A/N: I'm still really flattered by everyone who is reading and reviewing, so thank you guys! It gives me motivation to keep going as quickly as I am. I'm squeezing this chapter in between babysitting my niece and karaoke with my friends tonight, so feel special.

Chapter 9

I stared down at my cell phone with genuine distress. Brittany had texted me last night before she went to sleep, asking what movie and what time we were going today. I rubbed my fingertips over my forehead, massaging the slight pain that was building behind my brow. Just thinking about this was giving me a headache.

See, here's the thing – I didn't want to see Brittany. I was really trying to push her from my mind. I was still wrapped up in the smell and feel of Quinn, since we had slept with limbs intertwined and my head resting on her chest, and for once, she hadn't gotten out of bed before me. Instead, when I woke, she was laying there, threading her fingers through my hair and staring at the ceiling. It had been strange and sweet, and evoked emotions that I was pushing aside for simplicity's sake. Quinn and I had evolved to a level of comfort with each other that cuddling wasn't strange anymore. Well, at least it wasn't for her – she didn't seem to hesitate to dive in, wrapping herself around me. I still felt a little awkward, because, come in, this is Quinn, but I can't deny that there's something basically soothing about being held while you sleep.

"What's that?" Quinn murmured against my hair. She sounded slurred and a little bit drugged, like she was drifting in and out of sleep.

"Brittany." I said, because there wasn't a point in hiding it. Quinn stirred a bit, but then seemed to decide against it. She just breathed out a tiny sigh.

"She wants to go to a movie today."

"What movie?"

I frowned. "I don't know. I don't think I'm going."

Quinn seemed to perk up a little at this, shifting herself so she could angle her head to see my face. I glanced up at her, and, predictably, her face was a mask of indifference. "Why not?

I shrugged, scrolling my thumb through my phone absently. It was something I did to buy time when I didn't know what to say. "Because of Artie. Because of you." It surprised me how totally honest those statements were, but strangely, I realized Quinn was someone I could be honest with. It was a weird realization – if anyone had asked me a year ago that I'd be in a secret-sharing, truth-revealing, cuddle-session relationship with Quinn, at any time in my life, much less a year later, I would have laughed and suggested that they needed to be committed. Yet here we are.

Quinn moved as if she wanted out from underneath me, but I pressed my arms around her, stilling her motions. I was beginning to realize that when Quinn wanted to talk about hard things, she craved physical distance, because it helped her to keep that stone mask in place. I frowned at her a little. I told you something true, now it's your turn, Q.

Quinn stopped running her hand through my hair and let out a heavy sigh, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This is too complicated."

Tell me about it, Tinkerbell, I thought, but didn't say. After last night, what exactly were we? Not together. I locked my jaw against the raw panic that formed in my throat and gut when I thought about the idea of being with Quinn, or Brittany, or any girl. No, no, that definitely isn't Santana Lopez's M.O. I can make out with girls, I can even fool around with them, but I certainly do not date them.

I sighed, because the melancholy mood was weighing on me. I needed to change this, and quickly, or Quinn would be quiet and brooding all day and I'd be pissy. Just really not a good combination, if you ask me – or any sane person.

I shifted, lifting my body up, and then quickly slid my leg over her, so that I was straddling her midsection. I grinned at the stunned look on her face. Anytime I solicited that reaction from Quinn it felt like a small victory. I was wearing a white wife beater and pink spandex-y type shorts. Quinn was wearing a t-shirt and underwear, which suited me just fine. I began rubbing my palms against her ribcage on both sides, over the shirt at first. I lifted an eyebrow when I noticed her nipples were hard, and I wasn't even touching her skin.

Quinn was fighting her reaction, and it was really pretty cute to watch. She was simply looking at me, trying to portray boredom – but her face was slowly flushing, and her breath was trembling slightly in her chest.

"It doesn't have to be." I told her, because it didn't. Sex is just sex, after all – it's always just been that.

Quinn shook her head, slightly, then bit her lip. I moved my hands nonstop, up, down, up, down, catching the loose fabric of the shirt and drawing it up slowly to reveal her flat stomach. I dipped my eyes down to take in the sight, then trailed my eyes back up her body.

"I don't want you to not do things with Brittany because of me," Quinn said quietly, and though she was fighting off arousal, there was real emotion in her voice too. I quirked an eyebrow.

"That's incredibly wanky of you, Quinn, but you're enough woman for me at the moment." I smiled at her, because I knew she hadn't meant it that way. "Plus, like I want Professor X's sloppy seconds? No way."

The laugh escaped Quinn in a ragged, breathy gasp. "No, I mean.. things like, movies." She shifted beneath me, and that ignited a spark in my center. I grinned at her, pressing down on her slightly, both because it felt good and I knew it'd make her squirm more. I was having too much fun.

What is it about sexy time with girls that was so much more exciting than with boys? It was something I had been wondering about ever since that first exploratory night with Brittany, and had chalked it up to our extraordinary magnetism. Now, though, with Quinn shifting beneath me, biting her lip and suppressing the urge to writhe, I had to face the fact that I just really enjoyed this way more than any kind of interaction with males. Weird.

I started to slide my nails gently against her skin, trickling over her sides and then over her lower stomach. Quinn was holding her breath, probably to avoid panting. I smirked at her, because I knew I was winning our bet right now. If I wanted to, I could probably rip her underwear off and plunge my fingers into her, and I doubt she'd even protest.

Something on my face must have gave away that thought, because Quinn reached down and grabbed both of my hands with hers, stopping me. I frowned at her, and she just shook her head no, once. "Listen to me, Santana," Quinn said, and then I realized our conversation wasn't over.

I scowled, shifting my weight backwards a bit, so that I wasn't leaning over her. "All right, I'm listening."

I sighed, running her fingers through her own hair, trying to collect her thoughts. "This thing between us shouldn't interfere with.. well, anything," Quinn said. But she wouldn't quite look at me. Her voice was saying one thing but her face was saying another, because she had her walls back up again and I was learning that it meant something when that happened. Not exactly what, yet, but I knew I'd figure it out eventually.

"Who says it's interfering?" I shrugged, considered leaning down to kiss her, but thought against it. Quinn had a queer look in her eye, like maybe she wanted to cry or something.

"Go to the movies with Brittany." It wasn't a question, it was more like a command. My eyebrows flew up.

"Whoa now, Goldilocks. Don't try to get all bossy with me." Then I smirked. "Unless that's what you're in to." Quinn blinked at me. "I'll do whatever I want, no input from you necessary."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Big surprise there."

I chuckled, but it didn't feel sincere. This was really bothering her, for some reason I couldn't pinpoint. "Well, you can do whatever you want without my input too, you know," I said, figuring that was it. What, like she needed my permission?

Quinn scowled. "Oh, I know." A pause. "But maybe we should have a full disclosure rule or something. Just in case.. I don't know, just to stop it from being weird."

I tilted my head at her. "What, you planning on jumping into the sack with Joy when we get back to Morrow?" I smirked. "Why don't we just agree to non-exclusivity and leave it there?"

Quinn sighed again. It made me feel like I was being incredibly dense, and she was having to explain her point over and over again but I just wasn't getting it. Okay, that definitely killed my horse. I lifted my leg and slid off of her, sitting cross-legged on the bedspread next to her. I picked up her hand and held it in mine, giving it a small squeeze.

"Santana, I know that sex isn't a big deal for you." She began, avoiding my gaze. "But it is for me. You know how many people I've had sex with, exactly? One."

My jaw dropped. "What? Me no creo." All the sudden, the room felt warm and close, and it was hard to breathe. I had to fight the urge to drop her hand and back away from her. It was like she had told me she had some kind of disease.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed, though I doubt her rudimentary Spanish was good enough to pick up on what I said.

I closed my eyes slowly, took a breath, and opened them. "Puck is terrible at sex, Quinn. He's selfish. He has no idea what to do with a vagina."

Quinn smirked despite herself, but her eyes were fixed on a point somewhere to the left of my face. "He got it figured out enough to knock me up."

I groaned. "Any functioning baboon can do that." I shifted closer to her, studying her face. "This puts a lot more pressure on me to preform, you know." I said it to make her laugh. It worked.

"For some reason, I don't think you're going to have a problem." Quinn flashed me a knowing grin. It made my stomach tighten with longing.

"Listen here, Blondie," I told her with severity, "You have got some wicked naughty looks, you know that? Stop doing that." I shook an imposing finger at her. It drew out another sunny smile, and I was glad.

"Anyway," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "That's okay. If you want, I'll let you know if I'm going to be doing the dirty with anybody else." It was a concession, but it wasn't a strange one to me. Brittany and I had had the same arrangement for the last year.

Quinn chuckled. "All right, I guess. This is so weird. I've never made any sex pacts before."

I rolled my eyes. "You haven't properly lived, Quinn."

"We have different views on that." Quinn said, sitting up. Her hair was mussed and tangled, though it still looked way better than mine did. If I didn't think I'd somehow end up looking like Wanda Sykes, I might consider cutting my hair short. Well, probably not.

"So, what movie are you going to see?" Quinn asked again, shifting off the bed. I lifted myself then sat back on my knees, fishing around for my phone among the covers where I had discarded it. We were in eerily similar positions to what we'd been in yesterday when that wager was placed. I watched her wander around her room, moving dirty clothes to a laundry basket, picking up her mascara and eyeliner speculatively. It seemed like she wanted to be doing something but had nothing better to do than fiddle with her room.

I shook my head. Part of me was torn, because I've never broken plans with Brittany of my own accord. But another part of my mind was completely made up, because all I could think about was the girl in front of me, and how it was like I could see her fully one moment, and the next it was like looking at a stranger. Something about her made me want to dive in and discover every hidden depth.

I crinkled my nose at my own musing, because even to me that sounded like some cheesy romance novel line mixed with smut.

I tapped onto Brittany's message bubble, thumb gliding over the screen. –I have to go back to Atherton early, Britt. Sorry. We'll catch a movie next time.

It took only a few moments to get a response. –y?

I sighed and locked my jaw against the twinge of pain I felt. –I forgot I have a test tomorrow I have to study for. I'm sorry.

It wasn't a lie, exactly. I did have a test on Monday, but I didn't need to study.

-I miss u, Santana. I wish we cudv spnt more tim 2gthr.

Oh, god. I winced. Was it just going to be my lot in life to have my heart strangled by pretty blondes?

I glanced up at Quinn, who was quietly organizing her closet, though it was already impeccably organized. "Britt can't make it. So you're stuck with me all day."

Quinn looked at me, arching an eyebrow as if she didn't fully buy it, but then decided to let it go. "So, what do you want to do, then?"

I shrugged. "I can't think of anything. I guess we could head back."

Quinn flashed her eyes at me, in genuine shock. "I thought I was going to have to drag you, kicking and screaming, back to Atherton."

I smiled at her, tilting my head. "I thought that, too."

Quinn's face folded into a puzzled expression, pausing mid-motion of hanging up a pink sweater.

My smile died, because the look on her face made me feel like I had said something wrong. I was acutely aware of how sappy that line sounded, and I had to swallow. What the shit, Lopez, I scolded myself, and then just widened my eyes at Quinn.

Quinn cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh, do you want to see your parents before we go..?"

I shook my head violently. "You're crazy. My father would probably have another heart attack if he knew I was back here. He banished me, remember?" I flashed a sardonic smile at her. "I don't think he'd even know how to deal with the defiance of it."

Quinn left her closet alone and then began packing our things. I felt a little bit like I should help her, but she was so swift and sure with her motions I felt like I'd be getting in the way. Besides, do you know how to fold a tank top? I sure don't. Quinn had mystical knowledge, of which I was not privy to.

I climbed down from Quinn's bed and approached the mirror above her dresser, assessing myself. I let out a noise that was dangerously close to a squawk. "Quinn!"

Her head darted around, alarmed. "What?"

"What the fuck is this, Fabray?" I said, accusingly, turning to her with a manicured nail pointing at my neck. There was a huge hickey, the color of an angry rash. I saw a multitude of emotions flit across Quinn's face, from triumph, to amusement, to coyness, and then settle on a demure look of repentance.

"I'm really sorry, Santana," She said, her tone meek. I wasn't buying it. I had caught the glimpse of wicked enjoyment that flitted across her features.

"No, sorry isn't gonna cut it, Fabray," I told her, doing my best to sound pissed. Which wasn't hard, because I was genuinely pissed off – I couldn't even remember the last time I had a hickey on my neck – but she looked so adorable with her big green eyes and her sorrowful expression.

I was getting ready to launch into some self-righteous tirade before she transformed directly in front of my eyes. It was like magic. One minute, she was shy and contrite, the next.. it was as if she was possessed by an alternate Quinn, one that knew all the tricks to get my motor revving. She flashed me a grin that had her dimples winking out, then approached me, her hands clasped behind her back. Something about her eyes and the way she was looking at me had my stomach clenching in tight knots and a wave of pure heat erupting up and down my skin.

"Want me to kiss it better for you?" She said quietly, and my eyes grew wide. She stepped close, tilting her head slightly, before inching down and rubbing her lips softly against the spot on my neck. It made the breath hitch in my throat and I released a strangled sound, somewhere between a grunt and a moan.

She wasn't touching me anywhere else except for the feather-light pressure of her lips against my neck, and I felt like I was going to explode from the tension that was coiling in my gut and tugging persistently at my center. My butt was pressed against the dresser, with my hands clenched on the hard wood, squeezing it, to stop them from ripping Quinn's t-shirt off. She hummed, and the vibration sent shivers down my spine. I tilted my head back, exposing more of my neck, silently begging her to keep going.

I felt her lips smile against me, and if I wasn't paralyzed by desire I might have shoved her for that decidedly arrogant look. But she obliged me, dragging her tongue across the pulse that was hammering. "Fuck," I muttered, doing my best to remain absolutely still. I knew if I started touching her I would completely lose it. Quinn was being agonizingly slow, kissing delicately here and there, dragging her soft, wet tongue along the sensitive skin of my neck. She was working her way up to my ear, and she pressed a warm, wet kiss to that blinding bundle of nerves. "Better?" She whispered.

I groaned, and as if that was all she was waiting for, she leaned back into my neck and then parted her lips to nip, delicately, at it.

I lost it once I felt the sharp pressure of her teeth. My hands ripped away from the dresser and wrapped into her hair, yanking her head away from my neck and crashing our lips together. Our tongues met, and I dived into the kiss because I was starving for her. My fingers tensed in her hair, controlling the angle of the kiss, and I lifted back to nip at her lower lip. I had began propelling us towards the bed, because I wanted to be on top of her, now, ridding her of all those damnable clothes that hid her body from me. We bumped into the side of the bed and I pushed us down, sucking on her lower lip when we hit the mattress. With my hands still buried in her hair, I tugged her head aside, and then bit at her neck, dragging my mouth against it savagely.

Her breathing was ragged, and her hands were fisted in my shirt tightly, and she was making the most amazing noises. I thought, deliriously, that just listening to her was probably one of the sexiest things I'd ever experienced. I lifted my head and tilted my body away from her, fully intending to drag her shirt off.

Her face was flushed and her eyes were glittering, but there was an unmistakable look of victory etched into her features. It made me pause. As if swimming through a fog, I realized what was going on her.

"Damn it!" I swore, and tore myself off of her, stalking towards the dresser.

She laughed, lifting herself up with one hand. "What's wrong, Santana?" Her tone was coy and teasing. "Something bothering you?"

I grunted, picking up a stuffed teddy bear she had sitting on her dresser, and squeezed it. I wanted to rip it in half. My body was singing with arousal, and the juncture between my legs was begging for pressure. It was like Quinn was a drug, and my body was jonesing for it.

I kept my back to her, because if I looked at her, I knew I'd be toast.

Quinn's smirk was evident in her tone. "Not as easy as you thought it would be, is it?"

I almost growled at her, because I still wasn't ready to look or even really say anything.

"You keep this up, Blondie," I managed, finally, "And I'm going to kill you before this is over."

Quinn laughed. Even that, as innocent as it was, made me shudder. Every nerve in my body was raw and aching.

"You need to learn some self-control," Quinn told me with haughty arrogance. I scowled. I felt something tossed against me and then fall, and I turned to look. It was a pair of my underwear.

"I bet you need to change," Quinn said, sweetly.

A/N: I know it's really short, but I'm really pressed for time today. It's probably got more errors than usual because, literally, I wrote this and now I have to go get ready. Hope you liked the shameless smut. ;)