Mercedes is crying, so Sam holds her to his chest and comforts her. She's the one who just broke up with him, so it kind of feels like maybe he's the one who should be comforted, but for some reason that's not the way it plays out.
She falls asleep like that, cuddled up on his chest. Sam used to like it when she did that. Now, though...Well, his mind is kind of racing. She dumped him because he didn't cheat on her. How the hell is that fair? But then she tried to make it sound like it was for his own good, because she thought it was too hard for him to go without sex, which is just so condescending.
Although...he has really missed sex. Like, really missed it.
He's half-hard now, in fact. It's not that unusual when Mercedes is curled up with him, and he's learned to just live with it. But now he's still kind of mad at her. He doesn't want to be mad at her. Just because she's actually able to sleep all peacefully after putting him through...
Okay. Not angry. He's just going to go upstairs and jerk off. Blaine is with Kurt so Sam will have plenty of privacy. He gently slides out from under Mercedes and walks quietly up the stairs.
He walks into his bedroom and stops dead in his tracks. Brittany is sitting on Blaine's bed in panties and a very thin t-shirt, watching videos on her laptop. He instinctively reaches for the rubber band he's been wearing around his wrist—the one he snaps any time he's in danger of popping a rogue chubber—but it's not there; that photographer made him take it off for the photo shoot. He's screwed.
"Hi, Sammy," Brittany says. It's like she's trying to kill him. She used to call him Sammy during sex. She looks up at him and adds, "You look how I feel."
You feel horny too? he wants to ask. He doesn't, though. It would sound like he was coming on to her, and she's back with Santana, so... Besides, it kind of goes without saying. Brittany's at least a little horny most of the time. Instead he asks, "How do you feel?"
"Sad," she says. "And kinda pissed off. I came all the way to New York to see Santana and she's not here. She didn't even tell me she was going to Idaho for her yeast infection. She didn't even tell me she had a yeast infection. The last time I was near her pussy it was pink and juicy and perfect."
"I'm sorry, Britt. That sucks."
"Yeah. Why are you sad and kinda pissed off?"
Sam leans against the door frame. "Mercedes dumped me."
Wordlessly, Brittany sets the laptop aside and goes to him. She wraps her arms around him, works her fingers into his hair, and whispers in his ear, "I'm sorry, Sammy." It's meant to be comforting, but it's having a pretty different effect. She's so close, she's pressed right up against him, and she smells good, and did Sam mention she's pressed right up against him? Like with her boobs smushed against his chest? And he can tell she's not wearing a bra and he could swear he actually feels her nipples poking against him. And then Brittany adds, "I didn't think she'd really do it."
"You mean...you knew she was thinking about breaking up with me?"
"We told her she should. Well, Kurt and Rachel did. I just sat there."
"What!?" Sam disentangles himself from her and takes a step back, out into the hall. "What the hell, Brittany!"
"We thought it wasn't fair for her to keep stringing you along, asking you to wait for years maybe and not have sex. Well, that's what Kurt and Rachel thought."
So that's where she got the idea! "Just Kurt and Rachel? You didn't agree?"
"I mean, I did agree. She wasn't being fair. Just because sex isn't important to her doesn't mean it's not important to you. But I didn't say anything because I thought you should get to decide if you were willing to put up with it."
"So you didn't tell her to dump me?"
"No."
"Well, thanks." At least someone has enough respect for him to trust him to make his own decisions.
"But honestly, a part of me was hoping that she would. Not just for you but for me."
"For you?"
"I was hoping if you guys broke up you might want to fuck me."
God, Sam wishes Brittany would realize she can't just say stuff like that. Not with him in the state he's in. "You're right, I might want to," he says, although there's absolutely no might about it, "but you're with Santana again."
"But I'm not. I'm here and she's off in a corn field somewhere."
"But you're girlfriends again. Even if she's not here right now."
"But I need her and she's gone."
"Brittany..." Is she actually suggesting it? Like now? Or is it just his sex-starved brain making shit up? Yeah, that must be it, because Brittany wouldn't actually cheat on Santana.
"What? Are you too sad? I could suck your cock until you're happy enough."
Oh, fuck! His dick twitches at the idea. He struggles to remember why he can't let her do that. "I just...wouldn't it be kind of unfair to Santana?"
"But she's the one who went away," Brittany explains patiently. "She knows how horny I get."
Sam knows how horny Brittany gets too. Sometimes she actually needed it more often than he really felt like it, hard as that is to believe now. And for someone whose most serious relationship was with a girl, Brittany really loved cock. And jizz. She was always happiest when she had a fresh, hot load up inside her snatch. So it makes Sam think...Santana does know Brittany really well, so maybe she would be okay with this. Maybe the two of them have an actual understanding. He'll just ask Brittany if that's what she means.
But then she's pressing against him again, and she's got him backed against the wall and he can, like, actually feel the heat from between her legs, and he thinks...maybe he shouldn't ask. What if Santana wouldn't be okay with it? Would he really be able to stop if that's the case? He doesn't think he wants to find out. So instead of talking he kisses her, right there in the hallway.
Mercedes is not an especially sound sleeper. Sam doesn't care. He kisses Brittany and he tries to grab her breast but he can't because their bodies are too close together, so he grabs her ass instead. She's sort of humping his thigh already, and he'd swear she needs it as bad as he does if that weren't literally impossible.
"You want me to fuck you right now?" he asks. "Right here in the hallway? Where Mercedes might see us?"
"Yeah. Please, Sammy. Mercedes had her chance with you and she blew it. Or, wait...I bet she didn't even do that, did she?"
No. No, as a matter of fact, she didn't. Sam turns them so Brittany is the one against the wall and forces her to stop dry-humping him long enough to get her panties off.
She goes for his belt, but he moves her hands away so he can do it himself. He knows if she did it she'd reach in his underwear and stroke his dick, and if by some miracle he didn't come just from that, she'd probably drop down in front of him and put it in her mouth. That would be so awesome, but he would definitely come within seconds, and he really, really wants to fuck her, like right now. He doesn't bother to take his pants and underwear all the way, just pushes them down to his knees.
Brittany, in the meantime, has apparently gotten impatient. It's been like two seconds since Sam moved her away from his leg and she's busy fingering herself.
"You all wet for me, babe?"
"So wet, Sammy." She holds two drenched fingers in front of his face, and he immediately guides them into his mouth. God, he's missed pussy. He'd love to get more of a taste, but the need to get his dick in there wins out. He lifts her, and she immediately wraps her legs around his hips. Slamming her back against the wall harder than he probably should, he buries his cock inside her tight cunt.
Brittany pulls his hair and yelps. "Ow, fuck!"
"I'm sorry!" Sam gasps. He's not sure if he made her hit her head on the wall or what, and he should totally let her down and make sure she's all right, but honestly it's the last thing he wants to do because she feels so good. But, no, he's not going to be a jerk, so...
"No, no, don't stop!" she says, as if guessing what he's thinking. "I just forgot how big you are. I don't care, just keep fucking me and I'll stretch."
He shouldn't. Who knows how long it's been since she's had a cock inside her? He should pull out and start again slow. Probably he should make her come with his mouth and his fingers before he even tries to fuck her again. And that's something he would love to do if everything didn't feel so urgent, but...But instead he asks her, pretty sure she's going to give him the answer he selfishly wants: "Are you sure?"
"God, yes, Sammy. If you leave me empty now I'll be so sad."
Well, he doesn't want to make Brittany sad. He does pull out, but only about halfway, and then he eases back in, trying to be a lot gentler at least. It's nice, going slow. Brittany's tight little pussy feels so hot and wet around him—if he were just slamming in he'd barely have time to appreciate it. So this isn't frustrating and isn't using up what little remains of his self-control at all.
"Sammy," Brittany says, "I know you don't need it sweet right now. I know you need to do me fast and hard. And if you still knew me like I still know you, you'd know I can take it."
"God, I love you, Britt." He doesn't mean it like...Okay, he just got thrown out of a relationship he saw himself in long-term, and he doesn't think Brittany maybe-cheating on him means she would have any interest in getting back together with him for real even if that were what he wanted. But he still does love her in some way that he can't quite explain. She's just the best, and because she's the best she doesn't ask him to explain what he meant, and he doesn't feel the need to. He doesn't feel the need to talk anymore at all, and in fact he feels the impossibility of it as he just lets himself take her as fast and as rough as his body is screaming at him to.
Brittany is screaming now too. She's always tended to be vocal during sex—the harder the pounding, the louder her screams. Sometimes when they fucked at school or somewhere else semi-public, Sam had to stuff her panties in her mouth so they wouldn't get caught. He doesn't do that now. It's not that he actually wants Mercedes to wake up—he doesn't actively want to hurt her, he doesn't think—it's more that he's not really thinking at all, not about anything other than how good Brittany feels and how hot she sounds and how great it is to actually be with someone who wants sex—with him!—and who likes it as much as he does.
He can still interpret Brittany's different sex noises, and this one isn't the one she makes when she's coming. It's not even the one she makes when she's close. Brittany's first orgasm is never long after they start, so this means it's ridiculously early for Sam to even think about coming yet. But, again, he's not really thinking. His brain barely registers that familiar tightening and he just manages to mutter, "Britt, fuck..." before his muscles lock up and he unloads inside her, blast after blast after blast of cum.
Brittany squeezes him tight, pulling him even closer to her, even deeper inside. Sam knows she hasn't come yet, but there's something almost content-sounding in the way she moans, "Sammy..."
"Yeah?" he asks weakly. "You like having a pussy full of my cum?"
"So much," she says. "Don't move, it'll leak out."
Holding Brittany up against the wall isn't as easy as it was before he came, but Sam does it. He moves his hand in between their bodies and finds her clit. "You gonna come for me, babe? While you're already full of my jizz?" He's rubbing her clit furiously, and she's grinding against him as much as she can, a soft whine coming from the back of her throat. "When you come too it'll be like a tidal wave in there."
Brittany tenses up and tugs painfully at his hair, and Sam knows she's about to come. He also knows she's going to scream again, and for some reason he cares more about the thought that Mercedes might wake up than he did a few minutes ago, so he kisses her. Her scream is still audible, but at least it's muffled. Sam ends up crying out a little too. Brittany's shaking and trembling like she always does, and the muscles inside her cunt are clenching like crazy, which normally feels awesome, and it does feel awesome now too, but Sam just came and his dick is super sensitive and so, yeah, he maybe yelps a little into Brittany's mouth.
She feels heavier after her orgasm, and Sam still feels weak from his. "I'm gonna put you down now, babe," he tells her.
"Nooo," she whines. "It'll all leak out."
It's probably leaking out anyway, Sam thinks, because his cock isn't actually inside her anymore. Which is a shame: he'd really like to have it back inside again. "Let's go to the bedroom," he suggests. "I've got another load for you if you want it."
Brittany unwraps her legs from him and stands. "You know I do," she says, and she takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.
Sam, though, is suddenly having doubts again about whether this is really such a good idea. There's Mercedes just downstairs. She's the one who dumped him, so it's not like she has a say in what or who he does now, but...Well, for one thing, she probably wouldn't keep the knowledge to herself. And Brittany didn't actually say that Santana would be okay with what they're doing.
She probably would, though, right? Sam should just ask to make sure.
But now Brittany is sitting on Blaine's bed and pulling her top off and beckoning Sam over. She's licking her lips like she wants to...oh, yeah, she definitely is going to suck his dick. He stands in front of her and she grabs his ass, and whatever thoughts were in his head are completely gone the second her tongue touches his cock. Brittany's tongue is warm and wet and amazing. And she makes these sounds like his dick is the most delicious thing she's ever tasted. She probably thinks it is, in fact—it must be covered in her juices and traces of his cum, and Brittany has told him many times how much she loves the taste of their sex fluids, especially when they're mingled. She starts out slow, like maybe she thinks it's gonna take a while to get Sam hard again (it's not—he's halfway there already), but soon she's got him all the way in her mouth, gorging on his cock, like she just can't control herself.
God knows Sam can't control himself. He tries. He really wants to fuck her pussy again—properly, and for more than like a minute—but her mouth feels so good and she's sucking him so expertly, and, god, it's been forever since anyone paid the slightest attention to his dick, and he finds himself holding the back of her head and canting into her mouth. She doesn't gag, and she doesn't move away, she just grips his ass tighter and makes more of her happy sex noises.
She is the one who stops him, though. Not right away, but before he can come down her throat, she pulls her head back and says, "Fuck me, Sammy. I need to come again."
That's right, she's only come once. Sam used to be a lot more considerate—what's happened to him? Well, he knows what's happened. He's grateful that Brittany doesn't seem mad, just needy. He lets her scoot onto the middle of the bed and in those few seconds of being apart realizes for the first time that he's still mostly dressed—his shirt is on, as are his shoes and socks, and his pants and underwear are around his ankles. He strips everything off, and when he looks at Brittany again, seeing her just about kills him. She's on her knees, legs spread, hands on the headboard. There's a wet, shiny line starting down one thigh where his cum is trickling out of her pussy.
She looks over her shoulder at him and says, "Come on. Please!"
"One second, babe." Sam pulls the bed toward the center of the room. Brittany, who's still on it, shrieks. Between that and the sound of the bed being drug across the hard wood floor, there's very little chance that Mercedes isn't awake now.
Oh well.
"What are you doing?" Brittany asks.
"I don't want to bang your head against the wall or break your fingers between the wall and the headboard."
"Aw, thanks. But now you're gonna fuck me, right?"
"Right." The bed is far enough from the wall now, so he climbs on and kneels behind her. They tried just about every conceivable position when they were together, and there weren't really any that Sam didn't like, but taking her from behind when she was on her knees was always his favorite. Not just because of the view of her ass—not even mainly because of that, although her ass is totally amazing—but because it feels like he can go deepest that way. He's touched that she remembers.
Not that he's about to get sappy. He knows that Brittany doesn't want to get back together with him, that whatever she's doing now she's not going to leave Santana. He's really just thinking about right now. And what he's doing right now is pressing his cock up against her, rubbing it up and down the length of her slit, getting it wet before he even puts it in. He brushes over her clit and she whines and tells him, "Stop teasing, Sammy!"
Without any further warning—or "teasing," as Brittany accused him of—Sam surges forward, filling her in one go.
"Oh! Fuck, yeah!" Brittany rocks back against him, not screaming yet but repeating those three words in various combinations.
Sam reaches around and grabs a boob. Mercedes never even let him...Nope. He's not thinking about his ex; he's thinking about right now. And right now he's got Brittany's soft, round boob filling his hand and her wrinkly little nipple growing harder and harder between his fingers, and Brittany likes the way he's touching her—he knows from how she's moaning and moving underneath him, from how her pussy just keeps getting even hotter and wetter. And he knows what she'll like even more—what she needs more than anything—and he reaches around with his other hand and presses down on her clit with two fingers and rubs it around in circles.
Soon she's screaming again. She's screaming and thrashing and she totally would have just slammed her head against the wall if Sam hadn't moved the bed. "Don't stop," she gasps between two long screams, but Sam didn't need her to tell him that. He fucks her steadily, even as she's clamping down on his cock and squeezing it with all her might, and he keeps his fingers firmly planted on her clit, even as the gush of her juices makes it hard to keep them from sliding around.
Eventually she stops thrashing so much and her screams turn to whimpers. Sam recognizes this stage: it's a quick little breather before she comes again, probably even harder...provided he doesn't stop what he's doing, that is, which he isn't about to. He does take advantage of the relative calm and quiet to kiss the back of her neck and to tell her softly, "You're so hot, Britt. I've missed this so much. I can't wait to blast your pussy full of my cum again."
"I love your cum, Sammy," she just barely manages to respond before she's off again—harder than before, as Sam expected. It's all he can do not to come along with her this time, even though he came just a few minutes ago. But he's not ready for this to be over, and so he tries to concentrate on her screaming—not how hot it is, but the technical aspects like...like he tries to guess when she's going to have to pause to take a breath. He keeps underestimating how long she can go.
Eventually she stops screaming altogether. She crosses her arms over the headboard and rests her head on them, and Sam has to hold her hips in place to keep her from slumping away from him. She might come again still—Sam's certainly not going to rule out the possibility—but if so, it won't be right away. "Sleepy?" he asks her.
"Yeah," she answers weakly. "But don't stop."
Sam has no intention of stopping. He does slow down, however. Not because Brittany can't take it fast, but because if there's any chance she can recover enough to be able to come one last time, he'd really like that. Besides, he wants this to last as long as possible.
He's not sure how long is possible, though. Even in Brittany's relaxed state, her pussy is hugging his cock so tight, and she's so wet and slippery inside and just...just perfect. She shifts so her head is resting on the pillow, and the new angle somehow feels even better.
Luckily it's not too much longer before Brittany starts to moan again, then to rock lightly back against him. Sam is still holding her hips, though he realizes he doesn't actually need to; she's not so sluggish anymore. He's about to reach for her clit again, but she beats him to it. "You gonna come for me again, Britt?"
Brittany says something into the pillow. Sam's pretty sure it's, "Together."
Coming at the same time as Brittany was always incredible. Sam just hopes he can hold out long enough this time. Or rather, he hopes Brittany is close, because he is rapidly approaching the point of no return. He remembers something that always used to drive her crazy, that she used to have to practically beg him to do because he felt a little weird about it. It's still not how he really feels about her, but for some reason he doesn't feel as weird right now about telling her: "God, you're such a slut, Britt."
Brittany whimpers, so Sam gathers it's okay to go ahead, even though she didn't ask him to this time.
"Just look at you. Face down, ass in the air. I bet if I pulled out you'd fucking beg me to stick it back in. Wouldn't you?"
"Uh-huh." Brittany's rocking back against him hard; she's got Blaine's comforter knotted up in her fists. "Don't take it out, Sammy. I'll do anything."
"Yeah, I know you'll do anything to get nailed by a nice, hard cock. What would Santana think if she could see you like this?" As soon as the words are out of his mouth Sam regrets them. Before he can attempt to take them back, though, Brittany is shrieking into the pillow and convulsing around Sam's dick.
Sam lets go too; he stops holding back and just lets Brittany's gripping cunt milk all the cum out of him. Brittany manages to keep him coming for so long—like, not as long as she herself continues, but way longer than you'd think there could possibly be any jizz left inside to squeeze out.
Sam's totally exhausted when Brittany finally collapses flat on the bed. He just wants to collapse right on top of her, but he moves to the side before collapsing. He suspects she'll want to hold her legs together to keep the cum inside as long as possible, and that's exactly what she does.
After catching his breath, Sam turns them both onto their sides, being careful not to separate Brittany's legs, and he spoons her. He feels like he should say something but he's not sure what. Thanks seems totally inadequate. We should do this again seems totally inappropriate. What are we going to say to Mercedes? seems like a question he's totally not ready to deal with yet. So he just holds her and enjoys having her in his arms, knowing it won't last.