Summary: "Santana can't tell Brittany the awful things Katelin said about her. She also can't tell her that they're probably not the last mean things someone will say about the two of them, especially once they make their relationship public- if they ever make their relationship public. If they ever even have a relationship." Brittana. SOLOSMU #3.
Warning: Two girls having sex. Minor blood!play, but nothing too kinky, you know how I do. ;)
A/N: Hello everyone, sorry this is delayed; I meant to have this up Friday, but between my best fwend getting sick and needing attention, and my work demanding more labor from me, I didn't have time; fuq all these ppl screwing up my fic schedule!
But here it is! :) It's not too terribly smutty. I had a lot of feelings. I also am not sure where I was going with this story, but whatever. Haha.
Thanks to everyone who read the first two stories in the SOLSTICE OF SMUT. I appreciate all the reviews, follows, and favorites. You guys are awesome!
My good friend and yours, jellymankelly, will be dropping a new installment of her awesome Innocent series of smutty one-shots later today, so definitely give that a read! You won't be sorry!
And speaking of my dear jelly, this fic is inspired by her fic, Soft, though the two fics play out very differently. If you haven't given that little fic a read, I suggest you do. It's worth reading. (I've read it like three times. LOL :')
For those of you asking for the next installment of Savage!, it's being worked on. There will be an update before the end of the year, possibly two updates if I can find some time to write after SOLOSMU, which is pretty likely, but we'll see. But I didn't forget about you! Chapter 5 is about halfway written and completely mapped out through Chapter 6. :)
Okay, happy wanking, and I'll see you kids on Monday!
Santana's never thought of herself as honorable.
"Let me go, you fucking psycho!"
In fact, she's gone out of her way to be malicious, bitchy, and downright mean a lot of the time, and spent most of this year- her junior year- being afraid to acknowledge her feelings.
"I'll beat your fucking ass, dyke!"
But now that she's acknowledged them- embraced them, even, though she's not ready to fully come out in public and scream them to the world- she can't just ignore that they're there. She has to stand up for them. She has to accept what they mean.
She has to accept that she loves Brittany.
So as she slams Katelin- member of the crew team (who knew WMHS had a crew team?) and world-class douche nozzle- face-first into the lockers, she reminds herself of why she's currently bleeding, sore, and beating the ever-loving shit out of another girl, and fleetingly wishes that everyone else could accept that she loves Brittany, too. As she hears Katelin's words repeating in her head, taunting her, she relives the last few moments;
"So are you fucking that dumb, blonde slut now?"
Slamming her locker closed, Santana turns, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the large girl smirking in front of her. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"You are, aren't you?"
"Why do you care? You jelly you can't have me all to yourself?" Santana snaps. "I'd apologize, but you should know that I'd have a problem sharing you with the king-sized versions of food that could probably feed an entire country of starving children you indulge in on a daily basis. Also, I'm allergic to the Crisco that's seeping out of your pores."
With an enraged snarl, Katelin lunges, and she tackles a completely unprepared Santana into the lockers on the other side of the hall. A crowd of kids has formed around them, and they cheer, screaming as Katelin shoves her back. As her back hits the unforgiving metal and the air is knocked from her lungs, Santana wonders where the fuck the faculty is- shouldn't Mr. Shuester be hovering over his students like a creepy vulture, ready to swoop in and teach some fucking lesson through song?
The next few minutes are a blur as she grapples with Katelin. She takes a hard blow to her eye, cursing, and returns a good swing, clawing at Katelin's face and leaving several very satisfying scratch marks. However, a solid hit to her lip throws her off balance, and she stumbles back, falling to her ass on the ground, feeling hot blood gushing down her chin. Fuck, that hurt.
Katelin laughs triumphantly. "I knew you two were fucking. I heard what you said to her in the hall a couple weeks ago. You're pathetic." She points to her lip tauntingly. "You might want to put a band-aid on that- maybe you can get stupid to do it, I hear she's single now… then again, she's probably not even smart enough to open one. You'll have to do it yourself."
Shaking with barely-contained rage, Santana climbs to her feet as gracefully as her predicament will allow, and smirks her trademark smirk, forcing her bitch-wall up, forcing herself not to be affected by Katelin's words. "Seriously, is that the best you could come up with?"
Katelin shrugs. "I don't spend my time thinking up insults, bitch."
"Well, maybe you should, because I'm embarrassed for you," Santana taunts. "As admirable as I'm sure it is to communicate with your fists in the Neanderthal colony where you hail from, speaking only in the strange grunts and animalistic groans your kind is known for, it's a huge barrier in the world of civilization."
"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Katelin snarls, glaring and balling her fists.
"And you just don't know how to rock a hairstyle that doesn't look like a bird's nest. Honestly- did you bring a picture of Captain Planet to your stylist at Super Cuts?"
Santana tries to cast her most challenging smirk despite the pain and swelling happening everywhere in her head. She can taste the iron tang of her own blood in her mouth and inwardly cringes at how she must look, but her taunt works- she recognizes the fiery glint of rage in her opponent's eye and as Katelin charges towards her again, she steps to the side, intending to dodge the oncoming girl like a skilled Matador, efficiently ending their confrontation and restoring order to the world. Unfortunately, Katelin is just slightly smarter than a bull, and she twists, grabbing Santana's midsection and slamming her against the lockers again, harder.
Santana nearly cries out in pain from the blow- she's definitely going to feel that later, fuck. She snatches at Katelin's mullet and pulls, yanking her head up, and uses the opportunity to slip out of her grasp and reverse their positions, shoving Katelin into the lockers.
And that's where she currently is, forcing Katelin's face against the cold metal. She's going to make her regret ever saying shit about her and Brittany.
"I'll beat your fucking ass!"
"You've been screeching that threat for the past five minutes, now, Bulbasaur," Santana seethes, "and I still see you kissing the lockers."
The crowd of kids yells and chants random things. Some of them are encouraging Katelin to turn and stomp Santana down; others are cheering Santana on, telling her the bitch deserves a good smackdown. Santana doesn't care about any of that. She doesn't hear the roar of the crowd- only the pounding of her pulse in her ears, hot and hard with anger. Only the echo of Katelin's words, dumb blonde slut.
"Fuck you," Katelin hisses, struggling against Santana's hold, but Santana slams her into the locker again, gripping the larger girl firmly.
"Not even if I was a forty-year-old virgin," Santana snaps, wincing to keep blood from dripping into her eye. (Isn't that what eyebrows are for? No wonder she shaves those useless things.) She doesn't even know where she's bleeding from, she just knows her head fucking hurts like a bitch. But she can't think about that now. She twists Katelin's arm behind the girl's back and pulls up, putting pressure on her shoulder and making her cry out. "But I'll take an apology, actually."
"Fuck! I'm sorry-"
"What was that?"
"I'm sorry, okay?! Jesus-"
Santana releases Katelin with a shove, stepping back and listening to the sounds of disappointment that erupt around her from the people wanting to see blood. She tentatively reaches up to wipe at her chin- they already got blood.
Without warning, Katelin tries to rush her again, and Santana grabs the lapels of her letterman jacket and uses her momentum to throw her to the floor. Katelin hits the tile and skids, and Santana stands over her, panting, angry, and ready to deliver a few more blows when Sue Sylvester shows up, parting the crowd of kids like the Red Sea.
"Fun Bags, what the hell is going on here?!"
Of course now the staff shows up.
Santana doesn't say anything, but straightens her posture, standing up tall and proud- until a sharp pain in her ribs makes her double over, and Coach Sylvester grabs her by the elbow and escorts her roughly away.
"Show's over, maggots! Get to class!" Coach screeches as she pulls Santana down the hall.
Santana tosses one last glare over her shoulder at Katelin, still sprawled on the floor.
The crowd around her is stunned silent.
"You look awful, dear. You really should go to the hospital," the nurse tells her as she offers Santana a warm, wet washcloth.
"I'm-" Santana starts, then hisses in pain as the sting from her ribs makes her struggle to catch her breath for a moment. She dabs at the blood on her chin with the washcloth, but she's aching too much to really care about cleaning herself up. She just wants to go home and collapse. "I'm fine. My Dad's a doctor, he'll take care of me when he gets home." She tries to sit up straighter, forcing a neutral expression. "It's not as bad as it looks."
The nurse looks doubtful, but Santana knows she can't really force her into doing anything, so she rises from her seat and limps to the door, grateful that at least she's not on the Cheerios anymore, so she won't have to struggle through practice.
Then again, if she had been on the Cheerios, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Nobody confronted the Cheerios except other Cheerios. She'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the immunity being on the Cheerios granted for her and Brittany.
Her heart aches. Brittany-
"You should definitely go home and rest," the nurse continues, making Santana realize she'd probably been talking the whole time. Santana nods quickly and decides to leave before the old hag can say anything else to her- she has enough shit on her mind as it is.
The ride home is painful in more ways than one. She can't stop going over and over what Katelin said to her and each time, she feels her blood boiling more and more- so that she wishes she would've hurt the bitch worse. On top of that, her head is throbbing with pain in several places- including her eye- her lip is swollen, and her left side is aching and sore. She's not sure she's ever felt worse.
She doesn't know how she makes it home and upstairs to her room, but when she gets there, she collapses on her bed without bothering to clean up or take off her shoes. She's exhausted, emotionally and physically, and as her eyes slip closed, her last thought before passing out is that she feels like a failure.
Santana wakes with a start several hours later, regretting it instantly as her body reminds her that she's an asshole. Her eyes dart to her bedside clock to check the time- it's just starting to get dark out. She sits up- painfully- and checks her phone. She has several missed texts and calls from Brittany.
San, where are you?
Are you okay? I heard what happened. :(
Please answer me, San, I'm worried…
Santana sighs. She doesn't have the energy to respond, and she doesn't know what to say. She can't tell Brittany the awful things Katelin said about her- about them. She also can't tell her that they're probably not the last mean things some dumb bitch will say about the two of them, especially once they make their relationship public- if they ever make their relationship public. If they ever even have a relationship. Her heart sinks.
She's worried she fucked everything up; Brittany's single, she broke up with Arty, but Santana's not sure she's ready to face the Katelins of the world just yet. She's not sure she's ready to put Brittany in their line of fire. She wants Brittany more than anything, but she can't let herself have her. She has to protect Brittany a little longer.
Groaning at her overwhelming thoughts, she climbs to her feet and makes her way to the bathroom. Her ribs still hurt, but in a background sort of way, and her head pain is nearly gone. She's grateful for that, at least.
When she makes it to the bathroom, she stares into the mirror and cringes; she looks even worse than she feared. Her bottom lip is fat, swollen and cracked, with dried blood trailing from the center and down her chin in a dark, broken line where parts of it has flaked away. She turns her head to inspect her left eye, which has started to bruise a dark purple. Shit, that's going to be a bitch to cover up.
Turning her head the other way, she notices a cut in her temple from where her head must've caught on a metal spur from the locker or something and torn into her skin. It's not particularly deep- not enough to need stitches, anyways- but it looks nasty with all the dried blood surrounding it. It covers that side of her face. And her hair- well, it's completely unmanageable.
All in all, she looks like absolute shit.
Sighing, she figures she might as well get to work. It's going to take a while to get her face cleaned up and presentable before her parents come home. She has no intention of telling them why she looks like Rocky Balboa after a fight.
She's in the middle of washing her hands when she hears the front door slam closed from downstairs and a familiar voice float up to her.
"San?"
Cursing, her eyes dart frantically around the bathroom as she thinks of what to do. She can't let Brittany see her like this- but she can't exactly hide it, either. Not without a lot more time. Numbly, she shuts the bathroom door, then curses herself again as the noise draws Brittany's attention.
"San?" the blonde calls again, hesitantly.
Santana swallows. "Yeah, Britt?" she answers, berating herself for how weak and shaky her voice sounds. Real convincing.
"Can I come in?"
"Uhh-" Shit! She turns on the water in the sink, trying to sound occupied. "Give me a minute."
Carefully, she grabs a washcloth from under the sink and frantically tries to wipe away some of the dried blood from her face, but in doing so it only agitates the wound, and because she has the worst luck ever, the damn thing starts bleeding again.
"Fucking hell," she mutters as she puts pressure on it. She bounces on her toes anxiously.
"Santana?" Brittany calls more urgently. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just give me two fucking seconds, Brittany!" she snaps, regretting it immediately. She doesn't need to take out her frustrations on Brittany- after all, the whole reason she's looking like raw hamburger in the first place is because she was defending Brittany's honor or some shit.
"Okay." Brittany's miserable, defeated voice from the other side of the door makes Santana's heart break. "I'm just worried, that's all."
Santana takes a deep breath, lowering the washcloth from her face- it's as good as it's going to get, really- and reaches for the door handle. She opens the door with one quick motion and faces the blonde, keeping her eyes downcast as she blurts out an apology at the same time Brittany speaks.
"Britt, look, I'm sorry-"
"San, I can go if you don't-"
They freeze. Santana snaps her gaze up, and blue eyes meet brown; the fearful, wounded look in Brittany's eyes practically kills her, and all of a sudden, she feels ashamed of how awful she looks.
"Santana…" Brittany breathes, reaching up to touch the uninjured side of Santana's face.
Santana drops her eyes again miserably, feeling responsible for the hurt that's so clearly registering on Brittany's face, in Brittany's voice. It hurts her worse than her physical wounds. She doesn't ever want to make Brittany sad or disappoint her, and she feels like maybe she did just that.
But Brittany's eyes harden instead. "Katelin did this to you?"
Santana shakes her head, laughing bitterly. "Britt, don't worry about it. I already showed her a taste of Lima Heights Adjacent hospitality." Santana feels her heart lift a little at the slight smile that comes to Brittany's lips at her ridiculous statement.
"I heard," Brittany murmurs with a catlike grin, reaching up to wipe at a drop of fresh blood that slowly rolls down her temple with her thumb. "But why?"
Santana stares at the wall over Brittany's shoulder, shrugging. This is the part she doesn't want to talk about. She bites her lip briefly before realizing- oh yeah, it's still busted- and hisses in pain. Concerned, Brittany gently cups her face with both hands, blue eyes searching for a reason why Santana would engage in more fighting- she thought those bitchy, angry feelings left when Santana confessed she was in love with her.
Brittany moves forward, closing the distance between them, and gently brushes her lips against Santana's, resting their foreheads together and causing her breath to hitch slightly at the contact. "Tell me," she whispers.
Santana shrugs again, nervous. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it. Finally, after a long pause, she mumbles, "That bitch had some inappropriate comments about my best friend, is all." She tries to sound tough and indifferent, like it was no big deal she got the shit kicked out of her, but Brittany knows better; Brittany sees through her, and she locks their gazes together, staring at her knowingly.
"So… You took this beating… because of me?" she whispers.
Lowering her eyes again, Santana gives a brief, quick nod. "It's no big deal, Britt," she says softly, pleadingly, as Brittany pulls away. "Don't make it sound so bad."
"Santana, have you seen yourself?" Brittany asks incredulously, a wry smile on her lips, and Santana fights to hold back a sarcastic comment stating that she obviously has.
Instead, she replies in a sincere voice rare with honest emotion, "It was worth it. I'd take it all over again if it meant no one would ever call you stupid again."
Brittany smiles shyly, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "You would?"
Santana backtracks, her thoughts racing, and feels a little silly. But then again, she told Brittany she was in love with her- and she is. It's natural to want to protect the one you love, right?
Swallowing, Santana nods again. "Yeah."
Brittany looks up, blue eyes searching hers, and Santana feels open and exposed as Brittany stares into her eyes. She watches as Brittany licks her lips, and then leans forward, pressing her lips firmly to her.
"Ow," Santana groans, pulling back a little from the slight sting of pain in her lip at the touch.
"Sorry," Brittany whispers against her lips, her eyes darkening with a familiar look Santana recognizes, but hasn't seen in a while. Her pulse quickens and she gives Brittany an encouraging, if lopsided, smile.
"It's okay, B," she assures gently, and Brittany smiles a little, moving in close again, letting her lips brush against Santana's.
"Are you sure?" Brittany breathes, licking her lips, and because of the close proximity, Santana feels her tongue against her own lips and swallows, nodding.
Slowly, Brittany closes the distance and kisses Santana, at first just barely pressing their lips together; but as Santana responds, the pain in her lip masked by the tingly feeling of Brittany's lips against her own, she begins to kiss her more forcefully, darting her tongue out to swipe over Santana's bottom lip. Brittany gasps audibly when she tastes the metal tang of Santana's blood; it's an entirely new sensation, but as she remembers why that blood is there, Brittany can't help the feeling of arousal that spreads through her body at the taste. It's a bold reminder that Santana loves her; that Santana defended her honor.
She's the only one who ever has. (God, Brittany, why do you have to be so stupid?)
As Brittany sucks on her lip, Santana moans from the weird mixture of pleasure and pain, tangling her fingers in Brittany's loose, blonde hair. Brittany presses against her, and her ribs ache in protest, but the way Brittany's hands roam over her body gives a pleasant tingle to counteract the pain and soreness.
Santana likes the pain because it distracts her from her emotional turmoil, makes her feel as if she's being punished, like she deserves the hurt, and maybe she does after the way she's hurt Brittany by pushing her away in the past; and yet, Brittany is here- kissing her, touching her gently, sighing against her lips. Santana shivers.
"You're so beautiful, Santana," Brittany pants against her mouth, and Santana feels warmth spread through her body.
"Britt- I look like hell."
"But not hell on wheels," Brittany giggles, pressing searing kisses along Santana's jaw and making her unable to process anything that she said. When Brittany's mouth reaches her ear, she feels her knees go weak as she whispers hotly, "I'm gonna make you feel better."
Then, without preamble, Brittany reaches down and lifts Santana's right thigh, hooking it around her waist and pressing herself between her legs. Between them, her hand busies itself with unfastening Santana's jeans, opening them just enough to reach inside and-
Santana gasps as Brittany's fingers slip into her, hard but still so gentle, rough but still so loving, possessive but still so tender. She focuses on the way they thrust in and out, reaching deeper inside her each time, making her feel full of Brittany, and her feelings for Brittany, and just- just-
"Fuck, you feel so good," Brittany tells her. "You're so tight and wet for me-"
"All for you," Santana breathes, clenching around Brittany's fingers. Brittany kisses her, licks over the split in her lip, and Santana can taste hints of her own blood as their tongues meet and curl together. She moans loudly as Brittany breaks the kiss and sucks and bites her way down her neck to the base; when she bites it roughly while sucking, Santana wonders if Brittany is trying to leave her own mark, her own bruise for her to wear like a proud badge alongside her other battle scars.
(All of it is for her.)
Brittany curls her fingers, searching, searching, and when Santana sucks in a gasp and her body tenses, Brittany knows she's found it, and she strokes the sensitive spot lazily, her only goal to make Santana feel as good as she deserves, to reward her for defending her honor- for making Brittany feel worth it.
Santana holds tightly to Brittany, keeping arms locked around her, keeping the blonde's mouth pressed to her neck as she buries her own face against Brittany's. She can feel her orgasm building quickly, and her thigh tightens around Brittany's waist, pulling her closer, and Brittany's fingers push even deeper, and-
"Fuck, Britt!" Santana gasps, and as her orgasm hits her, she bites down on Brittany's shoulder, making the other girl hiss in pleasure from the pain. She comes hard, strangling Brittany's fingers inside her as they continue to move, and she feels tears spring to her eyes as the waves of pleasure roll through her, making her toes curl and her body shake. She loves Brittany so much.
Brittany murmurs loving things in her ear, telling her how good she is, how proud of her she is, how much she loves her, and Santana holds back a sob of emotion, cradling Brittany closer as she sags against her, trembling. Brittany takes her weight easily, hushing her before lifting her other thigh and encouraging Santana to wrap both legs around her waist, which she does. Then, as if Santana is the most precious cargo in the world, Brittany carries her into the bathroom and sets her down gently on her feet. She turns the shower on, and once it's a desirable temperature, she meets Santana's eyes and smiles, fond and adoring.
Reverently, Brittany begins to undress her, tugging her tight jeans down, lifting her shirt up over her head with attentive care. She drags Santana's underwear down her thighs, unhooks her bra, and once she's naked, quickly undresses herself. She guides Santana into the shower, and then, taking her time, she cleans her up.
Soothingly, she washes Santana's hair, combing her fingers through the dark locks and massaging her scalp. She soaps up Santana's washcloth and rubs it gently over her face and body, scrubbing away the dirt and blood. Then, once she's clean, she kisses her and holds her silently under the warm water, and Santana feels her emotional turmoil dissipating into nothing.
She hasn't fucked anything up. Brittany's still hers; still waiting. And she'll wait as long as she needs to, until Santana's ready.
Sighing, Santana wraps arms around Brittany's waist and hugs her close, and they stand under the shower for a long time while Brittany rubs her back and shoulders until the ache in Santana's muscles is completely gone. After, Brittany wraps her in a fluffy towel, and Santana feels like herself again. She smacks Brittany playfully on the butt, and Brittany looks appropriately scandalized, the sparkle in her blue eyes the only evidence that she liked it, that she's happy Santana feels better.
When they reach the bedroom, they dress in soft cotton pajamas and curl up in Santana's bed, their hair still damp. Santana rests her head against Brittany's chest and listens to her heartbeat. It's silent for a long moment, where they just stroke fingers along each other's arms and necks, and then Brittany presses a kiss to her head.
"Thank you," Brittany breathes, "for standing up for me. No one ever does… except you. I love you, Santana."
Santana smiles against Brittany's chest, tracing an idle pattern on her clothed stomach. She doesn't want to say it was nothing- it's a much bigger deal to Brittany than she thought, and she won't diminish her feelings like that. Instead, she shrugs a little. "I love you, too, Britt," she says. "And it was an honor."
Brittany squeezes her, holding her tightly, and Santana closes her eyes and sighs. She's not ready to face the Katelins of the world just yet.
But someday, she will be. And then she'll be worthy.
Sigh. Again. Sorry for the feels, and not so much smut. But don't worry- there's plenty more smut on the way! Hahaha. In the meantime, go read Soft, by jellymankelly! :')
Review if you feel like it, but meh. You don't have to. I'll see you next time.
AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:
Blood tastes awful. Seriously, I could never be a vampire. Then again, blood probably tastes good to vampires, so I'd probably be all right if I were one.
IF VAMPIRES WERE REAL.
However, blood carries all kinds of diseases and you definitely don't want to open yourself up to any of those nasty shits. So, do yourself a favor, and just don't fucks wit no blood.
Unless, you know. Your partner is totally clean. Then you can get as bloody as you want, if you know what I mean. ;)
Haha… ha… haa... Gross. D:
And that's all I have to say about that!
See you soon, pals!