Pairing: (AU) Brittany Pierce & Santana Lopez
Prompt: I was browsing tumblr and saw someone post a three sentence fic about Brittany coming into a mechanic shop where Santana worked with her dirt bike needing fixing. I haven't been able to get motocross!Brittany out of my head since. Then I wondered how things would have turned out if our two lovely ladies met at a Motocross competition! And from there I just pictured Santana eyeing up all the guys and getting stuck on one in particular, not realizing that under all the gear and helmet it was another girl. This takes place during Santana's first Spring break after graduating from HS, so she's been in college for a semester and a half basically. Brittany is currently a Senior at McKinley having transferred there just in time to start the year.
Rating: Mature (Granted there's no smut until the end of this chapter, just to let you know)
Word Count: Near 8K
A/N: This is my first ever attempt at writing Brittana, so I apologize in advance if it's horrible. Also I haven't written a fic in a long time, and I'm pretty sure I've never actually finished any, so I'll leave this as a (very long) two-shot unless by some miracle I get inspired enough to continue onto a full story. And I am not in any way fluent in Spanish, I got barely passing grades for that class in HS. So I used an online translator for something close to what I want, I put in parenthesis what the translation is supposed to be. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.
Santana Lopez sat with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her normally pouty lips curled into a scowl. She had not realized that part of visiting her parents during her Spring Break also meant babysitting her two younger cousins, Carlos and Peter. Carlos, a bundle of energy at age nine with big green eyes and messy hair the color of her own, was seated next to her, literally bouncing with excitement. Mocha caught green, and her heart warmed as the little boy's face cracked into the largest grin she had seen today as she whispered, "Tana, it's about to start."
The Latina's scowl disappeared and her posture relaxed as her lips curved into a small smile just for the boy. Okay, so admittedly, today could be going a whole lot worse. But still, sitting her petite ass on cold metal bleachers was really starting to hurt, and the motocross competition that Peter was partaking in hadn't even begun yet. And even though Carlos was saying it would start soon, Santana highly doubted this, half the riders weren't even geared up completely.
When Carlos looked away, still bouncing excitedly, Santana let her eyes drift around. The age bracket for today's race was fifteen to nineteen, and the cheerleader couldn't help but scour the grounds for some easy prey. A bit of shameless flirting, and getting some younger boy all excited, only to dash his hopes and crush them to the ground, sounded mighty appealing to the Latina. It was something to keep her mind off the fact that she only had a little over a week left before she returned to Columbia University and continued her laborious studies to become a lawyer.
Her search stopped on a certain tall figure, already dressed to compete. He was decked out in the entire garb, while most other riders decided to veer away from the elbow pads, knee pads and chest plate. Santana snorted to herself while wondering how accident prone the rider must be if he had donned every piece of protective gear available (sans neck brace). As her eyes ran over his attire she noticed that the kid was one of the few here who was actually sponsored.
Then, as if sensing the scrutiny he was under, the rider turned his head towards the stands. Santana stiffened, feeling the way that a piercing gaze she couldn't see had fixated on her. His head cocked to the side, and she sat ramrod straight, knowing that she was being just as analyzed as she had been doing to him just moments before. Shrugging her shoulders, the Latina relaxed her posture, letting a flirty smile tug at her lips. Santana took satisfaction in the way that the boy glanced around, gloved hand coming to rest on the back of his neck nervously as he checked to see where her gaze actually fell.
When he was facing her again, Santana's lips twisted into a smirk and she gave her fingers a waggle. He immediately straightened up, waving back a bit hesitantly as he began to take a few steps to the side. The rider quickened his pace, though was still focused so intently on the Latina, that he didn't notice another guy in his path.
Slam.
Santana covered her mouth, laughing quietly as she watched him collide with another racer, thinking to herself that yes, this guy was indeed accident prone.
"Watch it, Pierce!" Was snarled loud enough to reach the Latina's ears. The fully clothed rider was shoved backwards a few steps by his chest plate, and held his hands up in innocence. By the way the second one scoffed and shook his head Santana surmised that the green-clad rider had mumbled some sort of apology or excuse. She smiled to herself, finding it somewhat adorable. She could picture a lanky, dork with thick rimmed glasses, blushing and stuttering an apology beneath the motocross suit.
Carlos nudged her in the side then, drawing her attention as he shrieked, pointing, "There he is!" The young boy jumped, standing on his seat, screaming for his older brother's attention, "Peter! Pete! Peter!"
"Ay dios mio (Oh my God)," she murmured under her breath. Santana grabbed him the back of his shirt, placing another hand on his shoulder to guide him into the seated position once more. "Tranquilízate! (Calm down!) He knows we're here. I drove us all here," she said with an eye roll.
Carlos complied easily enough, though he still vibrated with excitement as he waved at Peter, who was glaring at the younger boy. Santana threw him a halfhearted wave, shrugging in a way to apologize for not being able to control the small Latino boy. Peter was sixteen and didn't really enjoy the fact that his brother had to come along. He didn't mind Santana much because she was snarky, witty, and for the most part laid back. And the fact that they had a close bond which stemmed from their mutual appreciation for the female form (though Santana made it perfectly clear that the male figure was just as enticing to some, and after years of shyly avoiding the topic Peter finally agreed with her). He hated when Carlos had to join these outings. The small Latino was a resident pain in the ass with the way he had the female Latina wrapped around his finger, and was always embarrassing the hell out of the sixteen year old. But he had to deal with it unfortunately.
Santana glanced away from her cousin, trying to find her man in the sea of motocross riders. She chewed on her lip, finding it hard to pick him out amongst those slipping into gear. The Latina crossed her arms over her chest once more, her lower lip jutting out in a pout she didn't realize she was sporting because she had lost her entertainment for the time being. Carlos turned to her, and seeing the look on his favorite cousin's face, he made it his own personal mission to bring her spirits up until the race began, because he knew once it started the Latina would be hooting and hollering with the rest of the people in the stands.
Santana was laughing so hard that her sides ached. Carlos was in the same state, though he was doubled over, clutching at himself, tears prickling at the corners of his shining eyes. She wasn't exactly sure what they were laughing at anymore, but their giggles had turned into bursts of laughter when they realized they were laughing at each other laughing, and somehow just couldn't stop it from escalating into obnoxious roars.
Slowly their laughing subsided into small giggles here and there, and Santana had to swipe under her eyes to make sure her makeup was still in place. The cousins were grinning at one another widely, and the Latina couldn't help but throw her arm around the little one and pull him close. Carlos snuggled happily into her side, his arms securely around her waist. This day was turning out a lot better than she originally thought it would.
"Look, Tana!" He pointed out to the starting line where the riders were slowly (read: finally!) getting into position behind their gates.
Santana grinned, mussing his hair, "Quick, find Pete," she whispered.
The young boy leaned forward slightly, dragging his cousin with him as his bright eyes scanned the line-up. While Santana's eyes sought out her own rider. And there he was, seated firmly on the bike, revving its engine and arching forward. Santana hummed, noting that while the position was probably for something like aerodynamics, it would certainly look ten times better with her where the bike was. And in a bed. Naked. Thinking about that for a moment, Santana silently questioned herself, she hadn't thought about a guy like that in several long years. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped slightly when Carlos shouted, "There!" She followed his tiny finger to where Peter was just a few men down the line.
"Watch him closely, Carlos, or you'll lose him," she teased. He mumbled something too quiet for her to hear (though she assumed it was a curse in Spanish that he had picked up from none other than herself) and pinched her waist to tickle her.
Moments later the announcer was claiming the start of the race and the bikes were shooting out of the gate. Mocha eyes darted quickly back to her mystery man, Pierce she recalled, to watch intently.
She noticed how the green rider kind of fish tailed; the back of his bike slamming into another's causing that guy to lose his balance and fall. Santana smirked to herself, liking his style already. The track was a decent size, but from the bleachers you couldn't really lose track of the riders if you were paying attention. Which Santana and Carlos were doing very closely, though the younger Latino didn't realize his cousin's attentions were not on the same rider. He would nudge her excitedly when Peter did something interesting, asking if she saw, Santana would nod, even though her eyes stayed trained on her rider.
The laps were going quickly, and Santana found herself wishing it would last longer. She was enjoying the way that Pierce had weaseled himself up into the front of the lineup with the skill of a practiced rider. She scoffed and thought, 'Of course he's practiced, the guy's got Fox as a sponsor.'
Coming up on the last lap Santana found herself inching forward in her seat with anticipation. Pierce was in the top three. But no one could hold the lead spot for longer than a few yards. She tracked her rider's movements, and as Pierce squeezed into the inside of a sharp turn, right by the lead man, the hair on the back of her neck prickled her body sensing what was going to happen before it did.
The leader, Santana recognized as the one Pierce had run into earlier (it was hard to forgot that hideous yellow to white then orange fade on his suit), kicked out his foot, intending to send Pierce into the tires and effectively out of the race. But Pierce jerked the handlebars to save himself just as his bike veered. The movement was an overcompensation which caused him to barrel into the other boy for the second time that day.
As the two riders and their bikes flew across the track the third man fighting for the top spot had gotten caught in the wreckage. Santana gasped as the three bodies rolled between each other and the heavy metal of their bikes. Thankfully the rest of the riders were able to steer clear of the mess, and continue towards the finishing line.
Carlos was shouting next to her, about Peter, but all Santana could focus on was the green, black and white suited figure that was untangling himself from a bike and person. He helped the one man to his feet, making sure he was okay, before storming over to the rider that had caused the accident. Pierce grabbed Douche Rider (as Santana had spontaneously dubbed him) by the fabric of his hideous top and shoved him backwards. The Douche countered, whipping off his helmet and shoving back, shouting loud enough to hear from where she sat, "Back off, Pierce."
The taller boy lunged at Douche Rider, but the third wheel grabbed him by the arm and yanked him away before damage could be done. Douche Rider stepped forward, egging on the enraged rider. It was obviously enough to make Pierce tear from the grasp holding him back. He and Douche Rider collided, a mess of tangled limbs as they rolled through the dirt on the track.
By this point race officials were now on the scene and pulling the two apart. Santana watched, transfixed as Pierce rounded on the one older man, jabbing him in the chest as he tore off his helmet. The Latina froze, her eyes wide in shock. Blonde hair was falling in loose strands around a red cheeked though noticeably pale face. A very feminine face. Her mystery man was not a man at all, but a tall, lean, blonde haired beauty. That would certainly explain her attraction, it seems as though her body had known it was another female from the beginning. Santana bit her lip, noticing that the rider's eyes were just as piercing as she thought they would be. They were a startling shade of bright blue framed by almost cat-like eyes and light lashes. Though the motocross rider's face was twisted with anger at the moment, Santana found herself thinking that the emotion did not suit her at all, such a pretty face shouldn't contort into such displeasure, though she did note that the scrunch of her nose was quite adorable.
Carlos shrieked beside her, and Santana realized that there was still a race going on. Or not anymore, since the last bike had already passed the finish line. Carlos turned to her, "Did you see Tana? He placed! Peter placed!" The Latino turned forward, hooting and hollering for his brother. She smiled but here mocha eyes were drawn back to the crash-site where she noticed that the anger had subsided from the blonde and there were now tears in her eyes. Wait, what? Why was she crying? Santana strained her ears to listen, and a faint cry of "Someone could have been really hurt because of him!" And the Latina found herself smiling slightly, her heart giving a little flutter. She found it so sweet how the blonde was so concerned for the other riders, but she wiped the smiled off her face as quick as it had come.
Carlos was tugging on her hand. The race was over. He was saying they needed to find Peter, while he also babbled on about all the things his big brother had done during the race that were noteworthy, and how he wanted to be like him when he grew up. She smiled, ruffling his hair, letting him drag her down the bleachers, and through the crowd. Carlos had been to many more events than Santana, so he knew exactly where to go. While the little boy lead her to where Peter would be, Santana let her eyes roam, trying to catch piercing blue, but finding those eyes nowhere.
The Latina was standing in Peter's tent area, thing. She didn't quite know the words to explain it, but it was a small tent sent up where Peter and his bike were supposed to be before and after the race. It had whatever he had brought to the race, and a small table with courtesy food and sports drinks. It was while she was standing there with her arms crossed watching the brothers talk together animatedly about the race and all things motocross that she felt a tentative tap on her shoulder.
Glad for the distraction she sighed, turning to face who she thought would be a boy trying to flirt. She was nearly startled when she had to look up into piercing blue eyes. Santana blinked, making sure that she was really in the presence of the blonde before allowing a small smile to pull at her lips as she took a step back.
Before she could utter even a hello, the blonde rushed into talking.
"I'm really sorry you had to see that," she was breathless in her apology, wiping hair from her face, "He just got me so angry, because I was doing so well the whole race and making a really good first impression and he just had to be an ass and ruin it all." She huffed, her lips curling into a slight pout, "I'm usually like a lot more level headed than that, I promise."
For a moment Santana wasn't sure whether to coo over the fact that the girl was obviously nervously rambling and actually pouting, or turn on the charm. Being who she was of course she would decide on the latter. "Oh yeah?" She chuckled throatily, asking, "And who were you trying to make a good first impression on?"
"You." It was said with such bluntness that Santana was almost thrown off. Almost.
The Latina wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, noticing how blue eyes darted down to follow the movement. "And why would you need to make a good impression on me?" She asked with the tilt of her head, smirking at the blonde.
"Because," Pierce started off, dragging out the word as a smile tore across her face, "you're really pretty and I like you." She had uttered it so softly, her tone saying that her answer should have been obvious.
Santana chuckled again, watching as the blonde bit her lip, still smiling. "You don't even know me, Pierce." She said with a challenging eyebrow raise.
The motocross rider straightened, and threw the Latina a megawatt smile. "I know you're a Lopez." Santana's eyebrows came together in confusion. How could she possibly know that? Noticing her confused expression, Pierce continued. "Peter talks about you a lot actually." Santana raised her eyebrows in disbelief. The Latina had never seen this girl at any other race of Peter's she had been to (she would definitely remember), what was she playing at? "His friends talk about you a lot too. According to them you're That-bangin'-Latina-chick-with-the-rockin- bod." She informed, putting air-quotes around the apparent nickname.
Santana balked at the other girl, "Seriously?" She asked with a scoff, her arms tightening over her chest.
"Mhm," the blonde nodded with a smile, either ignoring the proverbial steam coming from Santana's ears or just not noticing. She let her piercing blue gaze drift down the Latina's body for a moment, before looking back into dark mocha eyes, "I mean it's not like they're wrong or anything, but they could say it nicer I guess."
Santana smirked at that, her anger at the young boys dissipating slightly. She laughed softly, "Oh so you like what you see then?" Santana tilted her head to the side while her eyebrows arched just enough in that suggestive way.
Pierce bit her lip harder, and nodded her head slowly as a light blush crept along her cheeks. Which now that she was closer, Santana noticed were lightly dusted with freckles.
Santana chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then just as she was about to say something further, "Pierce!" was shouted from behind her, making her wince. Peter walked up to them, his left hand dropping onto Santana's shoulder as his right clapped the other rider on the bicep. "That was a gnarly crash back there. You alright?"
The blonde nodded, "Mostly. I'll be kind of sore though."
"You bruise a bit of your dignity getting all up in Puckerman's face like that?" He asked with a small laugh. Puckerman? Santana had thought the young boy had looked vaguely familiar, she must be friends with his older brother, Noah.
Pierce just scrunched her nose, tilting her head in a confused way as she mumbled, "I didn't know you could bruise that. It'll heal okay?"
Santana laughed softly at the slight absurdity of the question. Peter chuckled, shaking his head, used to the blonde's silly antics by now. "Yeah. Pierce, I wanna introduce you to my cousin, Santana Lopez. San, this is Brittany Pierce."
Brittany beamed brightly, shoving her hand out between them for a shake, "Hi Santana."
The Latina glanced down at the dirt covered glove she was supposed to shake and up to Brittany with a questioning eyebrow raise. The blonde looked down. "Oh!" She exclaimed, quickly removing the glove, and producing a pale, but clean, hand to the other with a giggle, "Sorry."
"Nice to officially meet you, Brittany," Santana grinned, taking her hand. She shouldn't have been surprised at the firmness of the shake, seeing as how Brittany could haul around a dirt bike like nothing, but it did shock her.
Peter watched as the two females smiled at each other, shaking hands for a bit longer than two strangers typically would. Peter coughed slightly, and Santana dropped the blonde's hand, turning her head to her cousin with a harsh stare, a step away from glaring.
He knew that look. It was time to get out of there as fast as possible, before her calm composure switched to fiery Latina fury for interrupting getting her mack on. He offered a smile to the two girls, "Well I'm only good for names, so I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted better." Santana flashed him a smirk that told the younger Lopez he had made the right choice. With a sigh, and quick good bye to Brittany he retreated further into the tent.
Santana looked back to the blonde, noticing that her attentions were elsewhere for the moment (focused on Peter and Carlos) she took a split second to take a step back and appreciate her in a whole new light. Since discovering that her mysterious rider was not a guy Santana hadn't really had a second to imagine what the body beneath the suit must be like as a woman's.
Apparently Santana wasn't very subtle in her leering, because a few moments later there was a small fit of giggles pouring from the blonde's mouth. Mocha eyes traveled languidly back up the expanse of her body, and Santana smiled wryly at Brittany who asked, "Do you like what you see?"
Santana chuckled, reaching out and tucking a few loose strands of blonde hair behind a red-tipped ear. "I can't exactly see much, Britt. But from what I image, yes, I very much like what I see."
The blonde flushed a deep shade of red and glanced down to her feet shyly. Santana watched this, noting that her initial assumption of a dorky, fumbling idiot was way off. Of course she had been a bit off the marker with the whole male assumption too. But looking at Brittany now she couldn't imagine the person beneath the Fox gear any different. The grace with which she had maneuvered the bike between her rivals had been pulled off with the ease and fluidity of practiced perfection. Santana briefly wondered what kinds of other sports and activities the girl did with her body.
And down the gutter her mind went.
Licking her lips, the Latina slipped her hand casually into the blonde's and began walking away from her cousins. She could feel Brittany burning holes into the side of her head, full of confusion, as she lead them with confidence through the crowd of people. "So where's your tent, Britt?" Santana asked, her tone nonchalant.
At the question Brittany tightened her grip on the tan hand in hers, and grinned. After a tug in the other direction Santana let the blonde lead the way deeper into the throng of people. She faltered at Brittany's side when the blonde began to let go of her hand, but a glance into blue eyes and the feel of their palms connecting once more, this time with their fingers laced together, made her smile.
Brittany's tent was a lot nicer than Peter's, it must have been the whole sponsor thing. Where Peter's tent was very open, and basically just a roof, Brittany's had walls, and a door made out of overlapping tent flaps. The inside was much more elaborate as well. There was a tv, and couch, the food on the corner table varied with more taste, and there was even a coffee pot. Brittany's bike sat in the opposite corner, obviously a bit banged up from the accident, but there were a ton of tools and small parts littering the floor around it as if someone had been trying to fix it up. Her cousin would be so jealous of the blonde if he could see this tent, she thought to herself with a silent snicker.
Santana turned back to her green rider when she felt her palm turn cold. She watched as Brittany slipped her other glove off and tossed both articles towards the couch, neither quite making it onto the piece of furniture. "Would you mind helping? This chest plate is like really hard to get off, and I'd like to finally be able to breathe." Pink lips turned into a pout as the blonde fumbled with the straps.
Getting the blonde in any state of undress was definitely a step in the right direction, in the Latina's mind, but the way she was pouting was nothing but adorable. Santana nodded, laughing softly, and after a few minutes the contraption was being tossed unceremoniously to the floor by a smiling Brittany. Mocha and sapphire clashed and just about at the same time both of them realized the lack of space between their bodies.
There was silence, sans the bustle outside of the tent, and Brittany reached forward to move a lock of hair from Santana's face as her brow furrowed and she asked, "Would it be cool if I like… kissed you?"
Santana couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips. Because really, asking for permission? How cute could the blonde get? As an answer Santana closed her eyes and leaned up on her toes to press their lips together. Brittany's hand fell to her shoulder, her fingers gripping tightly as the soft press of lips quickly turned into something a lot less chaste.
Brittany's lips tasted the perfect mixture of sweet and tangy, that Santana couldn't keep it innocent for long. It was a few brief seconds of gently sliding their lips together before she found herself sucking at the blonde's lower lip and nipping at the flesh. Brittany gasped at the sensation, parting her lips just enough for Santana to bravely slide her tongue between. But with a gentle stroke of their tongues together without Brittany pulling away gave Santana the okay to continue.
The Latina slid her hand up the blonde's arm, and over her shoulder until she could grip the back of her neck to pull her closer, leaning against her as their tongues danced languidly. Santana had initially planned on ravishing the tall blonde as soon as possible, but the way their tongues were moving together slowly, as if this was something they've done together already, many times before, had her slowing down her original plan. She could go for something of this sort, though she wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen.
Brittany sighed against her mouth, moving her tongue against the Latina's with a sense of familiarity that she knew shouldn't be there because this was the first time they had ever kissed. But the blonde felt like this was something she could have been doing for years now, with the way they were fitting together so perfectly. Tilting her head she nipped at a plump lip, and then soothed the spot with a slow stroke of her tongue that had the Latina groaning, her fingers sliding into the hair at the base of Brittany's neck.
Santana is the first to break the kiss, moving back only enough to suck breaths of fresh air into her lungs. They stand there together for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes still closed as they try to collect coherent thoughts. Brittany is the first to peek an eye open, and smiles at the sight of a flushed Latina, eyes closed though obviously dazed, with slightly swollen lips. Santana blinks, glancing up and seeing a grinning Brittany, she takes the stare as a sign to move forward.
Santana began to pepper soft kisses to the taller girl's jawline that has the blonde at a loss for words, especially as the silky lips start blazing a hot trail down her neck, across her throat and up behind her ear. Brittany gripped Santana's shoulders to keep from swaying and falling over as she mewls quietly at the feather light sensation of the Latina's kisses.
When gentle nipping, and a soothing tongue begins to retrace the path, a panting Brittany bites down hard on her lower lip to stifle a groan. Relishing in the feel of the sharpness of Santana's teeth on her skin, Brittany is unfazed by the warm hand that works her top free from her pants, until a warm palm makes contact with her stomach. Brittany's abdominal muscles quake and the blonde hisses like she's been burned as she flexes against the touch.
When the warmth of Santana's hand begins to crawl upwards, Brittany gasps, her grip tightening on the shoulders she's been using for support. Blue eyes snap open wide, and a shaky whisper passes her lips, "Santana."
The Latina merely hums against the skin of Brittany's neck, her tongue paying special attention to the blonde's throbbing pulse point. "S-Santana," Brittany repeats to no avail.
When Santana's hand finally reached its destination, her palm coming in contact with a pert breast covered by a thin sports bra it lasts far too short. After a brief shudder of arousal, Brittany grabbed the Latina's hand and pulled it out of her shirt, pushing the smaller girl away by the grip she still had on her shoulder, a quiet, "No," coming through clenched teeth.
Confusion etched across Santana's face, she growled, "What the hell Britt?" Her dark eyes scanned over the face above her. Brittany's eyes were clamped tightly shut, there was a crease in her brow, and her lips were parted slightly as she took shaky breath after shaky breath to release them slowly.
Santana strained to reach out, but Brittany's hand on her wrist stopped her from doing so. Granted she did have a free hand to try with, Santana was becoming annoyed that her sexy times was being postponed and now she wanted to know why. "Why'd you make me stop?" She hissed. Finally Brittany's eyes popped open, now several shades darker than Santana remembered they had been.
Wetting her lips, the blonde husked out, "I'm not fucking you in a motocross tent, Santana."
The Latina went wide eyed, staring at the other with her jaw slack. She nearly wanted to scream 'Why Not?' at the girl. But before she could get the words out, Brittany was continuing, albeit a bit breathlessly, "You're like really pretty and I can't just do that. It's gross in here! And you totally deserve burning candles, and flowers, and all that romantic stuff. I want you to have that, because you're totally worth more than a simple fuck," Brittany scrunched her nose up, as she asked, "You know what I'm saying?"
Santana growled, ignoring the way her heart was racing even faster now, "Fuck the candles, Britt! Or better yet, fuck me." The Latina stepped forward once more, pressing herself softly against the blonde's chest. "Romance can wait," she purred, staring up into wide blue eyes, "Right now I just want you." With her free hand she cupped the back of Brittany's neck, tugging their faces closer without having to go on her toes. "I want you, Pierce, tómeme (take me)."
Brittany wasn't quite sure what Santana had said in Spanish, but as the word rolled off her tongue she didn't exactly care because it was just way too hot. How could speaking another language be so damn sexy? Maybe it wasn't the language. It definitely could have been the low timbre of the Latina's voice and the rasp that accompanied her words. The blonde swallowed thickly, staring down into lusty eyes before closing the distance and smothering pouty lips with her own.
So Santana didn't want to be romanced right now, the blonde could deal with that, especially when the Latina began to kiss back with renewed vigor. Gone were their slow movements, now it was all tongue, teeth clashing and desperation.
Santana felt Brittany's grip on her wrist loosen until her limb was completely free, and then before she knew what was happening strong hands were lifting her petite body by the backs of her thighs, and pulling her tight against a firm body. To stay balanced the Latina had to throw her arms around Brittany's neck and wrap her legs around her waist. The new position caused soft moans to fill the tent, and Santana wasn't sure who was moaning, it could have been either of them, or even both at this point.
Tan hands were buried in golden locks, tugging gently as their tongues dueled with ferocity. Brittany pulled back for air, panting heavily against plump lips, which she eagerly nipped at, before dragging her teeth down to the Latina's jaw, and throat. Tan hands grip tighter, moans of approval spurring the blonde on as she walks them to the leather couch at the far end of her tent.
Santana was squirming against the motocross racer, moaning softly at the barely-there nips on her sensitive flesh. The Latina is so preoccupied that she didn't realize they had moved until her back was flat against the cool material of the couch and Brittany was kneeling between her legs, hands venturing beneath her shirt. She arched up into the warm hands, groaning when nails drag down her sides.
Brittany savors the salty-sweet taste of the girl's skin as she turns to open mouthed kisses against her bare shoulder and exposed collar bone. Thank god for tank tops. The blonde was not aware of the fact that the fiery Latina was never one to stay submissive for long, though she should have known that was the case. So even though Brittany wasn't expecting the petite girl to propel forward and knock her onto her back, she wasn't all that surprised. She smiled brightly while reaching up to cup flushed cheeks, and bring their mouths together in another heated kiss as the Latina maneuvered to straddle the blonde's hips.
This time when Santana brought her hands under the material of the blonde's top there was nothing to stop her. Her palms pressed into the taut muscles of Brittany's stomach, causing the blonde to groan and arch upwards. Santana smirked against her lips, scratching lightly and bringing a whimper from the other.
Their kiss was sloppy and needy, and Santana didn't bother to break it and remove Brittany's top, she simply pushed the material high enough to expose a bright yellow sports bra. Brittany's hands were on the prowl as well, blazing a hot path up the Latina's back, nails biting into soft flesh when a tan hand slipped under the fabric of her bra to cup a pert breast. Their hisses mingled together as Santana pinched a nipple, and Brittany dragged blunt nails down her back.
With a slight fumble Brittany unclasped a lacy bra, throwing her head back when warm, wet lips surrounded one of her pink nipples. Santana did something with her tongue that made a primal noise erupt from Brittany, her nails digging harshly into the Latina's back, making her clench her jaw, biting not so gently on the Blonde's sensitive nub, making her gasp, arch, and moan loudly. Santana smirked, soothing the sting of her teeth with slow movement of her tongue.
Brittany, panting heavily, snuck one of her hands under Santana's bra now that there was slack and began to firmly knead the fleshy mound. The Latina groaned while splaying kisses across Brittany's chest until she reached her neglected nipple and sucked it into her mouth. The blonde ran a hand down Santana's toned back, until she could palm her ass through those tiny denim shorts.
The Latina was undoing Brittany's pants as fast as she could manage, but the odd buttons and zippers made things difficult, so the blonde had to reach down and do it herself. With Santana on top of her, she wiggled her hips and pushed until the fabric was bunched around mid-thigh, before moving her nimble fingers to attack the Latina's shorts as their mouths once again found each other.
Santana moaned as smooth lips covered her own, bracing her hands against pale abs that twitched beneath her soft touch. Scraping her nails lower she could feel Brittany's sharp intake of air and smirked. A tan hand slipped past the elastic of bright colored panties, fingers dipping into slick folds. Brittany pulled back, sucking in a deep breath of air, and letting it out with a shudder as she moaned, "Santana."
The Latina grinned, her lips latching onto an erratic pulse point. She was so focused on teasingly moving her fingers against the blonde, that she had barely registered the fact that her shorts were pushed down, until warm fingers were running through her own wetness. Santana growled out into the skin of her neck, "Oh fuck, Britt."
Brittany leaned forward, teeth and lips on the Latina's neck as she teased her fingers around for a moment. Without so much as a warning the blonde bit harshly on the junction of Santana's neck and shoulder while simultaneously sinking two fingers inside of her. A strangled cry left the Latina's lips as she slumped forward into Brittany's chest. It took her a moment to recover, because already Brittany was working her fingers in a smooth rhythm in and out of her.
It had Santana shaking as she fought to catch her breath, still bracing herself with one hand on Brittany's abs. She felt the hips beneath her cant upwards, and immediately sunk two fingers deep inside the blonde, earning another harsh bite and a rumble from Brittany's chest that San felt tickle her skin.
With Santana still hovering above the blonde haired motocross rider their bodies rocked together with a rhythm that the two picked up together quite easily. It was almost surreal how instantly they could read each other's actions and reactions to different touches.
Both girls panted heavily, Santana dropping her head to press her forehead into the crook of Brittany's neck. The blonde responded by throwing her head back, tangling her fingers in the damp locks at the back of Santana's neck, "Ah, San!" Brittany tightened her grip, moving her fingers quicker against the Latina.
"Britt," Santana gasped, arching her back, pressing their torsos together firmly. The Latina groaned, curling her fingers in a way that hand Brittany bucking up so harshly to meet her that she was nearly thrown off.
"Oh God! San, yes, right there."
A moment later Brittany was curling her own fingers and using her thumb to brush against Santana's sensitive bundle of nerves in such a way that had the Latina muffling a string of Spanish curses into the warm flesh of Brittany's neck.
Brittany's moans reached a higher octave, mingling with the low grunts and groans that Santana tried to hide against the flesh of the blonde's neck. Both girls climbed higher and higher as their bodies rocked as one, until the two of them were stiffening and arching into one another, muffling their last moans by crashing their lips together hungrily.
Their cries went unnoticed by those outside the tent, though neither girl had a care in the world for anyone outside of their little bubble. They moved together, hands slowing, allowing the other to ride out the last waves of their orgasms as their kiss ended, breath becoming more of a necessity.
As ecstasy levels slowly lowered, and Santana cleared the daze from her mind, they lay together panting heavily. Their silence went on for a long while, their bodies softly pressed together as they caught their breath.
Santana looked down at the blonde who was currently trying to catch her breath, and then it hit her. She just basically forced Brittany to have sex after the girl had admitted to wanting to romance her. She hadn't even bothered to slip out of any clothes, how horrible did that make her? There had been no more arguing after that initial grope being denied, but still, it felt wrong. The Latina felt something drop in her stomach, and she sat up fully erect in one swift motion that obviously caught Brittany off guard because she was quick to make sure, "Ar'you okay, San?"
'No. I just forced sex on you, and it feels like I ate a ton of bricks,' was what she thought but admitting such feelings was not her style, "Of course I am," she snapped, already attempting to straighten her clothes. The frown on the blonde's face made Santana want to kick herself. She stilled, staring back at Brittany as a soft hand gently touched her forearm. Brittany was propped up on her elbow, her shirt having fallen back down enough to cover her chest, but her red cheeks, and sweaty brow were proof enough of what had occurred between them. Especially the ethereal glow to her skin, caused by nothing but the sweet sated feeling of release.
Brittany tilted her head slightly, wondering why Santana was frowning. There was a crease between the Latina's eyebrows that she just wanted to sooth away, and so Brittany pushed herself up. She watched Santana's eyes calculating her movements, and just smiled wider, leaning in to brush her lips against a slightly damp forehead. Brittany lingered, smiling against she skin when she felt the Latina raise her eyebrows. Her lips dropped, pressing softly to Santana's temple before she pulled back and whispered, "Hi."
Santana stared back at her with a quizzical expression, but Brittany could see the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she responded with a soft, "Hey."
Brittany giggled softly, and swooped in for a chaste kiss upon swollen lips. The blonde pulled away, leaning back down on her elbow, tracing small circles on Santana's forearm where her hand still lay. She could see the way Santana rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, and it caused her to giggle again.
"That was so much better than winning the race." When mocha eyes snapped to blue, Brittany only smirked while running her hands through her hair and pulling it into a ponytail.
Santana smile at the racer for a long moment, before clearing her throat and averting her gaze. "I need to get back to my cousins," she announced, standing and taking a few steps away as she buttoned her shorts and adjusted her top.
Brittany leaned against the back of the couch, her arms folded on the leather, and watched with curious eyes as the Latina approached the flaps to leave, "You're not going to get lost out there are you? Cuz one time when I was little, I got distracted by this colorful bird, and I followed it and lost my mom and I didn't know where I was supposed to be and I cried until someone helped me figure things out. I don't want you to get lost and cry, because that would make me sad."
Santana stared at the other with a mix of disbelief and adoration on her face. This girl was so… It was a bit indescribable how she felt towards the blonde. Santana's lips twitched into a small smile, and Brittany beamed, offering, "I can show you the way back if you give me a few minutes."
The Latina nodded silently, and watched as Brittany grinned excitedly, jumping up off the couch and nearly tripping over her pants as they fell, tangling with her boots. Santana took the moment to appreciate the exposed skin of the girl's long legs, her dark eyes drifting up to where dexterous fingers were adjusting bright yellow panties. Panties that were adorned with tiny ducks, she noticed, smiling to herself. Before she could let her eyes wander down again, Brittany had pulled up her pants and fastened the zipper and buttons expertly back in place. Santana nearly scowled at the pants, why did they need to be so intricate to open? It would have made things a lot easier if there was a simple button and zipper, but no.
The blonde yanked her elbow pads off unceremoniously, but moved gracefully across the room. She was a walking contradiction somehow. And the way she pulled the top over her head and threw it to the floor in one fluid motion had Santana gnawing on her bottom lip. Following the top was her sports bra, and the Latina swallowed, eyes soaking up the way the muscles along Brittany's back rippled and flexed with every movement as the girl pulled on a regular bra. But then a black t-shirt fell into place and stopped her from admiring any further.
Santana knew that she could slip out now without notice. Asking the way back to Peter's tent would be easy enough. With a nod to herself she crept the last few steps to the entrance/exit and grabbed the flap. With a glance over her shoulder to see Brittany fixing her blonde ponytail Santana worried her lip between her lip before ducking her head and leaving. She left now, because there was heaviness in her gut that wouldn't leave her alone, and each time the motocross racer would flash those pearly whites in a wide smile had it twisting. She knew that feeling all too well, and wanted nothing to do with it, because surely that feeling would only ruin her Spring Break.
When Brittany spun around and Santana wasn't waiting there, the large grin faded from her lips. Bright eyes darted to every corner of the tent, and she even called out a soft, "Santana?" as if the girl would spring out from a hiding spot. Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion, had she done something wrong? Brittany flew to the tent flap, peaking out at the thin crowd of people. Her height gave her a pretty good advantage, but even so she craned her neck above the bobbing heads for a better look.
Santana reached Peter's tent, waving at the two boys inside meekly. She glanced over her shoulder, to where Brittany's tent was, and saw the girl leaning out, eyes frantically searching. She frowned to herself, and just as she was about to turn and meet her cousins she was frozen to the spot as piercing blue eyes met mocha.
Brittany stared at the Latina from across the crowd. They were sporting matching frowns.
Brittany frowned because she was confused, why had Santana left without a word, was there something she had done wrong? Had she said something to offend the girl?
And Santana frowned because she knew that Brittany Pierce had somehow wormed her way past the walls that kept out even her closest friends.
The Latina ducked her head lamely, and disappeared from the blonde's sight, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in her gut. But she didn't know that it was the same heavy feeling Brittany felt as soon as the girl broke their eye contact.
Brittany's Motocross apparel can be found here; www . supermx . co . uk/ekmps/shops/supermx/images/2012-fox-racing-180-motocross-kit-combo-undertow-green-654-p . jpg
Puckerman's ugly Motocross apparel looks like this (without a sponsor logo); www . missionmx . co . uk/700_2012-fox-combo-360-furure-A1-red-orange-yellow . jpg
Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!