Santana woke up a half hour before Quinn's alarm clock was set to go off and casting a quick look at the sleeping form of the woman beside her, she decided that she might as well get up. She started a fresh pot of coffee and set about getting started on breakfast. She was toying with the idea of actually serving Quinn breakfast in bed when she heard the shower start. Double checking to make sure that everything was off, she decided to check on her. Quinn was reaching for her loofah when she heard the curtain to the shower draw back, letting in a small gust of cold air with it. A warm body soon followed, filling the space, quickly heating the space back up. "Mind if I join you," her wife purred. Quinn fought back a smile Santana was unable to see.
"And if I do?" she questioned seductively.
Santana stepped closer to her. "I can leave," she responded. Her actions said otherwise though. She eliminated the space between the two of them, pressing herself against the woman in front of her.
"I'd appreciate that," Quinn teased.
Santana's hands came in contact with her body, gently scratching her fingernails over the lines of Quinn's back. "Really?" She drew the word out, placing kisses on her shoulder blades as she did. "Because you feelreallywet to me right now."
Quinn hummed, continuing to play along. "Do I?"
She nodded into her skin. Santana kissed the top of her shoulder blades, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist to pull her even closer into her. "Mmm hmmm." She nudged Quinn's wet hair off of her shoulders with her head to have better access to her back, shoulders, and neck. Lightly, her teeth grazed over her skin. "Sowet." Quinn felt her pulse rise at the feel of her wife's breath on her skin. A tingle making itself known between her legs.
Santana's hands burned trails up Quinn's sides, moving around to the front to delicately cup her breasts. They both moaned at the contact, Quinn letting out a soft little whimper in appreciation. She pressed back against her wife, the contact causing her to gasp. Santana's hands slowly began to knead her breasts. When her nipples stiffened beneath her touch, Santana's mouth nearly watered at the idea of running her tongue over the hard pebbles. Instead she ran her tongue up her shoulder blades, to her neck, sloppily planting open mouth kisses against them.
Wanting to see her, Quinn turned in her arms, their lips finding each other immediately. Without much fight, Quinn's tongued plunged into Santana's, laying claim. While Quinn's tongue explored her wife's, Santana gently pushed Quinn's back into the side of the shower, firmly slipping her leg between Quinn's. She gasped at the first feel of Santana against her core. "San," she moaned, anxious to feel her inside of her.
Santana lifted one of Quinn's legs for better access, teasing her entrance with a finger. "Say please."
"Santana," Quinn warned in a tone that was very reminiscent of her Queen Fabray head bitch days. Santana, however, was enjoying herself. She loved the sound of Quinn begging. She traced little circles in her nether region, teasing the hole. "Say please," she repeated.
"Now," Quinn growled.
"Tut tut, Quinn. Where are your manners? You're supposed to sayplease." Santana's hand started to withdraw. Not in the mood for Santana's teasing, Quinn decided to flip the tables. Without either woman quite sure how it happened, Quinn somehow managed to pull her leg out of Santana's hand, and spin her around so that Santana's back was now pushed back into the wall. "Fabray'sdon'tbeg," she grunted.
It might have been one of the hottest things Santana had ever heard, but that didn't stop her from saying "Lopez." Her familiar correction, however, was hardly uttered before Quinn had entered Santana with no prior warning or chance to brace herself. Santana's eyes rolled back into her skull. "F-fuck," she stuttered, feeling like a sophomore year Tina Cohen-Chang.
"What was that?" Quinn questioned.
Her hands sought purchase on the slick shower walls then, giving that up, she just wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck, and held on tight. "N-nothing." Quinn's hips pushed into the back of her hand to give her more leverage, more thrust with each thrust. Santana's teeth bit down into her lip, but that did nothing to still the screams that she felt escaping her lips.
"Fuck, Quinn. Fuck…me."
Quinn's eyebrow arched. "You're such a bitch bottom, Tan," she said in amusement.
"S-switch…fuck…hitter," Santana mumbled, actively unashamedly grinding down onto Quinn's hand. "I'm s-so,"
Quinn's tongue invaded her mouth, thrusting into it with the same passion that her hands were using down below. Santana held on for a few more seconds, before she came hard, her one leg trembling and threatening to collapse beneath her. The only reason she stayed planted on her feet…well foot…was because Quinn was holding on to her.
Quinn continued to thrust into her, however, until she got off to the friction applied by her own hand. Gently, Quinn let Santana's leg fall from her grasp.
Once her foot was on the ground, to both their surprises, Santana started to laugh. Quinn cut her eyes at her. "What?"
Instead of answering, Santana just shrugged placing a kiss on her kiss swollen lips. "You're just so fucking hot, baby." She giggled. Actually giggled.
After a few seconds passed, Santana removed the loofah that was still clutched in Quinn's hand, and put body wash on it. With meticulous care, she worked the lather into the sponge and began to administer to Quinn's body with it. She brushed it lightly over the shoulder blades that she had kissed and sucked on, slowly moving it over her collar bone. Quinn shivered. She leaned in to give each nipple a quick suck before she very lightly wiped the action away with the sponge. Quinn arched into the barely there contact as the loofah scratched against her nipples, pressing more firmly in the space between her breasts. Pulling Quinn into her, their breasts brushing against each other, Santana traced along her shoulder blades, down to the small of her back. She must have sat the sponge down, then, because Quinn felt two wet, slippery hands grab her ass, pushing her core into Santana's in a very delicious way.
Santana didn't linger, however, because just as Quinn was arching her back, Santana's hands withdrew. Quinn soon felt the loofah trail down one cheek then the other before passing across her sit spots, and returning to the front of her body. Santana kissed down her stomach, pressing lips into flesh right before she wiped each kiss away with the sponge. Santana paused at her belly button to swipe her tongue inside of it, before she pressed a soapy thumb into the crevice, pausing a moment to play with it, even as her mouth moved further south.
Santana dropped to the shower floor, and Quinn gasped in anticipation of feeling Santana's mouth on her sex, disappointed when she only kissed the top of her mons, before she moved to the legs. She gave her left inner thigh a brief bite before she ran the sponge all the way down the back of her leg, coming back up on the front side, then proceeded to do the same with her left leg. When she finished, the loofah dropped to the shower floor.
Curiously, Quinn watched Santana, who was still kneeling in front of her, reach again for the body wash, letting a very little amount fall into her hands. She pulled one of Quinn's legs over her shoulder. Looking directly at Quinn, she stuck a finger inside of her, her mouth latching onto her sensitive clit a few seconds later.
Quinn's hands sought something to hold onto, settling with wrapping one hand around the shower head, the other on top of her wife, gathering a fistful of wet, curly, brown/black strands. Santana pushed the second finger in, drawing them out slowly. She repeated this, quick thrust in, slow pull out, quick thrust in, slooow pull out. Quinn wasn't expecting the third finger, nor when Santana's pinkie started to tease her puckered back door.
She moaned loudly, not sure if she wanted her to push it in or not. Santana continued to tease, not adjusting her rhythm. "I think you like that, Quinn," Santana said. Quinn moaned again in agreement. Santana's hand stilled in retaliation for being thwarted on her earlier fun. "Say, please, Quinnie," Santana teased again.
Quinn's resolve lasted about three whole seconds, because in this position there was nothing she could do to self-satisfy, and because she was so damn close to her orgasm. "Please…San, fucking please!"
"You don't have to beg," Santana said, laughing. She was still laughing when her mouth once again covered her clit, and that one small action shouldn't have felt as good as it did. On the next hard thrust in, Quinn came her legs shaking so hard she could hardly stay standing. Santana kept her on her feet, adjusting to swallow the juice that she had earned.
When Santana recovered her feet, she very sensuously placed a kiss on Quinn's lips, her deep gaze causing Quinn to shiver. She reached over Quinn for the shampoo and conditioner, and then proceeded to very gently wash her wife's shoulder-length locks.
After her hair had been washed and wrung out, Quinn stepped out of the shower to get dressed for work. She smiled when she saw that there was fresh coffee ready when she went into the kitchen, and made a cup for herself, which she sat on the counter in favor of carrying a cup into Santana, who was just now getting out of the shower. When a towel-wrapped Santana took the mug of coffee from her hands and smiled at her over it, Quinn confirmed something that had occurred to her briefly while they were in the shower together: she was in trouble.
Connie sat down beside Quinn, startling her into looking up from the book she was reading. (She had a Nook somewhere, but it mysteriously disappeared since Santana started spending the night consistently). "A bunch of us are grabbing drinks after work, are you down? Ryan will be there!" she added, in an attempt to pull Quinn in. Ryan was a guy that had had a thing for her ever since he started working at Brinkley and Quinn recalled having a thing for him at one point, too. He was handsome and was smart. They had made it as far as having a lunch date together, but it hadn't ever gone any further than that.
"I can't," Quinn answered. "Santana's picking me up from work and we're going grocery shopping!"
Connie opened the container carrying her lunch. "Okay, what gives cause that's the happiest I've ever seen anyone get over going grocery shopping. Who's Santana?"
Quinn blushed, surprised that she was as excited about it as she was, but was sharply reminded of how separate she kept her work and home life. She and Connie were work friends; she didn't talk to her about much else outside of work. "She's my wife," Quinn admitted with a bit of reservation. She wasn't out at work. She gave a shy smile. "We've never gone grocery shopping together."
She braced herself for Connie's reaction. "I didn't know you were married!" Connie said, excitedly. She paused. "I didn't know you were gay."
"I'm not," Quinn said, immediately. "But my wife is."
Connie barked out a laugh. "Ha, that's kind of funny. How long have you been married?"
"A month."
"And you didn't tell anyone?"
Quinn fidgeted, somewhat uncomfortable. "I told Nadine in H.R."
"That doesn't count. I need details. Was it a big wedding or small? What does she look like?"
That was easy enough to answer.Sexpersonified, Quinn thought quietly, pulling out her phone, surprised by how easy Connie was taking the news. "It was a small wedding, just our parents and my and her best friends. It really wasn't that big of a deal," Quinn dismissed.
"Of course it's a big deal! How long have you known each other, when did you meet, who asked whom," she pressed for details. She looked at the picture that Quinn showed her. "Oh my god, is that her? Damn." She gave Quinn the elevator eyes. "Nice catch!"
Quinn smiled inwardly, surprised at how easy this conversation was. "Ummm…thanks. We met in middle school, I'm not sure how long it's been, and she asked me." As she talked she realized that if they took out the sex and bet aspect of their relationship, it sounded somewhat romantic. They had known each other for a long time, had been best friends in high school and college, and had kept in touch all these years, until one day, out of the blue, Santana had popped the question.
"Ryan will definitely be disappointed," Connie said as an afterthought, "but who would care when you get to come home tothat? Well, if you guys get done shopping early, you should still come out because we've all seen each other drunk and stupid before, but we've never seen you that way!"
Quinn gave a smile, certain that she and Santana would be busy celebrating the moment with one or both of them on their backs. "I'll see," she replied.
Santana met Quinn outside of her building, giving a smile at the sight of her wife. Quinn looked up suddenly and gave a smile too. "How was your day?" Santana questioned.
"I realized something today."
Santana placed a quick kiss on Quinn's cheek. "Yeah, what's that?" she questioned, slipping her hand inside of Quinn's. Quinn looked down at it for a moment, before looking up. This, too, was new.
"I realized that I never said I was gay at work, before."
A smile curled on Santana's lips. "Oh, hey are you gay now? Shit, I wish I would have known, I would have baked you a cake. Make sure you put mix on the grocery list."
"You're not funny, you know."
Santana kissed her hand. "That's odd, I could have sworn I was hilarious. Or was that fabulous? Either way, I'm definitely a 'lous."
"Louse, maybe."
Santana pinched her cheek. "Oh, look at you trying to be clever. That's cute. So you made some big announcement that you were gay today?"
Quinn scrunched up her face in a way that Santana thought was way too cute. "Not exactly, but I did tell Connie that we were married."
"Who is Connie? Is she like some chick who is digging on you whom I'm now going to have to beat her ass or something?"
"You would do that?"
"Well, no, but I would totally like send her flowers for a few weeks and pretend they're from some guy, and totally get her hopes up, and then be like, "Ha, psyched your mind! No one loves you!"
Quinn paused in her stride. "Santana, I swear sometimes I just don't know what to do with you."
There was no hesitation from her. "Fucking always works," Santana said with a straight face. "Seriously, when in doubt, put out."
Quinn did her best not to laugh at her wife's insanity. She didn't want to encourage it. When they made it to the garage where Santana had parked her car, they both kind of stopped in front of the sedan, expectant. "Aren't you going to open my door?" Quinn questioned.
Santana very deliberately lifted her car fob so Quinn could see it and pushed the button unlocking the doors. "Just did," she said before she slid into the car. A half a second later, Quinn followed her. "All my boyfriends always opened the doors for me," Quinn grumped.
"I read a manual about training a puppy and the book clearly states that you don't reward bad behavior otherwise they keep doing it. According to the manual, I'm supposed to rub your nose in the door." She tapped Quinn on the nose. "Bad Quinn," she purred.
They went to the Trader Joe's closest to Santana's apartment. Quinn was surprised when Santana did swing around to open her door for her, wasn't surprised when she immediately swatted her on the ass, and couldn't figure out why she was surprised when Santana stood up on the bar at the bottom of the cart and insisted that Quinn push her. She was all set to deal with that particular brand of ridiculousness until Santana spread her arms and yelled, "I'm on top of the world!"
Shopping with Santana turned out not to be the romantic bout of coupledom that Quinn was expecting, but a lesson in patience, and for maybe the first time since she was 16, she was a little glad that she'd given up Beth cause she certainly wouldn't have had the patience to deal with her with a cool head back then. She was 29 now, and barely able to deal with her wife. No way would she have been able to handle a baby at 16. About an hour into the shopping trip, though, a miracle happened: Santana ran out of energy. By this time they were both pushing their own shopping carts, and everything was separated out into Quinn's place and Santana's place.
"You want to get something from the deli for dinner tonight, or should you attempt to cook us something?"
"There's still some of that yummy brown rice and veggies left over from yesterday," Quinn chided.
"Yea, but that's at your place, and we're going back to mine tonight."
"All the reception stuff is at my place, though."
Santana grunted. "What in the world do we have to decide on now?"
"A lot," Quinn asserted. "More presently, we need to figure out how many people we're inviting to the reception so we know how many invitations to order, where we want it to take place, the set-up," Santana kind of blanked out as Quinn ticked things off. Seriously, she figured that her mom and Quinn could figure all that out, and that she wouldn't have to supply much input, and did they really need to discuss it now?
"Are you listening to me, Santana?"
Santana tuned back in. "Huh, of course! What'd you say?"
Quinn started to load the groceries on to the belt in a huff. "You weren't listening."
"I totally was, babe. I agree, that'd be awesome." She gave a winning smile, hoping that it would apply to whatever Quinn had said. Her eyes fell on the magazines. "Oh my God! Kim and Kanye are getting back together! You would think after the 'Divorce of the Decade' they wouldn't be within a state of each other ever again."
Quinn sighed, and continued to load the groceries onto the belt. "Could you at least do a better job ofpretendingyou care about the reception?"
Santana nudged her. "I'm excited about the honeymoon," she whispered into her ear. Instead of earning a blush or a smile from Quinn, her wife just scowled, applying a little more force to empting the cart than before. Santana put a hand on her arm, only to have it jerked away. "It was just a joke babe," Santana mumbled.
"It always is, isn't it?" Quinn returned. "You know what, forget it. I'll take care of everything myself."
Santana took a step back. "Whoa, what's that about?"
There was a silence that lasted a span of three seconds. Quinn smiled. "Nothing."
Santana was surprised when Quinn didn't pull a power play about getting the groceries into the car, or about doors being held open for her, she just helped to empty the carts (Quinn's in the back seat, Santana's in the trunk), and got into her seat, seatbelt on and waiting for Santana. She didn't say anything, actually, until Santana had the key in the ignition. "Can you take me home," Quinn said quietly.
Santana paused. "That's where we're going," she said in response, starting the car. "I figure we can stop atPopeyeson the way to my place and get some nice greasy fried chicken for dinner." Santana evaluated the look of disgust on Quinn's face. "Or not."
"I don't want to go to your place, Santana. I want to go home." Santana tried to fix her mind around this change. She had already mentally prepared herself to be at her apartment for the night. They had been at Quinn's for the last two nights in a row. Maybe Quinn just wanted to take her groceries home first instead of leaving them at Santana's place, but if that had been the case they would have gone shopping closer to Quinn's.
"Babe, is something wrong?"
"No, I just want to be in my own home."
Well shit, that didn't sound too good. Santana's place was supposed to like be Quinn's home too. She had even gotten some throw pillows for the couch, and some of that fruity Air Scents that Quinn liked too. Santana was trying to figure out what she had done wrong.
Save for the incessant honking that was a constant background noise of the city, it was a quiet ride to Quinn's apartment. "You don't have to help me carry the bags upstairs," Quinn said when the car was brought to a stop.
Santana was more than suspicious at this point. "As much as I like the idea of not having to tote a shit ton of groceries up four flights of stairs, why am I being dismissed? Of course I'm going to help you carry the groceries up, half of them are mine."
"I was just being considerate. I know that you had to drive all the way across town to get to my apartment, and you have a drive to get back to yours; I don't want to waste any more of your time."
Santana was now so thoroughly confused that she didn't exactly know who she was talking to. "I thought you said you wanted to be at your apartment tonight."
"I do," Quinn said. "And you said you wanted to relax for the evening, so I figured that meant that you wanted to be at your place. I'm going to be working on the reception, and I don't want to keep you from relaxing."
"So you're mad," Santana realized. Quinn was mad so Quinn was dismissing her.
Quinn kissed her, smiling slightly. "I'm not mad," she repeated.
Despite Quinn's insistence that she didn't have to, Santana helped carry their groceries up, and then went on to carry her own perishable items upstairs too. When the last bag was brought up stairs, Quinn completely caught Santana off guard when she pushed her into the front door, and started to kiss her. Quinn was already undoing her pants by the time that her actions even slightly began to register, and the moment Santana started kissing her back, Quinn dropped to her knees. She made short work of her pants and underwear, holding Santana's hips in place to keep her from moving. "Babe, what're you doing?"
Quinn smiled up at Santana. "What does it look like I'm doing?" She buried her face in between her wife's legs. Quinn continued to hold on to her for a few seconds after she came, but then, just as suddenly, got back on her feet, pulled Santana's pants back up, and disappeared into the kitchen. Santana just kind of stood there, stunned, and was still standing there when Quinn returned with a beer in her hand. She twisted the top off and handed it to her. "Why don't you sit down and relax, San," she suggested, rubbing her neck and leading her over to the sofa. Santana was too dazed to do anything other than sit down and accept the remote Quinn gave her before she went back into the kitchen to finish unpacking the bags.
Santana was still trying to process the recent events when Quinn sat a sandwich and a small salad in front of her. She kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back," she informed Santana.
Her eyes locked on Quinn's retreating form, surprised to see that she had changed. "Hey? Where are you going?" she questioned, looking her over.
"Out for drinks with some co-workers," Quinn replied. "I don't know how late I'll be. If you go home while I'm gone, don't forget to lock up."
Quinn gave Santana one last kiss on the forehead before disappearing out the door. Santana looked from her beer, to the food, to the empty apartment. "Fuck," she muttered.
"Oh my god, is thatRaise your Glass? I haven't heard that song in forever. Turn it up!" Quinn started to dance on the spot, singing softly along with the lyrics, and letting her hips sway with the rhythm. A foot away, Connie was dancing along with her, her face flushed. When the song stopped, she collapsed back down on the stool. "You know what this place needs?" she demanded. "A karaoke machine!'"
Connie tugged on Quinn's arm. "Quinn Fabray you are a mad woman," she cheered. Quinn slammed back another shot, briefly wincing at the taste. "I am, aren't I?"
Connie laughed. "I never knew you were so much fun!"
Quinn tilted her head back, and laughed loudly. "Ditto! Sorry I was late!"
"Hey, no prob., we're just glad you came!"
Ryan came back to the table with Jamel, Paulette, and fresh drinks. He squirmed into the spot beside Quinn, leaning in on the pretense of being heard over the crowd. "Are you having fun, Quinn?"
Quinn turned her lips towards him. "I'm having a blast. Who knew you suits could be so damn fun?"
Her coworkers cheered. "Do you want to dance?" Ryan questioned. She gave an appraising glance at the hopeful look on his face.
"Sure," she decided. He looked like Christmas had come early as she placed her hand in his.It's just a dance, she said to herself, wondering why those words sounded so familiar.
Quinn let herself into her apartment at 10 minutes past 1, shedding clothes as she walked to her bedroom. She was surprised when she saw Santana sitting up in her bed, asleep over a book. Quinn sighed at the sight, fighting the urge to take the book out of her hand and sit it aside, carefully marking the place so that Santana wouldn't have to go searching for it. She didn't move, though, because she realized she was just as likely to throw the book across the room.
She suddenly felt like her space was being invaded. Sure it had been fun pretending for a little while, but this had always been her space. Her place. Her bed. But no, here was Santana, sleeping in it, after they had had sex, after she had left. Santana's beer wasn't supposed to be in her fridge, her shoes weren't supposed to be on the floor by the couch. Santana shouldn't feel comfortable enough to read a book in her bed. Hell, she shouldn't be in her bed if she herself wasn't in it. Quinn had been fooling herself. These past almost two months she had allowed herself to believe something that wasn't true.
It was too late to change things tonight, but tomorrow they needed to have a conversation. She needed to know the terms of her and Noah's bet so she knew for sure how long this charade was going to last, and she needed to lay some ground rule forthis,whateverthiswas. She went to the wardrobe to pull on some sleep clothes, angrily brushing aside Santana's.
She wasn't sure if she had been making noise, or if Santana was just responding to the presence in the room, but when turned back around, Santana's eyes were open, and just like the other night, she was appraising her.
"What time is it?" she questioned tiredly.
Quinn shrugged. "I didn't look." Her words were sharp, crisp. They had a snap to them that Santana didn't miss. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here."
Santana didn't miss either that, nor all of the other suggestions that Quinn had made about them not spending the night in the same place. It was obviously a pointed jab because they hadn't slept apart since they'd gotten married.
Quinn wasn't sure about the expression that crossed Santana's face as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?" She sat her book on the nightstand. "Did you have fun with your coworkers?"
"A blast," Quinn snapped.
Santana sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "I can't read your mind, Quinn, so unless you tell me what it is that I did, I don't fucking know!"
"Nothing," Quinn shouted. "You didn't freaking do anything." Quinn tried to calm herself down. The alcohol in her system made it kind of hard. "Look, San, it's late and we both have work in the morning. I just want to sleep. Is that cool with you?"
She watched Santana shrug, those all-knowing brown eyes staring through her. "Yea, sure babe."
"Thank you."
Quinn got under the covers on her side of the bed, a little miffed because now they hadsideswhen just a few months ago it had just beenherbed. (Well, sort of, she amended, because even when she and Santana were just screwing around, she still saw the right side as Santana's side even when they weren'tonand had never liked it when a guy had inserted himself there). She felt Santana shift on the bed, felt even more her hesitance before she leaned over Quinn to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Night, Quinn."
Quinn mumbled a 'night' in return.
Tomorrow, she thought as she trailed off to sleep.We'll talk tomorrow.