Title: MY INVISIBLE GIRL
Summary: Brittany learns to see Santana in ways she never thought she could before, without actually seeing her at all.
For this prompt at GKM: Brittany feels someone on top of her while she's sleeping at night, and soon the invisible figure starts pleasuring her at first sensually and slowly, and Britt's confused at first but then starts begging for harder and faster. Bonus if Brittany somehow figures out it's Santana and starts yelling her name.
Author's Note: I kind of took the idea and twisted it around a bit. I hope the original prompter won't mind.
My Invisible Girl
I.
The first time it happened, it was after her first real fight with Santana.
She still isn't quite sure how it all happened. The fight, that is. One moment, she was lying on her bed, at the receiving end of some of the softest, sweetest kisses ever known to man; the next, she was watching Santana roll away from her, straightening her Cheerios uniform and gathering her hair into a ponytail. In between those two seemingly disconnected events was a single line Brittany had dared to say out loud, after such a long time of thinking she could hold it in.
"We should do a duet together. We should sing Melissa Etheridge's Come To My Window."
She might as well have said she had some kind of hybrid disease of sour patch kids drug addiction crossed with Lord Tubbington's spinach allergies. She felt a weird, uncomfortable flush on her cheeks when watched Santana walk out of her room; a painful twist in the area of her body above her lungs and between her breasts when she heard the lowest stair squeaking under the force of Santana's weight.
Brittany rolled herself over and pressed her hot face to a pillow, stifling the sobs that were trying to claw their way out of her throat. After years of being best friends, and months of being friends with benefits, Santana had actually walked out on her. Brittany didn't such a thing was possible. And she certainly didn't think it would be this intense, the odd ache than ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
She skipped dinner that night, feigning sleep when her mother called for her. She barely mustered the energy to take off her clothes and change into her duck-printed pajamas, and almost decided not to wash her face or brush her teeth. But she found herself trudging to the bathroom anyway, taking her toothbrush off the stand – wincing when she saw Santana's lying idly there beside it – and brushing away like Dr. Carl taught her to.
When she finished, she walked over to her bed and curled into a ball right in the middle, under the covers. She watched her phone lying motionlessly on her bedside table, waiting for the message Santana never failed to send at night.
night brittbritt xoxo
She stared at the phone, willing it to light up, or to ring, or to beep or to vibrate.
Nothing.
She buried her face into what had, only recently, become Santana's pillow. A fresh wave of tears stung her eyes when Santana's distinctly rich scent invaded her nostrils, rushing into her lungs and warming her lonely insides.
That was when it happened.
Her soft sniffing almost clouded the sound of the creak of the stair. At first she thought Lord Tubbington was jumping up and down on it again to annoy her like he did last time. But when the door knob began to twist slowly, Brittany raised her head in alarm. Staring with wide eyes, she watched the door swing open, staying wide for a split second before closing with a quiet snap.
Barely daring to breathe, Brittany kept her eyes glued to the spot. She had the most unnerving sensation of someone staring back. After a long moment of utter stillness, she exhaled the air she didn't realize she was holding in. Swallowing, she blinked once and gently set her head back on the pillow.
Inhaling deeply, she immersed herself back into Santana's scent. She closed her eyes, wishing she could fall into sleep and forget about the whole day.
When she felt the bed dip slightly below her feet, she thought it was Lord Tubbington coming to bed. She opened her eyes to peer at him over the covers.
There was nothing there.
Brittany's mouth suddenly felt dry. It was like there was something blocking her throat. Her heart, maybe. Reaching forward with a trembling foot, she nudged the area, withdrawing her limb instantly with a gasp when she realized there definitely was something there.
She was hallucinating. Maybe this was it; maybe she was going crazy. Being without Santana seemed reason enough to become so.
Her mind was racing, but before she could do anything – like leap out of the bed, maybe – she felt herself tense as something warm and soft suddenly draped itself over her body, the weight pushing down on her gently, latching her unto the bed.
Pressed down against the pillow, Brittany was surrounded in the smell of Santana. Something smooth cupped her right cheek; it felt like a hand, Brittany realized. What must have been a thumb began to gently trace a slow circle across her skin, the motion fluid and soothing. Brittany knew she should have been able to see the movement in her peripheral vision, but there was absolutely nothing but the sight of her bedroom wall.
"What–" She found herself gasping in shock, reaching up with her right hand to try and touch her face. Her fingers closed over a shape and form that was definitely, definitely a hand. She squeezed tightly to convince herself that it was real, feeling the warm flesh molding into her palm.
"Oh my God." She heard herself mumbling, trying to sit up again. But something held her down determinedly – it was a body, Brittany realized, somebody's whole body – and she could only squirm under this…person's hold.
"Who are you?" Brittany asked weakly, trying not to tremble.
Silence.
Brittany blinked and squinted and crossed her eyes, but no matter what she did there was absolutely nothing to see. She might as well have been talking to air. "Are you a ghost?"
Then a muted sound rumbled through the air, something that sounded like a chuckle. The body above hers shifted, the hand in hers withdrawing rapidly. Feeling startled, Brittany pushed back further into the pillows, but the weight above her moved accordingly, following her movement. Warm breath suddenly blew across her cheek, and Brittany felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
"Wh–what…" Brittany shivered when feather-light touches ran down her arms. What was going on? "What are you doing?"
The weight above her moved slightly. Before she could repeat her question, Brittany noticed a change in temperature, the air becoming warmer – almost as though the body had leaned even closer to her. Brittany suddenly realized what was about to happen.
"Wait," Brittany blurted out, "wait, I don't even know–"
Lips, undeniable in their full, moist softness, pressed lightly on her lower jaw. Brittany felt her entire body respond to the action, a shudder running through her frame as heat – sharp and strong – surged through her veins. She heard herself gasp again, and another chuckle was released into her skin.
Brittany felt like she should have been able to recognize the sound. But before she could try and think it through, another kiss, firmer and wetter, was pressed on the spot between her ear and neck. Brittany tried to hold in the groan it inspired, but when those lips migrated and began kissing repeatedly on her pulse point, the sound released involuntarily from her lips.
It was oddly bizarre, to be able to feel so much without actually seeing anything. She began to wonder once again if she was going insane, when the lips parted began to nip greedily at her. Her eyes closed and rolled back, her entire body throbbing with waves of delicious sensation. It all felt too real to be unreal.
Hands – demanding in their determination – traced smooth paths to the center of her top, unbuttoning the buttons there. When the body above hers hummed with approval at her lack of a bra, Brittany felt the sound more than she heard it, rolling through her skin and sinking deep into her veins, rushing down to pool heat in the apex between her thighs.
The lips disconnected from her body with a soft pop, and Brittany whined in disapproval, opening her eyes.
It was only then when she realized how heavily she'd begun to breathe. The body above hers was in the same condition, hot pants of air blanketing the crook of Brittany's neck. Regaining her breath, Brittany wanted to grab the body above hers and pull it into a kiss, but before she could, slim fingers began to trace the outline of her breasts at a tantalizing pace.
"Oh. My. God."
Brittany's eyes shut when she felt the top sliding off her chest, pooling at her sides. Automatically her nipples began to stiffen and harden, and the breath on her neck moved lower until it was puffing right at the valley of her breasts. Her hands clenched desperately at the sheets, holding on for dear life when a moist mouth closed over a nipple, a tongue swirling around the hardened nub expertly. Another hand palmed her other best and massaged tenderly.
When the fingers began to knead into her flesh, Brittany almost felt blind with all the amount of feeling she was experiencing. The adventurous tongue was licking lower, and lower, until her pajama bottoms were being rolled down her legs along with her underwear.
"Fuck," Brittany panted into the night, arching off the bed when she felt a nose nudge the muscles of her stomach. She felt a smile spreading against her pelvis, while bold fingers skirted lower, lower, lower. "H-holy fuuu…"
She couldn't even begin to think about how she probably should have been stopping this, not when fingertips ran the length of surprisingly slick folds. Brittany was almost embarrassed at how turned on she was; who knew doing it with something – someone? – she couldn't see was going to be such a turn on?
The fingers moved at a light pressure, barely even touching her. It was torturous, to say the least. "Please," Brittany whimpered when a finger pushed delicately against her clit. Her hips bucked in an instinctual need for more friction. She distinctly heard the body above hers moan in a low, but unmistakably feminine, voice. "Oh, God." Brittany gasped when two fingers began to circle her entrance. "Oh, please, please, pleaaaa–"
Brittany cried out when the two digits plunged deeply into her, pushing as far as they could go. The fingers pulled back leisurely, scissoring against her walls, making Brittany jerk with spasms. They thrust back in quickly, curling. "Shit." Brittany moaned, falling back against the bed. The fingers moved in and out repeatedly. "Don't stop," she begged, squeezing her eyelids shut. She could feel the heat flaring in her lower stomach, her thighs trembling at her approaching release. "Oh, God, don't stop…don't sto-o-op…"
A thumb traced the shape of her hardened clit, making Brittany's breath hitch involuntarily. She felt like a volatile powder keg, ready to explode. She was so, so close. "Harder," she urged, moving her hips to match each thrust. In response, the thumb began to roll around more deliberately, the movement of the other fingers never wavering.
Brittany was so distracted by the approaching tidal wave; she didn't expect a mouth to close over a nipple, sucking ravenously. Harsh pants of breath released on Brittany's collarbone, growls of approval resounding from the body above hers.
The combined sensations were more than Brittany had ever learned to handle. Sex with boys, she realized earlier on, almost always ended with a sharp frustration that would keep her awake and flustered the whole night, her own hand between her legs. The only time she'd ever managed to feel as close to this – as good as this – were on those handful of times with Santana, though Santana was never as forward and daring as this... person.
Still, it was with a head full of thoughts on her best friend that Brittany finally felt herself explode. Her body quaked uncontrollably, all of her muscles tensing and relaxing simultaneously as the power of her orgasm punched through her entire being.
"Wow."
When it was over, her thighs continued to twitch. Brittany felt a kiss, lingering and reverent, press to the spot right above her heart. She wanted to stay awake, to somehow return the favor even if she couldn't see how that was possible. But already her eyes were drifting to a close, her body drained of all energy.
The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was inhaling the overwhelming smell that she could only associate with Santana, and the feeling of a chaste kiss against the corner of her mouth.
When she woke up the next morning to the sound of her alarm, she was tucked neatly into the covers, her pajamas fixed on her. She was almost sure the whole thing was a dream, but the soreness of her muscles, and the marks she could see clearly on her torso when she unbuttoned her top, were clear evidence that it wasn't.
Smiling at the bizarre realization that she had sex with a completely invisible girl, Brittany reached for her phone to switch her alarm off. When she did, she saw one unread message that must have come in after she'd gone to bed, and after… all that.
It was from Santana. Brittany checked the time the message came in. Almost a quarter after two a.m.
sleep well brittbritt. hope you had a good night ;) xoxo