AUTHOR NOTE: This piece is part of a writing switch game with jeune fille en fleur. For the record, this is meant to most closely resemble Jeune's approach in "Surrender".
Santana's voice hummed all the way through her no matter what, whenever Brittany heard it. Tonight San was singing something bluesy and low, her mezzo gliding down Brittany's shoulders and ribs and finding its way into a warm groove in her belly.
When Santana stopped mid-movement—hairbrush halfway lowered to the dresser—to look at what had Brittany so quiet, Brittany smiled up at her from the bed.
"Keep singing," she told Santana, beckoning with one hooked finger. Santana laughed, open-throated, low, and stepped to the bed. Paused just between Brittany's knees, and put her hand in Brittany's hair, fingers curling around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the back of her neck.
A haze of electricity burst over the fine network of nerves that Brittany suddenly knew ran all the way through her body, crown of her head to the pads of each finger and the soles of her feet. Santana slung a knee to each side of her hips, the weight dipping on either side of their bodies as Santana climbed onto the bed.
Dark eyes filled Brittany's vision as San settled into her lap. "Keep singing, San," she said quietly, and Santana looked her in the eyes. Let her gaze fall to Brittany's lips, then, smiling like she meant it—and she did mean it, Brittany could tell—began humming again. She kissed Brittany at each natural pause in the song. Let her lips wander her favorite path down Brittany's left cheek to her neck, nuzzling as she went.
Brittany's breath began to catch in time to Santana's singing, San's lips softening along her skin between musical phrases. She felt her ribcage expand as Santana's fingers ghosted along her waist; up the long, delicate fretwork of her spine. Santana kept her touch as light as her honey-dark voice as she moved, but Brittany felt the traces of the path each fingertip made, as if Brittany were the stylus to Santana's calligraphy. Felt Santana's voice ruffling its own path over her skin, then inside, in the same way San's hair feathering over her breasts and belly on her way down could make her shiver. Her movements were so quiet that they woke up Brittany's whole body, made her listen so hard for what San would do next that it left all of her aching.
Santana's mouth was suddenly on hers. It was out of time with the music, and Santana hadn't stopped humming. Brittany shuddered as Santana pressed her lower lip to hers in a fine, soft tremble. Brittany sank into the kiss, even as it made her think of kissing the warm breast of a bird, hovering, right against her mouth, a lightning-quick heartbeat tucked just inside. Brittany parted her lips and the warm heartbeat closed around her bottom one.
She was concentrating so hard on her humming mouth that she startled when Santana's hands cupped her face. She felt heat rush through her cheeks. Her hands went to Santana's shoulders, under the groove of each blade; irrationally, to keep herself from falling. Santana's shoulders twitched at the contact, then went loose, a tiny release.
Santana kissed her, open-mouthed, and the kiss buzzed through Brittany's body. San pulled back and looked her in the face, her hands still pressed to Brittany's hot cheeks. Whatever she found there—and Brittany couldn't imagine what it was—it made Santana smile her slow smile.
"This was a really good idea, Britt," she murmured, voice warm. Too breathless to answer, Brittany nodded, trying to take in all of Santana's face at once: dark eyes, dilated; the too-kissed lips. She touched the tips of her fingers lightly to the pulse points behind Santana's jaw, felt the warm, light pounding there beneath each ear. Brittany looked at her from right up close, silently asking.
Santana leaned down, covered her mouth again with her own. Brittany felt her heart speeding up to match that music. That bird-quick heart.