I look sideways towards Brittany and notice her smirking down at her plate. My cheeks instantly start blushing at the thought of Brittany learning about my life and making memories here with my parents and me.

Oh god, my face feels like an oven.

"Santana," my whispers, "you look a little smitten." Smitten? What? I don't get smitten, especially not in front of my parents.

"You're blushing a little," my father agrees.

"Am not, ethnic people don't technically blush," I retort and grab Brittany's plate and mine to take to the kitchen. I hear them all giggling behind me but I ignore and start washing up.

I turn around when I hear the creak of chairs as they all stand up. My parents explain they're going shopping for a new cabinet and will be back in a couple hours considering my mom likes to visit every furniture store to compare prices. When the front door closes, Brittany walks over and stands beside me - her hair is still messy from sleep and the smile on her face still lazy.

"Thank god my parents didn't interrogate you."

"Well, would they care," she yawns, "if they know I'm actually 23 and live in LA?"

I ponder for a moment because I honestly can't envision their reaction clear in my mind. Anything other than Brittany's face is automatically forced out of my head. I slap the sides of my head lightly and bounce on my toes. When I look back towards Brittany her eyebrows are raised and there's a smirk on her lips.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," I reply instantly, "just thinking about stuff."

"Well, are we going to tell your parents the truth?"

I sigh, "Britt, it's really not up to me it's all you. I don't want you to think I'm ashamed of your profession-"

"It's okay if you are," she cuts me off.

"No! No I'm not," I state firmly.

"Well I was for a while, you know, in the beginning. I mean it's not like I wanted to be a porn star as a kid. I actually wanted to be a unicorn," she says smiling.

I smile back, "you're very interesting you know that?" I say earnestly.

"How so?" She enquires.

"Well honestly," I lean back against the sink, "when I read some of your tweets I thought if I met you, we wouldn't get along so well. I guess I just make assumptions too early without actually realising that behind those quirky, playful tweets is a smart, sophisticated woman."

She grins and steps forward, taking my fingers between her hands and playing with each of them. "I'm not ashamed," I continue, "I mean I used to watch your videos on the computer in the living room where my parents always suddenly walked into. If that's not dedication I don't know what is," I say proudly.

"That's cute," she teases, sliding a finger over my palms. "I actually used to google myself."

"Woah," I breathe, "we're just revealing everything right now." She laughs and drops my hands.

"I was just curious about what sort of pictures were floating around. I was still getting used to my boobies being flashed over the internet."

"Do you regret it?" I ask tentatively.

She sends me a look that almost pushes me backwards. It isn't patronizing, but it's piercing - almost as though she's desperately trying to figure out why I ask the questions I ask.

"No," she finally says softly, "I'm comfortable with my body, I'm comfortable with sex, so..."

"Would you really give up your career for love?" I ask, repeating my twitter question out loud so that her answer can really sink in.

"I would give up anything for love," she says simply, "it isn't like love comes around often. It's not one of those people that you pass by in the street and forget about them the next day. Love is rare and exciting and I totally wouldn't let it pass me by."

Of course I immediately believe there is some hidden meaning in her words. Who would answer a simple question with such technicality and wisdom if there wasn't a deeper meaning behind said answer. Oh crap, Brittany's staring at me lovingly. Her eyes are glistening, her mouth is curved into that half smile.

"Do you have a girlfriend back in LA that's lucky enough to experience that love?" I don't know why I even ask that question. I could have responded with anything. I didn't have to respond at all. Of course I know Brittany doesn't have a girlfriend, I do know her love life pretty well. Crap, don't tell her that. Look innocent.

She laughs, "no, no girlfriend." I move from the sink and step around the counter.

"Cool," I breathe.

"Would you be jealous if I did?" I pause just as I'm about to take another step and turn around.

"I'm pretty certain the whole world would be jealous if you had a girlfriend. Even your girlfriend would be jealous," I say with a strained laugh that follows.

She licks her lips and maintains an unreadable expression. "I don't really care about anyone else."

"Okay," I reply dumbly. "Do you like Grease?" I ask suddenly.

"The film or the substance?"

I snort, "the film."

She grins and squeals, "yes of course why?"

"Do you maybe want to watch it with me?" Why am I being so timid about asking her to watch a movie?

"Sure," she says and walks towards me, "maybe we can make it a date."

I consider her suggestion by staring hungrily at her lips as she nips them. "Sounds hot." I hear her giggle and then step beside me. She runs up the stairs and mentions something about a bikini because it's hot today.

"Santana?" She calls out after 10 minutes. I stand up from my chair and head upstairs. When I step into my room my body practically collapses, because Brittany is in her bikini and she's holding that picture of herself which I hid in my drawer.

"How did you find that?" I ask, rushing towards her to steal the picture back. I hold it to my chest and wait for an answer.

"Well I wanted to get your bikini for you and then I saw it," she answers with a shrug. "It's a nice picture isn't is?" she adds with a wink.

I allow my eyes to wander down her body just this once. "Almost as good as the picture in front of me." I see darkness for a bout two seconds as something soft hits my face. Brittany's standing there with a smirk on her lips.

"Put your bikini on, I'll meet you in the pool."

Turns out that not going into the pool in over a year shrinks your bikini. I wanted to impress Brittany by jumping in the pool but when I surfaced my bikini top had untied itself and flung up around my neck.

Brittany was squawking into her hands as I tried desperately to cover my tits. I ended up having to get out of the pool all together and hide behind a tree just to make sure my bikini top would be tight enough.

"You've seen me naked but I can't see you?" She teased. I rolled my eyes and joined her in the pool again. We swam laps and I found out she's a really good swimmer. We had a hand stand competition because apparently Brittany doesn't leave a pool without having one. She won again, but only because her long legs managed to stretch out and kick me over.

After the pool games we headed onto the deck chairs to get a little sun. Brittany claimed that I also needed sunscreen even after my rant about how dark people don't burn. Obviously everyone knows that.

Brittany convinced me to use the sunscreen eventually by promising that she would apply it to my body. It took everything inside me to decline her tempting offer because I knew it would end up with one of us moaning or screaming.

I sit up when I hear a soft buzzing. I reach down and pick up my phone and notice that Quinn texted me. Brittany thinks this is the perfect opportunity to get close to me and before I can tell her not too she's already sitting behind me and lathering up my back with sunscreen.

"Oh my god Brittany, you can't," I whine. With the pressure she's applying to my back I end up bobbing forward and back and almost drop my phone. I quickly read the text Quinn sent before Brittany really starts getting into it.

Ur going 2 church tomorrow right? - Quinn

Of course, I might have 2 bring Britt along - Santana

U think she'll come? - Quinn

I feel Brittany's thumbs work the kinks out in my shoulders and my head lulls back in satiation.

"Who are you texting?" Brittany asks giggling.

"Q-Quinn, she wants to know i-i-if you want to come to church t-tomorrow," I mutter.

The rubbing stops and I wonder if I said the wrong thing. Then just as fast as she stopped she starts again and whispers, "sure."

We'll see u there - Santana

"Don't you remember I told you my parents were religious," she says softly.

"Oh," I breathe, "yeah I-I'm sorry if it brings up anything bad for you..."

"No," Brittany says quickly, "not at all, I actually enjoy it."

"Awes- Oh my g-g-god..." Brittany digs her hands into my lower back and presses up further against me. Her fingers trail up my back and moves further forward until her centre hits my back. Either Brittany dries really slow or that wetness is not from the pool. Holy shit.

"It's all rubbed in-"

"No, keep going," I interrupt shaking my head. I press my ass back into her listen to her moan softly right against my neck.

"Santana," she breathes as her hands work around my waist to my stomach, "we can't keep doing this, it'll make me erupt."

I tilt my head back against her shoulder and instantly am hit with her sharp erratic breaths in my ear. She pushes her crotch into me, completely performing the opposite of what she's saying.

"I know, I just, I need..." I pant out. My hands fall to her thighs and I rake my nails along her skin.

"What?" she breathes. "What do you need Santana?" Oh fuck, my name whispered on her lips. I rock harder into her, eventually grabbing her hands, which are safely resting on my abdomen, and placing them roughly on my boobs.

I whimper as she squeezes and grinds against me from behind. She can feel my hardening nipples through my bikini top already. "Brittany, ugh fuck." My hands fall from hers and grip the back of her hair. She leans down to bite on my flesh and I hiss.

Suddenly we hear the front door slam and I'm about to get up from our position but Brittany holds me tight against her and places a finger to my lips. "I won't stop until you cum," she husks in my ear.

My eyes roll into the back of my head. I can clearly hear my parents footsteps inside. I can picture their faces when they walk outside and see what their daughter and her 'friend' are doing.

When I finally feel myself coming undone, I end up biting down on Brittany's finger and hear her gasp. She slowly removes her arms from around me and I fix my bikini top. We both grab our towels and make sure our breathing has calmed before heading back inside.

"Oh hi girls, did you take a dip?"

Brittany nods enthusiastically and turns to me. "Santana's a dolphin."

I nod in agreement, because it takes far longer for me to come down from an orgasm than Brittany. Holy shit. I actually orgasmed. I felt the vibration, the rush, the throbbing, everything. I felt it all and Brittany only had to give me the most erotic massage in history.

We both head up to my room and quietly dry our hair. Brittany's sitting by Lord Tubbington with her bag. She's grabbing out a container and placing it in front of him. "Is that cheese?"

"Fondue," Brittany corrects me.

"He eats fondue?"

"Lord Tubbington only really eats human food," she says with a twitch in her eye and lop sided smile.

I nod my head. "So my parents will probably want to watch Grease with us."

She shrugs, "that's cool."

"Well I just thought that you wanted it to be a date?" I croak out. She seems to sense my nervousness and walks over to sit beside me on my bed.

"How about we watch it when they go to bed then?" She suggests.

"Okay," I say blushing and giggle. Oh god I really am smitten.

"Tell me about the subjects you do at school, what's your favourite?" Brittany and I are sitting on the carpet in front of my huge leather sofa because since we've been occupying the floor in my room we've decided that this is more comfortable. I mean my sofa is the most comfortable I've ever sat on; that's the whole reason we bought it, but if Brittany prefers the floor then so do I.

"I take history which is pretty helpful considering both my parents loved visiting museums as kids so we go there once a year. I also take Spanish which is super lame because I'm ahead of everyone in my class..."

"Speak Spanish to me," Brittany chimes in.

I smirk, "If I do I have a feeling you'll scream and wake my parents."

"Fine," she says rolling her eyes, "but you have to one day and make sure you whisper it right in my ear." I gulp and turn away from her. Just picturing Brittany and I in bed with her moaning and whimpering for more is already making my lady loins buzz.

"Should we start the film?" I suggest and she nods excitedly. She crosses her legs and leans back against the sofa as I stand and press the disc in. I grab the remote and walk back to sit beside Brittany who immediately shuffles closer so our thighs are touching. My breath hitches, but I remain stoic as I press play.

I check my phone and notice that it's almost midnight. This is usually the time for...

"Late night shopping!" My dad shouts as he rushes downstairs.

"I thought you guys were like dead asleep," I mutter.

"Santana we have an alarm you should know this by now," he replies. I watch my mom place her bag over her shoulder and stuff her wallet in there. It looks like there's are about $5000 in cash just shoved into one pocket. I roll my eyes and turn to Brittany who has an amused expression.

"Remember we have to go to church tomorrow," I say to them.

"Of course mom," my dad mocks, "we won't be late."

"Anything you girls want? Brittany would you like any make up? There's a new product by cover girl." I scrunch my face in annoyance and watch Brittany giggle.

"No thank you," she says kindly and my mom nods in understanding then grabs my dad's hand and runs out the door.

"Well, that's interesting," Brittany breathes.

I shake my head, "I forgot they go midnight shopping to get sales."

"Well," Brittany shuffles closer and runs her finger along my thigh, "you've been a little distracted."

I lick my lips and watch her finger trace patterns on my skin. "Yeah I guess so," I agree. She smirks and then turns towards the television. I press play on the movie and we both settle back into position.

It gets to the point in the movie where Rizzo is walking out of the school and starts singing There are worse things I could do. I watch how Brittany's eyes follow her movement and her mouth twitches like she wants to sing along.

"The glee club at my school is doing Grease this year," I whisper, just in case she's one of those people that get sucked into the movie and don't like when others talk around them.

"Are you in glee club?" She asks without turning her head away from the screen. I shake my head, then realise she isn't look at me.

"Nope."

"Why not? The guy who runs it seems okay."

I scrunch my eyebrows, "how do you know Mr. Schue?"

"He was the one who gave me your address. He said that you crashed a glee club party once so I assumed he was involved with it," she mutters, shrugs. I noticeably shudder at the thought of Will Schuester knowing where I live. I can picture him greeting me at the door with the entire Journey album blasting from his lungs. "So what's the real reason you aren't in glee club?"

"Um, I don't sing," I reply lamely. She finally looks towards me and smiles really small. Her eyes flicker all across my face until she speaks.

"You're lying," she whispers.

"What? No I'm not."

"Yeah," she nods, "you are."

"How would you know that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

She chuckles and then picks up the remote to pause the film. "Because even your moans are melodic. I know that you can sing, you just look like a singer."

"Well," I bite my lip, "you look like a dancer."

She pouts, "that's because I am a dancer." Crap, Santana where the hell is your game tonight?

I pinch my lips together and turn back to the television. She doesn't say anything, just just reaches for the remote again and rewinds the film to the start of Rizzo's solo. Before pressing play, she stands up and offers me her hand. I tentatively accept and we're both standing in the middle of the living room.

"I want you to sing this song Santana. I'll dance with you to make you feel more comfortable." How will her dancing with me make me feel comfortable? If anything I'll get horny and splutter out awkward innuendos that I'll have to explain were harmless later on.

"Fine," I huff. I don't know how, but Brittany radiates her confidence onto me and I fee like I could do anything. She presses play on the film and drops the remote. Her hands fly to my hips as the intro invades the room. Since my parents aren't home I figure I can belt out the song - just for Brittany. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and we pull each other closer.

"Just follow me," she whispers right before the vocals come in.

"There are worse things I could do, than go with a boy or two..." She steps backwards and I follow her. We sway smoothly; my body moving with her like it was at Puckerman's party. I react to her movements, while she seems a bit stunned over my voice.

"I could flirt with all the guys; smile at them and bat my eyes. Press against them when we dance..." Brittany hands reach down just above my ass and she presses down so my back arches slightly and my mouth emits a sharp gasp.

There's something so sexy about the instruments in this song. The saxophone or trumpet thingy is making met wet just listening to it. And with Brittany running her hands up my sides now I feel as though I could erupt any moment. Damn her for having this affect on me.

"I could stay home every night, wait around for Mr. Right. Take cold showers everyday..." Brittany brings me even closer and inhales my scent, gliding her cheek against mine.

"I could hurt someone like me, out of spite or jealousy. I don't steal and I don't lie, but I can feel and I can cry, a fact I'll bet you never knew... But to cry in front of you," I graze her cheek with my right hand so she looks down at me, "That's the worse thing I could do."

Suddenly she dips me and my hair whips passed my shoulders. The film continues playing, but we don't move. She's staring at me as though she's found something she's always wanted. "Your voice is effortless," she says breathlessly.

I send her a half smile. "You're pretty good on your feet Miss. Pierce."

She smirks. "Well you're not so good so I think that..." She finishes her sentence by wrapping her arm under my legs and lifting me off the floor.

"Brittany!"

"That's what I like to hear," she jokes.

"Oh my god," I breathe, "you are really strong."

She laughs and turns me around so we're both facing the television. "Want to keep watching or should we head to bed?"

"Bed," I say with a nod. She manages to turn the television off and all the lights while still carrying me. She even carries me upstairs to my room and places me down on my bed. My hands are still tightly around her neck so she ends up falling forward on top of me. She hovers above me and my eyes flicker down to her neck to watch her throat move as she swallows.

"I think it would be best if I sleep next door," she whispers.

I meet her gaze again and bite my lip. "That would probably be for the best." She nods but doesn't make any move to hop off of me.

"Do you think Lord Tubbington will be able to get used to sleeping in a different room?" I know it's a silly question and she knows that as well. I know she's just trying to linger here. Her hair falls out from behind her ears and curtains my face.

"Maybe just one night," I offer her softly. She nods again. I don't think she trusts her voice right now. I'm surprised that I'm capable of saying something remotely logical.

"Just one night," she hums and leans down to brush her nose against mine, "without you against me."

I shiver and let my hands reach up to her hips. "You know," I lick my lips, aware that hers are an inch away, "you've gotten off to humping me and I've gotten off to your erotic massage earlier," she smirks, "we're basically breaking the rules already."

"I think what we're doing is sort of like masturbation, only we don't go inside ourselves we just use each other's bodies as stimulation."

I gulp and nod. "You could probably kiss me, I mean, since we've done other stuff already..." I trail off, watching her expression change slowly. She's frowning while biting her upper lip.

"I think I would enjoy kissing you too much," she whispers.

"Why is that?"

"You already look addictive, I can't imagine what you'd taste like." Instead of replying I jerk forward and flip us so I'm on top of her. She gasps as her back hits the bed with full force. "You're not letting me sleep in the other room are you?"

I smirk and shake my head. She studies my face carefully and when I yawn she pouts. "I'm not tired," I reassure her, releasing another small yawn. I slide down her body a little to rest my head on her chest. Holy shit her boobs feel like a brand new bean bag or maybe even a water bed.

She runs her fingers through my hair. "Are you sure?" I nod lazily.

"Talk to me about LA."

"All right," she whispers and clears her throat. "I hate when I work with girls who are too pre-occupied with the camera," it's not really what I was asking but I'm too tired to interrupt her, "they always pause so they can brush their hair away from their face and you instantly know that they're faking it if they have time to stop howling like a wolf and do that."

"I wouldn't fake it..." I say through a yawn. She laughs and continues threading her fingers down my tresses.

"The best thing about living in LA is the night life. I love waking up to fresh coffee and a great view outside my apartment, but at night everything really comes alive. You see things differently when you look outside your window. You notice the lights more and are aware of all the sounds that you can't particularly hear. You can think and just relax - unless you're going out of course," she chuckles, "but I prefer to have as much time to myself as possible when I'm not working..." Her voice fades slowly as I drift off to sleep.

I can hear her say my name a couple times before she eventually whispers goodnight and I feel pressure applied to the top of my head. "Sweet dreams Santana."