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04 April 2013 @ 04:34 pm
fic: no filter in my head  
Title: No Filter in My Head
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rachel/Santana
Prompts: this over at the Glee Girls Smut Meme
Summary: Rachel and Santana record themselves having sex
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, they'd probably go at it like bunnies.
A/N: I have no excuse for this. I saw the prompt and wanted to write this. Really, it's just smut for smut's sake. Thanks to Laura for the quick beta. Enjoy!


Surprisingly, it’s Santana that is hesitant about taping themselves while they have sex. It’s not that she doesn’t get the appeal. It’s just...been there, done that, and got the crappy ass t-shirt in the form of it being put on the internet for the whole goddamn world to see. But it’s Rachel’s insistence that this will be for their eyes only that puts her at ease. It’s the reminder that Rachel has a future career to think about that has her stripping in front of the camera.

Rachel has a tripod set up because apparently they’re making a porno in the late 90’s, but Santana’s not dumb enough to comment. They’ve been together for about three years now and she likes to think she’s learned a thing or two about keeping her mouth shut. She just eyes the camera for a moment and then reaches for the hem of her tank.

“Slower...”

The words are practically purred as Rachel watches her from the other side of the room. The sound sends a shiver up Santana’s spine and she slides the cotton up over herself slower than she’s ever removed a shirt in her entire life and lets it drop to the floor. She lets her hand follow the same path over her abdomen, stopping to cup both of the breasts still covered by fabric of a bra.

“Take that off too.”

A part of her wants to ask if Rachel’s done this before, but she already knows the answer is no. Santana knows she’s just winging it for cameras, maybe to laud it over Santana that she’s just a natural at giving directions or maybe to score points on their never ending the debate of “who tops whom more often.” Either way, the bra’s the next to go and Santana brings her hands back up to her breasts, palming at them as her thumbs circle the taut peaks and her eyes meet the dark, hungry gaze of her girlfriend.

They both moan at that.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch me or...?” Santana questions, her voice now thick with arousal. It’s not a surprise that she’s turned on, like look at her girlfriend, but she’s just getting there a little faster than she normally does. She’s pretty sure that has a lot to do with the camera aimed towards them and their bed. And she’s eager to feel Rachel’s hands on her.

“I’m certainly not opposed to a show. I mean, when I’m watching this back later, this will just be like the appetizer before the main course. Something to whet the appetite.” There’s a grin dancing at Rachel’s lips because she thinks the play on words is clever. And any other day, Santana would call her lame or laugh at her, but something about the way her eyes just keep raking over Santana’s body and the husk in her voice stops Santana in her tracks.

Instead, she whimpers.

She’s pushing her boy shorts over her hips (no sexy lingerie for them; Rachel insisted part of the fantasy was knowing they were just being themselves) before Rachel even makes a move to disrobe. She’s wearing even less than Santana. Once her shirt’s off, there’s just bare breasts that Santana can’t wait to have in her mouth. She steps out of her shorts, completely bare now, and moves to the side of the bed. The mattress dips with her knee as she climbs on and she tries not to visibly cringe at the sound of the squeak. They really need a new mattress. They’ve almost worn this one out.

The “just be themselves” rule must not apply to Rachel’s underwear, which are light blue and made of nothing but lace. Her eyes linger there and she hears Rachel sigh. “I wear these all of the time. At least...once a month.”

Santana holds up her hand, her eyes taking in the pout and the way Rachel’s folded arms are making her tits look amazing. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“But you’re thinking it, which is just as bad.”

“You don’t know what I was thinking,” Santana counters, unable to stop the smirk she can feel spreading across her lips. “I said nothing. I was just looking at them, but if I were the kind of person that would say something, all I would say was I wear that black lacy teddy all of the time. At least...once a month.”

Rachel doesn’t think she’s funny, which of course makes things even more hilarious, but she manages to keep it at a light chuckle and crawls across the bed. Her hands fall to Rachel’s hips and she pulls her closer, fingering the lace. “You know I think these are sexy.” She drags her fingers down the front and doesn’t stop until she presses up against Rachel’s slit.

The other girl gasps and she surges upward, taking her lips in a searing kiss. She doesn’t need them sidetracked anymore than they were. She does that thing with her tongue that always makes Rachel whimper and as she swallows the noise, she feel victorious. Rachel’s hips rock gently on her fingers and she is soaking through the lace.

“Take these off,” Santana commands softly, pulling away just enough to watch. Rachel bites at her lip and sort of shimmies out of them. She loves looking at her girlfriend’s body, but there’s something about the way Rachel’s playing to the camera that is just sending Santana into overdrive. She reaches out for Rachel’s hand and pulls her down onto the bed, rolling her beneath her. She leans down and presses light kisses to Rachel’s lips until her girlfriend grows impatient and pulls her down, pushing her tongue past Santana’s lips and scratching down her back in the way that shoots straight to Santana’s core.

Sprawled horizontally across the bed, Santana pins Rachel’s hands to the mattress to keep her them from wandering. If she’s going to be on film, this is going to be nice and slow. “Keep them there,” she whispers just as she nips at Rachel’s lobe. Santana thinks she might actually win the points for topping this time and now she’ll have proof on tape. She peppers kisses down along her jaw and down her neck and then back up again. Her teeth join in the mix and by the time her lips find Rachel’s again, the girl is moving restlessly beneath her.

She loves Rachel’s neck, loves that it’s one of her biggest erogenous zones. It was a discovery she’d made completely by accident one day when they were fooling around. She’d bitten down just so and Rachel’d orgasmed so hard that it still got Santana wet whenever she thinks about it. She could spend hours there, has many times before. It just renders Rachel to a stuttering mess. Which, judging by the harsh breaths coming from the girl, Rachel’s not far off from being. And Santana knows it’s killing her not to be able to use her hands, and if she didn’t know that just heightened Rachel’s arousal, she’d almost feel bad about it.

Her tongue trailed down over Rachel’s clavicle and down between the valley of her breasts. She pulled back just to look down at her. “Touch them,” she finds herself saying even though she had every intention of using her mouth on them. It’s just, Rachel’s skin is so flushed and she can smell the heady scent of how turned on she is and she just really wants to taste her.

She pauses long enough to watch her girlfriend’s hands come up and do as she asked, the fingers tugging at her nipples in a way that has Santana clenching. “Fuck,” she mumbles under her breath and moves off the side of the bed. She pulls at Rachel’s body until her legs are hanging off of the bed and pushes them apart.

To say that Rachel’s wet seems like an understatement given how visible the stickiness is and Santana moans at the view. She’s probably not faring much better if the insistent ache between her thighs is anything to go by.

“Santana...” Her name is a broken sob from Rachel’s lips and when she looks up, she can see the desperation on the girl’s face. And she’s helpless to deny her.

Leaning forward, she flattens her tongue against the red, swollen flesh and lifts long legs over her shoulders. She pushes up, forcing them to bend to give her a better angle. She takes her time, sucking the bare lips into her mouth before circling Rachel’s clit purposefully. Rachel can only handle so much direct contact to the tiny bundle of nerves before it’s uncomfortable. So, Santana licks just above it and hears her girlfriend groan in response.

Her pattern is lazy and random just the way she knows Rachel hates that she loves so much, but she’s already taken her nearly to the brink twice, drawing it out for as long as she thinks Rachel can stand. Which isn’t much longer if the way Rachel’s fingers are pulling at her hair are any indication. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t lose a piece of track before the night is over.

She sucks Rachel’s clit into her mouth and bites down with just enough pressure that her hips shoot from the bed. Her tongue traces over it as gently as possible and she brings her hand forward. Two fingers push into the girl’s tight passage and muscles grip at them. She hears Rachel hiss out a curse and smiles against her just when her fingers manage to find that spot deep inside of her. It takes about five thrusts before Rachel’s screaming her name like a mantra, her whole body writhing with the force of her orgasm.

Santana climbs up Rachel’s body and presses a dirty kiss to her lips while she comes down. The feel of Rachel licking the taste of herself from her lips send a fresh wave of want over Santana and she presses herself against Rachel desperately. How Rachel has the strength to flip them over, Santana doesn’t know and doesn’t care because Rachel’s lips are on her neck and her hands are traveling south.

She completely forgets about the camera being there when she moans wantonly as Rachel’s lips close around her nipple. So what if occasionally Rachel tops her. She doesn’t. Not when there’s a promise of an orgasm. She loves orgasms. Rachel loves being right. Santana’s always been about a win-win situation.
 
 
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