A/N: We don't own the song Faith, as performed by Jordin Sparks.

The alarm is like a siren going off as far as Rachel is concerned, and only out of pure habit does she groan, wrestle herself from Santana's deadweight arms, and scramble to where her jeans had been tossed the night before. Blurry eyed, Rachel grabs her phone, turns the alarm off, and lets out an exhausted sigh as she gets to her feet and begins to dress. She has, by her calculations, exactly an hour and a half to get back to her dorm, dress, and get to her Music Theory 305 class, and she knows by that now that every second counts.

Santana is still fast asleep, snoring softly, and Rachel knows, again, that she won't be awake for at least another three hours minimum.

At least, she thinks, this time the other girl isn't trying to pull Rachel down for a quickie…

Yawning, leaving nothing but a quick note to Santana in thanks for the exuberant night, she grabs the rest of her things and heads out the door; ten minutes to the station, and she's praying the train is on time.

It is, and she makes it to her class with minutes to spare. Hiding her yawn behind her hand, trying to swallow it because she's Rachel Berry and she's ecstatic to be there, she gives the teacher a bright smile.

She wonders if Santana will show up during her break or call her up or text her or make it another one of the days she doesn't contact Rachel at all. Rachel still can't predict what she'll do… And doesn't really want to.

It's enough, probably (maybe), that in the two weeks since the dorm party, they have spent an average of four days a week together. Together, being, of course, everything from quickies to getting food, to getting food and going back to Santana's to spend hours wrapped up in her arms and bed, to all of the above and spending the night, differing amounts of actual sleeping going on.

Rachel shifts in her seat. She's a little sore from last night, and since she hasn't been able to get her stretches in yet, she knows she'll be stiff when she stands up. At least she doesn't have a dance class next. That's later in the evening.

Gives her a chance to take a proper shower and not just douse herself with perfume, she thinks. She's convinced the circle of people around her always know when she's had sex with Santana. Her cheeks color; if she lets herself think about that, it's embarrassing.

A groan, followed by another, and Santana reaches out across the futon, huffing when she realizes that Rachel has already left.

She says she's used to it, and that of course the girl has classes and shit, but that doesn't stop the possessive tightening of her chest every time she wakes up and Rachel isn't still wrapped up against her, and she doesn't bother to stop the surge of annoyance it's starting to bring.

"Fucking NYADA…" grumbles the Latina, grunting as she haphazardly reaches for her phone on the night stand. It takes her a moment, but when she finally manages to grab it and look at the time, she snorts, rolling onto her back.

It's only 8:30 in the morning. She has more than enough time to lay around in her bed before she has to work at 12.

Work… She can't believe she can actually say she has work now.

She's living, and working in New York. It might only be a waitress at a small Ma and Pa diner, but it's something, and she knows she's charming and sexy enough to make the tips she needs to pay bills. Besides, she's still job hunting; this just means she can actually relax a little. And anything is better than that cleaning job. Anything.

Santana Lopez is willing to do nearly anything to survive, but holding back from breaking a few bigoted assholes' noses when they ask her "How much?" is not one of them.

A sigh, and she throws off her covers, licking her lips as the slightly cool air of her apartment hits her hard cock.

Immediately her head goes to last night, with Rachel under her, clutching at her shoulders and panting, sweaty, as Santana slams into her over and over again, pushing her legs up and getting as deep as humanly possible.

"Fuck… yeah…" she moans, her hand wrapping around her dick as a husky chuckle turns into a low, satisfied moan. "Should make her suck me off in the morning from now on…" she thinks, letting her eyes close. Nothing her hand can do compares to the singer's throat… And with the way Rachel goes after her dick, it's not like she wouldn't be up for it.

Especially, Santana thinks, after she'd got over the residual guilt of hurting her and making her almost black out. Not like she immediately grabbed Rachel's head and shoved her down on her dick the next time she went down on her, no, but it wasn't like she had been the most passive of receivers, either. Like last night, Santana remembers again, smiling as she twists her hand around her head, spreading her legs, when Rachel had knelt below her, keeping her mouth open as Santana slowly, purposefully thrust in and out, along her tongue, stroking her hair.

Just as she is about to fully commit to jerking herself off, humming at the memory, her phone beeps. Groaning, as it could easily be her boss and she cannot afford to miss any messages, she apathetically throws her arm back to where she thinks she left her phone, finally getting it just as the vibrating stops.

Her hand flies away from her cock as soon as she sees Home glow on her screen. Grunting, she sits up, circling her arm around her waist, where it's safely away from anywhere she doesn't want to think about when she's talking with her mother. "Mamí?" she snaps out, managing to somehow still catch the call, "Uh, did I miss any birthdays?"

Maribel laughs. "No, Santí. Have you forgotten that you didn't call in and check in with us yesterday? It's Monday. Your Papí was getting concerned."

"So you call me at butt-fork in the morning." Santana rolls her eyes, lying back down, wishing she could actually curse in front of her mom and get away with it.

"Butt-fork. How cute." Maribel's voice smirks, "That's a new one."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alive! Yay. Even got that job I was telling you about." So, like, maybe she can get off the phone now and continue what she was doing before the urge goes away completely. There's no doubt in her mind that the memory of Rachel is more than enough to make her horny even after talking to her mother. The girl's tongue, alone, is like, one of the wonders of the world.

Fuck, she can't believe she's sleeping with her...

"Are you having special time?"

"Mamí!" Santana nearly chokes, and Maribel is laughing on the other side of the line. "Oh my God Mamí just- I'm hanging up." It's all her Mamí gets, and Santana does exactly as she says.

Not ten seconds later she's getting a text from her mother telling her that her and Papí love her, are proud of her, and to remember to clean up nicely when she's done. It's ten parts embarrassing and two parts endearing, but that's the norm with her parents.

She also knows that if she actually calls back later, Papí might send her some extra spending cash, and Santana is never opposed to that.

Throwing her phone down and wrapping her hand back around her only slightly softened cock, the Latina closes her eyes once more, and falls back into the succulent memory of Rachel Berry licking up her dick and moaning.

Where you at Berry?

The text is a standard affair, and it shouldn't make Rachel's entire face brighten up, but it does. Dance was hell, along with The History of Musicals 202, and texting Santana back is exactly what she needs in that moment.

Just leaving Streisand Hall. Meet you at the fountain? It's… Well, she doesn't want to put labels on anything, but it's their spot. There's always a lady selling muffins to the students for 70 cents on Tuesdays, and on Thursdays and Fridays her husband gives away flowers and upbeat positivity cards. Santana always gets a cinnamon raspberry muffin, and sometimes, as of last week, she gives Rachel a tulip. They're out of season, and Rachel has no idea how the man gets flowers in late fall, but he manages to.

Rachel loves it. Loves the flowers "from Santana" even more.

See you in five is the text back, and Rachel practically skips her way to the usual bench that they meet at. Dance helped to stretch her muscles out, and she's only a little sore between her legs now, plus she already took ibuprofen for the love bite bruises on her back, neck, and shoulders.

Not seeing Santana there, Rachel smiles at one of her classmates as they pass her, taking a seat on the bench. Pushing her hands under her thighs to keep them warm, she busies herself with trying not to make it obvious that her heart is speeding in her chest as she waits for Santana to show up.

She wonders if Santana will kiss her upon her arrival. Even if they're… not dating… Santana still does that every once in a while, as if she can tell that's what Rachel wants and doesn't mind doing.

Once again, Rachel can't help thanking Santana's willingness to be out, now that she's away from Ohio. Because of what it gives her, even if she knows she shouldn't put too much stock into it, it's not like Rachel doesn't mind "being out", either - though she doesn't really want to put a label on it, either.

A warm hand suddenly drops onto her shoulder, and Rachel jumps, instantly knowing who it is by the low, amused chuckle that follows. "Got you," Santana grins, skirting around the bench to look down at her, eyebrows raised.

Got you. Rachel's heart thuds.

Schooling her features into a neutral expression, she stands. "You're a little late," she answers, brushing off her legs, "And that wasn't nice."

One corner of Santana's lips turns up, and the taller girl raises her hand, poking Rachel's cheek. "You're pouting."

"Am not!" Rachel blushes.

"No, no, you are. It's cute." Moving her hand forward to make it cup Rachel's cheek, she leans in and drops a quick, soft kiss to her lips. As Rachel unconsciously presses in, her hands flexing with the effort of not curling in Santana's coat, she pauses, surprised, when direct heat against the tips of her fingers registers. "Mmm… What?"

"Oh, right, here." Pulling back, Santana shrugs, handing Rachel a slightly steaming coffee cup. "I passed by one of those crappy-ass anti-hipster - even though we all know they serve as damn hipster breeding grounds - java places you love, and while ordering a surprisingly passable version of what normal humans need to live, the semi-attractive barista with ironic Hindi tattoos said they were having a special."

Rachel looks at her blankly, and, rolling her eyes, Santana taps the cup with her fingernails. "Don't worry, it's soy. So's the whipped cream."

Oh! Oh. It's for her. Like… Like one of her flowers. Accepting the cup, Rachel's cheeks warm, and she just knows her smile is just this shy of infatuated. Taking a sip, yes, soy chai tea latte. One of Rachel's favorites.

Rachel wonders if Santana had guessed or noticed back in their senior year when they started hanging out at The Lima Bean.

Looking up after letting out a pleased hum, cinnamon and other spices filling her mouth, Rachel realizes she hasn't thanked Santana.

But, distracting her, standing in front of her, eyebrows up, head slightly cocked as she watches Rachel drink her tea, Santana almost seems amused.

Rachel's brow crinkles. "What?"

"You just can't keep your mouth clean, can you?"

"What?"

Laughing, Santana cups Rachel's cheek again. Pressing her thumb into Rachel's lower lip, heat shivers through Rachel's body as it strokes sideways and up, making her lips part. Santana's face is suddenly so close again. "Can't even drink tea without getting these lips of yours dirty…"

Rachel swallows. "G-guess not…" Santana's eyes are so dark, intense, and even though Rachel knows they're still in public, in clear view of every one of her schoolmates and teachers, it's like that doesn't matter anymore. Her tongue flickers out, and Santana's expression sharpens again. "You… Going to clean them?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Santana's breath washes over Rachel's lips and chin.

Rachel keeps back a whimper. Her knees are weakening. She has to tighten her grip on her tea. "...Yes."

When Santana looks at her like this, it makes the part of her heart holding out hope ache.

That maybe… Maybe it's not just fun.

But just as Santana's about to open her mouth to respond, smile growing, loud chatter nearby distracts the both of them, and with a rush of ice water up through her chest, Rachel realizes the position she's in. She's blushing, she knows, but it doesn't stop her from taking a step back, far enough away that Santana's hand drops.

"I would," she apologizes, barely able to meet Santana's gaze, unsure if Santana's frown is because of their cut off oh goodness that was real flirting wasn't it? or because with Rachel's retreat, there was no more buffer between Santana and the wind, "But now is not the time." Going to take a sip of her tea, memory of what doing so earlier had almost caused makes her hand stutter, and she stops.

"Huh." Santana crosses her arms, looking intently at Rachel again. "Not used to getting rebuffed.

"But I get it," she sighs, affecting an unaffected voice, running her hand through her hair as she turns away, "It's not professional to be seen macking someone as hot as me in front of your school."

"That's not - !" Rachel bursts out before she catches the quirk of Santana's smirk lifting her cheekbone, and she groans in the back of her throat. "Santana. Honestly! That deserves no more of my time to come up with a humoring answer." Moving to stride past the still smirking girl, Rachel's just about to manage on following through with a sip of her tea when a strong hand grabs her wrist, swinging her back around to stumble into Santana's body. Exhaling, barely able to keep her tea from bursting between them, she's about to open her mouth and scold Santana when, eyes dark and almost frowning, Santana covers it with her own again.

The kiss is hard, almost punishing, making Rachel gasp, her free hand grasping at Santana's coat as sharp teeth suddenly nip Rachel's lower lip, but before her mind can catch up, Santana eyes rise to look over Rachel's shoulder. "Good," she kisses Rachel again and smirks, completely taking her attention away, "Hey. Grody."

Grody? "Grody? What?" Turning on her heel, Rachel's good mood at the kiss dies, slamming into the bottom of her stomach. Oh. "It's Brody, Santana," she sighs, making herself keep her shoulders up as she nods at the TA walking towards them.

She's desperately trying not to think that Santana only kissed her right then again because Brody was there - even if that explained the dark, possessive look in her eyes before she did it, now making her heart ache where before it soared.

The man smiles at her. "Hey, Rache. And… San...dy?"

Santana's eyes narrow. "Santana."

"Right. Sorry. Santana. Anyway." He turns his attention back to Rachel, and Santana's arm slips around her waist. Still blinking at that motion, Rachel tunes back in to what Brody's saying, "...this Friday?"

But Santana answers before she can politely ask him to repeat himself. "Maybe we'll be there. Thanks. Now, if you would move out of the way," Santana's grip moves down, grabbing Rachel's hand in hers, fingernails digging into her skin as her other hand makes a 'shooing' motion, "We's got somewheres to go."

They're inside Rachel's dorm before the younger girl knows what's really happening, and Santana's jaw is all sharp angles and tight as she barely waits to see if Rachel's roommate's in before trapping her body back against the door, snatching her drink out of her hand to throw it at the trash can; Rachel can't tell if it made it, but she doesn't end up thinking about it for long. "You left," Santana growls, hands cupping and squeezing Rachel's ass, a firm thigh pushing between her legs, "This morning before you could get your breakfast, didn't you?"

Confused for a moment, and going from happy to horny in what feels like two point two seconds, Rachel gasps, then moans as the thigh presses tighter against her, nearly lifting her onto her toes. "W-what? I-" She's cut off by a possessive kiss and a hand groping her boob hard.

Finally, just when she's starting to settle into the position, Santana pulls away smirking and tangles a hand into the singer's long, chestnut hair. "On your knees, Rachel," she husks, and the moment the thigh is moved, Rachel drops. Arousal shoots right into Santana's gut at the sight, and her cock feels so hard it physically hurts. "Fuck…" she mutters as Rachel undoes her jeans, taking the time to throw off her jacket as well, "Jesus fuck you're a good cockslut. My good little cockslut." She swears she gets harder with her own possessive words, and they're out of her mouth before Santana can even think of what they could imply. But then again, she decides, they imply exactly what she wants them to in that moment: Rachel sucks her cock and her cock alone. No one else's.

Rachel feels her chest get warm, but ignores it in favor of the thick cock poking out through Santana's underwear less than an inch from her lips now. Hands on Santana's hips, she opens her mouth as wide as she can, pulling up as much saliva as she can and deep throats the girl as soon as she is able, moaning as her throat is filled and hands tighten in her hair.

Breathing in through her nose, she swallows around Santana as best as she can, slowly pulling back with her lips pursed, sucking the whole way. Wrapping her hand around the base, Rachel licks her lips as she looks up, wanting to - no, needing to - see how she's affecting Santana.

Head dipped, eyes barely open and watching Rachel from below her eyelashes, Santana groans as Rachel pumps her hand, her hips bucking and eyes shutting when a talented, wet tongue slips around the head of her dick. "Oh fuck..." the girl breathes, her grip in Rachel's hair tugging and loosening, "That's a good girl. Such a good girl…"

Having been giving Santana blowjobs practically every day they've spent together, Rachel figures she has a pretty good idea of what Santana likes. Well, at least with her cock. As her fingers and bottom of her palm brush down, barely skimming her balls, Rachel pauses, taking the time to suck Santana's head into her mouth, rolling it around against her cheeks, humming, her grip on Santana's thigh tightening as a quick hump of Santana's hips makes her hit the entrance to her throat, heat exploding in her body. Flirting with swallowing her again, barely able to stand how thick and big she still feels in her mouth, Rachel wonders, not for the first time, what she's supposed to… well… do with Santana's balls. If anything.

Finn's had been too sensitive to do anything with, and, really, it's not like Rachel has any other experience with them. In fact, she doesn't even know if Santana would want her to do anything with them, either.

Still… She's curious.

Pushing down, Santana sliding into her throat again, her balls resting against her chin as her hand slips away, nose pressed against Santana's pelvis, Rachel decides to see if she can really do what she's only vaguely heard about people doing. Panting through her nose, intent on keeping Santana rasping along the walls of her throat, body swaying as Santana lightly thrusts in and out, Rachel closes her eyes as she pushes her tongue even farther down the shaft. Widening her mouth, she flicks the tip of her tongue out.

Jerking, exhaling loudly when Rachel does it again, and then again, Santana curses. "Fuck, you cockslut," she husks, clamping her hands down on either side of Rachel's head, keeping her still as she pulls back, stopping with only the crown of her dick between Rachel's lips, "Not just content with my cock, huh?" Moving back some more, chuckling thickly as Rachel makes a sound of loss as her dick fully leaves her mouth, dropping to hit her lower lip, Santana leans down at the same time she tugs Rachel's chin up, kissing her briefly before disengaging completely, crooking her finger for Rachel to follow her. Walking backward, not bothering to take off her jeans or anything as she takes a seat on the edge of Rachel's bed, she splays her legs apart. Holding her cock in one hand, pulling it up to expose her balls, she quirks her eyebrows. "Well?"

Rachel stares at her. Her core is clenching, her lips starting to plump as they remember the force of Santana's dick stretching them apart. Curling her hands into fists to stop them from dropping down to press against the arousal already hot between her legs, she can feel how fast her heart is beating.

Santana's eyebrow raises, her gaze sharpening. "Cockslut?" she purrs, her voice heading straight down through Rachel's body, exciting instead of offensive as it could have been, "Come here."

Wanting to do what she says, Rachel starts to shuffle forward, telling herself that she doesn't look awkward. Or degraded. Mainly keeping her gaze on the dick bobbing between Santana's legs, the girl idly stroking up and down as her dark eyes spear into her, Rachel freezes when she catches sight of Eliza's empty bed. Oh.

Oh.

"Wait! Please," she clears her throat, already close enough that she could reach out and take Santana's dick back into her hand, fingers twitching, "E-Eliza. She might come back. I need to…" She takes a deep breath, trying to close her eyes, shield her attention from Santana's body, "L-lock and let her know not to come in."

"Hmm…" Santana's lips curve up, and she gestures her chin towards the door. "Well?" she repeats, lowly, "We's don't want to get interrupted, do we?"

Rachel can feel her pulse in her throat, a poor echo of how Santana had throbbed inside there minutes before. She nods, and pushes up onto weak legs, hurrying to the door. Opening it just enough to slip her upper body out, and snatching the dry erase marker from underneath the whiteboard, she scribbles the prearranged note, Private Study, and closes and locks the door behind her.

Keeping her back to Santana, drawing in deep breaths, Rachel runs trembling palms down her thighs. The air… The feeling in her dorm room… The crackling of energy is making her light headed. She's not quite sure what's happening. Why she's feeling this way.

But it's irresistible.

"Rachel."

Rachel wavers.

"Rachel." Humming the shorter girl's name again, Santana licks her lips as she realizes there's something different in the air, too. Her dick's still hard, so hard, and it's missing Rachel's mouth already - the heat of her tongue and saliva, her own pre-cum barely a substitute for the use of making it easier to stroke her hand up and down.

And now that she knows Rachel wants in on her balls?

Fuck, she's already close to busting a nut. She wonders if she'll make it, pumping her hot cum down Rachel's throat, or if she'll be able to get it wet in Rachel's cunt first.

Watching the hazy, needy look on Rachel's face as she walks forward, dropping back to her knees in front of Santana, breathing quickly through her nose, Santana has to squeeze her dick to slow down. She schools her expression to a cool, impassive one, casually unbuttoning the first button on her collar. It's almost too hot in the room. She wonders if they'll have time or opportunity to get naked.

Rachel's breath blows across Santana's dick, then down past her balls.

Though she'll never admit it, Santana's as excited to see what's going to happen as Rachel is. Like hand jobs and blow jobs and sex, her own hand is never as good.

Running her fingers through Rachel's bangs as she leans in, licking up and down Santana's shaft, barely pausing to curl her tongue around her head again before leading back down, Santana pushes forward, cupping the back of the other girl's head, her ear against the bottom of her palm. "Down…" she whispers, practically cooing, "Give 'em a wash, too."

"But… I…" Rachel's voice dies in her throat. She… She doesn't know what to do. But, Santana wants her tongue, right? Like she'd started to do before. Her eyes flash up to take in the thick shape of Santana's dick cradled in her palm, strong even as Santana pulls it flush back against her body.

"They're not going to explode if you touch them." Might explode if you don't touch them.

Brittany had never had a problem touching them - in fact, Santana might have even gotten spoiled - but this was Rachel, and Rachel was a whole 'nother girl with her own style of doing things. Good things. Good, amazing things with Santana's dick.

Her dick.

Only her dick.

And, well, while what Rachel had been doing before wasn't lacking, in any way - fuck was she not lacking! - Santana had been having the odd thought now and again about if the girl had even… As weird as it sounded, known her balls were there.

Besides, like, really, if the girl does well with her explorations, it's not like she won't get a thorough tongue lashing of her own to make up for it.

Santana's mouth waters, but she sucks her spit back as an odd thought hits her. How long had it been since she'd gone down on Rachel?

Shit.

Though, should she really be concerned with that? Rachel hadn't been complaining, and Santana was keeping her satisfied, anyway. Damn satisfied, if she had anything to say about it. And, 'sides. Rachel isn't afraid to speak up, right? And she's pretty vocal when she wants something - - oh holy fuck sweet Jesus balls is that Rachel's tongue on her gnads. Gasping, jerking, Santana almost can't fucking take it as Rachel's wet lips and tongue brush along her balls, her slightly cold nose hitting the bottom of her dick as she moves her head up and down.

Shifting on the bed, Santana can't stop her head from dropping back. Moving her free hand up again to tangle her fingers in the other girl's hair, she can only peripherally follow along as Rachel's tongue becomes more assured, one of her hands even coming up to cup, flutteringly, around her balls to get better access to them. "Yes… Like that."

Rachel takes the opportunity to glance up at Santana, something that feels like dirty pride and satisfaction blooming in her chest as she takes in the taut line of her neck and rising chest. She still can't believe it's her who makes Santana feel this. Santana.

Oh Santana…

Santana groans. Adventurously sucking, Rachel immediately pauses when Santana lightly taps her forehead. Dragging her head back up so she can meet the girl's hesitant, curious gaze, Santana smirks at her. "Good, baby. Just…"

Pulling back, Rachel holds her breath. What did she do? "Just?"

Just…

Santana talons her hands around each of Rachel's arms, unceremoniously pulling her up, sliding her palms down to cup the smaller girl's hips as soon as she stands between her legs. She can't stop the feeling of… Discomfort that had been insisting on staying heavy in her stomach at the stray realization that she'd been fucking pillow queening it up.

Wait.

Her thoughts stop when she realizes, as soon as Rachel is standing up fully, staring down at her with wide, cautious eyes, that she can smell her.

Santana's nostrils flare.

Oh god. She can smell her.

Pressing harder against the fabric of Rachel's skirt, fighting the impulse to knock her forehead against Rachel's stomach before resting against it, Santana slowly drags her hands down, taking another deep breath when her fingertips slip under to stroke olive skin. "You're too clothed," she mutters, still troubled. Have to fix that.

Fuck, why does this feel so…?

A slight whine leaves Rachel's mouth, sounding unconsciously let out, a harsh breath puffing past her lips. But already ignoring it - ignoring her - Santana shoves Rachel's skirt up, exposing her underwear. It's a bright pink boy's cut panty, and Santana can't help but notice how obviously wet Rachel is. As if in answer, as she takes in the other girl's arousal, suddenly uncomfortable with feeling constricted with the fabric around her calves and ankles, one of her hands fall to push her jeans and underwear down, off, after divesting herself of her heels.

"Oh?" Rachel breathes, distracted, cupping Santana's head, individual fingers hard against her scalp, "Santana."

To stop her heart from thumping painfully, Santana buries her mouth between Rachel's legs, a hungry tongue and lips seeking out her clit and lips through her underwear - seeking out her taste and everything that makes her go oh god that's Rachel.

Oh, still, she mimics seconds later, drinking Rachel in, why hadn't she been tasting this lately?

In fact, she continues thinking, Rachel's so wet and ready that Santana can't help but pull her closer, digging into her panties to pull them down in tandem, groaning as pure flesh and excitement is exposed, given to her, has anyone ever tasted better?

Has anyone?

Her brain stutters to a stop, then starts up again when Santana snaps at it that there are much better things to be doing now than thinking about that. Making Rachel moan, for one thing.

Her moans are deep and full bodied, and how she accompanies them with sharp, purely responsive scratches along Santana's scalp, like now, or anywhere she can reach other times… It's the sexiest thing Santana can remember experiencing. She can still feel the raised lines on her back and shoulders from their last tumble.

She wonders if one will scar someday.

Then wonders why that doesn't immediately sound bad like it should.

Anyway.

Swiping up, circling Rachel's clit with her tongue, Santana pulls Rachel closer, wrapping her arms around her hips and ass to pull the smaller girl up as she leans in and down, mentally cursing their position. Yeah. Gonna have to fix that.

Rachel shudders, breathily squeaking, her hands scrabbling at Santana's shoulders. Widening her stance as much as she can without losing her balance, she moans again as Santana's chin runs over and against her entrance. She's a little confused, she has to admit, going from on her knees with Santana's balls in her mouth to standing to getting eaten out like Santana's been starved.

Still, it's been… longer than Rachel cares to think about.

Before she can think about anything else, she's being urged onto the bed, Santana laying back and gripping her hips, hard and bruising almost, in a way that should be uncomfortable but only serves to make Rachel's aching pussy flutter.

"On my face," Santana practically growls, causing Rachel to gasp sharply, nails flexing against strong shoulders. She obeys easily, and then is being pulled down, seconds later crying out as the other woman's tongue dives straight in.

"Oh- Oh god-" Rachel gasps, and Santana hums. Her cock is straining, and her balls are pulsing, but all Santana can possible focus on is just how drenched Rachel is. She wants to point it out, maybe tease the smaller woman about always being soaked and needy for her, but her mouth is busy, and even it wasn't, if she's honest… she's no better.

"Sa- Santana-" Rachel squeaks, hips jerking hard as the tip of Santana's tongue flicks her clit over and over again. "Need to- please- can I just-"

And it makes Santana throb all over to hear the desperation in Rachel's voice, the desperation and want that only she can get Rachel to vocalize.

"Cum, baby," Rachel hears Santana growl from between her legs, right against her clit. "Cum, and I'll make you do it again around my cock. So slow and so hard you'll cry with how good it feels…"

It's all the motivation the singer needs, promises of slow and passionate coupled with another pet name and Santana's low, arousal-thick voice. She cums hard, hips jittering and body trembling, with her teeth worrying her bottom lip and strained whimpers and gasps choking in her throat. Santana's chin and tongue are flooded, the ex-cheerleader greedily lapping up the other girl's release. She's tempted to draw it out more, push Rachel a little more and a little harder until the girl is begging for a break. But she can feel wetness and heat all over her, and the very idea of that around her thick cock is too good to wait for any longer.

As Rachel comes down, Santana, almost gently, shifts her from her face, to her waist, then turns them on the bed. She settles between Rachel's open thighs, slipping her forearms under the girl's shoulders and drawing her into a heady kiss. Still keeping their lips connected, one hand moves down for a moment, just long enough to line her up, and then she's sinking into the molten heat slowly, inch by inch.

Rachel's legs go around her waist, opening her up more, her arms around Santana's neck, and somewhere along the line it feels a little less like possession and a little more like-

She stops the line of thought before it can even take form.

It's fun, Rachel tells herself, even as Santana begins to slowly pump in and out of her, with just the right amount of pressure and exactly the right angle to make her breath hitch.

Just fun.

Eventually, all ability for coherency ceases as their bodies move together, sweat dripping between them and nothing but heat and their own labored breathing existing in the dorm.

Santana cums first, slamming suddenly into Rachel, setting her off as well, and they cling to each other. There aren't any words, just fevered kisses, and by the time Rachel regains any semblance of thought, her neck is being nibbled, and there's a hand between them again.

"I need to see you cum again," whispers Santana as she fingers the singer's sensitive, flushed and swollen clit.

"Please," is Rachel's quiet, hoarse reply. She feels Santana begin to harden inside of her again, slowly but surely, and let's herself get lost in what she's feeling in that moment, instead of what she knows she'll feel the next day.

It isn't until later that night, soaping herself up in the dorm shower, that Rachel realizes they didn't use a condom. Again.

Rachel pauses her loofa, absently taking in the heated coconut vanilla scent rising around her.

At…

At least she's on the pill.

Slowly, her loofa starts across her abdomen again.

It's well past midnight when Santana wakes up to the sound of her phone buzzing on the coffee table. Groggy, barely paying attention to what's glowing on the screen, Santana yawns as she jabs the answer icon. "If this is a solicitor, I'mma hunt you down and kill you."

There's silence following her greeting, and Santana grimaces. There's no point staying awake if it's a fucking prank call. "Last chance."

Maybe she hasn't woken up enough to be able to get back to that dream of Rachel squealing in orgasm under her as she slams into her ass…

"S-Santana?" It's Rachel, soft and hesitant, and Santana opens her eyes to jerk herself back awake.

"Berry?" Her heart gives a strong staccato, and her hand tightens around her phone, "What are - you o - this better be good."

Rachel, on the other side of the phone, instantly knows the other girl is covering for herself, but it isn't important. She feels silly, but she'd already spent two hours tossing and turning and trying to tell herself she didn't have to call. She's exhausted. Beaten down and exhausted. Her stress nightmares are getting worse with each passing day she… Well, doesn't sleep in Santana's bed. In… In her arms.

"I'm sorry," she answers, sucking in a deep, staggering breath, hidden under her blanket with her monkey clutched to her chest, "I just… No, I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Rachel." Sighing, Santana rubs her hand over her face. At least the girl isn't in danger. Maybe close to tears, but not afraid. "You called for me a reason. What do you need?"

She can hear Rachel swallow over the phone. She's still breathing heavily, and it's making Santana's chest hurt. Rolling over, tucking her phone closer to her ear, she squints at the digital clock on top of her tv. 3:39. "Are you asking me to come over there?"

She… She would do that? But… No. Rachel can't ask her that. She's already inconveniencing her enough.

It's made even worse by the fact that she knows she may not be brave enough to ask for what she wants. It's…

Santana sighs again. "Is this about missing me?"

"I - no! No. A-and you don't need to travel. I'm sorry. Please go back to sleep. Forget I called."

"No no no." Rolling back onto her back, Santana looks up into the darkness again. So... Why isn't she hanging up and going back to sleep? "Seeing as I know you're not plannin' on gettin' your ass all the way over here, either you called me for phone sex, needing to talk because of some shit dreams or fears you're having, or are drunk and accidentally dialed me. Am I close?" Rachel murmurs something, and Santana strains her ears. "Yes?"

Later, she'll think about what it means for Rachel to have called her. Sure, she's the only one in the city, so theoretically there's that component of possibly being available, but Santana's… Not really sure if she should encourage or discourage this behavior. It's the middle of the night. Rachel should know that if they're not together, that's her time. Santana time.

She tries to tell herself Rachel's distress isn't enough to make her distressed, either way.

Rachel's still her friend. That's all.

"Will you… Sing to me?"

Santana looks at her phone. Did she just? "Sing?"

"It's what my dads did when I couldn't fall asleep. Had nightmares. I… Wouldn't ask unless I…" It sounds even more silly now that she's said it out loud. Santana's going to think she's just a little girl. But Santana has such an amazing, rich voice, and if Rachel can't have her presence, she'll take this.

She's half expecting Santana to laugh at her, and not for the first time, she wonders if it's healthy how quickly she's incorporated Santana into her life.

If she lets herself think clearly... No. She knows it's not.

But she's already in deep.

And she needs to hear Santana sing.

After a too long pause where Rachel's already starting to feel her heart curdle and the self-incriminations press thick and burning upon her brain, admonishing herself for being weak, a loud, almost humoring and disbelieving sigh rushes into the receiver. "Fuck," Santana yawns, shuffling noises happening in the background as a couple more incomprehensible groans and mutters come through, "You are fucking lucky I don't have to get up early. Fine. What do you want? I'm not doing any Broadway or lullaby shit."

Rachel can't believe what she's hearing. "What?"

"One last chance before I hang up, Tinkerbell."

Rachel's pulse flutters in her throat. "U-uhm, whatever comes to mind." She clears her throat, feeling tears build in her eyes. "Th-thank you."

Another sigh. "Don't mention it. And I mean that. Don't."

Santana has no fucking idea why she's going along with this, but fact is, she is. So, well, damn, she thinks, leaning back against her pillows, raking her hand through her hair to push it back from her face as she stares into the darkness, what now?

...Seriously, why did Rachel call her? Wasn't there a gay fashionista prolly up and doing his boyfriend halfway across the country who'd be better suited for this? Or a tator tot lovin' diva with mad pipes?

But, crap, she's already agreed. Blowing air out of her mouth, Santana rolls her eyes and decides to go with the first song that comes to mind. Thank you, Jordin Sparks.

At the first line, Rachel sucks in a deep breath, pressing her hand to her mouth. Her heart almost explodes. She's really singing.

"Hey there sad eyes, what's on your mind? Don't look so down. Give it some time. You don't have to be so hard on yourself. I know the world can be a brutal place. Please don't let it steal your smile away."

As Santana smoothly moves into the chorus, Rachel pulls her monkey closer. She can barely think, she's so enraptured with the husky, soft voice in her ear.

"'Cause when the sky's the darkest, you can see the stars, and when you fall the hardest, you find how strong you are. Close your eyes, rest awhile, it's been a long, long day. So come on baby, baby, have a little faith." Trailing off, Santana murmurs, "Still there?"

A smile crosses Rachel's lips. "Yes," she whispers back sleepily.

There's a teasing, heavy sigh, and Santana starts singing again. "Let those tears fall. You gave it your all. It's all you can do. There goes your pride, crushed on the ground. Sometimes it takes a wall to tumble down for you to see who's gonna stick around."

It's not until Santana's finishes the song that she realizes Rachel hadn't lasted. Of course, she thinks, telling herself the warm feeling in her chest isn't because Rachel feels comfortable enough to nod off on while on the phone, but because she's found another way of getting Rachel to stop talking.

"Night, Tinkerbell," she says, and instead of going back to the one she'd been having before after hanging up, this time she dreams of a Rachel kitten snuggling into her in the midnight sky.

The alarm blares, and Rachel, as she has done nearly every morning for the last three weeks, groggily gets up and out of Santana's bed. This time, though, she feels a strong arm wrap around her waist and pull her back to bed, Santana's hardening cock pressing against her ass and a warm hand moving between her legs.

She whimpers.

"San- I need to- go to class-"

Santana chuckles from behind her, then nips at Rachel's neck. "I let you get away with not giving me a morning blow job one week too many… If you want to be on time, I suggest you get busy…"

Rachel shudders as Santana's fingers play idly with her clit, and the sleep-laden, smoky voice makes her quiver. She swallows thickly, hesitating, and Santana turns her nips into gentle kisses. "You know I'll make it worth it for you, baby," she whispers, almost soothingly. "Just a quickie, and I'll even pay for a taxi for you."

It's the first time Santana has ever offered that - not to mention one of the only times the girl has been awake at the same time without only waking up after Rachel's already out of the bed - and a taxi would mean Rachel could make it to her dorm in twenty minutes tops. More than enough time to shower and dress and get to class, as long as the quickie stays a quickie. With a shaky breath, mostly due to the fingers still casually playing with her clit, Rachel nods. "O-okay… Just… It has to be quick. I'm serious."

Santana's smile is one of victory, and she chuckles. "With your talented mouth, baby? Won't be an issue."

Less than a minute later Rachel is between Santana's legs, licking from the girl's balls to her head, and feeling more than a little smug about the low, needy moan escaping the Latina's lips as her back arches off the bed.

It's obvious she has learned what Santana liked having done to her balls.

Snuggled into Santana's side, taking the rare moment of rest, Rachel's doing her best not to fall asleep, even if the urge is hard not to give in to. Santana's arm is around her shoulders, her free hand stroking through Rachel's sweaty hair, fingertips softly scratching along her scalp. Their bodies are just as sweaty and heated, the sheets of Santana's futon pushed off and abandoned to one side, but Rachel doesn't want to move. She loves these moments. Her cheek on Santana's chest, moving up and down as the taller girl breathes, her arm curled loosely around Santana's abs and waist, one of her legs thrown over Santana's thigh. It feels…

It feels like it makes everything worth it. All of her soreness and bruises and scheduling Santana into the spare moments of her life, worth it.

Because in this moment, Santana sighs satedly, laughing every so often as her body quiets under Rachel's, nothing about her seeming to reject Rachel's presence. She pulls Rachel closer, kisses and nuzzles her, even rolling over sometimes to press a long, passionate kiss to Rachel's mouth before leaving to get them water or food or visit the bathroom.

Because sometimes, she falls asleep with all of her focus on Rachel in embrace.

It feels real. Not just the aftermath of having fun.

"Mmm… What time is it?" Santana's voice rumbles through her chest, and Rachel reflexively tightens her hold around her. When she doesn't verbally answer, afraid that maybe Santana wants to know because she has somewhere she needs to go or is putting a cap onto how long they're going to spend together, Santana sighs, what sounds like either amusement or affection coloring her tone. "You asleep?"

When Rachel doesn't answer again, she laughs and slips her hand from Rachel's hair, throwing her arm out. "Phone, phone…" she murmurs, and Rachel tells herself that that shouldn't make her heart squeeze, no matter how cute it is, "...Ahah! Hmm… Okay, good." A pause, and then the faint ringing of Santana calling someone.

She's calling someone? Who… Who would she call?

...Brittany?

Rachel hopes she's not holding her breath. It's already hard telling her eyes not to start tearing up in preparation.

But when the deeper sound of a male answering the phone meets her ears, Rachel barely has time to feel better before she realizes it must be Santana's father. She can't hear what the man is saying, but that doesn't stop her from trying to listen in anyway out of pure curiosity.

"Hey, Papí. You wanted me to call you?"

"Santana, baby. Don't I get more than a 'hey Papí'?"

Santana rolls her eyes, snorting at the man's attempts to be funny. "Hello wonderful father of mine who I love and adore soooo much. What did you need?" She hears her dad laugh, and it makes her smile, but no less impatient.

"I was going to text you, but then decided I wanted to hear your beautiful voice, mija. There's an extra two hundred in your account. But don't tell your mother."

"You mean how she'd say you should have given me more?" she asks innocently.

"Very funny, Santana," chides her father. "But no. Two hundred is more than enough. Especially since you are now a responsible, working adult. We're very proud of you, you know."

Santana swallows thickly, and Rachel is tempted to open her eyes, wondering what's going on. She stays still, though, breathing calmly, and the girl holding her lets out a heavy breath.

"I know… Thank you, Papí… I'm proud of me, too," she ends with a joke, and her father snorts.

"Well, that's good, too. Now then, before I go, do you need anything else?"

"Such as…"

"You know what I'm talking about, mija. Estrogen? Vitamins?"

With a sigh, and a glance down to check that Rachel is still asleep, Santana weighs her options. "...Yes, to both."

"Have you had any problems? Increased aggression? Aches? Headaches?"

"No, Papí," is her immediate answer, possibly a little too immediate.

"...Alright. Well, I'll send the prescriptions. Just text me the address and name of the pharmacy you're going to, okay?"

"Yeah, will do. Love you, Papí. Say hi to mom for me, okay?"

"I will, mija. Be good, stay out trouble, call us if you need anything, and please don't spend all of my money on shoes this time."

"It's called retail therapy, but I'll try."

"That's my girl. G'night, Santana."

The phone beeps, and Santana sighs heavily. Her chest is a little tight, as it always is after speaking to her parents, because yes, she misses them, but then Rachel yawns against her chest and hugs her a little tighter, and the tanned girl can't help but smile down at her in amusement. And, okay, maybe even affection.

Rachel is… cute, she decides, when asleep.

Cute enough, she decides minutes later, as she watches Rachel's face slacken even more with real, deeper sleep, cuddling into her, that there's no harm in joining her. Setting her alarm for an hour before Rachel has class the next morning, two hours before her shift, Santana finds herself dropping a kiss to the girl's forehead, shifts slightly to curl her longer body around Rachel's, and dozes off with her nose buried in the girl's hair. Eventually, she knows it'll get cold and they'll have to pull up the sheets, but for now, Rachel's all she needs.

All the warmth she needs, her mind still finds the wherewithal to quickly correct as she drifts off.

Dinner is what Santana decides to spend some of her money on two days later; dinner with Rachel, of all people.

It seems a little too obvious, honestly, but Santana realizes that there's been a lot of fucking and not a lot of buddy...ness… between them. The point being, she's an awesome friend, Rachel is an awesome friend, and her dad gave her money so why not spend it on celebrating that and all the orgasms they've had at this point.

"Where are we going?" Rachel asks, and Santana just smiles, because no, she hasn't actually told Berry about said celebratory dinner, and she has no intention of doing so until they get there.

"It's a surprise, shortstack. Patience is a virtue and shit."

Rachel huffs, doing that little pout thing where Santana knows that, if the girl could, she'd stomp her foot.

It's cute, and the Latina is vaguely starting to get worried about how often she's been putting "cute" and anything Rachel does in the same thought process.

"You know I hate surprises, Santana…" the smaller girl grumbles, and the smile turns to a smirk.

"Not true," she says, "You loved it when I surprised you with two orgasms this morning after your first class. Bet your prof didn't expect you to use the free day for that, hm?"

Rachel blushes hotly, but smiles, and Santana feels her gut twist pleasantly at the sight, especially when the girl giggles shamelessly.

"Hm… no, I expect not. They were really nice orgasms, too."

Santana lets out a barking laugh, pulling Rachel into her side with an arm around her shoulder. "I'm so totally tainting you."

"Does that mean you'll tell me where we're going?"

A snort. "Not a chance, munchkin. We're almost there, anyway."

Rachel looks back and forth, trying to see what the crossing streets and surroundings could apparently tell her, but Santana figures she's safe enough that she's not even gonna try to stop her from doing so. In fact, it's entertaining. The girl looks like a parrot or something, and it's making Santana laugh.

"It would be really nice if you told me what there was…" Rachel mutters, but Santana feels her arm wrap around her waist, and knows she's got her.

"Just gonna have to wait, sweetie." Glancing ahead, noticing the blush that accompanied her words but not dwelling on it, Santana smirks on the side not facing Rachel. Even if Rachel saw where they were heading, she would immediately dismiss it. It's perfect.

In fact, Santana almost walks past their intended destination just to keep Rachel's pout on her face longer. However, executing a perfect swivel on her heel, arm tightening around Rachel to help swing her around with her, the girl squealing and scrambling to wrap her free hand around Santana's upper arm to hold on, Santana grins broadly at the dark eyes glaring up at her in surprise. "Well?" she asks, leaning in to peck Rachel's nose, "C'mon. I's got reservations in ten minutes. Want to down a glass of wine while we wait in the bar?"

"But I don't have - "

"Like I'd let my homegirl go without." Pulling two fake I.D.s from her pocket, Santana slips the one she'd gotten made for Rachel into her dress pocket (sometimes, Santana loves Rachel's oddball fashion choices), patting it as she steps forward to pull Rachel into the restaurant she knows, for a fact, Rachel has been wanting to go to ever since she'd heard about it. Barely hesitating to lace their fingers together - shut up - Rachel letting out a breathy, Oh, behind her, Santana leads Rachel unerringly towards the bar.

"I… don't understand…" Rachel says, partly to herself as they seat themselves at the bar. She flashes her ID to the bartender calmly enough, mostly due to her mind being elsewhere, and Santana looks at her with a sly smile.

"Well, Rachel, at a bar you drink, and at a restaurant you eat, so-"

Rachel glares. "Yes, Santana, thank you. What I am referring to is… why have you… I mean… Why?"

Santana ponders teasing Rachel further, but the girl just looks so confused that she can't help but lean forward and peck her cheek. "Because, I've kinda been all about the benefits and less about the friends. Awesome, mind-blowing sex aside, you're still my best friend in this city. Figured I owed it to you to do something nice."

The friends part stings, but at least there's a 'best' at the beginning of it, and while it's only because Santana doesn't have Quinn or… well… Brittany in New York, she'll take what she can get. So she smiles, focusing on the good things that Santana is saying, and not the… less good things.

"So… May I assume that you are paying for this evening out?" ask Rachel innocently.

Santana raises a brow, but replies, "Yes… The innocent look is cute, but not working. What's got your gears turning, Berry?"

Smiling, sitting up a little more, she clears her throat as the bartender comes back over to them. "A glass of your best, sweet red wine, please."

Ordering her own glass of crisp white, Santana clinks it against Rachel's as soon as it arrives. Taking a sip and checking her watch, she turns, crossing her legs as best as she can on the bar stool that won't pinch… anything. "Hmm, Berry?" she probes, taking in the… not cute wrinkle of Rachel's nose as she takes another sip, "Plannin' on taking advantage of me like some Sugar Momma?" She winks.

Laughing, the back of her hand flying up to press against her lips, Rachel reaches forward, patting Santana's knee. "Something like that."

Watching as Rachel draws back her hand, Santana smiles, something in her chest telling her that she hasn't seen Rachel so… She searches for a word, open? Open. Yeah, maybe this night out is going to be as good for Rachel as Santana knows it'll be for her. Especially if, she swirls her wine in her glass, they order some more perfect fucking wine with dinner.

A thought that Rachel's filling out the semi-formal dress Santana had pestered her to wear well sparking in her mind as she props her elbow onto the bar, resting her chin in her palm, Santana tries not to follow it up with how pretty her eyes are sparkling in the lights. That's not best friend in this city even if they are fuck buddies thoughts. Not even close.

"You look really beautiful tonight, you know." For a second Santana thinks her mouth has betrayed her, but then she realizes that Rachel is smiling at her, and that there's heat on her cheeks, and- Get it together, she thinks, because this isn't the first time Rachel has said something like that and friends do that all the time. Recovering quickly, Santana takes a sip of her wine, winking at Rachel again.

"Looking pretty hot yourself, Rach. Finally breaking down and going to permanently take my impeccable fashion advice?"

She's met with a little snort, and there's that totally-not-cute nose wrinkle again that makes Santana's heart skip a beat- except it totally doesn't of course.

"No, Santana," says the smaller girl. "I just like how the dress… makes me feel."

Santana raises a brow in question, and Rachel shrugs, eyes going down to look at her wine.

"You know… Good. Pretty. That sort of thing."

It takes Santana a moment to register that not only has Rachel suddenly gotten something akin to shy, but also… uncomfortable? That's the right word. And then it takes her another second or two to realize that she doesn't like that at all. "Did you not hear what I just said?" she asks, voice harder than she had intended. Rachel looks up, her eyebrows furrowed, and Santana presses on. "Rachel, you're smokin'. Like, ten out of ten. And not just because of that dress." A small smirk. "I see you outside of that dress all the time, remember? Always a ten."

When Rachel doesn't answer right away, staring at her, Santana rolls her eyes. "Like, hell, sure you make the most hilarious of faces sometimes, but like, they're still hobbit hot."

Rachel makes one of her faces, mouthing, 'hobbit hot?', and Santana smirks, dropping from her seat to press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. "C'mon," she urges, dragging Rachel behind her again, back to the front, helping her take her jacket off by holding her wine, and making Rachel do the same back before once again pulling Rachel towards their table by holding onto her hand, following after the hostess, "Let's get our eats on and take that fucking lame frown off your face. You're hot. Get over it."

Looking like she is still trying to absorb what Santana had said, Rachel is uncharacteristically quiet as their waiter approaches. One of those barely-more-handsome-than-normal guys that thought that entitled him to something, Santana found herself narrowing her eyes at him as he seemed to be more interested in Rachel's cleavage than actually taking their refill drink order. Having to snap her fingers more than once to draw his attention, glaring at him and ordering a bottle of Rachel's wine after only quickly glancing at the prices of the entrees and the cost of the bottle, Santana scowls at his back as he walks away.

"You don't seem to like him," Rachel notes curiously.

Blinking, surprised at just how much she vehemently had wanted him to go, Santana busies herself by scanning the menu. "So this place is supposed to be really good for vegetable gatherers," she drawls, changing the subject "And I am so ready to send them a scathing review if they're not, so don't hold back."

Truth was, she'd already double and triple checked the menu online while recovering after those two nice orgasms during Rachel's free class, but it's not like Rachel needed to know that.

Thinking about that, she isn't prepared for Rachel's whispered, disbelieving, "You remembered?"

What? Santana closes her menu, giving Rachel an amused look. "We have gotten takeout how many times? You have cooked for me how many times? Vice versa? Berry. When would I have ever had the chance to forget you're vegan?"

Biting her lip, blushing lightly, Rachel pushes some stray hair behind her ear, and Santana can't get over just how… Since when is Rachel Berry this fucking shy.

"You'd be surprised how easily people look that detail over unless I constantly remind them," says Rachel, breaking Santana's train of thought, and she snorts.

"Yeah? Well Santana Lopez is not your normal people. I remember everything," she says firmly.

Rachel smirks a little. "The better to blackmail with, right?"

Winking Santana raises her wine glass. "Damn straight, Berry-licious. Now gets to looking at that menu. I wants up on this fancy food, and I wants up on it nows."