By: Elitemassacre

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own these characters.

A/N: I wrote this because I'd listened to the Austra album Feel It Break to many times. I finally focused pretty hard on the lyrics of The Future and i had this idea. I realize how many unfinished fics I have. I'm horrible about that all the time. I'll definitely continue All That's Left, Contrast, and Puzzle pieces, as well as be adding new stuff to Drabbles.

It raged around her, the storm she'd created. Elements created in her mind had...escaped before, but not intent on destruction, and never with a mortal target in aim.

With a tired sigh, Santana admits to herself that it'll be her fault if Quinn ends up as physically destroyed as her usual (unmortal) targets do when her attacks strike. While she ascends the stairs that will eventually lead her to her love's floor of the hospital she thinks it over.

Rachel would be so disappointed in her. Would say that she wasn't angry but couldn't talk to her right then. She would turn away and Santana would growl from her uncomfortable position on the nearby chair. When she woke up. Because Rachel would wake again. Of that much, Santana had attended to.

When the Latina saw Quinn's jealousy-fueled verbal attack on a random girl during her orgasm endured sight seven months ago, she'd been enamored by her lover's possessiveness.

"You know you've got me right? I'm yours, Lucy." Just as weak from the violence of their physical union, the blonde scooted her body away and collapsed against sweaty sheets.

"Don't call me that. My name is Quinn." Santana reached forward and trailed long fingers along the dips and hard muscle of the other woman's abs before stretching up and softly pressing her lips against Lucy's pink pair. Laying back down on her side, she winced. She was always so bruised.

"No, it isn't. But I'll call you that if it makes you feel like you're not that same frightened young girl that you've always been, Quinn.

"Stop that, i'm still exhausted...too tired." Santana cuddled closer, loving the feeling of hot skin against her cheek.

"That's not all I want you for, you know. I love your body, sometimes I just want to touch you like this, or kiss you."

"Liar." Quinn whispered, hopping up on her arms to raise herself above the willing darker-skinned woman. "You don't want that. You want me to fuck you." The woman said as she used her knees to spread perfect thighs. Later, with said thighs squeezed tight over her ears, Quinn didn't hear the soft "You're wrong" that fell from full lips.

Santana swept the memory away and sipped at her tea while she watched a still Rachel dream deeper than any healthy, normal human should. She could peek if she was the type, but she isnt. Thinking about Quinn makes her wonder why every mortal she let bed her thought to fuck her as hard as they did. Why Rachel was the only one to look at her and touch her so tenderly.

The Sorceress had begun to think she was prone getting involved with wicked ones until she met Rachel, was made love to by the performer. Was loved by her. Only then did she realize that being taken so violently triggered dark sight and not the other end of the spectrum.

Her lover-no...her love...would awaken, and then, Santana proposed, it would be story time.