Actions

Work Header

Random Shoes

Chapter Text

It shouldn't have worked. It did work.

It should have been a sex thing. It wasn't just a sex thing.

It shouldn't have lasted more than a month, tops. It was currently at a year and a half.

It hadn't fallen apart. There was no lying or cheating. There was emotional talk stuff. There were considerations of future plans, like – way in the future. She was talking about weddings and kids and shit.

She should have been terrified. She wasn't terrified.

She was happy. Even when they had moved in together three months ago (it would have been six months ago but it had taken three months to find a place they both adored), she hadn't freaked out. Well maybe once, but it was a minor freak out that had been fixed easily followed up by steamy hot shower sex. Who could begrudge that?

''What're you thinking about?''

''Fucking.''

There was a disbelieving scoff from behind her. The body that had pressed into her back and wrapped their arms around her squeezed her gently. Her body shivered at the hot breath ghosting her neck as a chin rested on her shoulder and that beautiful face nuzzled her lovingly.

See, before this she mostly hated that shit. With the rare exception she really just wanted to fuck and run. It was fun. The thrill of the chase, the coaxing a girl (especially straight girls) and fucking them senseless had been nothing but addictive.

Not that she thought relationships sucked or anything, but she just hadn't been a grown up yet. She had just wanted to live it up for a while. Plus the effort that went into these things? God, she just couldn't deal with that shit, all the remembering little details and birthday's and anniversaries and what they liked to do…so fucking boring and bothersome.

Now it was safe to say that she knew everything about the woman pressing into her from behind, effectively pinning her to the kitchen counter. Right from the colour of her eyes when she was about to cum, where exactly to kiss her body to wind her up enough to simply cum from sucking her breasts, to her love of reading, the fact she was claustrophobic and hated the smell of bananas to her whimsical believe in narwhals and unicorns.

''No, you weren't.''

That sultry, husky voice breathed out knowingly as that oh so talented mouth placed hot kisses on her neck and shoulder. Those skilful hands swept across her body, one inching up to cup her right breast and the other sinking beneath her panties to scratch lightly through the top of her curls.

Her body jerked and her breath hitched and before a second could even float by she was so very wet with a hard, pulsating throb ebbing outward through her from her core.

''Well if I wasn't before, which by the way let's take a moment to marvel at that, I certainly am now.''

Her girlfriend, her fucking awesome, beautiful, magnificent, insatiable, sexy, whore like, saint like, innocent, depraved girlfriend, jolted her in admonishment because she wanted a real answer. Her tongue run along her neck followed by a soft bite, followed by another lick and a suckling. She nearly lost her fucking mind and blew right on the spot. But the attention was just not enough to do that to her, it was perfectly calculated.

''Tell me and I'll put you out of your misery.''

Her husky, hot whisper promised. She flopped her head back to rest against her and those hands continued their assault. Fingers slipped into her slick wetness and slipped back out. Nails traced the underside of her breasts after invading up her vest – no touch was able to give her the kind of friction or pressure or relief that her body now demanded.

Her own arm reached up to tangle fingers in silky hair.

''I was thinking about how much I love you.''

Her voice had a cracked edge to it as her breasts were fondled and her hips tried to lean into those fingers that were dancing – fucking dancing – in her folds, avoiding her clit for now but working her up expertly. No one had ever played her body like this – ever. Not even close, actually. And that said something with the amount of girls that she had gone through and the amount of seriously amazing sex she'd had. Not as amazing as what happened between them though.

There was a gratified murmur in the back of that husky throat.

''And how much do you love me?''

''So fucking much.''

It was a desperate mule and it was so very true. Those teeth bit into her again, tongue poking out to swirl against her skin.

''Would you bleed for me?''

''Yes.''

''Would you kill for me?''

''Yes.''

''Lie?''

''Yes.''

''Submit to me?''

''Yes.''

''Would you die for me?''

''Fuck yes.''

The fingers ran over her clit and she jolted and moaned loudly, her body bucking wildly as her reward was given. She let herself go, gave her body up for her to do with it what she pleased. Her long fingers slipped inside of her causing her to stretch her walls in such a delicious way it was dizzying.

They eased in and out inside of her, curling and crossing and scissoring as her palm rubbed against her clit and fuck she was already seeing stars behind her eyes. Her body had nowhere to go – trapped between her hand and her body and held by strong arms. She was everywhere.

''Will you be true to me?''

The voice of pure heat and sex asked.

''Yes.''

''And protect me.''

''Yes.''

''And want me.''

''Yes. Oh god – yes.''

''And love me, will you love me forever?''

''Yes.''

''Say it.''

She was burning up and so very, very close and standing in their kitchen like this – being surrounded by her with that voice and those hands and that smell and the gentle solidness of her body – it was all so erotic and sexy and fuck, she was so ready to combust.

''I will love you forever.''

''Then I only have two questions left.''

Her mouth was dry, there were fireworks in her mind and her body was a prisoner to the pleasure surging through it. Pleasure that was almost painful and probably should be considered illegal because it was more mind blowing than the best fucking drug out there. But she nodded sloppily, groaning and gripping onto her for dear life.

''Anything.''

Seriously, anything. If she asked her to jump out of the fucking window right now she would. If she asked her to go rob a bank she would. If she told her to turn herself inside out so she could take her soul she fucking would.

''Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?''

The words caused a powerful surge inside of her – the likes of which she had never felt before. It was forceful and primal and it felt like raw molten lava.

''Yes! Oh my god, yes…yes.''

Those lips smirked against her neck, teeth still slightly sunken into her skin. She was probably going to have some sort of mark there but she really didn't care.

''Then cum for me.''

And she did. Holy fuck she did and it was hard and phenomenal and it ripped through every single inch of her. It rolled and rolled and she continued to pulse and fuck it happened again, and then again and god she felt like dying in a happy, overwhelmed and sated way – because her bones turned limp and she had to rely on those arms and that body to keep her from falling.

Her mind was sucked into a state of oblivious bliss. It took long, long moments to come down from that – to reconnect with the physical world. The first thing she felt was the pulsing. Her body pulsed and hummed and was hot and sticky. Her breathing echoed in her ears and the heat of her own skin but especially the heat of the body pressed against her made her feel like she was burning. But she didn't care.

Those fingers were still inside of her, palm still pressed against her, hand still up her vest, mouth still attached to her neck, breath still ghosting across her skin, body still against her own. They were still stood in the kitchen of their converted loft on a Sunday morning and the scent of coffee was still lingering in the air now mixing with the scent of sex. The radio was still crooning in the background and the air was still generally quiet and the sun outside had brightened the magnificent fucking view they had and warmed the air.

Life was still going on. Birds still chirped. The ocean waves still ebbed and flowed. They were still breathing.

''You lied. There were three questions.''

She murmured breathlessly. Her neck began to receive soft kisses as the hand up her vest moved slightly to sprawl across her abdomen.

''Two of them meant the same thing, doesn't count.''

''Does so.''

''Fine, then the last one was an order. I didn't ask. I told.''

There was a pause for one thoughtful beat, because her mind was not working as well as it normally did right now.

''Damnit.''

She had to concede because it was true. A smile adorned those beautiful lips and she murmured a little as those fingers slipped out of her slowly, trying not to jar her too much, and moved up to join the other across her abdomen.

That's how they stood, in that embrace, for long comfortable minutes.

''It shouldn't work…''

''But it does.''

They were both agreed on that. There was a buzz in her stomach now that wasn't entirely caused by the orgasm that she could still feel in her every fibre. It was that future again. It was the idea of spending the rest of her life with this woman. It was the thought of raising babies together and spending whole nights devoted to each other's bodies. It was the knowing that fights would come and go and laughter would be shared. It was exciting. And wonderful. And fucking sappy as shit but she didn't care anymore.

''That was…an inventive way to propose to somebody.''

''My romanticism is second to none.''

''Oh yeah, sure – you try telling this story to our parents and enquiring minds.''

''I shall. I'm not ashamed.''

''You should be, most girls get a nice dinner or something.''

''You got multiple orgasms.''

''I like that better.''

''I know you do.''

Again, there were a few moments of silence. Comfortable, giddy, loving, sweet silence as the air sucked in their feelings and charged itself.

''Santana.''

''Quinn.''

''We're getting married.''

Santana turned in her arms – which was a feat in itself because her body was still floppy and weak from all that glorious exertion – and she looped her own arms around the blonde's neck. Those hazel green eyes looked down at her intently, burning into her like always.

''We're getting married.''

She confirmed confidently. There would be a whole host of people that would literally find it hard to believe that she of all people was getting married, but those people probably just hadn't met this goddess in front of her. As soon as they did they would understand.

Sometimes to tame the wildest person you had to employ the power of an equally wild person. But it wasn't a taming – it was a sharing, they were wild as ever it's just they were wild together instead. Wildly devoted and wildly in love and wildly insatiable for each other.

Their mouths met in a languid, sloppy kiss that held no rush but was connected and deep. Tongues slid against one another in heated exploration. Santana's fingertips kneaded and lightly scratched the nape of Quinn's neck, all the while pulling her as flush against her as she could. The blonde hands scraped along the small of her back, dancing across the skin exposed.

They didn't have a conventional relationship, not really. But in a way she guessed they sort of did. They were loving and faithful and honest. Comfortable together and knowing of one another. To most they were a mismatched couple – too similar in their confidence and assertiveness – maybe all around too similar.

It was just supposed to have been some hot sex with no expectation. They were supposed to clash and battle over power and dominance. Instead it had lead to this, and it was epic.

''I love you, Mrs Lopez.''

Santana whispered against those delicious lips.

''I love you too, Mrs Fabray.''

Tongues roamed again, hot and slow and promising. Until Santana frowned her classic 'what the fuck' frown and pulled her head back.

''Wait, what the holy eff? It's Lopez…''

''Fabray.''

''In your wildest dreams, Barbie doll. Go Lopez or go home.''

''Santana – shut up and fuck me.''

The Latina forgot about the power struggle between their names and gladly took Quinn's mouth and she propelled her backward to shove her up against the fridge. Her hands eagerly roaming the expanse of that goddess like body, fingers hooking into her underwear to pull them down.

''It's Fabray.''

Quinn muttered quietly but confidently against her lips. Santana scowled again, shoving Quinn into the fridge pointedly again, even though she didn't retract her mouth.

''I fucking heard that, bitch.''

The only answer was a devilish smirk imprinted on Quinn's lips.