olaf47: (Santana)
[personal profile] olaf47
Title: That's My Shhh
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairing: Santana Lopez/Rachel Berry
Rating: R
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Her girl’s shameless, and Santana kind of fucking loves it.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. The words are.
A/N: For [livejournal.com profile] smc_27, decades overdue for her Five Acts meme: masturbation, public sex.

Of all the people at their school, Santana’s pretty sure Rachel’s the one who most deserved a single. The girl does vocal exercises and wakes up before sunrise to do crunches and push-ups before heading to the gym for thirty minutes on the elliptical. She talks constantly and is anal about cleanliness and would annoy the hell out of anyone who had to live in the same room with her.

Not to mention that she’s got a super hot girlfriend and her roommate is kind of fucking with their “alone time.” (That’s Rachel’s term for it. “Girlfriend” is also Rachel’s term, but Santana doesn’t totally hate it, and not arguing about it leads to more naked Rachel, which is pretty much her favorite Rachel, so she keeps quiet.)

She and Rachel getting together is kind of a long story (one she generally likes to boil down to, “One day she was wearing one of those short skirts and I just couldn’t take it anymore and pushed her against the lockers,” which is entirely untrue but generally gets the fucks who have no right to know but are asking about it anyway to shut up). But they’re together now, and going to the same school, and Rachel’s roommate routinely interrupts them.

Today, she’s supposed to be in class, and so Rachel is currently on top of Santana (—she’s not topping her, she’s just on top of her—) and Santana’s tugging at the hem of her shirt. Rachel likes to go slow. She likes kissing, and Santana’s okay with that because the girl is damn good at it. Plus, she grew out of the whole “not losing her virginity until she was 25” thing, so Santana knows that just because they spend a long time kissing doesn’t mean they won’t also spend a long time doing the other stuff. And it’s not like she has trouble getting Rachel wet, but the longer they kiss, the wetter she gets, and that’s just fun. So is turning the tables on her and refusing to do anything but kiss her until she begs for it.

But that’s not the point here. The point is, even though Santana knows Rachel probably wants at least another ten minutes of lips and tongue and the occasional bite, even though she’s okay with the fact that Rachel wants that, she’s at least getting to touch some skin while they do it. Rachel complies, easier than Santana expected actually, and that makes her think that maybe she can move this along.

She drags her nails over Rachel’s just bared back and the other girl shivers and makes this half-moan sound that Santana loves. She fucking loves it. So she scratches her way back up Rachel’s back. She wanted to revel in the way the half-moans turned into full moans, but instead she hears a key in the lock, and Rachel dives off of her. Santana pulls the sheet over her and by the time her roommate is actually inside, they’re both pretending to sleep.

It works, apparently, or her roommate’s fucking clueless (Santana’s been of that mindset for a while now), because she doesn’t immediately turn and leave. Instead, Santana can hear her walk to her desk, open her laptop, and sit down. Santana is going to find out which professor let her class out early and fucking cut a bitch.

After a few minutes of nothing except the click of a mouse, Santana opens her eyes as little as she can, and sees Clueless McCockblocker has put on headphones. She likes musicals (because even the people who picked roommates knew that was a prerequisite for living with Rachel) and classical music and absolutely nothing loud at all, but Santana hopes it’s loud enough that she can whisper to Rachel.

“Babe,” is all she says. She knows Rachel’s been pouting next to her since she dove face first into the pillows. She can feel it.

Sure enough, when Rachel turns her face toward Santana’s, her bottom lip is sticking out. She looks like a five year old, except she’s still hot, especially when she wiggles the way she always does when she gets impatient with Santana’s teasing. She only does it when she’s really desperate, when if Santana doesn’t touch her where she wants she’s just going to put her hand down there and do it herself.


There’s an idea.

“Babe,” Santana says again, barely louder than breathing. “You wanna get off?”

Rachel’s pout just deepens—her lip sticks out even farther and her brow furrows.

“You could, you know? You gotta be quiet, but you could.”

Her eyes widen when she realizes what Santana’s saying.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispers.

Santana glances at Cockblocker again. The way the room is set up, her back is to them while she sits at her desk. That, plus the fact that she is completely fucking clueless, makes Santana pretty sure they can get away with it.

“You shouldn’t,” she says, because you’d never guess it, but Rachel totally gets off on being a little naughty (the time Santana fingered her on the porch of some house they were at for the party happening inside—damn, Rachel came so hard she had to bite Santana’s shoulder to keep from screaming). “But you want to. And you can, as long as you’re quiet.”

Rachel’s hand slides down the bed without further discussion. She uses euphemisms like “alone time” but she’ll stick her hand between her legs while her roommate’s in the room.

Her girl’s shameless, and Santana kind of fucking loves it.

Rachel is still face down, and not only does Santana know that means she doesn’t have a good angle, it also means she can’t see her hand moving under the blankets. Maybe it’s masochistic, given that she knows she’s not going to get off, but she wants to see that hand. She tugs on Rachel’s sleeve, gently; they can’t draw her roommate’s attention. Luckily, Rachel knows what she wants (that’s something that surprised Santana about this whole thing—the way Rachel always seems to know what she wants just from her dilated pupils and the twist of her hips) and she rolls over before Santana says anything.

Oh Jesus, this was a horrible decision. Rachel clearly already has fingers inside herself, her hand pumping under the sheet. Santana can actually feel herself getting wetter. She is honestly going to kill whatever prof let the class out early. It could be her three fingers deep right now.

Okay, thoughts like that are not particularly helpful.

She can’t really help it, though—Rachel looks so fucking hot. Just as she thinks that, Rachel only partly swallows a whimper. Santana grabs her wrist and they both freeze, eye closed, in the tensest attempt at fake sleep that has probably ever happened.

They’re silent for a good minute, and Santana’s straining to try to hear if her roommate turned to look at them, except she can’t focus on anything except the way she can feel the tendons in Rachel’s wrist flex. She slits one eye open and the cockblocker is still on her computer with headphones in. Santana keeps hold of Rachel’s wrist and leans closer.

“Not inside,” she breathes. “You know how loud you can get.”

Rachel’s eyes stay closed but her flush deepens. Santana can actually hear it when she slips her fingers out. She wonders if it’s possible to spontaneously combust from sexual frustration.

Santana considers dragging her nails across Rachel’s bare abs, but they’re trying to keep quiet, and that’s really not going to help. (Santana knows from experience.) Instead she just keeps her fingers circled around Rachel’s wrist as her hand starts moving again. The movement of the sheet is less noticeable, but it’s faster. Santana figures her girl’s probably got a finger on either side of her clit. She’s probably clenching around nothing—it’s what she does, over and over, when she’s begging Santana to just get inside me. God, please.

Her hips arch up, just a little, and her fingers move even faster and Santana squeezes her wrist hard.

“Quiet, baby,” she whispers. “Be quiet, but I want you to come.”

Rachel does. She’s almost silent about it, no noise except a few heavy breaths.

Santana can’t think enough to let go of her wrist until Rachel shakes her off, smiling almost shyly. Honestly, how this girl can go from getting herself off in a room with someone else in it to a shy smile, Santana will never understand.

Rachel snuggles her head into the crook of Santana’s neck as she comes down, and it’d be cute but Santana is still horny as fuck. She lets the girl cuddle against her while she tries to figure out how she can come. If Rachel actually falls asleep on her before she gets off, Santana is going to—well, she’s not sure what she’s going to do, because her mind can only scheme about coming right now, but she’d come up with some kind of revenge that would involve lots of orgasms for her.

Eventually, Rachel’s roommate gets up and leaves—for the bathroom, probably, because her computer is still open on her desk and she doesn’t take a bag or anything—and Santana tugs Rachel all the way on top of her without a second thought.

“Santana!” Rachel giggles. “She’s going to be back in like three minutes.”

“Believe me, babe, I’m not going to take that long.”

When her roommate comes back in, they both still appear to be napping, but with much more satisfied looks on their faces.

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