A/N: While this story is originally inspired by Katy Perry's version of her hit song, I think that Corey Gray's acoustic version has the tone and feel that I aiming for. I encourage you to look it up on Spotify or YouTube. This next chapter is sexy times for Quinn and Santana. It is graphic but with purpose. I don't write or include these parts of the story for gratuitous purposes. It is to help you get into the psyche of Santana and the relationship between her and her wife, Quinn.
This is completely different for me, as I usually write Brittana as a couple, along with Faberry. I know that there are plenty of Quinntana and maybe even some Pierceberry shippers out there. It is an adjustment for me since Brittana is my OTP. However, I wanted to put a different spin on them in a way that I haven't come across yet. I hope that you are getting into the story, as much I as I am. I have not abandoned my other fics, "Addicted" or "Between the Lines." They are both on hiatus; I tend to write in bursts, when inspiration strikes. Right now, I have so many ideas for this story.
To address the concern of "Guest," I am sorry that you are disappointed and feel that I misled you by labeling this as Brittana. I know, in my mind, where this story is heading. Right now, it may seem as strictly and separately Quinntana and Pierceberry. If you are willing to be patient, you will see the dynamic between Santana and Brittany grow, as the story progresses. Thanks for commenting and for reading. I am not sure if you will even bother to continue reading, but I hope that you will.
Without further ado, I give you the next chapter. Rated M for a reason.
Chapter 2
I know what she wants when she says that. I take my hand off of her left breast and go down the valley of her breasts, to her tummy, down to her core.
"Fuck, babe, you are so wet."
When we get this turned on this fast, I know that our orgasms are going to be mind-blowing. I trail my fingers through her slit. It never ceases to amaze me: how much I love her and how I am the one who does this to her. I ride her thigh, to show her that I am just as wet as she is. Quinn opens her eyes, as she feels my desire spreading over her slender thigh.
"So are are you, S."
She pulls me back into a French kiss and I plunge my finger into her cave. She intakes a sharp breath. Ever since she delivered Holden, she has worried that she wouldn't be as sensitive. I always told her how tight was, how her walls would envelop my fingers. She worked on strengthening her muscles by doing Kegel exercises. Honestly, I could say she was almost back to were she was pre-pregnancy. Quinn flips us over, so that she is hovering over me. We both take amount to adjust to our new position.
I am usually the top, but I love it when Quinn takes control. I think that she likes me taking to lead because it allows her the freedom to let go. Q is a perfectionist and she needs to control each part of her life, to make sure it goes according to her plan. In here, our bedroom and in our bed, she is free from all of the constraints and demands she places upon herself. I am the only one that gets to see this Quinn. And, lord, how I love this Quinn. On the rare occasions that she takes the reins and steers our lovemaking, I just take pleasure in watching her direction.
Seeing her on top of me, her beauty always takes my breath away. Quinn was always one of those girls that was a natural beauty. In high school, girls loved to hate her, because she was so pretty. She could wrap grown men around her finger and she had all the boys wishing she would glance in their direction. Queen Bee Quinn, as she was known, was a heartbreaker. She had her fair share of the most popular boys at McKinley: Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman, and Sam Evans. What nobody knew back then was that she played up her sexual persona to hide her insecurities and the feelings she couldn't understand. She went thru the revolving boyfriends in the hopes that one of them would fit. One of them would make her change. One of them would make her stop thinking of Rachel Berry. She tormented Rachel all through middle and high school because she needed to protect herself. Q didn't know any other way to hide how she felt about her. If the whole school knew she hated and despised "that hobbitt," then no one would suspect that she actually loved her. I always wondered why she had such disgust for Berry. I mean, she wasn't my type. At the time, my only type was Brittany. It was over one of the Unholy Trinity sleepovers, after we got Q wasted on vodka mixed with Hawaiian Punch during our Senior year, that she finally cracked and told Britts and I the truth. B said she always knew. I told her I was having suspicions. We promised to keep her secret but encouraged her to stop torturing the poor girl. It was kind of brilliant, her logic. Not a soul would have thought that she was into girls, let alone the Diva known as Rachel Barbra Berry. It wasn't until Quinn left Lima for Yale that she was able to embrace who she was.
Q begins to move up and down on my lone finger, submerging the digit as far into her as it will go. I never felt more connected to my wife. Being inside of her was one of those moments I wished could last forever. This was when I felt the most alive; our bodies became one sweet love.
"More, baby, more...fill me up..."
I comply with her request, adding my middle finger inside of her. I can feel the shake of her walls. I know that she is getting close. As she moves faster and faster, she reaches down and twists my nipples. There really is a fine line between pleasure and pain and I always enjoyed a little pain.
"Fuck, Q. I need you too."
She take her fingertip and finds my erect bud jutting out at the top of my slit. She begins to caress it gently, rubbing it as if she was dusting the most delicate crystal.
When you have been together as long as Quinn and I have, there is no map necessary. We already know all of the nooks and crannies. I know that the scar above her right knee was when she fell learning how to ride a bike. She loves it when I kiss the inner aspect of her elbows, a particularly sensitive spot. Just as she knows how I like to be touch, especially in my most private places.
"S, you are so hard, babe. You like this?
I can only moan in loud agreement. I was so close too. As she fingers my clit, I insert a third finger inside of my wife. She loves feeling so much of me inside of her. She grunts and quickens her rhythm, her breasts bouncing up and down. The sight of that alone could get me off. I curl my fingers inside of her and move them in a come hither motion, hitting her spot.
"Uggh, San. Yes, baby. Just...like...that...fuck."
I love hearing her when we make love. She was always one to be vocal in the bedroom. She never, ever curses outside of these four walls. When she curses, it turns me so on. We continue this synchronized dance for what seems like forever, but I am sure in reality, it is barely a couple of minutes. I want my wife to find release first. I do the thing I know will undo her- I twist my wrist so that she will get the full length of my hand inside of her. I thrust so deep inside of her, as she starts to cry out. I can feel her walls tighten more and more around my hand. I hit her spot one more time as waves of pleasure pulsate from deep within her cave. Her orgasm is so powerful that her cum is dripping down my arm. I continue to move slowly inside of her, wanting her to get every last wave. She stills on top of me, spent and amazed at how hard she came.
"Baby...that was...ohhh, shit."
Before she can even finish her sentence, another orgasm takes over her body. This aftershock matched the intensity of the first one and caught us both completely off guard.
"Oh my god, Santana. Fuck, " she screams, before placing her hand on my wrist, to stop my ministrations.
After a couple of moments, she catches her breath and delicately removes herself from my fingers, quaking at the motion. She sidles up next to me, in the crook of my arm. Quinn knows how much I love this, as I take my fingers, trace them around her lips, and kiss her tenderly. I cannot remember the last time Q had come twice in rapid succession.
Basking in the afterglow of lovemaking, I finally speak.
"Quinn, baby, are you okay?"
"More than okay, San. I feel like I am floating."
"Do you know how much I love you, Quinn? I mean, really?"
"I love you just as much, Santana. Even more."
I kiss her hair and can feel myself floating away with her. We laid like that for awhile, Q coming down from high and me, just enjoying this quiet time with my wife. She begins to play with my left breast, which has always been more sensitive. She reaches down and cups my sex, feeling the heat emanating from my center. God, I wanted her so bad. But, in all honestly, I would have been fine. When I was younger, I would have wanted the favor returned. Maybe the years had softened me. I think that it was more that making love to my wife was just as satisfying.
Knowing that she loved me that much, to let herself go, wholly and completely, was a notion that I still trying to believe, even after 10 years and 2 kids later. It is in these moments that I fall even deeper in love with Quinn, just when I think it isn't even possible. I can remember standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, watching Quinn walk towards me, thinking that couldn't love her anymore. But, when she gave birth to our son, I knew that I had reached a new level of loving her. Seeing her be a mom to Holden and Harper just intensified it. Sex was always one of the ways I expressed my love. When I could't say the right words, I knew that my physical actions could speak for me. I hope that Quinn knew just how much I loved her, in that moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
I am so close already, I know that it won't take much to find release. Q knows it too. I look at her, with so much want and lust. She just gives me a wink and travels down my body.
"I want to taste my wife," she says, as her trails her slippery tongue down from my left nipple to my taut abdomen. Q spreads my legs wide and teases me, licking my right hipbone, kissing the junction of my pelvis and thigh. She blows a puff of hot air on my cave, causing my hips to buck up.
"Fuck, Quinn, don't be a tease. I want you so bad."
"Ohhh, really? You want me so bad, Santana? Then show me."
I take her head and push it into my sex. I never was one to mess around. I can feel her lips on my intimate lips, savoring the moment, before she kisses me.
"Q,, shit. Baby, come on."
She takes her tongue and lashes at my clit, before taking it in her mouth and sucking on it. My baby knows that it one of my favorite things that she does so well. As she sucks, she slowly enters me with two fingers. Q knows that I can take it, much more in fact, as she stretches me wide. She wants to slow it down, to enjoy making love to me. I just want release. I buck my hips even higher, to encourage her to go deeper. As much as I love being inside of Quinn, she equally loves being inside of me. I guess that is the most intimate way we can physically be connected to each other. She begins the rhythm, slow and steady, as I coordinate my movements to her pace.
"Fuck baby, I am so close. Faster...ugg, faster,"
Q listens to my pleas, as she withdraws her fingers almost all the way out, before diving in again. I can feel the small trembles start and know that I will find my release soon. Just then she pulls completely out...
"Fuck, Quinn. What the hell? I am so fucking close..."
Before I can finish my breathy tirade, I get why she pulled her fingers out. She lifts my hips so that she can enter me with her deft tongue, kissing me in my most sacred of places. I swear, that is what making love to Quinn feels like. Going to church- the Church of Saint Quinn Lucy Fabray. She treats my body with such reverence and respect. As she moves within, I can only handle so much pleasure. Q beckons out my undoing, rolling and swirling inside of me. I can feel my entire self let go to her whims. She has taken me to a place I never thought imaginable, to my version of heaven.
