A/N: This is the one shot I promised in my AN for A Thin Line. The votes were almost unanimously for gp!quinn, so that's what you get. I don't have a tattoo myself, so I used internet and the royal knowledge of my bestest Fearless Friend N., who finally got her tattoo a few months ago.

Santana shields her eyes from the sun, looking up at the sign stating the name of the tattoo studio of her choice: Le Chat Noir. As she opens the door, she wonders how many people actually get the reference. It doesn't exactly help that she's heard from her friends that most people just call it Quinn's.

Quinn is the owner of the shop, supposedly hot as fuck and very popular with the ladies. Santana's also heard the rumours about Quinn's dick and its size. She smirks to herself. She fully intends to find that out for herself. She looks around - the place isn't huge, but it looks clean. There are some band posters on the walls and pictures of tattoos Santana guesses Quinn did. The equipment looks professional as well. Music is playing, but not too loud. Santana doesn't recognise the band.

As the door closes behind her, a woman comes into the front room. Santana nearly groans - her friends, and others, weren't lying. Quinn is so fuckable. Her pink hair is short and unruly, held together by a black bandana. She's wearing a tight, ripped tank top and the shortest jeans shorts. Santana can't help but let her eyes flick over her crotch.

Quinn looks at her expectantly, nonchalantly chewing on something Quinn guesses is a gum. She's proven right when Quinn blows a bubble as she introduces herself: "Hi. I'm Santana. I want a tattoo and I heard you're the best. You got time?"

Quinn takes her time checking Santana out unashamedly. She rakes her eyes over her from head to toe, pausing at her chest and smirking. "I can make time for a girl like you."

Santana grins. "Awesome."

Quinn walks over to her, studying her face. "So, what do you want and where do you want it?"

Santana opens her bag and gets out the folded piece of paper on which she drew her design. She shows it to Quinn. "You think you can do this?"

Quinn takes it from Santana, their fingers briefly touching. Santana wonders if she's the only one who can feel the electricity jolting through her. "Sure," Quinn mumbles. "Where do you want it?"

Santana grabs Quinn's wrist and puts it on her stomach. Quinn quirks an eyebrow and her grin grows wider as Santana slowly guides her hand downwards, toward her pussy. Quinn's breath hitches in her throat when Santana gets surprisingly close. She only stops when she's reached the area just below her stomach. "Right there," she whispers in Quinn's ear, making sure her hot breath tickles Quinn's skin.

"Cool." Quinn tries to sound nonchalant, but Santana notices that she's flustered. She smirks to herself. Job well done. "You can sit down in the chair," Quinn says as she walks over to a sink. She puts some soap on her hands and washes them. Quinn turns around and smirks. "You should take off your shirt."

Santana follows her orders and makes herself comfortable. She watches Quinn swagger over to her with some supplies. "Alright," Quinn says, sitting down on a stool. "First, I'm gonna clean and disinfect the area where your tattoo will be."

She gets to work and Santana has to hold back a groan. Quinn's touch is gentle, but firm. When she's done, she turns around, grabs a box and puts on a pair of gloves. "Is this your first tattoo?" she asks.

Santana nods.

Quinn continues. "Okay, this is just some disclaimer bullshit so that you can't sue my ass and to reassure you. I work with sterile equipment and I only use my needles and shit once. I'll throw them in the bin as you can see it and I'm not into dumpster diving, so no worries there. I'm gonna use some numbing spray first, okay?"

Santana nods and watches Quinn apply the spray.

"So, this is how it works. First, I'm gonna put the outline of your tattoo under your skin. I'm gonna clean that with antiseptic soap and water. Then I'm gonna change needles and shade the design. After that, I clean again. If there's any blood, I use sterile and disposable towels to clean that up. Finally, I'm gonna clean it again and then bandage it up. I'll tell you how to take care of it when we're done, okay?"

"Great. Can I, like, talk to you when you're busy or do you want me to shut up?"

"I don't mind chatter, but my responses will probably be pretty slow. You're way hot so yeah, I wanna chat you up, but my job is to get this tattoo right, 'kay?"

Santana nods again. She doesn't tell Quinn how her pain tolerance is actually way less than she always lets on, and how babbling mostly helps her through it. She jumps a little when she first feels the needle, but concentrates on Quinn's face. Quinn's eyes are fixed on the area just above Santana's pussy, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Santana can almost feel her clit throbbing under the intense gaze.

When the pain becomes harder to bear, Santana starts talking. "So, have you always wanted to be a tattoo artist?"

It takes a few seconds for Quinn to respond. "Nope. Actually, I got my bachelor's degree in engineering."

Santana whistles. "Impressive. So why start a tattoo studio?"

Quinn doesn't answer for a few minutes. She waits until she's finished the outline and then shrugs. "Engineering was interesting, but I wanted to be a tattoo artist. I've always wanted to be my own boss. And I can quit this any time I like, or put it on hold, if I ever decide to try and get a job with my degree. I like the freedom."

Santana nods. "So, Le Chat Noir. You ever been to Paris?"

Quinn grins. "Been there once, some huge convention, of course I visited the last site but it's not much like it was way back then. Not many people who come here get it, though."

As Quinn works on Santana's tattoo, they share more information about themselves. The chatter goes easily, only interrupted by pauses undertaken by Quinn so that she can concentrate. Santana finds Quinn is not only intelligent and independent, but also funny, laid-back and easy-going.

Finally, Quinn bandages it up. "There all done. I'm gonna give you a folder telling you how to take care of your tattoo so that you don't forget. Basically, you keep the bandage up for about 24 hours. Once you've taken it off, use some skin cream to keep it moist. Try not to touch your tattoo, pick at scabs, rub it, bump against it, scratch it, etc. Don't wash it with alcohol or peroxide, but use antibacterial soap and a soft towel to pat it dry, don't rub it. Are you allergic to antibiotic ointment?"

Santana shakes her head. "Not as far as I'm aware."

"Alright, maybe check that out. But in the meantime, be sure not to use petroleum jelly or it'll fade. If you see redness or swelling, put an ice pack on your tattoo. Also, try not to get it wet or in the sun until it's fully healed. I know this is a lot of info, that's why I've got the folder. My number's there, so you can call me whenever." Quinn stops and grins slyly. "And I mean whenever. Or you can come by, in case you're not sure about something or something's wrong." She gets up from her stool. "That'll be seventy bucks."

Santana smiles to herself. She takes her purse and rummages through it. She gets out her wallet and pretends to look for money. Finally, she fakes an annoyed sigh. "Damn, I don't have that on me."

Quinn is putting away her stuff. "There's a cash machine just around the corner."

Santana licks her lips and walks over to Quinn. She leans into her, their bodies ever so close. She palms Quinn's crotch through her shorts as she whispers in her ear: "I know another way to settle this."

Quinn doesn't answer immediately, so Santana takes Quinn's hands it and brings them to her chest, resting them on top of her tits. She squeezes Quinn's hands and Quinn needs no further instruction. "Alright. Cause you're hot and I've been wanting to bang you ever since I saw you first."

Santana takes Quinn's hand, feeling the tattoo artist's stare on her ass. She adds an extra sway to her hips as she walks back to the chair. She stops when they reach it and turns to kiss Quinn franctically. The kiss feels natural, intense, insistent. They both moan into it, pulking at each other's clothes. Then Quinn remembers something. With the speed of light, she turns the 'open' sign and closes the blinds. She almost runs back to Santana and they resume the kissing and undressing.

When they're both fully naked, they take in each other's bodies, panting. Santana smirks. Quinn's tits are nice - hard nipples, looks about a B-cup, but her dick... totally the biggest she's seen. Quinn's dick is semi-erect and Santana gets on her knees, taking it in her mouth and sucking it fully hard, using her hands as well. Quinn bucks into her, and when Santana can feel her losing control, she pulls back.

Quinn growls like an animal and throws Santana on the tattoo chair. She uses her hands to open Santana's legs wider and starts rubbing her clit ferociously. Santana gasps and lifts her hips at the unexpected sensation. Quinn throws her leg over the chair and straddles Santana. She lets go of her clit and guides her dick to Santana's pussy, rubbing her clit with the head of her dick now. Once again, just as she's getting used to the sensation, Quinn changes tactics. She plunges her dick inside and penetrates her slowly, allowing her walls to adjust. Quinn is grunting and Santana throws her legs around Quinn's hips, closing her ankles at her lower back.

Santana moans when she feels Quinn's big, hard dick entering her pussy. The natural friction is delicious. Finally, when she's fully inside, they both take a moment to breathe. Santana is still getting used to the incredibly feeling when Quinn pulls out and enters her again. She repeats the motion, creating a steady rhythm that brings Santana higher and higher. It resounds in her high-pitched moans.

Quinn smirks. and shifts a little so that she changes her angle. She tries to go even deeper, shifts again, and then Santana cries out - Quinn just found her G-spot. Quinn grins in triomph and brings one finger to Santana's clit again, trying to concentrate on both pounding her and rubbing her clit. Soon, it's not even necessary anymore - Santana lifts her hips so high that with every thrust, her clit rubs against her pelvis.

The pace quickens. Sweat is dripping down their bodies, Santana's pussy sucks in Quinn's dick. She's hot and throbbing, and she adds to it by squeezing the walls of her pussy around Quinn's dick as much as she can manage it.

Quinn's grunts grow louder and louder, her movements losing much of their coordination. Santana can feel her orgasm building in the pit of her stomach, but Quinn gets there first. It's only when Quinn's muttered curses are accompanied by the sensation of her seed filling her up that Santana realises they never thought about using a condom. It flashes through her mind and is gone again - her body decides for her to worry about that later.

Her own orgasm follows and it feels like heaven. Her walls flutter around Quinn's dick and she's riding the waves of her orgasm, enjoying the ripples that keep coming. Finally, they're both exhausted. They both let out a moan at the loss of that exquisite feeling when Quinn pulls out.

Quinn lies down on top of Santana and kisses her softly. "We didn't use a condom, but I'm clean. I get regular check-ups."

Santana nods. "I'm clean too. I'll just take the morning after-pill."

"Awesome. Can I tempt you with a second tattoo?" Quinn winks playfully.

The end.