If I kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for this prompt at the Glee Girls Smut Meme ( http://trainwrecky.livejournal.com/1320.html?thread=26152#t26152)
She’s coming off of a fucking awful on call shift and she’s really struggling to keep herself awake long enough to buy a package of bacon, a slab (an actual slab, not a bar) of milk chocolate, and a bag of potato chips because if she doesn’t eat something, she’ll die.
She’s coming off of a fucking awful on call shift and she’s really struggling to keep herself awake long enough to buy a package of bacon, a slab (an actual slab, not a bar) of milk chocolate, and a bag of potato chips because if she doesn’t eat something, she’ll die. The cashier is judging her hardcore and she’s trying her best to ignore him because she just wants to get home and forget that this night ever happened. She grabs a bag of sour skittles, adds them to the mix because why the fuck not, and the guy sort of laughs and says,
“Breakfast of champions.”
She feels like she should ignore this douche but she’s seriously struggling to keep everything in check right now; doing chest compressions on a fifteen year old kid in a freak accident has made her a little edgy. She looks up at him and she’s maybe a little bitchier than she should be, when she snaps,
“Do you have a fucking problem?”
He looks a little taken aback but she is seriously beyond feeling sorry for anyone at this point; she needs a glass of red, a bubble bath and something to take her mind off the fact that a kid died this morning, and this guy’s slowing her down. He finishes scanning her groceries in silence, meekly tells her the total and then wishes her a good day as she takes the bag and leaves.
Her hands are still shaking a little bit as she grips the steering wheel and fuck, every time she closes her eyes she can see that kid’s mom, the way she just crumpled when Santana had to tell her that there was nothing else they could do. It’s days like these that make her hate what she does for a living.
She pulls into their driveway and lets herself into the house, leaving the groceries on the counter so she can change first. Rachel’s still all curled up in bed, the blankets wrapped tight around her so that just the side of her face and her messy hair is showing. She lets out this soft, sleepy snore every so often and her mouth hangs open just a little bit, her expression tightening as she dreams.
And fuck eating, Santana wants to be in bed with her and just wrap herself up in Rachel and let her take away all the shit that happened. She strips out of her scrubs and pulls on a pair of pyjamas, washes her hands in their ensuite bathroom before returning to their room. Rachel’s starts to stir at the noise and she blinks sleepily, wrinkling her nose and running her fingers through her tousled hair before groggily saying,
“Morning. How was your shift?’
She doesn’t mean to start crying but fuck, what else is she supposed to do? A kid died and she had to be all strong and shit for the family while they were crumbling around her. The nurses were all upset and there’s supposed to be some kind of debriefing about the whole situation because they’re a small hospital and they don’t get a whole lot of pediatric deaths there, and she was kind of forced to be the voice of reason all night. It was a lot of fucking pressure.
“Hey, hey.” Rachel says softly, surprised, “Come to bed, what happened?”
She tosses the covers back and Santana crawls between them, letting Rachel envelope her as she strokes her fingers through her hair and kisses at her cheek, quietly repeating,
“What happened?”
“A kid died.” Is all she can manage, throat thick and voice hoarse as she curls into Rachel’s body.
“Oh,” Rachel sighs, the anguish dripping from her works, “Santana.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just rubs a hand up and down Santana’s spine as she trembles and smoothes tears from her cheeks as they continue to fall. The sobs subside after a few minutes and Rachel grabs a box of Kleenex from their nightstand, holding it as Santana sits up to blow her nose. She wipes at her own eyes with the pads of her fingers before giving a weak, embarrassed smile,
“Sorry.”
“God, Santana.” Rachel soothes, “It’s fine - I’d be a wreck.”
She nods, throat tightening, but manages to stave off another crying fit. Rachel smiles sympathetically and runs her fingers over the outside of Santana’s elbow, urging her closer as she kisses at her lips. Santana relaxes into the familiarity of it, tasting Rachel’s tongue as it dips into her mouth, her other hand skating up Santana’s thigh.
Rachel bites at her lip gingerly and Santana groans into her mouth, edging towards her and squeezing a hand around her thigh. It’s this weird thing Rachel does; if either of them are super emotional she just can’t seem to handle it with words alone, it’s like it’s not enough. Santana was really surprised the first time she came home upset and Rachel basically jumped her bones, but the girl likes to use her body to wrap Santana up in comfort and yeah, she’s not opposed to that.
Rachel shifts so that she’s in front of Santana and eases a knee between her thighs, pushing at her shoulders until Santana relents and relaxes into the mess of pillows. She doesn’t have the energy or desire to fight for top this morning so she just eases back as Rachel traces her fingertips up the inside of her thigh, kissing her all the while.
She lifts her hips as Rachel loops her fingers beneath the waist of her pyjama pants and panties, tugging them over her thighs. Rachel is anything but a time waster and Santana gasps as she eases between her thighs, lifting her long legs over Rachel’s shoulders as she presses kisses to the sensitive skin just below her belly button. Her hands slide beneath Santana’s back and then they’re massaging her ass, drawing her closer as Rachel licks long and deep between her thighs, flattening her tongue over Santana’s clit to make her keen desperately.
Santana’s chest heaves with every breath and she tips her chin down so she can watch Rachel as she dips her tongue in and up. She reaches down and runs her fingers through Rachel’s hair, getting her attention as she groans,
“I fucking love you.”
Rachel laughs against her, which is a fucking weird sensation, and then her tongue is curling around Santana’s clit, lips pursing around the hood as she sucks gently. Her hips come off the bed, pushing against Rachel’s lips as she thrusts two fingers into her and curls them up into her spot. Her skin prickles, sweat beading between her breasts, and she suddenly feels too hot. She jerks her pyjama top up and over her head, fingers finding her taut nipples and toying with them in time with Rachel’s tongue.
Her muscles jump and jerk at Rachel’s touch, legs trembling over Rachel’s shoulders as the girl bobs her head with every swipe of her tongue. And fuck, Rachel’s the best at this. She loves doing it and Santana fucking loves receiving so they spend a lot of time in this position. She fists her hands in Rachel’s dark hair but doesn’t pull, just holds her close as she traces Santana’s clit with her teeth. It earns her a sharp cry and Santana’s hips rolls against her mouth, the muscles in the base of her belly tightening desperately.
“Rach,” She cries, voice trembling, “Fingers.”
A third finger stretches her and she groans, toes curling into the sheets at Rachel’s side. Rachel pulls away and goosebumps erupt over Santana’s skin as she blows cool air against her, soothing the chill with her tongue and tracing nonsensical patterns over her clit. She takes her to the edge and then backs off repeatedly, pulling her mouth away to kiss the insides of her thighs while her fingers keep up their languid pace.
“Fuck, please!” Santana moans, nudging Rachel’s side with her heel in an effort to get her to do something.
And like, the girl must still feel bad because she actually listens and puts her lips to Santana’s clit, sucking hard as she flicks her tongue over the tip and curls her fingers hard.
“Jesus, Rachel.” Santana gasps.
Her back bows and she’s so fucking close, she can taste it. Rachel does this thing with her fingers and then presses down against her clit and then she’s done, hips jerking against Rachel’s mouth as she cries out her release. Rachel milks her through it, gently using her tongue to ease her through the aftershocks and gingerly removing her fingers as Santana’s hips quiet. She wipes her fingers on the inside of her own bare thigh and slides up in bed beside Santana.
She eases her thigh between Santana’s legs and lifts up so that there’s just enough pressure the make it maddening, loops her arm around Santana’s waist and kisses her deeply. She tastes herself on Rachel’s tongue and it makes her moan as she dips her own tongue into Rachel’s mouth. It’s Rachel who pulls back, pressing a kiss to the tip of Santana’s nose and then her forehead before quietly saying,
“You’re the best doctor I know.”
Santana doesn’t say anything because it’s one of those days where she’s doubting her decision to ever get into this fucking career, but Rachel says,
“If there was a way to save that kid, he’d be alive today. You did everything you could, Santana.”
Rachel kisses her again, quick and sweet this time, and says, “I’m going to make you breakfast, what do you want?”
“I bought bacon,” She says meekly, “and chocolate and chips.”
Rachel wrinkles her nose but seems to steel herself to the task because then she says, “I’ll make the bacon, but I’m not giving you chocolate and potato chips for breakfast. I picked up blueberries at the market yesterday so, blueberry pancakes?”
Santana nods and really, she’s the fucking luckiest person on the planet.
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for this prompt at the Glee Girls Smut Meme ( http://trainwrecky.livejournal.com/1320.html?thread=26152#t26152)
She’s coming off of a fucking awful on call shift and she’s really struggling to keep herself awake long enough to buy a package of bacon, a slab (an actual slab, not a bar) of milk chocolate, and a bag of potato chips because if she doesn’t eat something, she’ll die.
She’s coming off of a fucking awful on call shift and she’s really struggling to keep herself awake long enough to buy a package of bacon, a slab (an actual slab, not a bar) of milk chocolate, and a bag of potato chips because if she doesn’t eat something, she’ll die. The cashier is judging her hardcore and she’s trying her best to ignore him because she just wants to get home and forget that this night ever happened. She grabs a bag of sour skittles, adds them to the mix because why the fuck not, and the guy sort of laughs and says,
“Breakfast of champions.”
She feels like she should ignore this douche but she’s seriously struggling to keep everything in check right now; doing chest compressions on a fifteen year old kid in a freak accident has made her a little edgy. She looks up at him and she’s maybe a little bitchier than she should be, when she snaps,
“Do you have a fucking problem?”
He looks a little taken aback but she is seriously beyond feeling sorry for anyone at this point; she needs a glass of red, a bubble bath and something to take her mind off the fact that a kid died this morning, and this guy’s slowing her down. He finishes scanning her groceries in silence, meekly tells her the total and then wishes her a good day as she takes the bag and leaves.
Her hands are still shaking a little bit as she grips the steering wheel and fuck, every time she closes her eyes she can see that kid’s mom, the way she just crumpled when Santana had to tell her that there was nothing else they could do. It’s days like these that make her hate what she does for a living.
She pulls into their driveway and lets herself into the house, leaving the groceries on the counter so she can change first. Rachel’s still all curled up in bed, the blankets wrapped tight around her so that just the side of her face and her messy hair is showing. She lets out this soft, sleepy snore every so often and her mouth hangs open just a little bit, her expression tightening as she dreams.
And fuck eating, Santana wants to be in bed with her and just wrap herself up in Rachel and let her take away all the shit that happened. She strips out of her scrubs and pulls on a pair of pyjamas, washes her hands in their ensuite bathroom before returning to their room. Rachel’s starts to stir at the noise and she blinks sleepily, wrinkling her nose and running her fingers through her tousled hair before groggily saying,
“Morning. How was your shift?’
She doesn’t mean to start crying but fuck, what else is she supposed to do? A kid died and she had to be all strong and shit for the family while they were crumbling around her. The nurses were all upset and there’s supposed to be some kind of debriefing about the whole situation because they’re a small hospital and they don’t get a whole lot of pediatric deaths there, and she was kind of forced to be the voice of reason all night. It was a lot of fucking pressure.
“Hey, hey.” Rachel says softly, surprised, “Come to bed, what happened?”
She tosses the covers back and Santana crawls between them, letting Rachel envelope her as she strokes her fingers through her hair and kisses at her cheek, quietly repeating,
“What happened?”
“A kid died.” Is all she can manage, throat thick and voice hoarse as she curls into Rachel’s body.
“Oh,” Rachel sighs, the anguish dripping from her works, “Santana.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just rubs a hand up and down Santana’s spine as she trembles and smoothes tears from her cheeks as they continue to fall. The sobs subside after a few minutes and Rachel grabs a box of Kleenex from their nightstand, holding it as Santana sits up to blow her nose. She wipes at her own eyes with the pads of her fingers before giving a weak, embarrassed smile,
“Sorry.”
“God, Santana.” Rachel soothes, “It’s fine - I’d be a wreck.”
She nods, throat tightening, but manages to stave off another crying fit. Rachel smiles sympathetically and runs her fingers over the outside of Santana’s elbow, urging her closer as she kisses at her lips. Santana relaxes into the familiarity of it, tasting Rachel’s tongue as it dips into her mouth, her other hand skating up Santana’s thigh.
Rachel bites at her lip gingerly and Santana groans into her mouth, edging towards her and squeezing a hand around her thigh. It’s this weird thing Rachel does; if either of them are super emotional she just can’t seem to handle it with words alone, it’s like it’s not enough. Santana was really surprised the first time she came home upset and Rachel basically jumped her bones, but the girl likes to use her body to wrap Santana up in comfort and yeah, she’s not opposed to that.
Rachel shifts so that she’s in front of Santana and eases a knee between her thighs, pushing at her shoulders until Santana relents and relaxes into the mess of pillows. She doesn’t have the energy or desire to fight for top this morning so she just eases back as Rachel traces her fingertips up the inside of her thigh, kissing her all the while.
She lifts her hips as Rachel loops her fingers beneath the waist of her pyjama pants and panties, tugging them over her thighs. Rachel is anything but a time waster and Santana gasps as she eases between her thighs, lifting her long legs over Rachel’s shoulders as she presses kisses to the sensitive skin just below her belly button. Her hands slide beneath Santana’s back and then they’re massaging her ass, drawing her closer as Rachel licks long and deep between her thighs, flattening her tongue over Santana’s clit to make her keen desperately.
Santana’s chest heaves with every breath and she tips her chin down so she can watch Rachel as she dips her tongue in and up. She reaches down and runs her fingers through Rachel’s hair, getting her attention as she groans,
“I fucking love you.”
Rachel laughs against her, which is a fucking weird sensation, and then her tongue is curling around Santana’s clit, lips pursing around the hood as she sucks gently. Her hips come off the bed, pushing against Rachel’s lips as she thrusts two fingers into her and curls them up into her spot. Her skin prickles, sweat beading between her breasts, and she suddenly feels too hot. She jerks her pyjama top up and over her head, fingers finding her taut nipples and toying with them in time with Rachel’s tongue.
Her muscles jump and jerk at Rachel’s touch, legs trembling over Rachel’s shoulders as the girl bobs her head with every swipe of her tongue. And fuck, Rachel’s the best at this. She loves doing it and Santana fucking loves receiving so they spend a lot of time in this position. She fists her hands in Rachel’s dark hair but doesn’t pull, just holds her close as she traces Santana’s clit with her teeth. It earns her a sharp cry and Santana’s hips rolls against her mouth, the muscles in the base of her belly tightening desperately.
“Rach,” She cries, voice trembling, “Fingers.”
A third finger stretches her and she groans, toes curling into the sheets at Rachel’s side. Rachel pulls away and goosebumps erupt over Santana’s skin as she blows cool air against her, soothing the chill with her tongue and tracing nonsensical patterns over her clit. She takes her to the edge and then backs off repeatedly, pulling her mouth away to kiss the insides of her thighs while her fingers keep up their languid pace.
“Fuck, please!” Santana moans, nudging Rachel’s side with her heel in an effort to get her to do something.
And like, the girl must still feel bad because she actually listens and puts her lips to Santana’s clit, sucking hard as she flicks her tongue over the tip and curls her fingers hard.
“Jesus, Rachel.” Santana gasps.
Her back bows and she’s so fucking close, she can taste it. Rachel does this thing with her fingers and then presses down against her clit and then she’s done, hips jerking against Rachel’s mouth as she cries out her release. Rachel milks her through it, gently using her tongue to ease her through the aftershocks and gingerly removing her fingers as Santana’s hips quiet. She wipes her fingers on the inside of her own bare thigh and slides up in bed beside Santana.
She eases her thigh between Santana’s legs and lifts up so that there’s just enough pressure the make it maddening, loops her arm around Santana’s waist and kisses her deeply. She tastes herself on Rachel’s tongue and it makes her moan as she dips her own tongue into Rachel’s mouth. It’s Rachel who pulls back, pressing a kiss to the tip of Santana’s nose and then her forehead before quietly saying,
“You’re the best doctor I know.”
Santana doesn’t say anything because it’s one of those days where she’s doubting her decision to ever get into this fucking career, but Rachel says,
“If there was a way to save that kid, he’d be alive today. You did everything you could, Santana.”
Rachel kisses her again, quick and sweet this time, and says, “I’m going to make you breakfast, what do you want?”
“I bought bacon,” She says meekly, “and chocolate and chips.”
Rachel wrinkles her nose but seems to steel herself to the task because then she says, “I’ll make the bacon, but I’m not giving you chocolate and potato chips for breakfast. I picked up blueberries at the market yesterday so, blueberry pancakes?”
Santana nods and really, she’s the fucking luckiest person on the planet.