AN: annnnnnd i'm done. finally. enjoy!

"...so leave your message at the tone, and I'll call you back as soon as I can!"

Santana jabs the End key on her phone with a sneer, not leaving a message. Of course, the one time she's actually in a weird enough place to reach out, Rachel doesn't answer.

It's been two weeks since the Bushwick loft became a "peace-treaty zone." Santana rolls her eyes at the title and decides sex will work just as well to distract her from the churning dissatisfied feeling in her gut. She turns and starts making her way toward Cassie's apartment.

She still hasn't been able to tell Rachel about her and Cassie, but she has managed to hook up with the woman about three more times since that first night. She thinks about calling and decides against it—just in case Cassie actually tells her not to come—and though she's a bit nervous about just showing up, she figures three times qualifies as enough of an established booty call relationship to allow for an unannounced visit. At least it's some kind of relationship.

Santana just got off a long shift at the bar where the new girl (newer than her, so she can call her that) has been literally riding her thigh every dance break. It's not the moves they're trained to use, it's not just for show—the damp heat she felt by the third round can speak to that—and it just left Santana feeling empty.

She finds herself getting used to that feeling, and that's the scariest part of all of it.

Cassie takes a few minutes longer than the last few times to answer the door, and when she finally does, her expression is all surprise while trying to tie her robe closed.

"What are you doing here?"

Santana shrugs and ignores the sting of the blunt question. She tries to casually brush past Cassie into the apartment, muttering something about being in the neighborhood.

"Somehow I doubt you were just 'in my neighborhood,' Santana." Cassie snipes, shoving her foot in front of the door before it can swing open all the way. "I'm busy," she says flatly. "You need to leave."

Her tone brooks no argument and with the way Santana's been feeling lately, that's really all it would've taken to send her home with her tail between her legs. It would've worked out that way, if Santana hadn't caught a glimpse over Cassie's shoulder of Rachel on the far side of the well-furnished living room, fumbling to hold her shirt in front of her naked chest.

"Rachel?!" She barks incredulously, Rachel's head snapping up with a perfect wide-eyed expression of panic frozen on her features.

Santana barges past Cassie and Rachel yelps, dropping to the floor by the sofa like maybe Santana will somehow forget what she just saw if she doesn't physically see her anymore.

"Please, come in, we're obviously not in the middle of something." Cassie's sarcasm soaks her tone as she closes the door and turns to the bar, pouring an amber colored liquid into a three finger glass. She drops a few ice cubes into the glass before she turns around and leans back against the wood, casting her gaze back and forth between the two brunettes still gaping at each other. "Unless you plan to stay and help Schwimmer here with her extra credit, I suggest you state what you need, Miss Lopez, and remove your uninvited presence from my home."

"Rachel, what the fuck?" Santana's shock hasn't dissipated any, instead blending with rage and a gnawing upset she can't name. It's a fucking twilight zone in this condo and she can't decide if she's more pissed that Cassie has another fuck-buddy, that it's Rachel, or that Rachel didn't tell her.

Rachel, meanwhile, attempts to collect herself with as much dignity as possible, rising from the floor and keeping a death grip on the blouse in her hands that protects the last remnants of her pride. She sniffs delicately and Santana watches in morbid fascination as she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin in some drummed up defiance.

"Not that it's any concern of yours, Santana, but Miss July and I have worked out a-an arrangement of sorts, since our enmity was severely impeding my attempt to earn my necessary dance credits."

"Jesus, Schwimmer. If that's what you sounded like in high school, I'm not surprised they hated you." Cassie chimes in from the bar, a mildly disgusted look marring her beautiful features.

"Watch it, Miss July," Santana surprises herself when her tone is suddenly all snide derision aimed in Cassie's direction, and Rachel's eyes snap to her in confusion. Cassie just scoffs on a chuckle and rolls her eyes.

"That chihuahua act is real cute. Isn't it cute, Schwimmer?" She grins meanly at Rachel and takes another drink from her glass. "You're just the type for a designer purse dog."

Santana ignores the comment she's pretty sure was both a racial and personal dig, not taking her eyes off Rachel.

"I don't get it, Berry," she says with her brows furrowed. "You're straight. Preening prissy-pants boyfriend to rhythmless ape fiancee to the hairless sex doll," Rachel frowns at the descriptions and settles gingerly on the sectional sofa, clutching the material of her shirt like a bath towel. "Despite your obviously shitty taste, you've always been terminally heterosexual and off-limits, wha—"

Santana snaps her jaw shut, cutting off the self-revelatory word vomit she really didn't about think too carefully before letting her mouth get ahead of her. She sucks in a breath and releases it haltingly, eyes darting all over the floor as the whole situation washes over her again, even more upsetting on the second pass. She hears her own words echoing in her ears and what exactly she just said fully sinks in. Rachel's head is tilted like a curious Labrador puppy, and Santana can see out of the corner of her eye where Cassie's smirk has spread into an all-out malicious grin.

It's too much—this whole situation she's interrupted, the loneliness she's been feeling, Cassie's taunting smile, Rachel's everything—and Santana suddenly can't breathe. She turns and takes a step toward the door to just escape this fuckery as rapidly as possible, only to find the blonde leaning against it with that same cruel smile lighting an actual spark in her eyes.

"Nuh-uh, chickie... this just got interesting."

Santana stops in place, a momentary flash of overwhelming vulnerability starting a panicky kind of violent feeling that's looking pretty attractive at the moment.

"Why are you even here, Santana?" Rachel sounds weary, not looking up as her voice resonates tired resignation.

"Oh, that's a fun story." Cassie's tone is sinful, her delight evident. "So, your vicious Bruiser and I, we also have an arrangement," the revelation is doused in her mocking, and Rachel's forehead scrunches processing the information. "I'm so shocked she didn't tell you about it."

That's not exactly how Santana expected the whole telling Rachel thing to go, but it's out there now and it's not like Rachel has any real reason to be upset about it. It's quiet for a few moments, Santana deciding how much force would be necessary to move Cassie away from the door, while Rachel is trying to make room in her world view for this new information and Cassie just stands there pleased with herself at the upheaval.

"So now I have a question for you, Schwimmer."

Rachel looks like she might puke or cry or somehow manage both simultaneously, but she raises her chin to look at Cassie.

"Can I assume that the 'ridiculously hot lesbian cheerleader slash roommate' you've mentioned is none other than our trembling Miss Lopez here?"

Santana's neck cracks from how fast she spins her head, and Rachel's eyes somehow widen even further, stuttering and half-assed denials falling over themselves in the rush to get out of her mouth.

"Shhh," Cassie tuts, walking towards the sofa. "Words are hard, I know."

Santana's ears are perked at the implication, despite how much she tells herself to ignore the obvious baiting. She's suddenly very curious how Rachel has talked about her—and what exactly Cassie is trying to accomplish by bringing it up—while warning bells are going off like some Notre Dame shit in her head.

"I just think that since my evening's been interrupted for your," Cassie pauses to point at both of them, "bullshit... You," she points again, "are now responsible for making it up to me." Cassie settles down in the middle of the sectional—an arm's length from Rachel and across from where Santana still stands halfway between entryway and living room—and pauses for dramatic effect while she crosses her legs.

"And when it comes to things either of you have to offer that I could possibly want… well," Cassie reclines against the cushion behind her and recrosses her legs in some full-on Basic Instinct shit, looking at each of them in turn. "I think we all know that list is fairly short."

"Are you serious…" Santana shakes her head with her face all pinched, this concept is blowing fuses and it might even hurt a bit, while Cassie just quirks an eyebrow at her in a move that is very reminiscent of Quinn. Fucking blondes. "Look, you need to slow your roll Jackie Daniels. That is not—"

"Did you mean it?" Rachel's voice is a bit of a croak, unexpected and drawing the attention of both the other women in the room. "Th-the thing you said about me being off-limits. What were you... I mean, what did that—"

"Get to the point, Rachel." Cassie snaps like it physically pains her to listen to the ramble. She looks back at Santana expectantly, holding her hand out like she's Vanna fucking White showcasing Rachel for offer. "Do you want to fuck her, or what?"

"Do I wa—this is insane," Santana cuts the air with her hand, staring down Cassie because she just can't look at Rachel right now.

Cassie leans towards Rachel's end of the sofa to stage-whisper, "That's not a no."

She reaches her arm across the spine of the sectional, taking a lock of Rachel's hair between her fingers and twirling it with a curious expression. Rachel visibly swallows, then licks her lips and takes a deep breath. She looks up and pins Santana with this crazy determined expression that Santana's learned means she's made a decision—watch out immoveable objects, unstoppable force is on her way.

"I'm in if you are." It doesn't come out very strong, but Rachel Berry in all her natural intensity drives it home, anyway.

Santana's shocked at the admission, then reels that back before anyone can notice and is left just torn. There's now a battle royale going on in her brain, the looming shadow of everything that could go wrong weighing itself against the salacious pull of what's on offer. She can't deny there's a part of her that's been fighting for what feels like ever against her steadily building attraction to Rachel, and hearing that she hasn't been alone in wanting has excitement bubbling up her throat. Then that voided feeling she hasn't been able to shake echoes, and she's reminded that going through with this whole thing definitely will not help the situation, and could easily end up with her and Rachel losing any friendship they have left.

While Santana debates her moral dilemma, Cassie starts actively executing her latest performance piece, prowling closer to Rachel on the sectional sofa and pressing herself into the girl's side. She keeps an eye on Santana in her periphery while she gently takes the blouse from Rachel's grip and drops it on the floor, leaning in to whisper something that has Rachel's pupils dilating as she stares at Santana and nods.

That is definitely an interesting turn. Santana watches pale fingers drag Rachel's skirt up her thigh, her legs slowly opening like a fucking gate to Elysium at the guidance, while Cassie tilts her head to slide her mouth up Rachel's neck. Fuck, that's hotter than she expected it to be, and her breath hitches in her throat at the display while she stays locked with Rachel in this weird kind of attempted telepathy, riveted to one another.

God, this whole thing is just completely fucked up, but even knowing that, Santana's still not coming up with a good enough reason to not do it. She wants Rachel, and has been wanting Rachel for a long time, as much as she's tried to talk, bully, and deny herself out of the questionable attraction. Plus with the way Rachel's staring at her—all heavy lids and parted lips, the muscle in her thigh twitching while Cassie unzips her skirt—it looks like she's actually really into this. The longer Santana watches, the harder it is to think of reasons that should be a bad thing.

Santana takes a step toward Rachel, deciding that if this is what's on the table, she's going for it. She knows it's self destructive on a bunch of levels she's not even about to explore, but maybe there's something freeing in the beauty of devastation. Besides, it was only two weeks ago that Rachel was not only willing but trying to lose Santana over some fucking gigolo she'd only known for a couple months, so it's not like she's too worried about the effect this will have on their relationship.

"Wow, Berry." Santana says, sounding collected and maybe a little teasing as she begins her deliberately nonchalant stroll across the living room. "You really just can't pass up an opportunity to perform, can you?"

She stops just in front of Rachel's parted knees—never breaking the freaky voodoo eye-lock thing they've got going on, even though Cassie's lips are still wandering the length of Rachel's neck—and lets the question hang for a moment. Santana finally ticks just the corner of her mouth slightly upward, and Rachel responds with a dark kind of smile that surprises Santana with how hot it is.

"It's always so much better with an attentive audience, you know." The smooth low pitch in Rachel's voice is something Santana's never heard from her before, and she immediately decides she'll be hearing it again.

Cassie chuckles against the warm skin in her mouth and nips at Rachel's earlobe before she pulls back, a quick gasp from Rachel punctuating the move. The blonde reaches up to hook a finger into the waistband of Santana's skirt, tugging sharply to pull her down in front of Rachel.

"C'mere."

"Excuse you." Santana grumbles as her knees hit the carpet—what is it with this woman always putting her on her knees?—and has to catch herself with a totally-not-awkward grip to each of Rachel's thighs.

"This stunted attempt at flirting is charming, ladies, really. Takes me right back to junior high." Cassie empties the last swallow of scotch from her glass and insinuates herself through the narrow space between Rachel and Santana to set it on the side table. "But one of you is going to have to actually do something for this to get started." She sits back and rolls her finger in a 'get on with it' motion, raising her brows at them expectantly.

Rachel takes a deep breath, and in hindsight, that should've been the indicator that she was about to 'do something,' but the pressure of her lips is still a shock when it happens. It's a quick brush, Rachel pulling back just far enough to exhale shakily across Santana's parted lips and flicker dark eyes back and forth between them and Santana's veil of lashes. She pushes forward two, three more times, each kiss a little more confident, a little more searching, until Santana is leaning in to chase her when she retreats again.

She presses into the kiss until Rachel falls back into the sofa and the eyes she can feel recording every move fade out, until it doesn't matter that Cassie is right there, all Santana is aware of is the stroke of Rachel's tongue in her mouth, the soft warmth of her body, and the rushed breaths that escape between them. It's a flood of want that's been dammed up and waiting for this for too long, and Santana feels any leftover resistance she had float away in the wash like so much flotsam.

She gives in completely and leans further into the kiss while sliding her hands up the smoothness of Rachel's thighs, pushing the skirt the rest of the way until it's a mash of fabric bunched around her waist. Santana follows the curve of Rachel's hips until she can dig her fingers into the muscle of her ass, groaning lowly into Rachel's mouth as she pulls them tighter together. Why did it take so long to get here, again?

She's dimly aware of Cassie clearing her throat beside them, but then Rachel's wrapping one of those deliciously long legs around her waist, digging in her heel for leverage as she grinds herself into Santana's belly, and Santana really doesn't give a shit what Cassie's doing. She feels the sofa move when the blonde gets up, then delicate pale hands are sliding around her from behind, pushing the stretchy material of her shirt up her torso until she has to break the kiss to let it be pulled over her head.

Everything's moving like, super fast, and Santana pulls away to catch her breath—and maybe reign it in a bit before she ends up fucking Rachel stupid right here and now, Cassie or no Cassie—at the convenient interruption. Cassie is right behind her on the floor, and when Santana sits upright off the inviting body in front of her she feels hard nipples pressing into her back, apparently Cassie removed her robe somewhere in the process. Rachel stays back against the cushions looking like sex personified, her already plump lips swollen from the rough kissing and her dark eyes trailing up and down Santana's body with this hungry look that has Santana throbbing.

"God, Santana, you're so fucking sexy." It's almost a growl and Santana's hips jerk at the curse, she can count on one hand the number of times she's ever heard Rachel swear.

Small hands grip the skin at Santana's sides, groping and feeling their way over her ribs and abdominal muscles before sliding up to reverently grace over Santana's breasts in her push-up bra. A moment later Cassie pops the clasp and Rachel's eyes widen like Christmas morning as she sits up to pull the straps down Santana's arms, freeing gorgeous tits to her impatient touch.

Rachel moans in delight, grasping massaging handfuls as if she's found the secret treasure of the ages and pinching both nipples between her fingers at once. Her all-out exuberance has Santana nearly moaning right along with her, but instead she twines her fingers into Rachel's hair, guiding to her aching nipple and hissing in pleasure when Rachel eagerly follows the prompt. Somewhere she knows that she should've expected Rachel to approach sex with the same fervent drive she has for everything else, but being on the receiving end of all that passion is still seriously ruining her underwear.

Rachel alternates between breasts, closing those plush lips around one nipple before releasing it with a wet pop and sucking the other against the edge of her teeth. Her eyes snap open and the look she shoots at Santana has the hands in her hair tightening before Santana even realizes she's done it. It registers when Rachel's eyelashes flutter, and then Cassie's tugging at her to remove the tight skirt that qualifies as part of the 'uniform' for Coyote Ugly wait staff, and she has to grip Rachel's shoulders to steady herself.

After Cassie finally gets it—Santana almost falling in the awkwardness of angling out of a skirt while on her knees between someone else's legs—she scoots them both backwards a few inches from the edge of the couch with her grip on Santana's hips. Rachel whines when Santana hesitantly lets herself be moved just out of reach, her hands scrabbling at Santana's body to hold onto her prize.

Cassie rubs her fingers over Santana's lower back and upward, using the touch to not-so-subtly push Santana down until she's bracing her hands at Rachel's sides on the cushions to not fall forward.

"This might be my favorite view of you," She murmurs it almost to herself as she runs her hands back down Santana's spine to grip each fleshy curve of her ass. Given the physical direction, Santana figures it's pretty obvious where she's being led, and since she was headed there eventually, anyway, she doesn't really resist. She ignores the fact that she probably wasn't going to resist Cassandra's silent order, either way, and instead looks up to Rachel's face for any objection.

Santana's breath leaves her in a puff of air against Rachel's belly at the look that greets her, Rachel is very attentively following her with darkened eyes, her lips parted like she's venting heat with each shallow breath. She cups her hands to Santana's cheeks, stroking over cheekbones, nose, lips, before caressing a path down her chin to curl her fingers around the back of Santana's neck. Rachel squeezes just barely, her implicit approval spurring Santana to close the slight distance remaining until she's sliding wet kisses over the ridges of Rachel's ribs, her eyes slipping closed as she traces planes and valleys with her lips.

It's still some fucking alternate universe trip to be here mostly naked and moments from going down on Rachel Berry, even though Santana can't pretend like she hasn't thought about doing exactly that, more times than she cares to admit. She's enjoying her thorough oral reconnaissance of Rachel's body, her hands devoted to learning every curve and swell along the way, but the hot wetness she can feel slicking against her breasts between Rachel's legs is making it really difficult to keep moving so slow. Santana is still semi-aware of Cassie's presence, too—the blonde's fingers drawing careless designs over her ass and down her back while she bumps her pelvis into Santana every so often—and it just adds to the otherworldly sort of mentality going on.

"I know a fun game..." Cassie must think she's funny or something, because she slaps her hands to Santana's ass cheeks with the statement, bongoing a couple times and laughing when Santana wiggles irritably at the treatment.

"Schwim, we're gonna let you choose, because I feel like being generous." The way she says 'generous' makes Santana a little worried for Rachel, but since Cassie is the one that brought them this far in the game, she figures she might as well keep following and see where she leads.

"You're going to have to decide if you want Santana's mouth—"

"I-I do! I want her mouth." Rachel whimpers a little staring at the pornographic pillows of Santana's lips, sharing another look infused with that pulsing current of lust before she drags her thumb against Santana's bottom lip, hitching her breath at the edge of teeth she feels at the tip. Santana doesn't even think before she's sucking the digit into her mouth, and then thinking isn't really a concern because Rachel lets loose this wrenching moan that has Santana's eyes rolling back at the sound of it.

"Ah ah ah, Miss Interrupter, I wasn't finished." Cassie chastises and Santana ignores her because now that she's established this connection to Rachel, it's pretty much a singular mindset to follow it through and she's definitely not about exploring what that might mean beyond this moment. She finally releases Rachel's thumb with a yelp when there's a sharp pull to her hair from behind.

"As I was saying."

Santana sits up again to throw a dirty look over her shoulder at Cassie, the control kick is usually hot and all but Jesus, she's obviously kind of in the middle of something. It sparks a little thrum of rebellion in her veins and she's feeling cocky at the blatant want Rachel is radiating, and the combo has her trailing her left hand down the inside of Rachel's thigh. She knows Cassie can't quite see what she's doing from her position, and Santana feels a wicked little thrill at monopolizing the fact.

She quirks an eyebrow at Rachel as her fingers draw closer to their destination and Rachel replies without words, eyelids drooping drunkenly while her hips angle forward in silent begging. It just adds to the intimate feeling between them that keeps building despite Cassie's presence, and Santana almost gives them away at the first touch, barely swallowing her groan. Rachel's so hot and swollen, and just so wet, it kind of breaks Santana's brain to think she's the one doing this to her. Any leftover awareness of the blonde wanes as she lets the pad of her thumb slip through Rachel's wetness until she finds the knot of her clit. Santana had no idea how badly she was craving this until it was happening, and now that it is she might die or something if she doesn't get to keep doing it.

Rachel pulls her lower lip between her teeth when Santana circles the tip of her thumb, her hands clenching the sofa cushions beside her while she fails at stifling her high-pitched whine. It's so fucking addictive to watch Rachel in her pleasure that Santana barely notices Cassie leaning closer to look over her shoulder until she speaks.

"Oh, well look at you getting ahead of things." She doesn't sound too upset about the fact and Santana's not about to stop without order—and maybe not even then, though the idea doesn't occur to her—and she releases a relieved breath when Cassie just nips at the back of her neck before resting her chin on Santana's shoulder to watch.

"So do you want her mouth?" Cassie purrs the question with an odd lilt to it and fixes Rachel with an intense gaze, idly playing with Santana's breasts as she watches. All Santana cares about is keeping Rachel responding to her, and she changes the pattern of her strokes over Rachel's clit at the same time as her back arches into Cassie's lazy touch. Rachel's nodding all crazy wide-eyed at Cassie, 'mmhmm'ing with each nod while she twists her hips anxiously to get more friction.

"Are you sure you don't want her fingers?" Cassie trails one hand down Santana's arm until she's covering the tan fingers moving at Rachel's sex, guiding the touch until two of them are poised at Rachel's opening. Santana couldn't have possibly hoped for anything better and keeps her eyes glued to Rachel's face, greedily absorbing every expression as she circles her fingertips under Cassie's.

"Fuck, Cassie." Rachel groans in frustration and scoots further down the couch trying to force the contact, while Cassie just grins and lets her writhe and Santana struggles to keep her vision in focus. She finally pushes against the back of Santana's hand, removing her own to circle Santana's wrist while closely watching Rachel's face.

So yeah, Santana's a little embarrassed by how eagerly she follows the direction, but when she pushes inside with a shaky exhale, just—God, this is so exactly where she wanted to be. Rachel's eyes are squeezed closed and she hisses a 'yessss' at finally getting what she wanted, but then she's squirming against the unmoving fingers inside her impatiently until Santana slowly pulls out and sinks back in with a controlled motion. Santana's not going to miss a second of this and is completely hypnotized watching her fingers disappear inside Rachel, only looking away to flicker her gaze back up and soak in the reaction to her touch.

It doesn't take long to set a rhythm, and it's no more than a heartbeat after that—when Rachel's lifting to meet each thrust of Santana's fingers, the push-pull forcing out little huffs of air that carry whimpers and partial syllables—that Cassie suddenly tugs Santana's hand away by the wrist. Santana angrily jerks her head to the side to death glare at Cassie, while Rachel's eyes pop open in outrage and she sits up straight off the cushion at her back to protest.

"Wha—Why?" She all but shrieks, her gaze wild.

"Aw, are you close, little girl? She fucked you for thirty seconds and you're just ready to cream your jeans, aren't you..."

Cassie's got an edge on her voice Santana can't identify, her gaze drilling into Rachel while she draws Santana's wrist up toward her face. Santana is still panting shallowly in arousal and she's somewhat confused by the almost bitter sounding jab, but it loses priority when their hands draw closer because the heavy scent of Rachel's arousal is making her mouth water. She turns her head again to watch her own fingers glide between Cassie's lips, the whole thing surreal in a way she can't quite wrap her head around. Even Rachel's moan ringing in her ears gets eclipsed by the silken wet slide of Cassie's tongue over her sensitive fingertips, it's just so much sensory input at once. She knows she's running on instinct and some remote rational part of her tries to whisper in alarm.

Cassie pulls Santana's shiny fingers from her mouth and licks her lips with a decadent smile, then almost falls backward in shock when Santana lifts her chin to take a kiss, her tongue slipping between Cassie's parted lips to search for any leftover flavor.

She's maybe a little scared how Cassie will react, but by the time she realizes she's already doing it, it's a bit too late to stifle the impulse. The whole 'no kissing' trip has been bothering her since their first time, added on to the undeniable ego boost from Rachel being on for her, she's feeling a little reckless in the submissive role. It's carnal and deep, and when Cassie tilts her head to indulge it, she drops Santana's hand in favor of splaying her fingers along the brunette's jaw to hold her in place.

Puffed on self-satisfaction at the little victory, Santana pulls away first, turning back to see Rachel with what can only be called a pout curling her lip.

"Well, look at that, Schwim." Cassie's tone is cool and an appropriate shiver skitters down Santana's spine at the sound of it. "Bruiser here just got you off the hook for your indecisiveness." She stands abruptly and takes her glass off the end-table, walking across the room to the bar for another drink.

Santana is sufficiently bewildered—while Rachel just rolls her eyes and huffs a bit at the delay—and Cassie is back with her glass full before she even has time to come up with a response. Cassie stops a few steps from them and takes a sip, confidently naked and leisurely assessing them like so much prey. Santana feels so awkward trying to twist to see the woman standing silently behind her, she ends up just pulling herself onto the sofa next to Rachel.

"I think I've got a use for you," Cassie finally says after she has their full attention, pointing at Santana with the hand holding her scotch and stepping closer to the sofa, "you're going to watch." She walks up to Rachel and sets the glass on the table again, then kneels down gracefully, sliding her hands up each of Rachel's thighs with an evil grin at Santana.

Okay, so this isn't what she was going for, and a part of Santana is screaming in protest at having her fun taken away. The rest of her is battling insecurity and wants to see how Rachel responds to Cassie, she doesn't understand this animal between them and the opportunity—or the command if she's honest—to watch it unfold firsthand is definitely attractive. Rachel's gaze flits to Santana quickly, then snaps back to Cassie like a magnet.

"We've already heard how much better Rachel performs with an audience." Cassie leans over Rachel, pressing her back by force of presence alone, and braces one hand against the sofa cushion next to Rachel's head. In the next breath she's sliding two fingers inside the brunette without warning while whispering "Don't you, Rachel?"

She's close in Rachel's space, their bodies aligned from hip to chest with Cassie's arm pressed between them, and the blend of light and dark shades has Santana rapt. Rachel's response to the penetration—and maybe the taunting, too—is a guttural sort of sound that twists something in Santana's lower belly, and Cassie keeps talking to her conversationally like they're discussing what to have for lunch.

"It's not like you were already begging me—" she thrusts into Rachel with the words, keeping her rhythm steady and not quite what Rachel wants. "—in a range of different keys," Santana squirms in her seat, she can feel the force of Cassie's movements through the cushion and it's making her throb. "—to let you come… just before we were interrupted."

It sinks in what she's saying and as soon as it registers Santana decides that Cassie needs to come down a level, and she's more than pleased to provide the knock. The reference to what Cassie and Rachel share—something Santana has no idea how to gauge—has her feeling out of her depth and she's not a fan of the sensation. She doesn't try to interfere with what's happening right now because she's not an idiot, instead mimicking Cassie's earlier position and moving to the floor behind the blonde where she's bent over Rachel.

"I told you to watch." Cassie doesn't look back when she says it, just keeps her face inches from Rachel's and lets the words find their way out between Rachel's moans.

"I can see better from here."

That rebellious feeling fires in her chest again and Santana runs one hand down Cassie's side to hold onto her hipbone, the other sliding up between her thighs to boldly graze her middle finger between Cassie's lips. She finds her much more excited than she expected—though with the way Rachel is all moans and bucking, she's not sure why that's surprising—and lets her fingers slide around in the wetness without any real purpose. She brushes past Cassie's clit and the blonde's hips jerk, and Santana's smile is sinful.

It occurs to her just after she slips a finger into Cassie's warmth that she gets it, why Cassie always puts her on her knees, it makes sense. With the inarguably commanding woman swinging her hips to get more from Santana's fingers, panting into Rachel's ear and faltering in her movements just enough to be noticeable, Santana feels a sense of accomplishment, a flush of power that's intoxicating like nothing else. She adds another finger on her next stroke, relishing the grunt the move earns her, and tucks her forehead against the smooth plane of Cassie's back to close her eyes and relish the feeling.

Rachel's pitch is already escalating, and Santana can hear the spiny edge of whispers trickling through from Cassie's steady stream of commentary, but she can't quite make out what's being said. She remembers how filthy Cassie's been through their own encounters, though, and it fills in the blanks between the few words she manages to catch, sparking more force behind her motions.

Cassie stops short, snarling, "Don't you fucking dare…" and Rachel whimpers pitifully. The whispering starts again, fragments of "I told you" and "when I say" slithering through the air as she begins moving again.

Santana's pretty sure Rachel is going to come on Cassie's hand any second now, if Cassie's warning was any indicator. Her body is completely synched to Cassie's, her eyes squeezed closed with unrestrained cries escaping her throat with each deep stroke, and Santana realizes that gnawing upset she couldn't name earlier has introduced itself clearly—hello, blinding jealously.

She doesn't think too deeply about her motivations or whatever, she just knows that it should be her—Rachel should be clenching on her fingers, begging for her mouth, saying her name on those broken whimpers—and the impulse has her trying that much harder. The angle's not right with how Cassie's bent over and her wrist is starting to ache something fierce, but all Santana keeps thinking is if she can just get through Cassie's concentration, derail her enough that she loses focus, it'll be a win on so many different levels that she's biting down on her lip at just the thought.

She drags her other hand down to rub concentrated circles over Cassie's clit, grinning in victory when she feels the blonde's hips spasm again at the sensation. Cassie may get off on control—obviously—but Santana knows from experience that she's also a hedonist in sex. She's not going to deny herself an orgasm just on principle, and Santana knows she can make it happen with her hands.

Rachel starts to whimper, then the sound degrades into frustrated little huffs while her forehead crinkles and her brows knit together.

"Cas-sie..." It's a drawn out whine, Rachel bucking harshly to force Cassie's fingers to move, and Santana grinds her teeth in a half-grimace, half-smile at Cassie's distraction, the satisfaction as potent as a caress.

"Gonna come for me, Miss July?" Santana rasps out the question, dragging out the name while shortening her thrusts to rub the tips of her fingers back and forth over the soft spot she can feel inside. Cassie's squeezing her fingers, sharp little grunts accentuating her heavy breaths and Santana's riding the high. "What if I make you ask for it?"

"Fuck you." The growl is primal, rumbling out from deep in Cassie's chest, but it's only a few strokes later Santana feels the blonde's walls start to flutter around her fingers. She groans into the skin of Cassie's back at the feeling, showing her bluff as her arm flexes to fight the tight resistance until Cassie suddenly stills entirely.

"Fuh—oh, fuck." It's a quiet exhalation and then Cassie's hips are pumping erratically into Santana's hands, her head dropping to press her face into Rachel's neck while she sucks in heaving breaths.

It's not until Rachel starts to pet through her hair that she pushes up abruptly and irritably shakes off the tender touch. She pulls her hand away from between Rachel's legs and draws a deep breath, reaching immediately for her scotch on the side table.

"Don't be so pleased with yourself," Cassie snaps, pushing Santana backwards to make room for herself to get up. She moves the few feet necessary to drape herself in the corner of the sectional, sipping at her glass like she's kissing an old friend's cheek and eyeing them from over its rim.

Santana sits back on her feet with her hands on her knees, basking in waves of smug self-satisfaction while she lets her eyes run leisurely over Rachel's body, debating which way she wants to go about dismantling her next.

"See, this is why I have to tell you what to do, you just fucking stare at each other otherwise." Cassie rolls her eyes and takes another drink, like they're stubborn children she's exasperated with. "If you breathe in her direction, she's gonna come. What more setup can I possibly give you?"

Santana actually lets her gaze meet Rachel's, that same breathless feeling from before freezing her lungs. Rachel's gorgeous, especially looking so disheveled and freshly fucked, and since this scenario is pretty much exactly what Santana was trying for, she doesn't hesitate. It must strike Rachel in the same moment, because they meet somewhere in between Rachel sitting up and Santana crawling forward, a ravenous sort of kiss slanting open mouthed and raw.

"Here we go." Cassie sounds almost bored, but neither of them responds, either way. They're consumed with consuming each other, hands roaming wildly to pull and smooth over hot skin, while a melody of different notes comes out smothered between them. Rachel pushes forward into it until Santana's shuffling backwards to make room on the floor, craning her neck to keep their lips connected in the process.

Santana pulls back from the kiss to pant breathlessly and press her forehead to Rachel's, then looks down to watch her own hand squeeze between their bodies. Rachel just widens her knees, her pelvis snapping forward in desperate invitation, and whines into the kiss. They both gasp when Santana's fingers slide in without resistance, and Santana moans lowly when Rachel reaches down to mirror the action. She knows that after everything that's led up to this point this isn't going to last very long at all, but it feels so fucking good to be inside Rachel with her fingers almost slipping from how wet she is and the heady scent of sex fogged around them, that she doesn't even care.

They're a mess of sweaty writhing and Santana feels like she's drunk on the different sensations, she has no sense of time beyond this second. Rachel's eyes lock with hers and the moment suspends, and a part of knows how cheesy that sounds but it's the only way she can think to put it. It's just her and Rachel in this protected private bubble of a shared heartbeat, and Santana's sheepish when she thinks about it later and knows that's what actually pushes her over.

She digs the fingers of her free hand into Rachel's ass cheek and throws her head back, letting loose a string of curses toward the ceiling just as Rachel starts to lose her rhythm. She follows the instant Santana's body clamps down on her fingers, but it's close enough that Cassie probably can't tell who starts first. They end up slumped together on the floor in front of the sofa, sweaty and each trying to catch their breath, with their arms still loosely wrapped one another.

"Well, that was interesting, if not brief."

Cassie's comment throws a naked bulb's unflattering light on what felt like some kind of transcendent sunburst, and Santana is all at once starkly aware of her current situation. The bubble pops with the sentence and she and Rachel are naked and trembling on the floor of Cassie's living room, their flowing connected moment feeling kind of tarnished by the perspective.

Santana self-consciously shifts back a little from the embrace, hazarding a tentative glance at Rachel, and instantly feels a bit of her mounting anxiety calm at the warmth in that steady gaze. It's like some veil has lifted in all that swirling brown, and the kind of freaky intensity Rachel always wears has a different shade now.

There's a tiny reassuring smile traded between them—a silent confirmation that there was something, and what it was can be determined later—before Santana notices they're holding hands.

"Oh my god, this eye fucking is making me nauseous."

Cassie stands with the jibe, returning to her bar for yet another refill and Santana just raises her brows at Rachel and blows out a breath through her cheeks. Now that the hormones are dissipating, this whole thing has rapidly passed its ripe phase and moved directly into awkward. Rachel smiles shyly and gets a squeeze against her fingers, then Santana is getting up, picking her way around the living room to retrieve her clothes.

"Oh are you not up for round two? That's disappointing." Cassie's eyeing them almost defensively from her bar, and she makes it sound like Santana leaving is probably the least disappointing thing that could happen at this moment.

"Yeah, no thanks." Santana hops a little as she steps into her heels—when did they even come off?—and plasters on her fakest smile. "As lovely as this has all been, I think I'm done playing lost scenes of Broadway's L-Word for a minute."

She doesn't let herself look at Rachel again, it's too raw and fresh and she just can't handle the thought that what she'll see might be less than what she's expecting, and instead walks over to Cassie.

"You know you'll miss me."

There's a thrill she can't explain when the blonde stiffens at her nearness—she doesn't dare presume it was the comment—and Santana lets it bolster her confidence as she leans in close, her eyes never leaving tumultuous green. She stops centimeters from Cassie's lips, flickering her gaze to them and back to that electric stare a few times to give the other woman every opportunity to stop her, until Cassie parts her lips to release her breath with just the slightest tremble.

"Need help finding the door?" It's snarky of course, but doesn't seem to have any of her normal burn to it and Santana bites back a grin. Triumph. She tilts her chin and brushes her lips against Cassie's, savoring the acidic bite of whiskey and the faint flavor she was starting to recognize as just Cassie, and the thought shoots through her with a solid certainty that this is the last time it will happen.

"I think I''ll figure it out." It's almost a whisper and she wonders as she walks out of the condo if Cassie catches the second meaning, if she even cares if she does. It doesn't seem to matter now, and she's still kinda reeling at the realization that this one bizarre event has completely changed her perspective. She's ready for a bubble bath and some of Lady Hummel's prissy wine, and maybe a few minutes to figure out what the fuck is going on in her heart.

"See you at home." She calls it over her shoulder before closing the door, hoping Rachel doesn't take it as rejection but unwilling to have even one more intimacy between them be shared with Cassie's sneering judgment.

The air outside is crisp and frosty, stinging her cheeks and making the sweat at her nape chill against her skin. Santana takes a deep breath, letting the ache of the cold air swell in her lungs, and feels a lightness she didn't expect lift her feet toward the subway.

It's a little while later on the ride, when Santana's trying to decide if the dude across from her to the left is sleeping or dead (stench is leaning toward dead, but in New York that's not a guarantee), that a warm body cuddles itself into her right side on the seat. Santana turns with the instinct to strike because fuck that in the middle of the night on the subway, before she's engulfed in Rachel's scent.

"Hi."

Rachel curls herself under Santana's arm, tugging it down around her shoulder and sighing contentedly.

"So tell me how long you've been thinking about me as 'off limits.'"