"Ugh, come on," Santana muttered, exasperated behind the wheel of her big sweltering SUV, which was all but sitting still beneath a blazing midday sun, south of Lima. She wasn't having car trouble exactly, thank God for that at least, but she might as well have been, for how damn slow all these other cars were going. Gesturing wildly with one hand, she laid hard on her horn with the other. She'd already forgotten how sluggish everything seemed to move around this place. Although Finn was gone now, so she supposed that might be a start- one of the better reasons to not cut ties with her hometown completely.
The best reason, of course, being Brittany. After several stretched-out weeks of indecision, during which Santana had spent countless early summer hours staring back and forth between the thick white envelop in her hand and that adorable array of sunspot freckles splayed across her girlfriend's face, she finally decided that, whatever freedom her newfound wad of cash afforded, she wanted Brittany to be a part of it. She deserved to be, just as much as Santana did. Although skeptical at first about the potential pitfalls of leaving one small town for an only slightly bigger one, or of simply trading in one cheerleading uniform for another, she'd also come around on the inarguably practical notion of having something to fall back on in the event that New York life was even harsher than anticipated (which, if the rumors she was hearing about Kurt's most recent part-time forray into the, um, "sandwich arts" were any indication, it would be). Plus, once she and Brittany did begin their city life together as a rock star singer-dancer duo like she knew they would, she wanted it to be as glamorous as possible, even if it meant letting most of that moola burn holes in her pocket for a little while longer.
So the girls had finished out their summer with the happy knowledge that, come fall, they'd only be four hours apart instead of ten. That hadn't stopped them, however, from engaging in all the expected bittersweet activities in preparation for life apart. While Santana helped Brittany hold pre-season Cheerios tryouts, she let stubbornness get the best of her when her girlfriend's favorite rising sophomore was ... okay, so maybe she'd put it a bit too bluntly... except also she was pretty sure she saw that scrawny little snot-nosed nympho sneaking peaks at Brittany's spanx, and shit was so not going down that way next year, not without her around... but whatever, she had been forgiven, after putting in an equivalent amount of sweetness, as always. After carrying the last load of boxes out to Santana's jam-packed car- yeah the heavy ones, shut up- before blowing her first ever rear-view mirror kiss, Brittany had drawn breathy hearts on the driver's side window and pointed out that they never looked backwards. Santana left Lima feeling that summer had been everything they were: sweet, sexy, a bit forlorn, but ultimately lighthearted and hopeful.
Still, as she sat stewing in the sweaty confines of her car, fidgety from looking forward to seeing Brittany again while also looking back at their past, Santana couldn't help but notice how, oh so quietly, through some subtle yet momentous amassing of moments, unspoken and unbenounced, their relationship had evolved over time. First of all, while she wasn't any less proud or, lez be honest, even possessive of Brittany- bitches would always need reminding that her girl was hers- she was no longer quite so insecure about her role in Brittany's life, and vice versa. She realized that the other girl had stopped being so much a loyal puppy or a cozy blanket as an equal partner, who could surprise and challenge her any day. Their goodbye scene sprang into Santana's mind. The look she'd seen well up behind Brittany's eyes, while not wanting for loyalty or coziness, had been filled with something else too: strength, and courage, which she'd only recently come to recognize in the other girl, who had been slipping it to her all along, as it turned out, in delicate discretion.
By the same token, Santana would be lying if she said that Brittany's growing independence over the past year or so, while on the one hand an incredible turn on, was also a potential source of competition, both inside and outside of their relationship. On their last date, Brittany wasn't not flirting back with the hot burly bouncer, who eventually did overlook their fakes, but still; that night in bed, when Santana tried topping her extra hard, just to "drive home" the point, so to speak, Brittany had literally bitten back and drawn blood. It had been, like, super fucking sexy... but also strange in a way that had sort of unsettled Santana's stomach. Then, a couple weeks ago, she was telling Santana over the phone about some new dance studio where she was practicing, and for some reason apparently felt no qualms about mentioning how she "really wished you could see it, because oh my god, all the hot bodies". Needless to say, entering into a long- distance relationship, no matter how sturdy, with any threat of jealousy in mind, no matter how vague, was... well, she just wasn't thinking about it... no, for real though, she was not worried.
Yet she couldn't say that things had never changed between the two of them, and hard as she'd been trying to put it out of her mind, she was unsure of what that might mean for this reunion; for better or worse, they had sort of been drifting into uncharted territory for a while, now. But like, right now? At a quarter past five- almost an hour later than the ETA she'd promised- with her stomach rumbling and her limbs cramping and the weather so unseasonably hot for late September that she'd spent the last thirty minutes driving with her elbows out like ridiculous chicken wings for maximum armpit AC exposure? Well, it sufficed to say, Santana was a tad perturbed. All she wanted in the world was to run screaming out of this goddamn death trap of a car and straight into her girlfriend's open arms. She might not have been a hundred percent on how this would play out, but she was certain it had to be at least a hundred times better than another minute on the road. Like, was the traffic always this bad between Louisville and Lima? Would her butt and back always ache this badly by the end of the drive? She needed a cigarette, and she didn't even smoke. Maybe she'd been too in her head this last leg of the trip, working herself up over nothing. Maybe she just needed to fucking finally get laid again.
The compounding factor that this officially made for the fourth week, third day and nearly fifith hour since she'd last touched or even seen her girlfriend certainly wasn't ameliorating Santana's impatience. She didn't include the couple sexy Skype sessions they'd tried, since she found that seeing but not being able to touch Brittany more increased than soothed her frustrations. If there were one way in which their dynamic had hardly changed at all, it was in the consistently of their insatiable sex drives. Brittany had called or texted basically on the hour for the first few days, with sighs and coos about "already missing your hot little hands"- um, they weren't that little- or "Lord Tubbington isn't nearly as good a cuddler as you". While she loved and admired Brittany for somehow always knowing what to say, no matter how strange, she couldn't help wonder if it was partly for show; Brittany did know better than anyone how to keep Santana's leash tightly wound. What if she was just trying to placate her? Like, what if Brittany got a little too lonely... She wasn't exactly known for her patience or discernment, so what if she already had? No, that was ludicrous. She didn't truly believe Brittany was dishonest enough to cheat, much less to then try blinding her from the truth with false affections... If she were being totally honest, maybe the distance was getting to her, just a little... But these weren't the kinds of thoughts she wanted to be having right now, so she shook her head against them, and tried wondering instead what Brittany would be wearing when she saw her. And as if on cue, that was when her phone rang.
"Hi!" Brittany's voice came squealing through the receiver. "What are you wearing?"
"What?" Santana chuckled at the absurdity of the question's timing. Not that they hadn't played that game before, but with Santana so close to being there in person, she wondered why her girlfriend had chosen this moment to ask. Leave it to Brittany to always keep her guessing. Sometimes Santana wondered if the other girl really could read minds. Instantly, she forgot about her pessimistic mental tangent, and smiled into her answer. "Um, a white tank top and black pants. Why?"
"So I'll know it's you, duh!" Santana wondered at first if this might be some indirect jab at how long it'd been since they'd seen one another, but once she heard a soft giggle coming through the line, she knew she'd been had. "Also, where are you? I'm too excited, I can't wait anymore!"
"Oh, Ha-Ha, very funny. And I know, I'm sorry! It's this damn traffic. I swear to God, if there were any more old people in this town, they'd have to relocate it to Florida. But I'm so almost there, promise! Gimme like... ten more minutes? Still want me to come pick you up at school?"
"Yeah, I'm here with some of the other girls, we're just goofing around after practice." At this, Santana's heart sank a little, knowing that she used to be the main girl Brittany 'goofed around' with after practice. Also, that little voice was reallystarting to get on her nerves- the one asking if she thought Brittany's new little sophomore friend might be there, or if 'goofing around' meant what it had when they used to do it... "I kind of wish you still had your uniform," Brittany half whispered, bringing her back to the present, "I secretly miss seeing it on you... and off." Okay, seriously, how did she do that?
"Mm, well, in about," glancing at the clock on her dash, "six minutes, you can see whatever you want, off of me. Seven if we have to find an empty bathroom." She grinned wickedly to herself, involuntarily licking her lips at the thought of once again being backed up against a wall with Brittany between her legs. Old habits die hard, but in this particular case, she could definitely live with that.
"Saaann," Brittany whined, an adorable mixture of excited impatience and feigned bashfulness. "Hurry up then, I can't wait to show you off!"
"Alright B, I'll see you soon, keep your pants on. Or, you know, don't, if you want to save me some time," she teased, followed by two quick kissing noises and a "love you" to end the call. Though the reminder slightly irked her that she'd probably have to make nice with Brittany's friends for a minute before being able to greet her girlfriend the way she really wanted, Santana did like the idea of being shown off as Brittany's hot piece of college ass. She was certain that whatever tiny insecurities she may have been having about the effects of time and distance on their evolving relationship would be put to rest once she could finally just see Brittany again, meet the new people in her life, and re-mark her territory for herself. Everything would be fine.
Everything was awful.
Who were these girls, where did they come from, and why did they all look like either hot little sex kittens or Amazonian warrior princesses? Were that one girl's legs even real? And for the love of God she wished they'd put on some goddamn clothes. She didn't remember hardly any of these girls from last year's squad, or even from Brittany's pre-season tryouts. Oh, except for "Courtney", of course, Brittany's new little buddy, who was even bubblier than Brittany herself, if that were even possible. Somehow, Santana found it far less endearing in the younger girl. No, "mind-numbing" was a more appropriate fit. Or "nauseating", that one was good too. It wasn't like the girl had actually addresses her directly yet or anything, so at least she had basic survival instincts, you had to give her that, but the way she was staring at Brittany, with such wonder and adoration- the way Santana would sometimes gaze at Brittany, but with less shared intimacy and more hero-worship, since the girl was younger- well, it was all Santana could do not to haul off and straight up start choking her.
Most of the other girls were even worse... you know, if "worse" meant super hot and talented. It turned out Brittany held another audition after deciding that her first order of business as captain would be to step up the squad's dance routines. With Sue's permission of course (and, Santana guessed, some of Brittany's signature sneaky charm, that you didn't even realize she was using until it was too late), the blonde had essentially turned the Cheerios into her own personal team of backup dancers. To Santana's dismay, however, despite how proud she was of her girlfriend on the one hand, the unfortunate side effect was that all of the girls were now almost just as attractive as Brittany herself. It was literally an entire troop of long legs and toned abs and all-around perfectly proportioned, strong yet delicate goddesses. And don't forget about the fact that they were all clearly very happily at Brittany's beck and call, asking how high when she said jump and... oh hell no, definitely looking at her ass.
"Why is everyone in their underwear?" Santana asked under her breath, arms crossing over her chest. After being briefly introduced and engaging in pleasantries, she stayed sidled up next to Brittany in front of the group as the rest returned to their routine.
"Huh?" Brittany asked, looking puzzled, then down at her own body, which was clad in nothing but barely-there short-shorts and a sports bra. Santana wouldn't have been complaining, if it weren't for the room full of prying eyes. "Oh yeah, well, you know how I like to dance in my underwear. I guess they all like it too!"
"Yeah, I bet they do," Santana snarked, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes.
She didn't want to get her reunion with Brittany started off on the wrong foot by being mean, but for some reason she was finding it extra hard to control. It was like everything irritated her all of a sudden, likely because she wanted it to be so perfect. She did know that Brittany liked dancing in her underwear- knew it better than anyone else, thank you- and she'd certainly seen Brittany dance scantily clad in front of a crowd before, so what was the difference? She didn't really want to admit to herself that it was jealousy; the difference was Santana didn't know these girls, but they got to have Brittany all the time, in ways that even she no longer did. The fact that Brittany spent all day dancing around half-naked with these random hot bitches, while Santana sweated it out, literally, alone on the road...
Brittany took Santana's hand, looking like a light bulb had suddenly gone off inside her head.
"So, how about we find that bathroom?" she purred, tucking her chin and raising her eyebrows, cutely. She brushed a smooth, naked thigh against her girlfriend's, stroking Santana's hand with her own, and breathing into her ear. "I wanna remind you that I don't even wearunderwear..."
Santana smiled despite herself. For some reason, she almost felt like she wanted to stay mad, but with Brittany giving her that look and nuzzling her neck, she just couldn't. Really, if she thought about it the right way, it was kind of a turn-on to see Brittany in such control over the girls. When Santana had first walked into the gym, they all seemed to already know who she was, and stopped dancing dead in their tracks to wait patiently at attention while Brittany ran into her arms and covered her face in kisses. It made Santana remember how nice it had been to feel like a celebrity around this place- in college, she was back to bottom of the barrel. Even now, with the girls still technically engaged in practice, she could tell they were sneaking sidelong glances, obviously curious about the woman who'd won their fearless leader's heart. Santana chose that moment to snake her left arm around Brittany's waist, squeezing her ass for good measure while keeping her eyes locked fiercely on the group of bystanders. That's right, bitches, eat it up.
"Trust me, babe, I don't need reminding," she assured, tracing tiny circles over her girlfriend's bare hip bone and hooking a thumb into the waistband of her Soffe shorts, "buuut why don't you show me anyway?" Man, she would so never get tired of making Brittany give that sly little look.
"ALRIGHT LADIES, BRING IT IN!" Brittany shouted, clapping a couple times for extra effect as the sea of sweaty, breathless girls closed in around them. "Awesome job today, guys. You're getting, like, so much better at the switch split leaps. Totally nailed it on that last turn. So, um, hit the showers, and back in uniform again on Monday, kay?"
As the girls nodded and dispersed, Santana could see Courtney craning her neck through the crowd to keep her eyes fixed on Brittany for a few seconds longer... a few seconds too long, if you asked her. It wasn't that she was threatened- she knew she was not only older and hotter, but about ten times more badass than the little pip-squeak- she just didn't like anyone but her so obviously ogling her Brit Brit, and if this chick felt comfortable doing it, who knew what the more confident ones might think they could get away with? And speak of the devil, who was this now? Coming towards them through the parting group of girls was one in particular- the one, actually- who'd stood out to Santana when she'd first arrived. At about 5'10, the girl was taller even than Brittany, with dark silky hair, big eyes and a deep tan. Basically, she looked like a cross between the two of them, and as weird as it sounded, Santana could totally see Brittany being into her for that very reason. The prospect was either infuriating or oddly flattering.
"Hey girl hey!" the anonymous brunette greeted Brittany, flashing a wide white smile and blotting the sweat from her chest and neck with a hand towel. Santana didn't fail to notice the seemingly intentional provocation of the action, as she'd tried it herself from time to time, back in the day, to get Brittany's attention. "You making it out this weekend?"
"Oh yeah, I'll be making out this weekend a lot, for sure," she winked, hip-checking Santana playfully and then pulling her back in by the hand. Santana had noticed the misunderstanding, but seeing that the brunette's face had fallen a bit at their flirtation, she decided not to intervene.
"No, I mean like, making it out to the studio. It's my birthday, so we're having a little party tomorrow night, after hours. Drunken Zumba and such, should be fun... You down?" Just when Santana was about to be offended that the girl hadn't acknowledged her, much less introduced herself, she turned her head to lock eyes with her. "Obviously you're welcome too, Santana. We've heard so much about you. Like, what a good dancer you are... I'm sure everyone would love to see for themselves." She wasn't sure exactly who all this "we" talk referred to, and even though the girl's words were welcoming, there was something shit-eating about her grin, and a hint of sarcasm to her tone. Santana knew that demeanor all too well, and it was meant more as a challenge than an invitation.
"This is Dena, by the way," Brittany interrupted. "She doesn't actually go here. I found her at the studio. Shhh," she joked, putting a finger to her lips, "but we really needed someone besides me who could do all the gymnastics, now that, eh hem, the best seniors graduated," she explained, swaying into Santana's side suggestively. "Dena goes to Lima Community College, but our team is still a lot better, so..."
"Fascinating," Santana deadpanned, her voice and face unreadable. She wondered if Dena was one of those "amazing hot bodies" from the studio to which her girlfriend had alluded earlier, but Brittany was also playing unreadable at the moment. Santana was sure the blonde had picked up on her edginess by now, but wasn't letting it on, in her characteristic style of always trying to diffuse tense situations. This time, however, Santana wished she'd take the bait a little. She had just come all this way to see her, and wouldn't mind a little extra indulgence...
"Yup," Dena nodded, averting her eyes awkwardly, then bringing them back up to Brittany's. "Sooo anyway," she continued, the sparkly-eyed smile returning to her face, "hope to see you there, Brit. I was hoping you could show me that, uh," she paused for emphasis, eyes darting to Santana, "well, you know the move I'm thinking of. Not sure if it's got a name, but I think we almost got it last time..." Oh no, she did not just wink. Santana was speechless.
"Um," Brittany stuttered, now visibly uncomfortable for the first time since Santana's arrival, "yeah, I think I know what you mean. I'll have to see what Santana wants to do, but we can talk about it more later, kay?" If Santana's stare hadn't been so furiously fixated on Dena, her eyes narrowing in an avid attempt to burn holes through the cocky brunette's skull, she might have seen the concerned look Brittany was casting her way. The girl hadn't done enough to earn an all-out verbal ass-handing, so all Santana could do was bite her tongue and clench her jaw as Dena sauntered away.
"Okay, sooo" she drew out, partly to mimic Dena, turning on her heels to face Brittany, "I guess I'm going to pretend that didn't just happen." Now it was Brittany's turn to roll her eyes, though it was in a less irritated fashion, and she still took hold of Santana's hand again, comfortingly.
"Come on, I barely even know what she was talking about. She's just like that- you know, competitive? Kind of like you? It's one of the things I like about her." Um, was that supposed to make Santana feel better? Because it so did not, and her intense eye roll was saying as much.
"Whatever. I'm over it. Let's get out of here."
She hadn't let go of her girlfriend's hand, but the seven solid minutes of awkward silence in the car told Brittany that Santana was most definitely not over anything. Needless to say, they never went looking for that bathroom.
"Will you at least tell me what's wrong?" Brittany pleaded, pulling her chair up to face Santana where she was sitting cross-legged on the blonde girl's bed. She would have sat beside her, but sometimes she liked to give Santana a little space when she was obviously upset, though she did grab ahold of her hands from where they'd been fidgeting in her lap. "I hate seeing you upset, especially when I haven't seen you at all in so long..."
"I know. I'm sorry," Santana finally conceded, looking up for the first time since they'd gotten back to Brittany's house, her gaze a mixture of desire and regret. She tried to force a smile, but all the wallowing she'd been doing for the past twenty minutes- oh hell, the past few days really- had left her face almost forgetting how to look happy. "The last thing I want is to waste our time together being mad, I just..." She shook her head, looking back down at their entwined hands. "I don't know, I guess I'm just... a little... jealous." She couldn't believe she'd actually said it.
"Of who, Dena? I told you, she's harmless. She just likes getting a rise out of people. Plus, it's not exactly like you were being super friendly, either..." Here, Santana's soft look hardened.
"Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize your girlfriend- who you haven't seen in a month, I might add- was supposed to go out of her way to make every random whore bag feel like she might have a chance with you..." Uh oh. "Unless I'm wrong, and she actually does…?" Too far?
"I honestly can't believe you just said that to me," Brittany deadpanned. Santana swallowed. "First of all? Dena isn't random. She's been my best friend here for the past few weeks, and I would hope by now you'd be confident enough in us- and in me- to know that I would never go behind your back or betray you like that." For some reason, all Santana took away from this was the implication that the only thing stopping Brittany from betrayal was that it would hurt her, not that she didn't want to do it. She looked away. "And second of all," Brittany proceeded, jerking Santana's hand to force her gaze, "it's been hard for me too. I'm not the only one meeting new people, you know, but you don't see me getting all insecure. Because I believe in us, Santana. And sometimes it makes me so so sad to think that you might not... at least not as much."
Without her realizing it was possible, those words hurt Santana more than anything else that had happened so far. It wasn't that she didn't trust Brittany, or their love, because she obviously did. It was that she was at the same time so painfully aware of how unbelievably sexy and desirable her girlfriend was, yet how oblivious she could seem at times to the effects her body and spirit often had on other people. She trusted Brittany- it was everyone else she had a hard time with. Rather than saying any of those things, though, Santana opted for the far less eloquent... silence. Brittany shook her head.
"I don't know, maybe it's because you're more complicated than me or something, but I just can't understand how someone so smart and confident about everything else can be so unsure about the one thing that comes easiest." As Brittany moved to get up from her chair, it was Santana's turn to pull her back.
"Brit, wait..." she relented, and Brittany did, returning her solemn stare. "You're right. I can't believe I keep having to apologize on our first night back together. I just..." Santana sighed, struggling to find the right words. "I just really fucking miss you, Brittany." There, maybe the most honest she'd been all day with her girlfriend... and with herself. Brittany smiled.
"I know, honey. I miss you so much too. Like, all the time. Like crazy. It's hard, and it sucks... but I also know that, if anyone can do it, it would be us." Suddenly, the air in the room lifted.
"God," Santana exhaled, smiling back even as she wiped a welled-up tear from the corner of her eye. "You're right, no I know. You're right." She shook her head. Brittany was always right. "So then why do I get like this, huh?"
"Because sometimes...?" Brittany wagered, tilting her face in closer to Santana's, "you're silly." Then a shrug- a single, silent chuckle against her girlfriend's cheek. "Sometimes everyone's silly. What's important is that the love always wins out over all the silliness," and finally, a tiny mouse kiss to Santana's chin.
What happened next was not how things would have gone down against a bathroom stall, or inside of Brittany's bedroom even, between them, a year ago, or a month ago for that matter. Because everything changes, but everything stays the same, and when the girls looked back later on this new kind of first time, they would know that fact for sure then; as familiar as it seemed, it was also unlike anything they'd ever experienced together. This time, it was both a reaching out and a coming home, all at once. If Santana hadn't known what love was before Brittany, she still hadn't known, again, before now.
Ever so languidly, Santana dragged her lips across Brittany's face, from the corner of her mouth to meet the shallow hollow of her girlfriend's temple. She paused there; closed her eyes, pressed and held down a tender kiss as she brought her hands up to cradle Brittany's head. She could feel the other girl's faint smile fluttering against her forearm, so she smiled back, each of their shy grins disappearing into the other's skin. After a long series of very still moments- or maybe just a single expanded second, it felt a little like both- Santana pulled back, but kept her hands framing Brittany's face. Their eyes searched one another, sparkling.
"I can kiss you now, right?" Santana asked, knowing the answer but feeling like it was her turn to ease the tension. Once again, Brittany's smile widened as her head nodded, and Santana followed suit, in their classic game of subconscious mimicking.
"Yeah," Brittany confirmed, still nodding, leaning in.
"Yeah," Santana repeated, now with unmistakable undertones of certainty in her raspy whisper.
As their lips touched, Santana took hold of Brittany, hard, pulling her out of the chair and onto the bed. Placing her knees on either side of Santana's hips, Brittany climbed elegantly into her lap, straddling her, deepening the kiss, pushing Santana's torso back flush against the bed using the gentle force of her own tongue's increasing pressure. Bearing her hands now too against the mattress, Brittany was on all fours above Santana, dipping her chest down and arching her back slightly, so that her ass stuck out and their boobs brushed briefly before she straightened herself again, in a kind of baiting little body roll, since she knew that's what her girlfriend liked best in this position. Sure enough, it made Santana hum, low, from the back of her throat; also halting, like she hadn't seen that coming somehow. Her fingernails dug into the firm, dimpled flesh above Brittany's butt.
"Hm," Santana started, her mouth turning up slowly into a simper amidst their kiss, "now all that silliness is out of the way..." Her hips rocking up into Brittany's a few times as her knees parted and bent, wordlessly inviting the blonde's pelvis to settle in between her legs. "You were saying something about how you..." the most fleeting of thrusts, and a squeeze, "come the easiest?"
"Oh," Brittany breathed, moving her mouth to Santana's ear and biting lightly behind the lobe, "so you still wanna play dirty with me?" Nip, on her jawline, then nip again, down to her neck. But as the blonde relaxed her weight, letting her body fall further into the other girl's- an attempt to pin her- Santana surprised her by rolling over.
"No..." she answered, now the one doing the nipping, on Brittany's bottom lip. "I wanna play dirty with you..." taking it between her teeth and tugging, "again." Then, moving to the top lip, sucking roughly. "And again." Ending with a long, drawn-out lick up Brittany's cheek. "And again." Brittany giggled.
"Oo, yes please," turning her head to allow Santana's mouth better access on its journey to her throat and collarbone, running her hands up Santana's sides then soothing over her back as the brunette slinked stealthily down the bed. Normally, Brittany might have wanted to be on top in a case like this- to take control when she knew Santana was feeling insecure, to take the lead in proving the strength and stamina of their connection, when the other girl needed reminding- but something in the way her girlfriend was taking extra time with every open-mouth kiss- shoulder, sternum, ribcage- putting extra effort into the swirling of her tongue and care into the placement of her fingertips- attempting to reclaim Brittany's body with an intensity and determination that was anything but normal- told her that this must be what Santana needed most right now, so she just smiled and spread her legs, happily.
Here is where Santana might have made some crack about Brittany's clothes still being on, or about how she liked a girl who knew when to lay back and shut up, except this time, she didn't. Instead, she simply began peeling off Brittany's shorts, before moving back up to her sports bra and doing the same- steadily, almost ritualistically, with such focus and reverence as if kneeling before an altar- speaking only with her eyes when looking up to silently thank Brittany for being so patiently complaisant, at least for now. Shredding her own shirt and flinging it to the floor- whereupon the blonde couldn't conceal the appetitive widening of her eyes, hands involuntarily reaching for the backs of Santana's thighs- she bent back down and returned to her oral assault on Brittany's body, but this time with a markedly more unbridled ferocity, signaling the official ending of the evening's earlier precarious portion. They'd already made it clear, each in her own way, that they both knew what this was about. Now, it was just on.
Santana latched her lips tight around Brittany's nipple right away- no longer bothering with the tenderness of begged forgiveness or the teasing ghost kisses of foreplay- mouth wide and suction strong as her tongue lapped unrelentingly, in oscillating patterns, round and round her girlfriend's hardening nub. In the place of a moan or a sob, Brittany stayed mostly silent, hands tangling into Santana's thick hair, save for the subtle hitch and then quickening of her breath, and the sound of sheets stirring beneath her squirming. She clutched Santana's head to her chest like it might save her life, caught somewhere surreally in between their first and fiftieth times together; bodies still reacting out of instinct, there was also that heightened awareness of everything- an overwrought, bleary buzzing behind closed eyes, like being too alive and yet not enough- contained only in the fugitive moments of feeling finally in love. Like someone had just turned up the static under their skin, magnets beneath the surface pulling and pushing simultaneously, so in sync they could only stay exactly as close as they were.
"Tell me what you want," Santana stated, because it wasn't a question, her voice on the edge of curiosity and kinkiness. She was eager to please, but still craving control. She moved her hands from Brittany's abdomen to lace their fingers together, stretching both their arms up as far as she could above Brittany's head. They were face to face, and she couldn't remember Brittany ever looking so serious during sex- almost scared, even- so she made sure to place a reassuring kiss to the tip of her nose before grinding her hips down in an equivalent measure of demandingness.
"I want you to lick my kitty already," Brittany challenged. She wiggled her eyebrows playfully and smirked, though, so Santana would know she was only teasing. "You know, show her who she belongs to? It's been a while, so..." she shrugged, still playing along, "we wouldn't want her to forget." Though Brittany knew there was no real threat of that happening, she also knew that was exactly what Santana was trying to prove. Plus, she loved getting a rise out of her girlfriend- especially because she was so good at it, especially when it was sexy.
Santana only pursed her lips and smirked back, trying her best not to be baited. She knew what Brittany was doing, hating and loving it instantaneously. Oh, she'd show her alright. Wasting no more time, she recommenced with her series of sloppy, bruising kisses all down Brittany's body, but not letting go of her hands, so that Santana's scurrying down the bedspread at a breakneck speed made an invisible snow angel with their arms. Brittany tilted her head back and closed her eyes in anticipation, feeling the effervescent tingling of Santana's hot breath and moist lips graze increasingly closer to her core. The contrast between all that heat down there and the cooler air surrounding them made her shiver, so Santana dropped her hands to rub warmth up and down Brittany's sides, which made her smile; Santana was so good at multitasking. Just when Brittany was afraid her girlfriend's mouth might never move from where it had traveled to so quickly and then stopped- the crease between her thigh and ass, where it was licking soft, swift lines like a baby lion- to that place where she needed it most, Brittany finally felt Santana's tongue leave the one fold for the other, much wetter, more sensitive one, just to the- oh, oh yeah, ah, right there.
"Ssss," she hissed, breathing in abruptly through her teeth, unsure herself if the noise was an arrested beginning to her girlfriend's name or the sound of her own center sizzling, so satisfied. She flung an arm over her face, because suddenly even the room's dim light felt like too much, even with her eyes shut. Brittany's body began rocking gently against the mattress, methodically, either from the force of Santana's face or the counter canting of her hips, it was unclear which. Unthinkingly, Brittany's hand moved to the back of the lightly bobbing head between her legs, scrunching a fistful of hair without applying pressure, but between the undulation of Brittany's hips and the strangulated, mousy squeaks she was expelling, Santana took it as a sign she should apply more of her own. So she flattened her tongue and bore down, lengthening her strokes, but not increasing the speed until her tongue started tightening in around Brittany's clit.
"MMmmsntansgood," Brittany slurred, words disintegrating on her numbing lips and head tossing, as if in feverish refusal of the pressure building between her legs. Santana, having stayed unusually silent thus far, due to both her concentration and desire not to cheapen the moment, was finding it increasingly difficult to keep quiet, egged on by the escalating gyration of Brittany's hips- she was having to hold down the blonde's body with one bracing hand on each milky thigh- and those unbelievably sexy squeals and whines she was all but choking on. The closest Santana had come to words was when she'd moved her hands from Brittany's thighs to cup her ass, changing the momentum of her licking- from up and down to left and right- moaning a muffled "Jesus Brit" into the sea of swollen stickiness. And had her girlfriend's pussy gotten even better tasting in her absence? Because, she swore to God, it was like, so thickly sweet- almost sugary- and when Santana's tongue finally delved into that silky tightness it had only been teasing at for too long, it wasn't even enough. When Brittany's hands and legs clamped down at once around Santana's head, in a vice-like death grip, crying out, loud, from sheer shock... ugh, that was it.
"Oh my God, just, turn over," Santana ordered, and Brittany complied so quickly it was like she'd been thinking the same thing. With the blonde's cheek planted against the mattress, ass protruding up into the air, Santana took a second to enjoy the view, running her hands over Brittany's butt then up her back, pressing her pelvis hard into her girlfriend from behind and bending over her like an arched cat to bite her ear.
"You're fucking hot, you know that?" Santana groaned, one arm clutching Brittany's breasts and the other wrapped around her stomach to continue tickling her clit. She thrust her hips forward once, roughly, in demand of an answer. Brittany bit her lip, eyebrows knitted near ecstasy and eyes sealed tightly shut, nodding frantically. Santana smiled. "Mmhm, yeah you do." Kissing her upturned cheek, squeezing Brittany's breast with her left hand, "And who does it belong to?"
"You," Brittany barely managed, her voice high-pitched and strangled. She was jutting her butt back into Santana's thighs with such a mindless rhythm- bending her back and grinding her hips in such a desperate search for friction- that she looked hypnotized. Still, Santana wasn't satisfied.
"That's right," she confirmed, curling her middle finger inside, firm yet quick, before retreating. Brittany moaned, writhing.
"Santana!" she pleaded, turning her head to bury her face in the bed, biting the sheets, her needy "please..." muted by the mattress.
"Oh yeah," the brunette badgered for a final time, for good measure, "don't want kitty forgetting, do we?" With that, she uncoiled her body from Brittany's and reassumed her kneeling position at the end of the bed. Her head disappearing behind the bulb of her girlfriend's ass, she shoved her face into the crevasse of Brittany's sex, tongue extending forward to massage her clit, before finally inserting two fingers into Brittany's dripping pussy and fucking her with abandon.
"Oh FUCK yeah," the blonde yelled out, her body lurching with the initial impalement, her hands flying up to flatten against the headboard for stability. Even in her preoccupied state, Santana had to stifle a giggle- Brittany so rarely cursed, even during sex, that it felt like a small victory. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, YEAH," she continued chanting upon each plunge, the headboard hammering against the wall as Santana put her weight into it. Thank God the Pierce's were out, she thought, followed shortly by "mission accomplished" as Brittany's inner muscles started to twitch and she returned to the incoherent string of curses: "SHITyefeelsogoodfuckmebabYy." Wow, either Brittany was getting more theatrical, or Santana was getting even better at this.
Out of breath and back aching from crouching over for so long, she came up for air and calmed her pace, her fingers' short forceful stabs turning to longer, gentler caresses, backed by the steady weight and rhythm of her hips. Then, stopping the thrusting altogether to embed, so deep inside, they curled at the tips, in a kind of "come hither" gesture, and it was only then that Brittany could finally form real words again.
"Mmmm, missed this," she beamed, inhaling deeply, accentuating her point by reaching back to take hold of Santana's hand. The brunette smiled, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow before accepting, gladly. For as wild as Brittany could be in bed, Santana knew her girlfriend usually liked it better gentle. But she also knew she liked it best when she came- because who didn't- so leaning over, Santana bent their elbows to brace beside each other on the bed, kissing Brittany passionately on the mouth as her fingers mounted in pace once again. "Oo yeah, looove," Brittany moaned, prolonging the word, referring to Santana, what she was doing, and, of course, the concept in general, all at once. With as worked up as Santana was, something about how sexy and beautiful the word suddenly sounded coming from her girlfriend's lips- the way it made her realize how long it had been since she'd gotten to hear it during the throws of love-making- almost made Santana want to cry. She instantly realized she needed a better view of Brittany's face, and rolled her back over.
"Come on, baby. Let me see you do it," she beckoned. She laid back down on top of Brittany, supporting herself with one arm while never having to remove the other hand from where it was going to work, so unshakably strong, in between them. Santana rocked along with her girlfriend, now beside instead of behind her, cradling her head and toying with loose strands of golden hair as she peppered sweet butterfly kisses across her flushed face. Since Brittany's mouth was open anyway, she placed her own atop it, coaxing her, out into oblivion, "That's it. Let me love you."
Maybe it was the way Santana's fingers shifted, or maybe it was simply hearing the word "love" fall from her lips, but that was when Brittany's body finally clinched and crashed, arms clinging just as tightly around Santana's body as her muscles were around her fingers, holding her there.
"Ahhh," she sang. Santana didn't notice, but she sang it too, echoing back into Brittany's mouth.
They laid there for a long while; intertwined, chests heaving, blood pumping, then finally, hearts slowing down to normal. Eventually, Santana had to roll away so they could air out, but Brittany followed, rolling over on her side and propping her head up. She tickled the pads of her fingers over Santana's stomach, lazily, watching the sweat dry with a far-off, hazy fascination.
"Guess what," she whispered.
"Hm?" Santana asked, lulling her head towards Brittany's voice without opening her eyes.
"You're gonna hate me, but..." At this, Santana looked up. Searching Brittany's eyes to make sure nothing was the matter- if she was about to choose this moment to tell her that maybe something had go down with that Dena slut, Santana didn't know what she'd do- but her girlfriend's face shone soft and amorous, yet with a hint of mischief. Santana raised her eyebrows inquisitively, waiting. "Well, apparently, you get extra hot when you're jealous," she winked, grinning.
"HA! Wow," Santana scoffed, though her tone was playful. Now infused with the strength to roll over, she slung an arm around Brittany's side and shook her head, "you're so wrong."
"No way! You so do. That was, like, the best ever."
"No..." Leaning in, lightly nipping Brittany's nose, "I mean I could never hate you." Her eyes flashed a smile. "Even when you say things that would get other people killed." Brittany only stared back with adoration. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Sometimes we're just so... us, that it's incredible."
"Oh, I'll show you incredible. Come here..." Santana started to roll on top of her once more.
"Again?" Brittany squealed, eyes widening in disbelief.
"It's been a month! I've got crazy backup reserves, okay? If it were up to me, we would literally do this all weekend. Plus, any excuse to not go to that Dena bitch's stupid party..."
"Santana!" Brittany scolded, even as she let her girlfriend kiss her, giggling.
"Kidding! Fine, we can go... but we're making another sex tape, just to show her."
"Good deal," Brittany agreed, but unlike Santana, she probably wasn't really kidding. She'd been right... they could never not be utterly them, no matter the time or distance.
A/N: let me know if you'd like a 2nd chapter, featuring Brittany's first visit to Santana, and/or tying up any loose threads like Dena etc. Hope you enjoyed