Chapter Text
There are several people whose name Santana Lopez would expect to see light up her phone.
Brittany is the obvious choice. Long-distance is proving to be tougher than they imagined and most days, it’s just their phones or Skype that’s connecting them. At this point, it’d be weird if Santana didn’t have at least one missed call from Brittany coming out of class.
Seeing Mami on her screen wouldn’t surprise Santana, either. Her mother has gotten slightly better at letting her do her thing and live without constant checkups but Maribel still messages and leaves voicemails regularly.
Quinn. Mercedes. Even Puck calls her on occasion. Once, at the start of the semester, Sam was visiting his family and stopped by in Louisville for an afternoon. Tina updates her on the most important Lima gossip regularly. Kurt messaged her on the way to New York, buzzing with an excitement that Santana had a hard time matching, happy for him and jealous at the same time.
Overall, it’s a pretty long list of people, longer than Santana thought it’d be. And yet, it still comes as a surprise when Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” starts playing on her phone and the name Frankenteen appears.
“Hello?” she answers when she picks it up, somewhat unsure if it really is Finn Hudson calling her.
“Hey, Santana!”
“So you did mean to call me, huh” Santana notes, making her way from the gym all the way across campus to her dorm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was just, uhm, checking in. Are you doing okay? Living that Louisville life?”
“Go Cards," Santana says, barely masking her sarcasm. "What is this checking in talk? Army bored you so much you’re calling everyone, is that it? Let me guess, no one else in the Glee Club had anything interesting to say.”
“Actually, I haven’t called anyone else,” she hears Finn’s voice from her phone. “I’ve only really been talking to Kurt. Briefly.”
“Oh,” Santana slows in her steps, her interest officially piqued.
“Are you at college right now? University of Louisville?”
“I do go to school here, so yeah. Finn, what’s up with you? You’re not really making any sense.”
“Are you like, far from the main building?”
Santana is equal amounts annoyed and intrigued at this point but ultimately, intrigue wins out. She decides to play along. “That’s one of the weirdest questions you’ve ever asked me, but for your info no, I’m not. I’m about to walk past in a like a minute.”
She tries coaxing out an answer from him in that minute it takes to get to the main building. But just as Santana is about to swear she’ll get his commanding officer on the line to order Finn to talk sense, she sees him.
“Hey,” he says, doing that half-smile of his she’s grown so used to and never realized how much she’d miss.
Here’s Finn Hudson, standing at the entrance of her college with only a backpack lazily thrown around his shoulders and phone hanging in hand.
A sight for sore eyes if she's ever seen one.
“Hey,” Santana manages to reply when she gets over the initial confusion. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
Finn at least has the decency to look sheepish for a moment before nodding. “Can I get a hug first?”
There’s a part of Santana, one that still feels like they’re in Lima that wants to her to roll her eyes. But there’s a much bigger part that doesn’t care about trying to act cool and doesn’t want to pretend like the familiar sight of Finn isn’t making her heart swell. She practically runs into him, standing on tiptoes to reach around his neck and pull him into a tight embrace. Finn’s quick to hug her back, lifting her body up as he holds on to her waist.
A student almost bumps into them and it snaps them out of it. When they pull away, Santana doesn’t care enough about pretences to hide her smile. Finn matches her grin, feeling just as happy that he decided on this pit stop to Kentucky.
“Can I explain over a drink?” he asks, hoping Santana knows a good bar nearby.
“You look like you could use one,” she says. “Or several. Come on, follow me, Hudson.”
The good bar Finn was hoping for ends up being a combination of a bottle of wine they get from the nearby store, some tequila Santana has stashed in the fridge, and her dorm room itself.
“Are you sure it’s cool we’re drinking here?” he asks as Santana hands him a shot of tequila.
“Oh, relax,” Santana says and downs the shot. One to Lopez. “My roommate’s not back until Monday and no one else would mind, or has any business to. Besides, all the bars here suck.”
Finn doesn’t question her, even if it does feel weird to be sitting on a stranger’s bed and drinking tequila with Santana in her dorm room. Any concerns he might have had disappear after his first drink and Santana soon insists on a second shot. It takes them both a minute to truly feel it but when they do, neither of them have concerns about drinking here anymore.
“That’s better,” Santana sighs, putting down her shot glass and practically collapsing in the space between the two beds. She leans against her own bed, ready to let go of everything she’s been dealing with.
Finn, feeling awkward to still be sitting on the roommate’s - Rowan’s, as Santana revealed to him - bed, mirrors her position.
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one in need of a drink,” he comments, worry leaking into his voice.
Santana brushes it off. “I’m a college student, drinking tequila at the end of the week is the least I deserve.”
“So, if the bars suck, does that mean you usually end up drinking in here?”
“You make it sound pathetic,” Santana grimaces. “Oh, god, it is, isn’t?”
“No, no!” Finn says. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean… Do you have like, dorm parties or something?”
Santana frowns, already feeling the tequila trying to awaken the weepy drunk in her. She shakes it off, determined to have a nice evening for once. “I went to a couple in the beginning but it wasn’t really my vibe. Just a bunch of gross dudes trying to fuck anything that moves and people having pretentious conversations.”
“Oh, I see,” Finn nods. “I’m sorry. But you do like it here, right? I’m sure there are some good parts.”
Santana decides this is the perfect opportunity to grab that bottle of red. “You didn’t come here to discuss college social life, did you?” she deflects and unscrews the bottle. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Maryland or something? You know, serving your country, rocking a uniform?”
Finn takes the wine after Santana offers it to him. He drinks straight from the bottle before answering. “I was discharged. Semi-honorably. It’s… kind of a long story.”
“Lucky we have all night, huh?” Santana takes back the bottle.
As Finn gets into it, he realizes it might not be that much of a long story after all. It just feels like it is because the circumstances of his departure fill him with such embarrassment… It’s a miracle he even manages to tell Santana about accidentally shooting himself.
“So let me get this straight,” she’s slurring her words just the slightest bit and it’s the only thing Finn can focus on so he doesn’t sink into the floor in his shame. “You named your weapon Rachel? And then shot yourself in the foot with it?”
“Thigh, actually,” Finn says. “But yeah. The doctors said I was extremely lucky.”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” Santana says, malice and amusement absent from her voice. “And doesn’t that feel kind of… metaphor-y to you?”
Finn considers it but the alcohol prevents him from thinking too hard. “Whatever, doesn’t really matter. I don't have a place with the army anymore so I’ve just been going around Georgia for a while now. I finally mustered up the courage to book a ticket to New York and, well, the best option was coming here and then taking the plane form Louisville. So here I am.”
“Here you are,” Santana nods. She pours them both another shot of tequila. “Cheers to that, then!”
They begin laughing as they finish the shot and neither can quite pinpoint why.
All Finn knows, it felt better than he thought it would to share that with someone. He was afraid Santana might make fun of him and he’d never live it down but he just feels lighter.
All Santana knows, Finn’s story makes sense in a ridiculous sort of way that she can now appreciate, after three shots of tequila and a few slips of wine.
“Can you show me?” she suddenly asks.
“Show you what?”
“Your scar.”
It takes Finn a second to process the words. He’s feeling a little lightheaded and relieved after having admitted to his shame, but it’s not enough to silence the voice in his head that doesn’t want to take his jeans off.
“Uhm, it’s no big deal, just some stitches,” he dismisses it, reaching for the bottle once again.
“Oh, come on,” Santana says and teasingly kicks his foot. “Other dudes would brag about their war injuries.”
“It’s not exactly a war injury. And, I don’t know…”
Finn avoids her gaze and realization dawns on Santana.
“Wait a second, are you being shy right now? Finn Hudson, do you not realize that I’ve seen it all before?”
The words heat up Finn’s checks more than the shots ever did and he fumbles to come up with something. “What? No, I just don’t want to start stripping in your room.”
Santana chuckles and Finn notes how light it feels, how it lacks the malevolence he once associated her with. “Relax, I’m not asking you for a whole show. I just wanna see your scar, is all.”
“Okay, but it really isn’t that big of a deal,” Finn, disarmed by Santana’s attitude, unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down. “See, it’s nothing.”
Before he knows what she’s doing, Santana is leaning forward and tracing her fingers over the scar. Finn’s breath hitches and he prays to God, or Grilled Cheesus or whoever will listen, that Santana doesn’t notice. Damn, he’s been so touch-starved that the light touch of her hand on his thigh is enough to for his mind to wander places it definitely shouldn't, not when it comes to his lesbian friend.
Luckily, Santana backs away fairly quickly. “You’re right. I thought it’d be bigger or something.”
Finn quickly puts his pants back on before Santana realizes what kind of reaction she got out of him. He’s too busy focusing on that to notice Santana’s eyes lingering on his boxers.
She shakes her head and grabs the wine, ruminating on how long it has been for her since she got laid if she’s thinking of such things as Finn's boxers. To distract herself, she turns to Finn again.
“So it’s on to New York from here? What, is that to visit Rachel and Kurt?”
The distraction works for Finn as well, his thoughts suddenly snapped away from the image of Santana in her Cards uniform that he saw her in earlier. “Yep. I… we have a lot to talk about. With Rachel.”
“Sounds likes it,” Santana nods understandingly. “You know, the rest of the club never reached a consensus on that, all through summer. What’s up with you two? Did you break up or what?”
“We did,” Finn says. “Kind of. I don’t know, it’s complicated.”
Santana raises an eyebrow. “That’s a great start.”
“I just mean that we did, when she went away for New York and I joined the army. But it was with that understanding that it’s temporary, you know? And now that there’s nothing keeping me from New York it only feels right that I go be with her. And yeah, it's scary, but that's just how it feels right now.”
There’s a long moment of silence between them, the sound of people chatting and music playing flowing in from other rooms. Santana looks at him, examining him, before replying.
“Does it feel right, though?”
Finn’s head snaps up. “What do you mean?”
He tries and fails not to sound like a schoolboy caught on a lie.
“I’m just saying, maybe that’s how you said goodbye in the summer but that doesn’t mean it’s true now.”
Conflicting feelings swerve in Finn as he considers Santana’s words. Then, he says, his words but a whisper only meant for the two of them to hear: “Well what if that’s the only thing I have?”
He doesn’t elaborate and when he looks into Santana’s deep dark eyes, he knows he doesn’t have to. She gives a sad but understanding smile. “I see why you needed a drink.”
“Why did you?” Finn asks. “Are you going to tell me why you don’t look like someone who’s on a full-ride scholarship, doing something they like?”
Santana winces at the words. “Semester’s only just begun, okay? I’m just... adjusting.”
“Right,” Finn eyes her as Santana takes another sip. “You can tell me, you know. After what I’ve just told you I feel like proved I won’t judge.”
He’s smiling at her and Santana can’t help but giggle at the sight of his goofy grin and kind eyes. Dammit, Hudson.
“Yeah, you pretty much lost the right to ever judge me,” she teases, passing the bottle back to him.
“Yeah, I’ll say,” Finn matches her laugh. Then, his face turns sincere again. “I wouldn’t anyway, you know that, right? I won’t judge you.”
Santana has been running away from this confession since her first week in Louisville. She’s been doing her darn best to put it off, focusing on college and trying to hold on to Brittany but here it is, anyway. Here it is, being dug up by Finn and his damn sincerity.
“I’m so fucking lonely.”
The words blurt out of her before Santana gives them permission to, before she really considers what it means to put them out into the world. The combination of many many drinks and Finn’s understanding eyes rip it out from her.
It’s only the way Finn’s face softens that stops her from sobbing. Somehow, it feels less pathetic than she thought it would.
Finn doesn’t say anything for a while and Santana is surprisingly fine with that. When he does, it’s a quiet admission.
“Me, too.”
Somehow, it’s enough. Santana doesn’t question it and Finn doesn’t try to coax more out of her. Instead, they take turns talking about their favorite Glee Club memories and drinking from the bottle. The stories get increasingly more silly as the bottle empties and they soon get to embarrassing hookup stories.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Finn laughs at her when Santana finishes her story about blowing a freshman in junior year, just so he could get her tickets to see Brittany’s favorite band.
“Yeah, well,” Santana says after taking a drink. “What can I say, guys have been known to do all kinds of things for these lips.”
She makes an exaggerated putting face and Finn, as amused as he is, can’t deny that fact.
“Anyway, there’s one sip left,” Santana dangles the bottle between them. “But I don’t think I wanna hear about you and Berry doing it so I’ll take this last turn."
Just as Santana is about to lift the bottle one last time, Finn snatches it from her hands. She quirks her eyebrow, silently questioning him.
“No, I’ve got this,” Finn downs the rest of the bottle before wiping at his mouth. “It’s not about Rachel.”
“Oh?” Santana muses. “I thought she’s the only girl you’ve been with, except for the obvious.”
She does a vague gesture at herself and Finn shakes his head.
“I’ve never told anyone else this before, but before getting back together with Rachel end of junior year, I… kind of had a thing Addison Long.”
“Addison?” Santana searches her mind for that name. “Wait, the senior cheerleader? God, she was a bitch.”
“Not to me, she wasn’t,” Finn shrugs. “Well, I guess in a way, she was.”
Santana blinks at him before she bursts out laughing, falling forward and holding her side. She can’t stop laughing even as Finn realizes what he just said.
“Oh my god, I shouldn't have said that.”
Santana looks up at him, still having the time of her life laughing at him. Finn finds it hard to hold back his own amusement, less because of Addison Long and more because he never pegged Santana as someone who could turn into a happy drunk. With how the evening started off, he was fairly certain they would go into weepy drunk territory but Santana has been more and more relaxed around him.
They’re both giggling and it makes them feel more carefree than either of them have been for weeks. Maybe months.
At some point, the bottle long discarded, their laughs leave them in the middle of the floor, much closer than they’ve been since their hug, since Santana grazed her fingers over Finn’s scar. His senses are clouded by tequila and wine and Finn’s pretty sure he’s going to have a wicked hangover, but he’s also acutely aware just how close Santana’s lips are to his. When her laughter subsides, she looks up at him and they stare at each other just a second too long.
Maybe breaking eye contact sooner could have stopped them from leaning in. Maybe then Finn would have been able to control himself and not grab the back of her neck, pulling her in as his lips find hers. Maybe then Santana wouldn’t have gone for it so boldly, darting her tongue into Finn’s mouth right away.
The kiss is passionate and sloppy and, somehow, a perfect representation of how they’re feeling. It’s only when they break apart that sudden realization hits Finn. His eyes widen and his words slur as he lets go of Santana.
“Shit,” he says, scrambling to stand up. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
Before he can get up, Santana grabs his shirt and all but yanks him back down.
“Shut up.”
She kisses him again, with even more determination than the first time around.
“But-“ he begins when they break apart, only for Santana to kiss him again.
“Shut up,” she says softly but with enough determination in her voice to reassure Finn: this is what she wants. And who is he to question that? Maybe another time when his judgement isn’t clouded by alcohol and Santana isn’t busying herself trying to pull his pants off.
He didn’t bother fully redoing his belt buckle so Santana is getting rid of his jeans in not time. Finn quickly grabs his shirt and tosses it aside, going for Santana’s next when she’s done yanking his jeans off. He briefly considers what a shame it is Santana changed out of her uniform as he would have loved to be the one to get her out of it, but the simple shirt and sweatpants combo is easy to get rid of.
Soon, they’re both in just their underwear. Santana unhooks her bra and leaves Finn astounded with the view. She smirks at his awe and straddles him, hooking her arms around his neck.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, grabbing at her tits. “They’re even better than they were.”
“Never had any complaints,” Santana says, her last word blurring into a moan as Finn takes her nipple into his mouth and starts sucking at it. His hand teases her other nipple and Santana buries her head in his hair, moaning into it as his tongue and fingers circle the sensitive areas of skin.
“Fuck,” Santana gasps. “You’ve gotten better at that.”
She can feel his grin on her skin. Santana increases the distance between them just enough so she can lower her hand to his boxers, slipping it in to grab at his cock. She’s satisfied with the groan she gets from Finn and starts stroking his dick while he’s still working at her nipples.
“You’re so hard already,” she remarks. Finn feels huge in her hand and she’s getting desperate to see if she’s remembering it wrong and his dick really is that big.
“Has been for a while,” Finn mutters, focusing hard on Santana’s tits and the way her hand feels in his boxers. “At least since you talked about sucking that freshman off.”
Santana grins and pushes herself off of him. Before Finn has the time to protest at the loss of contact, she pulls at his boxers and his cock practically springs up from under them. She’s left momentarily breathless at the sight of a fully erect Finn Hudson. Okay, she was definitely remembering it wrong. The guy is huge and her pussy is already clenching at the thought of taking him. She's done it once before but that just seems like another life now.
It’s Finn’s turn to chuckle at her awe. “Like what you see?”
His teasing only spurs her on as Santana leans down to suck at the tip, lapping at the precum already leaking out of it. She grabs at his balls and massages them and Finn’s laugh catches in his throat, turning into a grunt. Santana’s satisfied with the response as her wet lips make their way down his shaft until she’s licking at his balls.
“Fuck,” Finn curses, the image of a mailman flashing before him so he can stop himself from erupting right then and there. Santana’s tongue feels amazing but he doesn’t want to come just yet.
He gently guides Santana’s face away from his crotch and the action takes all the willpower he has. She looked fucking incredible with her face between his legs but he has different plans for them.
Finn sweeps Santana up onto the bed and she leans back, the determination in his eyes convincing her to let him lead. She shudders in anticipation when Finn grazes his fingers over the wet fabric of her panties. He smirks down at her. “Wet already, huh?”
“Has been for a while,” Santana moans as a reply.
He pulls them off, the last piece of clothing either of them had on gone. Finn takes a moment to appreciate the view of Santana’s bare pussy before he slides a finger across her folds, earning him a whimper. She’s wet and ready and he doesn’t want to wait a moment longer so he pushes a finger right in.
“Finn,” Santana moans. “More, I need more.”
Never one to deny a request, Finn adds a second finger and starts pumping into her soaking wet cunt. Santana’s tight, so tight, and the thought alone is enough to make his dick twitch. By the time he’s pushing at her clit with his thumb, deep into her greedy hole with his long fingers and Santana’s calling out his name on repeat, Finn is more than ready to be inside of her already.
He removes his hand and Santana whines at the loss. “Finn, your dick. I need it, now!”
He would love to comment on her eagerness but he’s equally hungry so he opens the first bedside drawer he sees, hoping to find what he’s looking for.
“What are you doing?” Santana’s impatient voice questions him.
“A condom. Would your roommate have one?”
“Oh, God, nevermind that," she groans and wraps her legs around his hips. "Just fuck me, now!”
It’s an offer he’s in no state of mind to refuse, not with a throbbing dick right in front of Santana’s desperately needy cunt. Finn grunts as he lines up at her entrance, sliding the tip of his cock through her folds before he starts slowly pushing in.
Santana claws into his shoulders, holding on tight just as her pussy’s slick walls are clinging to his dick.
“Fuck,” Finn groans as he enters her fully. His full length disappears into her and he can’t believe how incredible it feels to be inside of Santana. It’s possibly even better than his first time with her. “You’re tighter than I remember.”
Santana, who’s been taking deep breaths as she adjusted, takes a moment to calm herself enough to answer. “Yeah, well, you’re bigger than I remember. Shit, you’re filling me up so good.”
“Is that right?” Finn smirks and starts to move in and out of her, beginning slowly and his pumps getting rougher and more confident as he goes on. The way her tits are bouncing up and down with every thrust hypnotizes him.
The rhythm feels so right, like this is exactly what their bodies were made for. Santana keeps clinging onto him and every time Finn slams into her he feels even bigger. She’s surprised she’s able to take him so well, it’s been so long since she’s had anything even close to being as big as his dick in her. With every move he’s stretching her out and it’s not long before she feels her orgasm approaching.
“Finn, I’m gonna come,” she cries out.
He holds her and lays kisses on her neck, never stopping in the brutal tempo he set up. “Come for me, Santana. Come on my dick.”
That’s all it takes and the next time Santana feels the entirety of Finn in her pulsating cunt, her climax washes over her. She moans and screams as he continues pounding into her, drawing out her orgasm.
Finn eventually slows down and stills, buried deep inside of her convulsing pussy. He brushes Santana’s hair out of the way to get a good look at the way her eyes are clouded over by pleasure. Her lips are making a beautiful O shape and he just knows his life won’t be complete until he gets to come in her mouth.
“What are you waiting for, big boy? Aren’t you gonna come?” Santana asks when she calms from her orgasm.
If anyone described the situation to him, Finn wouldn’t have believed this was possible but he actually forgot he was still inside of Santana Lopez’s pussy for a moment. The bliss that overtook her was so mesmerizing that everything else just ceased to exist.
“Oh, right, I just wanted to appreciate this moment,” he starts moving again, building up his momentum. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll pull out soon, you just feel so good around me.”
Despite the combination of her drunken state and the bliss of post-climax, Finn’s words make Santana sober up for a second. “Hold on, who said anything about pulling out?”
Confusion overtakes pleasure on Finn’s face. “I thought, since you said no condoms… didn’t you mean I should pull out?”
Santana’s eyes watch him carefully; then, she cracks up and her drunken bliss is back. “Oh, Finn, no,” she grabs his face with both hands and stares right into his eyes. “I meant that you should come in me. I want you to cum in my pussy and I want you to fill me up as you do it. I want to feel all of you.”
Finn stops moving his hips and gapes at Santana. When realization hits him, his eyes darken, overtaken by a new kind of lust that Santana only has a second to observe before he’s suddenly pulling out of her and turning her around. She yelps and she lands face down on her bed. Finn’s hands grab her thighs, spreading them apart so he can dive back in. He wastes no time and his dick is stretching her out again, feeling even bigger from this new angle.
His thrusts are even more relentless than before, fueled by the need to make her wish come true.
“Oh my god, Finn!”
Santana only manages to get a few words out in-between increasingly loud moans. She feels him, all of him so deeply and her second orgasm is soon within reach.
Finn continues smashing into her and he knows he won’t last long. There’s one last thing he needs before he gives in, though. He grabs a fistful of Santana’s hair and pulls her closer.
“Is this what you want, huh?” he breathes into her ear. “You want my cum, Santana? You want your pussy filled?”
“Yes, yes,” she screams. “Please, fill me up! Finn, give it to me!”
It takes Finn two more pushes and he explodes, white spurts shooting deep into Santana as she feels the second wave of orgasm wash over her. She shakes beneath him, the two orgasms so close together knocking the wind out of her. She barely realizes when Finn pulls out of her, just notes with a kind of distant disappointment how empty she feels. His cum starts leaking out and Santana’s surprised to find Finn’s hands spreading her cheeks apart. It's hard to focus on anything but the feeling of his creamy load because it's been so long since Santana had any, let alone this much cum inside of her.
Finn’s left speechless at the sight of his sticky fluids coming out of Santana’s trembling hole. He's palming her ass and wondering if this is real life. Her pussy is practically pushing it out as it flows down her folds and onto the bed, the white cum contrasting against her tan skin. It’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen.
When Finn comes to, he collapses on the bed next to Santana. They take shallow and urgent breaths together as the world around them stills. Still reeling from what just happened, they turn to each other and get lost in each other’s hazy gaze.
“Shit,” Finn says, having trouble collecting his thoughts. It’s hard to think anything but his cum leaking out of Santana. He remembers she’s still probably dripping with his jizz and it shoots a fresh wave of excitement right down to his groin.
“I didn’t hurt, you did?” he suddenly asks. “Sorry if I got carried away, I just-”
Santana’s hand cupping his cheek stops him from finishing his sentence. She’s once again mesmerizing him: with the way she stares into his eyes, with the way her lips part and she prepares to speak. Fuck, Finn has never been into the arts much, apart from music. But the way Santana looks in her post-sex state, lying naked beside him? He’s pretty sure it’s the definition of art.
“That,” she begins, planting lazy kisses on his jaw as she speaks. “Was so fucking good.”
Her hand sneaks down his chest and stomach until it finds his dick, covered in their combined juices.
“You think you can go again? Because I’m pretty sure my pussy is just begging for another fill.”