Author's note: Hope you're all still enjoying the story. Don't hate me but there's a bit of angst in this chapter, I couldn't keep everything sweetness and light forever! There's some happier stuff in here too though, so hopefully that makes up for the angst! Let me know what you think...
Chapter Fourteen: Blink of an Eye
During the entire time it took Santana to polish off two huge servings of chilli, she rhapsodised endlessly about filming her commercial. Quinn curled up on the couch and sipped her wine, listening to Santana describe every detail of the day. The brunette's eyes sparkled brightly and she hadn't stopped smiling throughout the entire conversation (or more accurately monologue). Quinn rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes contentedly for a moment. This action didn't go unnoticed by Santana.
"Hey," she said softly, breaking off from explaining to Quinn about her surprise over how long it had taken the film crew to set up for each shot. "You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" She squeezed Quinn's foot gently, rubbing her fingers over the arch, and Quinn stretched lazily into the touch.
"No," she promised, opening her eyes and smiling at her fiancée. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm listening, I promise. I just... got lost in my thoughts for a second."
"A dollar for your thoughts?" teased Santana.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "A dollar?" she queried with a low chuckle.
Santana shrugged. "Inflation," she said simply, and Quinn giggled. "Besides, your thoughts are worth more than a penny. Spill it, Q."
Quinn was quiet and thoughtful for a moment as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say.
"It makes me happy," she said finally, "to see you so happy. I don't think I've ever felt so... settled. Does that make sense? It's like... something has always been missing in my life, I've always been searching for something, and now I can... stop looking." She spoke hesitantly, and frowned in frustration, not really sure she was conveying her thoughts the way she'd intended. "Do you know what I'm saying?" she asked finally.
Santana beamed at her. "I do," she murmured, her hand leaving Quinn's foot to travel lightly along the back of her calf. "And I love you too... so much." She leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss against Quinn's lips, but as so often happened, the simple caress sparked a desire in both of them, and the kiss quickly deepened. Santana's tongue snaked out to stroke across Quinn's lower lip, and she opened her mouth eagerly, inviting her inside.
Santana lowered herself onto Quinn, bracing one arm against the back of the couch to keep from letting her whole weight rest on her. Quinn wriggled against her, parting her legs so that Santana settled between them. She wrapped her arms around the brunette, trailing her fingertips the length of Santana's spine before moving down and under her shirt to grasp at her fiancee's slender waist. Santana rocked her hips forward and Quinn instinctively bucked up to meet her, causing both girls to gasp simultaneously. Quinn's thumbs were just brushing the sensitive underside of Santana's breasts, dipping beneath the lace of her bra, when her cell phone began to blare obnoxiously.
"Leave it," panted Santana, showering Quinn's neck with hot, wet kisses and after a few moments the phone switched to voicemail. "Hmm, you taste good," murmured Santana against the shell of Quinn's ear, causing her to stifle a moan.
Quinn was tugging impatiently at the hem of Santana's shirt when her phone rang again, vibrating against the glass surface of the coffee table.
"It could be important," Quinn said apologetically as she reached for her phone, swiping to answer the call without checking the caller ID. It wasn't important, she immediately realized.
"Did you ask Santana yet?" Rachel asked by way of a greeting.
Quinn glared murderously at her phone, then sighed.
"No, Rach, I didn't," she said smoothly, when in truth she hadn't wanted to kill Rachel this badly since junior year of high school. "I didn't get chance yet."
"Well, could you ask her now?" Rachel asked breezily. "I need to know how many people are coming so I can reserve a table."
"Hold on," Quinn told her wearily. She covered the microphone with her thumb and gazed up at Santana who was wearing an equally homicidal expression. "Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night with the gang?" she asked, shooting a 'be nice' expression at her fiancée.
Santana shrugged noncommittally. "Sure, if you want." It was clear to Quinn that Santana's mind was firmly in the here and now, and she'd agree to pretty much anything if it meant getting Rachel of the phone and Quinn back in her arms. It gave Quinn a deliciously warm feeling to know how much the brunette wanted her. Santana started to nuzzle at the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, causing her to inhale sharply.
"We'll be there," Quinn said hurriedly into the phone, eager to end the conversation and get back to her beautiful fiancée. "Text me the details, okay?"
"Okay," agreed Rachel lightly. Then there was a pause as she seemed to notice something. "You sound out of breath, are you okay?" There was a note of concern to her voice that kept Quinn from being too annoyed with her.
"I'm fine, Rach," she replied. "But..."
Rachel cut her off before she could finish. "Then why do you...? Oh." There was a sudden realization in her tone. "Are you guys... you know?"
Quinn groaned inwardly. At least Rachel didn't actually say the words this time.
"Not right at this second," she said through gritted teeth.
On the other end of the line, Rachel snickered. "I'm sorry," she said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "But, in my defense, you did say you'd ask her, and..."
This time it was Quinn's turn to cut her off. "I know, Rach," she placated. "So, we'll catch up at dinner tomorrow night, okay? But I really have to go now."
"Is Santana mad?" Rachel asked, sounding almost hopeful. Quinn knew she should be one hundred percent on Santana's side when it came to their playful rivalry, but she knew that her fiancée was more than capable of holding her own, and she did enjoy being an objective observer to their teasing banter.
"You'll have to ask her that yourself at dinner," Quinn said lightly, "but the longer you keep me talking, I'd say it's more and more likely."
"Oh," Rachel said softly. "Well, in that case I'll let you get back to... whatever you were doing."
Quinn ended the call and switched her phone onto silent in case Rachel suddenly decided to call them back to ask if they wanted Thai or Chinese food, or if they wanted to catch a movie after dinner.
"Now, where were we?" she asked, running her fingers over the exposed skin of Santana's forearm.
"Not here," Santana murmured as Quinn leaned forwards to kiss her, reaching her free hand up to ghost across her lips. "I want to take you to bed."
Quinn's eyes fell instinctively on the paper bag containing the silk scarves that lay on the covers, and she wet her lips subconsciously, swallowing hard.
"It's okay," Santana told her firmly. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."
Quinn searched Santana's gaze intently as she answered. "It was my idea."
Santana shrugged. "I know, but that doesn't mean you're committed. I know what it means to you, Q, being in control. Just knowing that you've considered giving that up for me, I know how much that means. But you don't have to prove anything to me. I know you trust me. If you want to do this, now or in the future, I'm all in, but I want you to be sure."
Quinn took a deep breath. "I'm sure," she whispered. She extracted herself from beneath Santana and stood up, holding out a hand to tug the brunette along with her. "I want you," she whispered throatily.
Santana's eyes darkened with instant lust at her tone. "I'm all yours," she promised.
In a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, they stumbled towards the bed, kissing and groping any part of each other that they could reach. By the time they tumbled onto the mattress, Santana was naked from the waist up, clad only in her figure-hugging skinny jeans, and Quinn was stripped to her underwear. Santana peeled Quinn's bra straps from her shoulders, planting searing kisses over her exposed skin. She sucked hard enough to leave a mark on the sensitized flesh and Quinn bit down on her lower lip to stifle a moan.
Even as she struggled to divest Santana of her clothing, Quinn reached blindly for the bag containing the scarves and pressed it into her fiancée's hand urgently. There was a throbbing between her thighs that was becoming impossible to ignore, and the anticipation of what was coming was almost enough to send her over the edge.
Santana paused in her ministrations and sat back on her thighs, studying Quinn silently. Only her heaving chest and mussed hair betrayed her suddenly calm demeanour. With an infinitesimally light touch, Santana reached for Quinn's hand and intertwined their fingers, giving her a brief but reassuring squeeze before gently tugging Quinn's arm up beside her head.
"Keep your hand there, okay?" she whispered, her tone dripping with desire. Quinn nodded fervently and focussed all of her attention on trying to remember how to breathe. She squirmed uncomfortably as her arousal reached an almost unbearable level.
"Hurry up," she huffed, but Santana merely chuckled.
"Patience, baby," she chastised, reaching into the bag and removing one of the scarves. She ran the soft material over Quinn's stomach, and over the valley between her breasts, and Quinn shivered at the fluttery sensation of the silk drifting over her heated skin.
She watched breathlessly as Santana firmly secured the scarf to the wooden post at the corner of their headboard, before the brunette reached for her wrist and wrapped the silk around it. Quinn let out a low whimper as Santana tested the strength of the bond.
"Tell me if it's too tight," Santana instructed, but Quinn shook her head vehemently.
"It's fine," she said hoarsely. "Better than fine."
Santana reached for her other hand to repeat the process, but paused to press her lips to the tender skin on the inside of Quinn's wrist. When she laved her tongue over Quinn's pulse point, Quinn moaned at the surprising erotic touch. Santana quickly secured her second wrist to the headboard before sitting back to admire her handiwork.
"Beautiful," she murmured as her eyes feasted over Quinn's exposed body. Quinn flushed violently, surprised at the intensity of her reaction to the brunette's words. Santana had seen her naked many times after all, but there was something different about being in this position. She felt vulnerable and exposed, but she had no desire to cover herself. Instead, she was almost embarrassingly eager to give herself to her fiancée and let Santana do whatever she wanted with her. She honestly thought she might explode if Santana didn't make love to her soon.
"Please, San," she begged, surprising herself with just how needy her voice sounded. "Touch me, kiss me... just... do something." In a futile gesture, Quinn lifted her hips off of the mattress, but Santana was still too far away. Gentle hands ghosted over her outer thighs and settled on her bucking hips, effectively stilling her. Santana ran her hands up Quinn's torso, brushing over her navel before traveling up to cup her breasts, stroking her thumbs over hardened nipples. Quinn arched instinctively into the caress, as Santana's fingertips sent pleasurable shivers coursing through her body.
When Santana replaced her fingers with her mouth, latching onto Quinn's left nipple and stroking the sensitive flesh with the flat of her tongue, Quinn couldn't stop the cry of pleasure that tumbled from her lips. Her own fingers ached to tangle themselves into Santana's soft hair and hold her in place, but she was powerless against the restraints, and somehow that made each touch, each stroke infinitely more intense. Her whole body felt like it was singing and Quinn could hear herself uttering a string of unintelligible curses and pleas as Santana brought her closer and closer to bliss.
Santana ran her free hand up the inside of Quinn's thigh as she continued to suckle at her breast. "Oh, God, Q, you're so wet," she whispered reverently as her fingers pressed lightly against Quinn's underwear. "If I'd known this was how you'd react, we'd have tried this a long time ago." She tugged at the damp cotton. "Do you want me to take these off you?"
Quinn nodded eagerly and Santana chuckled. She removed her right hand from Quinn's breast where it had been pinching and rolling her nipple, and Quinn whined at the loss of contact but instantly forgave Santana as her fiancée began peeling her soaked underwear down her thighs. When she finished, Santana climbed off the bed and shimmied out of her own remaining clothes.
She smiled teasingly at Quinn, who lay panting and trembling on the bed. Slowly, deliberately, she lay down beside her, infuriatingly just out of reach.
"What do you want me to do next?" she asked, reaching up to brush damp strands of blonde hair out of Quinn's eyes.
"Anything," Quinn begged, squeezing her thighs together as the throbbing between them grew exponentially now that Santana was naked and so close. She tugged futilely against her bonds, desperate to feel her fiancee's skin against her own. Santana hadn't even touched her yet and she felt like the first contact with the brunette's fingers would send her crashing over the edge. It was maddening how in control of her emotions Santana appeared to be, when Quinn was reduced to thrashing and writhing and pleading.
"Anything..." Santana murmured. With a mischievous look in her dark eyes she ran her fingers over her own breast, circling the nipple. Quinn watched as the nub tightened and darkened, and she felt a fresh wave of arousal pool between her thighs. Santana didn't linger at her breast, she walked her fingertips down, over her abdomen, dipping into her navel, before dipping between her thighs.
Quinn swallowed hard as she watched Santana touch herself, torn between wanting to watch her continue, and wanting those fingers stroking and swirling between her own thighs. Her fingers literally ached to touch her fiancée, and she was amazed when she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.
"Santana," she whispered urgently. Santana's beautiful dark eyes flew open and fixed on Quinn's as she smiled. She removed her hand from the apex of her thighs and brought it to Quinn's lips. Quinn moaned audibly as she sucked hard on Santana's fingers, swirling her tongue over the slender digits and tasted the unique flavor of the brunette's arousal. Before she could savor the sensation however, Santana seemed to have reached the limits of her own restraint as she withdrew her fingers and crashed her lips against Quinn's. Their tongues duelled as they both sought to control the kiss, and when they came up for air they were both panting hard.
"San, I need you... now," Quinn groaned desperately. "Please?" She didn't have to ask a second time. Santana's talented fingers were between her legs in an instant, stroking and caressing Quinn's most sensitive places with an expert touch. Santana knew instinctively which spot would make her gasp, and which would make her moan. As she deftly pressed two slender digits into the velvet heat at Quinn's center, she curled them upwards and Quinn felt herself shatter into a thousand stars, barely aware of screaming Santana's name over and over as she came undone.
When she finally started to come back to the real world, she was aware of Santana untying the scarves that bound her to the headboard.
"Are you okay?" Santana asked softly, her dark eyes full of concern as she rubbed at a reddened spot on Quinn's recently freed wrist. "You were kind of out of it for a minute."
Quinn giggled, and Santana's face instantly relaxed.
"I'm amazing," she assured her. "San, that was..." she searched for the right words but her mind failed her... "amazing," she said finally. "You were..."
"Amazing?" Santana guessed, settling down beside her and drawing Quinn's head onto her shoulder.
"Uh huh," Quinn agreed, stifling a yawn. Her body felt completely and utterly spent, her limbs had turned to jelly, and she had the vocabulary of a five year old, but she'd never felt so content. She was vaguely aware of Santana tugging the covers over them both, and it took all of her effort to open her eyes and lift her head to meet Santana's gaze. "What're you doing?"
"Getting ready to go to sleep," Santana said with a chuckle.
"But I haven't... I mean, don't you need to... you know?" Santana laughed out loud at Quinn's inability to say the words.
"Q, baby, someday you're going to have to learn to talk about sex," she teased. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Especially after what we just did." Quinn flushed and buried her head into the crook of Santana's neck. "And no, I don't need to you know. Watching you come was enough to get me off too. You look so beautiful when you let go." Her voice grew soft as she savored the memory and Quinn kissed the soft skin of her neck tenderly.
"I love you," she murmured sleepily.
"I love you too." Santana reached out to turn out the lamp on the nightstand, plunging them into darkness. Then she laughed again. "Besides, even if I did need taking care of, I don't think you could stay awake long enough to do anything about it." She sounded immeasurably proud of herself. She burst into a fit of silent giggles. On any other occasion, Quinn would have done anything to prove Santana wrong - she would have flipped them over and reduced Santana to begging, trembling, and pleading before pushing her into ecstasy with her head buried between Santana's thighs - but this time she had to admit defeat. Thoroughly sated, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off to sleep with the image of Santana screaming her name firmly ensconced in her mind.
When Quinn awoke, sunlight was streaming through the curtains and Santana was splayed out beside her on the mattress, her chest rising and falling evenly and peacefully. Quinn stretched, feeling her sore muscles protest. Their was a dull ache at the base of her spine and her wrists were a little tender but she felt good. Her stomach growled loudly and she laughed to herself as she extricated herself from Santana, whose arm was thrown casually across Quinn's stomach.
She pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and set about making breakfast as quietly as possible. Santana didn't wake up until the French toast was sizzling in the frying pan. She sniffed the air appreciatively as she sat up, beaming at Quinn.
"Something smells good," she commented, crawling to the edge of the bed and locating her sweats.
"French toast," Quinn said lightly. "It's almost ready. Stay there and I'll bring it over." Santana ignored her, stalking across the room and wrapping her arms around Quinn from behind. She pressed a kiss to the spot beneath Quinn's ear that never failed to make her moan. "Did you sleep okay?" Quinn asked, wriggling playfully out of her fiancee's embrace.
"Like a baby." Santana took the plate Quinn offered her and sat back on the bed, arranging the pillows behind her.
"Me too," said Quinn as she joined her, balancing her own breakfast on her lap. "I'm so glad finals are over... for this semester at least. Have you thought about what classes you're going to take in the spring yet?"
Santana paused mid-chew and looked over at Quinn with an unreadable expression. She set her fork down.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," she said quietly. "Don't get mad, okay? I'm done with school. It's not me, Q. Yesterday just proved it to me. I don't belong in a classroom. I quit. I called the school and told them I'm not coming back." She stopped talking and looked at Quinn anxiously. "Q?" she said softly when Quinn didn't respond. "Say something, please?"
Quinn shook her head.
"What is there to say?" she asked bitterly. "You made your decision." Suddenly, she wasn't hungry any more. She climbed off the bed and went to throw the remains of her breakfast in the trash.
"I know you're mad..." Santana began hesitantly.
"Really, Santana?" spat Quinn angrily. "I don't know where you got that idea!"
"I know you think school is important," Santana said desperately, "but that's you, Q, not me."
"You think that's why I'm mad?" Quinn asked incredulously. "San, I want you to be happy, I've told you that a thousand times."
"Then why?" Santana's brow furrowed in confusion.
"I'll give you a clue," Quinn told her, fighting to keep control of her emotions. "It has five letters and begins with T."
Santana shook her head, still at a loss.
"Trust," said Quinn desperately. "We're supposed to be a couple. We're supposed to be getting married and you go and make a huge decision without even talking to me, how do you think that makes me feel?" Her voice broke on the last word, and she blinked back tears of frustration as she fought the urge to run. "I can't look at you right now!" she yelled as her temper overwhelmed her. Without another word, she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door as violently as she could muster, wondering how everything could go from idyllic to shattered in the blink of an eye.