A/N: Please forgive me. This is technically Quitt, but it's also still Quinntana. It's also just a drabble.
Inspired by the song Pain by Three Days Grace
Pain
Your hands run along her back. Rough and impatient your nails scratch over her skin, leaving red marks. She is what you need right now, but she is not what you want. Your mouth travels over her breasts, getting distracted on a particularly sensitive spot. You are not gentle when you suck there; she arches up as your teeth sink into the soft tissue, but she doesn't push you away. It's the opposite. She pulls you closer, your head bumps her shoulder and you continue to suck and bite down her neck. You don't kiss her at all; it's too intimate for you. Instead, your hands roam over her bare skin; your knee is settled between her open legs. She flips you onto your back easily, sitting on top of you. You urge to attach your lips to her neck again, but she pushes you away roughly, when you get close. You groan, falling back on the mattress. She presses both of your hands on either side of you; you give her resistance, just to feel her force you back again.
Pain is what you want. Pain, which makes you forget that they are not the same hands you were used to feel. The memory of the way Santana touched you; the way she looked at you with her dark eyes full of lust or with affection makes you cringe. You remember how her dark curls were all over you, when she kissed down your neck. You try to forget the smell of her; try to forget the taste of her. It hurt you, imagining how she pushed you against the mattress with her small yet so strong hands.
You loved her.
You crane your neck again, but Brittany keeps you firmly pressed to the bed. She lowers her head, attacking your neck with her teeth again.
"Harder," you groan, and she follows the instructions. You know, your neck will show bruises at the spots she bites your skin. You don't care. You want it to hurt, rather feel this pain than the pain of your broken heart. You'd rather feel the pain than nothing at all. She plays along, gives you what you desire.
"I know that you're wounded," she says. You're not only wounded, you're torn. You are so torn that it's making you feel numb. And nothing in the world can mend this. You want to feel everything but that ridiculous sadness that takes possession of you.
"I'm always there for you."
And you know that Brittany cares. It drives the tears back into your eyes. Brittany cares. But she is not the one you want to care. She is not the one you love.
You love Santana.
She knows it, and she says that she accepts it. You are using her, but still she reassures you, still she cares for you. It shatters you that it's not Brittany you want.
"Just fuck me," you gasp, before you pushes into you again; forceful and merciless. Just like you need it.