Title: Fear

Author: Mina Robins

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Brittana

Rating: PG 18, it's not that bad.

Word Count: 1,240

Summary: When will it end?

…..

I'm afraid to be held, to be weak, to be touched.

I don't know how to act appropriately. If the circumstances allow it, I would turn anything into something sexual. It just makes it easier. I don't know how to handle relationships properly. When things get all fluffy and friendshipy I just make myself into more of a queen bee.

I'm a bitch. Don't get close. People don't notice that I'm awkward at times; that I don't know what to say. I feel insecure. I'm a normal girl.

The lying, the cheating. All to climb to the top of a mediocre popularity chain in a highschool located in Lima loser central.

I don't quite understand it myself. I'm just weird at times. I'm human.

I'm horrified of emotional closeness. To let someone be so incorporated into my life that I can't live without them. So when they leave without telling me, all I have left is a gaping hole in my heart. A trench dug too for anyone to repair. I'm afraid of being touched by others. Physical closeness is a big 'NO' for me. I have to be the first to initiate everything. I need to be in control.

What if I need you and you're no longer there. What if you get bored of me and I get attached to you? I don't know how to handle it. So I don't let anyone close. It's easier this way.

I get depressed sometimes; I want to be protected too. When I'm being held by boys, Finn and especially Puck it's easy to tell they want me. I can feel them through their jeans and my skirt. Pressing between my legs. All geared up and ready for sex.

Finn's attempts to be a gentleman about it; he'll manoeuvre me until I'm no longer rubbing up against him. Finn acts like a fucking knight, valiantly making an effort to give me platonic-physical-comfort. Puck on the other hand, he'll grin and wink. Puck will slap his hands onto my ass and pull me up to him. Then I'll just slam my lips into his and he won't talk to console me. We'll just fuck to calm me.

But with her… Fuck! I don't get it, and whatever it is, I don't want it. She holds me close. So freaking sweetly, all whispers and gossamer kisses.

Like how she's holding me right now. Normally I'll allow it for a little while but only after mindless, crazy, bone tiring sex. But she's here now, tonight of all nights and she's cuddling me. She ran through the drenching raining weather because she had forgotten to take an umbrella in her haste to come be with me. She had rushed into my room and wrenched me into her hold. She smells like the rain and nutmeg.

I feel her shivering against my body. Brittany is freezing. Her fair skin is blushing red from the iciness of the winds and her arms are covered in goose bumps. Her hands, just as cold, reach and touch my face. She runs her thumbs over my cheek, silently brushing away my tears.

I don't want this. I don't want her pity, her soft sugary comfort.

She won't last either.

I shove her away from me and onto my bed. I thrust my hand under her soaked tank top, taking no time to roll up the garment and she lets me practically rip the clothing from her. Water droplets spatter onto my body as the tank top stretches and snaps into my hand. I throw it over my shoulder, not caring if it has fallen onto the homework I'd left on the ground. Which it probably has, and it at this moment is making the ink on my essay run.

Brittany hasn't even got a bra on. Her nipples are hard from the cold. I duck down my head and begin to rigorously lick at her breast. Starting from the middle of her chest and moving up to suck on her hard tips. When my mouth is busy with one side my hand is on the other. I'm groping her so hard, her skin is turning red and it's not from the cold. She's moaning my name. Running her hands through my tight ponytail, landing on my shoulders. She's trying to encourage me up for a kiss. Tender touches of the lips, all comfort and no heat. The kind of kisses I don't want.

I move further away from her, and plant a kiss around her navel. My hands dragging down her sides until my fingers hitch onto her equally wet skirt. The garment follows in its accomplices footsteps and flies onto my bedroom floor. Brittany lifts herself up for me when I yank her thong down her legs and she even kicks them off herself.

She automatically spreads for me. I dig my fingers into her hip as I attack her hot core. I pause for a moment, wondering why my vision has blurred. Why Brittany is sitting up… Why she's taking off my boxer shorts and t-shirt. She pulls me closer to her, making me straddle her hips.

"Come." She hauls my resisting frame down onto her soft body. Using her warming hands to tilt my head into her neck. Teaching me how to take what she is offering.

Our bodies mould together. Her pelvic bones don't stick out like Puck's or Finn's. They don't poke into me intrusively. Her skin is velvet smooth. It feels good.

"Santy..."

Too good!

I twist off her and onto my bed. I curl into myself and scrub my tears away. When I've composed myself enough I turn my body until we're face to face. Ready to face her judgemental glare for my show of weakness. Ready to see in her eyes a tiredness of my drama. However she only looks at me with empathy. She takes the covers and wraps them around us. Brittany tangles her legs with mine to bring me nearer.

Her patience meets my stone cold mask.

"Fuck off."

She doesn't even sigh. She doesn't let me go.

Brittany smiles for me and runs her hand softly along my body. Trailing down my neck, along my arm and then to my back. She dances her fingers gently along my spine. Massaging and warming me carefully, she's treating me like I'm something precious… She's taking care of me.

My eyes harden.

"Britt, stop." My tone mirthless.

"No, Santana." She has her hands near the nape of my neck and she's trying to tug my hair free. "I'll never ever stop."

"Never?" I breathe. I shouldn't believe her.

"Never." She confirms with another wonderful smile. Her eyes filled with conviction.

Brittany finally succeeds in pulling the elastic off. My hair unravels and she kisses the top of my head when I bend my body into hers. Letting my ear lay on her chest and I let myself go, I let myself cry in front of her. I'm telling her everything, of my fears of my insecurities. Of myself, my secret heart.

She listens and is unafraid. She strokes my body and tightens her hold on me. She reassures me she'll never walk out on me.

I shouldn't. I don't know how to do this right. What the hell 'this' is, I don't even have a clue. I don't know when it'll end. I shouldn't trust her.

But I'm beginning to.

...

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