Author's Note: Alright big apology to all my readers for how unbelievably long it took me to finish this freaking chapter. This chapters...long very long so hopefully that makes up for it. I didn't have the time to finish it as quickly as I would've liked because hello it's summer! Parties, parties, and more parties. Throw a couple hangovers into the mix and you see where this is going. My birthday's also coming up in like five days. I'll be turning the big TWO OH. Big deal but not too big since it's not 21 just yet =[ Anyways, this chapter was so much fun to write whenever I had the chance. This is another one of my favorites. And um I think you all will like it...A LOT. And for obvious reasons which you will see. I wanted to perfect this chapter because it is a turning point in the story. I think I did a pretty good job. Review this one up guys, your opinion is imperative. I need to know how I did! So sorry for that wait. My next update may be a little lengthy because I'm going to Seattle tomorrow for a little while but you better believe I'll be cranking another chapter out soon. Hopefully this will hold you over. Enjoy!
Chapter 9. Champagne
My heart had melted through my ribcage and now seeped over every vital organ in my body. That's how it felt to listen to Mr. Hummel talk about Finn's mom. All doubt and uncertainty had expired when Mr. Hummel began his vows. His words were soaked in passion and honesty; so much that his voice grew hoarse at times. From the sidelines of the altar, I had a front row seat to this festival of emotions. I watched Kurt beam those pearly whites like the sun had been given a special invitation today. I watched Finn's mother check behind her every now and then to make sure her son was still with her; he never budged. The love that swarmed that crammed spot at the altar left me reeling. Don't cry. Just don't freaking cry.
"You know that saying that when God closes a door, he opens a window? Well, sometimes out of nowhere he'll do you one better and he'll kick a whole wall down," Mr. Hummel spoke through an elated smile.
"He grabbed me by the shoulders and he pointed me towards this woman right here." The older man turned to his fiance. His hands reached out to grasp her arms. "And he said, 'there she is, go get her'."
My stomach rode a wave of nausea when Frankenteen, like Burt, mirrored a look of adoration for his significant other. That look burrowed into my skin and reminded me of the rejection I had faced with Finn. I did my best to convince him to drop Berry, I really did. It stung when he took her side. It seared when he dismissed me from the room. It left a tiny puncture wound behind; open and stubborn to heal. A throbbing reminder of their pathetic need to cling onto each other for dear life. A bitter memento that I wasn't worth giving the hobbit up for. I didn't need any more reminders. Reminders fueled the life of memories and those often left me damaged. Well the ones about Brittany did. That whole forbidden fruit thing sucked.
I took notice of her presence beside me. Her milky skin caught my eye before anything else. Every inch of it just...glowed. The sunset orange flower in her hair matched the bouquet she held. Two of her adorable freckles dotted the pulse point of her neck. I loved that pulse point. She grew to love it too, especially when I loved it. And then there was that freckle just above the left side of her chest. I kissed that freckle many times before. Images of the rest of her freckle spotted body attempted to crawl into my brain. Shook em out, rinsed them off. Church Santana. This is a freaking church.
Burt and Carole practically jumped into each others arms after affirming their vows. The ceremony room erupted in applause for the bride and groom, including me. Don't tell anyone but weddings were a soft spot. I was often the girl in the back row balling my eyes out after downing a few glasses of champagne. Bubbly was not my friend tonight. If I wanted to make it through the reception with minimal inappropriateness I needed to hold off on the alcohol. Pace yourself they say, I'll give it a shot.
xXx
Mr. Shuester was looking good. Now I'm not sure if it was that pearl gray suit he wore or the way his hips swayed in a delicious tango rhythm, but he looked good. I blame this on the reception. Flute glasses were being served out like water bottles at a tennis game. Pacing myself was harder than I thought—especially when you had Noah Puckerman seated at your table. He had a master plan to get laid stashed somewhere in his inner breast pocket: trusty Jack Daniels. Unfortunately for him, I was well aware of his intentions and only drank what sat on the table before me. I settled for a nice buzz, it made watching Brittany shimmy against Artie in her seat more bearable.
Two fingers jabbed into my side. I cut my eyes at Puckerman, the culprit.
"You look pretty smokin' in red," he husked out.
I listened for any shoddiness in his tone but all I could decipher was lust. I knew that look. He was wearing his "I plan on fucking you in the back seat of my car before you have a chance to pass out" smile.
"It's not happening tonight, Puckerman. I'm not nearly drunk enough," I replied condescendingly.
He frowned, clearly deflated, and turned his body towards mine in his chair. "What's with all the cattiness? You haven't talked to me in like, weeks."
I shrugged, arms crossed over chest. "Had nothing to say."
Puck inched his seat closer. I leaned away from his bold approach. Releasing an exasperated sigh, Puckerman snatched the leg of my chair and wrenched it toward him. Brittany laughed at another one of Artie's jokes in the distance, completely oblivious to the conflict happening inches away. I ground my teeth, resenting her temporary joy.
"Can we cut the bitch act for like two seconds, Santana?" He hissed near my face.
My eyes darkened into a scorn. I had opened my mouth to berate him when Mercedes settled at our table, cutting me off mid-scold.
"Ya'll havin' fun?"
"Loads," Puck and I responded in an unnatural unison.
Mercedes' eyes flicked between us, analyzing our tensely close proximity; the way I cringed away from Puck's touch; the fire brewing in his eyes. Our body language shot off a big, red warning flag.
"Well...I'm gonna go talk to Kurt," she stated to no one in particular before catching my eye and humorously adding: "I'll leave you and Ike alone, Tina."
I observed Wheezy's hasty retreat and then turned my attention back to Puck, acknowledging him coldly. Puckerman sized me up with narrowed eyes.
"Are you going to stare at my tits all night or are you going to speak, caveman?"
"Why are you always so mad? I mean if this is how it's going to be, the least you could do is have angry 'I hate you' sex with me from time to time. The Puckasaurus has needs."
His comment fueled the intensity pouring through the channels of my eyes. I hated when he referred to himself in third person; it reminded me of Berry. My gaze drew beyond Puckerman to survey my surroundings. Burt and Carole were making their way off the dance floor. Mr. Shuester echoed a congratulations to the newlyweds and exited off the stage. Suddenly he didn't look so good anymore, he just looked...old. Puck had killed my buzz. That was becoming a habit of his.
"I could care less about you getting your balls wet, Puckerman," I expressed in a once absent monotone. "I probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash if I found you in bed with your 80-year-old, Jewish bubbie right about now."
I really wouldn't.
The lack of treatment in my voice had surprised him. I had never sounded so tired. This relationship—or whatever the hell you wanted to call it—exhausted me. I didn't have the strength to analyze it anymore.
"What are you trying to say, babe?"
He ducked his head to find my eyes which were already lowered, inspecting my cuticles for imperfections. This conversation bored me.
I shrugged. He raised his arms over his head to stretch and I caught a whiff of strong cologne. Nothing nostalgic about it.
Finn stood in the middle of the dance floor, mic in one hand, drink in the other. He was making his mother blush with his love soaked words. I peered over Puck's shoulder to study Brittany's relaxed posture. Artie's arm was slung around her shoulder. When she spared me a look I took a sip out of my flute glass and shifted in my chair. Puck stared expectantly at me, waiting patiently.
"If you wants sex then haves it. Don't let me stop you," I breathed out, clearly exasperated with him and his said "needs".
He dropped his voice. "Is this your way of telling me you don't want to sleep together anymore? Is that why you haven't been talking to me?"
A deep crease formed between my brows. "What makes you think that?"
Puck took a quick look around the room and leaned in closer. "Is it another dude?"
"No..." I replied slowly, flicking a subtle glance in Brittany's direction.
To an outsider, this would have sounded like a typical conversation between a couple riddled with insecurities but I knew different. Puck was unconcerned with the possibility of me finding a new guy; that would only signify that it was time to find a new Santana which proved to be impossible. We were each others favorite thing to play with. Excluding all of my football team lays in between, Puckerman was a preference. I came back to that mohawk shaven idiot every time. And he came back to me. That was our general understanding.
Recently things had changed. I didn't know how to be around Puckerman. My boxed up emotions had liquified and spilled through the cracks. To avoid any further scrutiny, I was shelving my favorite toy. Things were growing tense between us. When I wasn't beating him over the head for making a snarky comment about Brittany, I was struggling to ignore Puck's apathetic approach to our relationship. Don't get me wrong, apathy definitely complimented meaningless sex but with Puck it was starting to feel personal. I didn't do personal.
"So let me get this straight. If I were to invite one of your little Cheerio friends over to my place, you wouldn't give me shit?" He asked cautiously.
"Nope," I confirmed with a shrug. None of the Cheerios even compared to me anyway. I watched his mouth twist into a sly grin. I snuck a peek at the blonde cheerleader sitting two chairs away and outwardly expressed a thought I didn't realize I harbored: "Just not Brittany."
Puck's face hardened. "Of course not. I wouldn't do that to the young jedi on wheels. Artie's my bro."
I nodded hastily. Of course Puck wouldn't. The real question now was, would I? I downed the rest of my champagne and forced my eyes away from that mane of blonde.
xXx
"Santana, where are your keys? Brittany's voice resounded in my ear.
"Why?" I asked irritably. Her hand was pressed against my back, guiding me out into the night air.
"You've had a little too much to drink."
"I'm fine."
"I can drive her home," Puck offered. "I'll pick her car up tomorrow."
"I think I should take her," Brittany insisted.
I checked between them, my cores were having a conflict. Brittany looked uneasy at Puck's suggestion.
"I thought you were coming with me, Brittany? My dad was going to give us a ride." A swirl of silver and black wheeled into my peripheral vision: Four Eyes.
"I just want to make sure she's okay."
Keys jingled in the distance.
"Realllly guys. I just...I just wants to sleep."
Someone dropped a coat over my shoulders. I shrugged it off.
"For goodness sake guys just get her somewhere," Quinn hissed. "Before Mr. Shuester comes out and sees."
"It's fine Puck," Brittany's voice, stern and impersonal. She didn't use that tone often. "Lets go, San."
A gentle push into my back. My heels wobbled underneath me. Between the spinning colors of asphalt and headlights, I assumed that we were in the church parking lot. The alarm chirped on what I believed to be my car. A click of the passenger door and Brittany lowered me inside the interior. My head fell back against the seat and I shut my eyes to ward off the spinning sensation. Damn I was a mess.
Seat belts clicked; the engine rumbled.
"Call me later, okay?" Artie's voice sounded from my left.
"I will. Apologize to Kurt for us will you? I didn't plan on leaving so soon."
"Sure, don't worry about it."
The rest of that conversation died off and we were on our way. My window rolled down and a fresh breeze of air tempted my eyes open. A Leona Lewis song played in the background. We were driving so fast. When did Brittany start driving so fast? We halted at a stop sign so sharply it caused my head to pitch forward.
"Sorry. You know how bad I am at this," she spoke softly. "Do you have to throw up?"
I shook my head a little too fast and immediately regretted it. Now I really did feel like puking. I sucked in cool Lima air and forced it back down. The roads we took were familiar but they weren't a pathway to home. Broken intersection lines bled together into one infinite string. Driving was so out of the question for me.
I studied Brittany's face quietly. Her expression often alternated between confusion and vacancy. I waited for the smile but it never came. My arm felt light as I raised it towards her. I tucked a stray hair behind her ear and let my hand fall away.
"You look so pretty," I complimented boldly.
She kept her eyes on the road. I felt a quiver on my bottom lip. Why was she being so cold?
I lowered my gaze to the rest of her rigid frame. Even in our lack of lighting, her skin glowed pale. Her knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly and her posture hunched as we careened around turns. Pursed lips replaced any evidence of a smile. Driving had never been Brittany's forte. The multitask of checking mirrors, pressing pedals, and keeping the wheel steady exhausted her. But here she was, putting all of that aside, taking care of me—like she always did.
I needed to see that smile again. Her eyes were devoid of the light she usually carried behind them without that smile. It verified the health of my situation—I needed to be comforted by it. I needed to cheer her up; make her feel good—I wanted to.
I reached for her; tan hand over stiff shoulder. My motions were tentative and small at first, simply working in a comforting rub. I let my hand droop lower to run my knuckles over her bare arm. Although her impassive expression never faltered, I could tell this was having some kind of effect because her baby blues often flit down to my roaming hand. I allowed each fingertip to circle her arm lazily. Each stroke on her skin seemed to burn. I noticed her steering wheel grip had loosened. This had been a good idea after all.
When we stopped at a lonely red light my motions ceased. Brittany relaxed against her seat for the first time since we began this trip. I watched her chest rise up in a deep sigh and plummet. I soaked up the view; her golden curtain of hair that spilled over her shoulders; the softness of her exposed neck; the way her dress hugged her body just right, accentuating every curve and detail...
My hands moved faster than my sluggish brain could comprehend. I gripped her thigh, bunching my hand around dress fabric in the process. The massaging commenced except this time I drew my hand up higher, seeking the one spot I wanted so badly to love.
"Santana stop," Brittany warned. Her hand grasped mine.
Her words sounded jumbled and my brain failed to understand the significance of her tone. My hand continued to rise, wrinkling her dress and exposing her bare knee.
"Santana you're drunk—"
"Brittany I've gots this, just shut up and sit there," I snapped at her. Realizing what I had just done, my intrusive hand shot away and clamped over my mouth. Why did I say that? I didn't mean to say that.
Brittany's eyes were arresting. A green tint shined over her face, making them glow. We stared at each other for one long minute. Even as her face blurred together in colors like a mixing canvas, I recognized the sadness. I'd fucked up. Fuck alcohol right now, just fuck it. Never touching the stuff again.
"I...I didn't mean to—look I, Britt I'm—"
BEEP! I nearly jumped through the roof of my car at the blaring horn behind us. Brittany and I turned around at the same time to see a dark skinned man craning his neck out the window.
"It's a green light, move it!" He yelled, jamming a fist on his horn again.
Suddenly overwhelmed and a little scared, Brittany pressed on the gas and we skidded away from the douche bag. We were driving way too fast again. Streetlights came and went faster than I could blink. Brittany's expression was indifferent, schooled and closed off. I struggled with my stupid brain, what could I say? It seemed like the words were on the tip of my tongue but nothing right rolled off. The words vanished before I could finish thinking of them.
"Where are we going?" I asked instead.
"The park. You need to sober up," she explained in a monotone.
"Why?"
She shot me a look. "What do you mean why? Look at you," she said, gesturing a hand at me. "You're so drunk I'm surprised you can even have this conversation with me."
"I controls my liquor," I mumbled, looking out the window.
I heard her scoff. My lip began to quiver again.
I turned to her. "Why are you being so mean?"
The car slowed to enter the same park I took her and Lord Tubbington to. Brittany crookedly parked the car and killed the engine.
"Swell driving, B," I said, mocking applause with my hands.
She tossed her hair to one side and for the first time since the reception, she smiled.
"You're a mess, S."
My head rested on the passenger seat, eyes on Brittany.
"I need you to forgive me, okay?" Better to ask for absolution than struggle with an apology.
She nodded. "I already have."
xXx
"Do you think Oreos' Belt like, dips itself into the Milky Way? And if so, who eats it?"
A laugh shook my body until it was sore. I loved it when Brittany tried to figure out astronomy.
"Orion's Belt, Britt. But if that really happened and it was really an Oreo, I'd assume God would eat it," I explained to my best friend.
"Why God?" She asked and then suddenly turned to me with a new question: "What if God's fat?"
I bit my lip to keep another throaty laugh from escaping. "Well, a good amount of the population is fat so I guess that whole thing about him making people in his image is true."
"I kind of like buzzed Santana. She has the secrets to the universe," Brittany whispered, inching her body closer, warming mine.
Under nana Pierce's tree, Britt and I laid out on a large blanket she'd found in the back of my trunk. Without Brittany's close proximity, the air chilled me but it had also participated in helping me sober up. Our cell phones were in the car; there were no indications to prove how long we had been here but time seemed to be at a standstill. With my thoughts growing clear and Brittany by my side, I didn't care if we stayed here all night.
"I'm sorry I almost made you cry in the car," Brittany blurted. Both of her hands gripped my right.
"You didn't," I lied; too heavily embarrassed by the fact that she even noticed weepy Santana in the car.
"I was just so mad, San." I looked at her; our noses nearly touched. "Puck shouldn't have been feeding you drinks like that."
"He didn't give them to me," I defended.
"He never stopped you either."
She had a point. Puckerman never once told me to cool it. In fact, he kind of encouraged it. That master fucking plan of his.
"I'm over Puckerman," I said suddenly. Brittany kinked an eyebrow. "Boys are a waste."
Brittany bit her bottom lip and flicked a glance at my own. I remained completely still, leaving everything up to her. That same lip graced my cheek in a friendly kiss. Before I knew it, the blonde was at her feet.
"Are you okay to drive?" She asked tentatively.
I glanced up at the constellation of colors in the sky; no spin and no blur. I nodded. Her hand outstretched towards me.
"Good. Take me home."
My hand enclosed around hers.
xXx
Being in Brittany's room—not to mention near a bed—overwhelmed me to the point where I wished I was drunk all over again so I could just ignore her and pass out. Having sobriety in this situation agonized me. As if I couldn't notice the details well enough intoxicated, being sober amplified everything Brittany was. My brain consistently analyzed every subtle touch and suggestion. To put it bluntly, I was my own worst enemy.
Brittany flicked on a light and tossed her heels into a lonely corner before sinking back on her mattress. Shoving the approaching hesitation aside, I unstrapped my own heels and joined her on the bed.
Brittany threw an arm over her face and exhaled loudly. I checked the alarm clock on her nightstand; a quarter past one. This day felt infinite. The wedding had started late this afternoon and the reception droned on into the early evening. The hours in between were a blur; it was hard to believe so many things had occurred in such a short period of time. And now we were in our final moments of the day, winding down, trying to expel that last jitter of nerves in exchange for a blissful sleep.
"Are you hungry, Santana? I could make you something if you like," Brittany offered, sitting up suddenly.
I shook my head in response and tugged at the back of her dress, signaling her to lie back down. "Stay."
The mattress dipped under her weight. I felt an arm brush against my skin. Brittany was still beside me. Her breathing grew so deep that I wondered if she had fallen asleep. To my surprise, she nudged me with her hand.
"We should probably get ready for bed."
"I don't want to move," I mumbled through closed lids.
A shadow blotted out the light draping over my face. The smell of lilacs caused my eyes to flicker open. Brittany hovered over me, hands on either side. My throat closed up at her sudden proximity. My heart galloped and trampled over my ribs.
"What are you doing?" I managed to croak out.
"You'll wrinkle your pretty dress if you just lie there. I'm gonna help you," she declared, running her fingers through my hair to pull out the bridesmaid flower. "I know you're tired."
Brittany dropped the flower over her bedspread and leaned away from me to sit at my side. Sitting up as well, I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached into her hair to do the same. In that same moment Lord Tubbington bounded onto the bed, releasing a throaty groan. He made it a point to crawl up my chest and down my stomach before making his way over to Brittany.
"Fuck off, Tubs," I snapped at the ball of hair and paws, throwing Brittany's flower at his massive body. The cat hissed and I bit back the urge to do the same.
"Santana," Brittany scolded.
"He totally hates me," I defended, watching the cat scamper off the bed.
"He's protective," Brittany corrected with narrowed eyes.
"Damn straight he is. What kind of cat sleeps in between a person's legs anyway? Like all up in the crotch area."
Brittany's cheeks flushed red at the comment but otherwise said nothing to explain. My eyes raked over her clothed body. In such a fluorescent light, being so close that we could touch, she looked better than I had imagined. Artie had her all to himself at the reception but here, in this room, Brittany was everything of mine.
"Unzip me?" I asked with an undiluted innocence.
My words ceased to exist; Brittany's fingers were already hot on the back of my skin and her knees sunk the mattress behind me. Irregular breaths touched my neck as she slid the zipper down on my dress. Neither one of us spoke, the air was thick with the potential for anything right about now. When Brittany finished, neither of us dared to even move.
"Santana?" Brittany called out, still behind me on her knees, fingertips still pressed into my back.
"Yeah?" my voice was hoarse.
"I want to kiss you."
Her admission stirred a boiling pot of desire in my stomach. My eyes flicked around her room, searching for the right response. What the hell was the right response? Oh wait...duh.
"Go for it," I breathed.
Her fingers tickled up and over my shoulder blades to snake around my front. I shut my eyes and waited, feeling shallow breaths on the inside of my neck as she leaned into me. Dry lips skimmed the skin there and trailed up my jaw. From there she kissed a path to the front of my mouth and paused. Her hesitation was on the verge of killing me. Disregarding any patience I once possessed, I turned my face to the left, allowing our mouths to touch briefly. A current passed freely between our mouths—the conductors.
With our mouths still joined, I took the next step, cupping my right hand over her cheek, pressing against her. Brittany allowed the intrusion, parting her lips, inviting me in. I maneuvered my body until I was facing her, knees to knees. I sucked softly, alternating between her bottom and top lip, breeding a new level of intimacy between us. My left hand pinched the fabric of her dress and I lowered her down underneath me, positioning myself in a dominant perch.
My thigh slid between us and my thumb stroked her cheek to put her quivering mouth at ease. Her tongue dipped past my lips and I greeted it with a long lost hunger I forgot I had locked away. Her fingers tangled into my hair, massaging away any spindle of doubt left inside. My tongue stroked the cavern of her mouth with delicacy, courting and teasing her. My hand reached for her side and began unzipping her dress. I needed bare skin. Now.
Her body arched up into mine and her hands fell away from my dark locks. The kiss ceased at Brittany's request, her mouth released mine in reluctance.
"Wait Santana," she gasped against my face. "I don't know if I can—oh god."
My mouth attached to her neck, sucking like a vacuum, desperate to leave some kind of mark. I didn't want her to forget this.
"I don't...want...to hurt..." I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her fragmented sentence and continuing my assault. I dragged my teeth against the porcelain taut skin, tainting it, scarring it. If she couldn't feel the avidness in my kiss, she would surely feel it in my bite.
"We need...to talk about this," Brittany tried again with a waver in her voice.
I flicked my tongue out against fading teeth marks as if a stroke could heal. I found her gaze; her eyes were wide and smoldering. That was a good sign.
"Lets talk then, B. What would you like to talk about?" My voice, sweeter than a pound of sugar as I fit a hand underneath her dress. Her inner thighs emanated heat from a source up north.
She swallowed so hard I could hear it.
"You're getting me in trouble, San."
"How so, B?" I lilted in response. I ran my fingers up her thigh and trickled them back down.
Unconsciously, Brittany licked her lips and lowered her gaze to my own. "You know how."
"How should we fix it?" I dug my nails into her leg. Affliction and fervor danced an unusual tango in those baby blues.
"I don't know, S. I don't know..." she trailed off and looked to her right, effectively avoiding my stare, "It's just everything Q's said—"
"Q's an idiot," I fired back, not giving her a chance to pollute the room with more Fabray bullshit. "This doesn't even count."
Brittany looked at me, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean?"
I leaned back to sit up, unintentionally rocking my hips against hers, eliciting a moan from her puffy, pink lips. A smirk stole a place across my face for an instant before I reclaimed my train of thought.
"It's...different with us, Britt," I struggled, reaching for an explanation. "It's not like I'm a guy."
"You are definitely not a guy," Brittany confirmed coyly, looking down between us at the ruffles my wandering hand made under her dress.
"Girls do this all the time," I said, gesturing at my hand. They did? "It's so not cheating. I mean I don't even have a...you know."
I studied her face, ease transpired from her expression. My voice grew thick with persuasion. I just wanted her so fucking badly.
"Guys find this hot anyway—Artie would find it hot. We're girls B; the plumbings all different."
Wait. Did I really just compare our lady parts to plumbing? Seriously Santana?
"Cheating is for boys and girls," I clarified with self assurance. There. That sounded better.
"So it's okay to tell Artie? Brittany suddenly asked. The words were like a rattlesnake's poison.
"No," I disagreed with as much edge to cut a person in two. "This is between us. A secret. You wouldn't share a secret like this with Artie, would you?"
Personally, I wanted her to tell him. I wanted to see the look on his scrawny little face when he found out I fucked his girlfriend senseless until she couldn't remember his phone number. Just to keep him rooted in his own piss poor burrow of loserville. Make it hurt. But that would mean people could know. No one could know.
Brittany chewed at her lower lip, considering this entire discussion. My palm ran flat over her leg, perspiration began to stick. She was so hot.
"No," she decided. My face lit up. "It must be okay if it feels this good."
"Does it? For a second I thought I was doing it all wrong," I teased.
Brittany smiled but instead of a vibrant light touching her eyes, a sweltering glint seized them. The next three words she uttered quaked my core.
"Undress me, Santana."
Wasting no time, I unstraddled Brittany to sit beside her mattress sunken form. I used my fingertips to pinch the hem of her dress. Her eyes were on my hands as I slid the fabric up inch by inch to get a better look at toned calves, splendid knees, and white, lace panties. I paused briefly to run my fingers over her thigh; skimming over the outside and dancing along the inner. Brittany stilled a breath when I nearly touched her center but I refrained, wanting her anticipation to explode through her bedroom roof.
I leaned over her to plant a kiss on each of her hip bones. My thumbs brushed against her stomach as I lifted the dress even higher. Brittany arched her back to allow it to glide up more smoothly past her chest, revealing a matching white, strapless bra. That lone freckle just above her breast; I pressed a chaste kiss against it. Brittany attempted to sit up, arms lifted above her head, encouraging me to pull the dress off completely. But I slowed my progression and pressed her gently back down. I allowed the remaining cloth of the dress to cover her face, leaving everything else helplessly exposed.
I took her neck gently within my hand and kissed just under her jaw. I could feel her pulse thumping through my fingers. Shallow breaths projected from Brittany as she awaited my next move. With her sight obscured, each touch seemed to amplify the heat resonating off of her. My thumb followed the path of her collarbone before trailing lower to the front of her bra. Hooking a finger into the middle, I undid the front clasp and slid it out from under Brittany in one motion. My eyes lingered over her half naked form in pure enthrallment. There wasn't an inch of her that could be left disregarded.
Brittany's frame shivered into the mattress.
"Cold in here, Britt?" my voice, amused as I watched her nipple grow erect over my brushing thumb.
"The opposite, actually," she said in a tone thick with arousal. "You're overcooking me like my dad does the turkey every Thanksgiving, San."
I expelled a laugh and pinched her playfully. Brittany threw the hem of her dress off her face and looked at me.
"I can't take it anymore. I need to see you."
I drew in a breath, slowly unraveling under the weight of her stare. I instructed her to sit up and she did, arms raised to the ceiling. I pulled the dress over her head, letting it drop off to the side. I retreated from the bed before she could reach for me, only to fall out of my own dress. Brittany watched it pool to the floor of her bedroom with excitement alight in her eyes. Excitement of the things to come.
As I crawled back onto the bed, Brittany's legs parted to invite me in. Remolding myself against her nearly bare body was heavenly. The warmth of Brittany's palms imprinted over my cheeks as she pulled me down for an overdue kiss. God did I miss kissing Brittany S. Pierce. How could I have withheld for this fucking long?
With every second that passed, I reassembled my once fragmented core. I reclaimed her with my adept mouth, my dexterous hands, and my eloquent words.
Brittany's kiss induced a wildfire just below my belly button. It launched our bodies into a frenzy of skin grabbing and hip grinding. Somewhere during this interlude, she managed to unclasp my bra. I couldn't even tell you where that went because all focus had been diverted to her inviting lips. Tranquility showered over us and every inhibition I had worked so hard to perfect abandoned me.
By some miracle I managed to escape her ever dueling tongue but not without reluctance. Already missing it, I redirected my attention to another part of her body that seemed to scream out to me...well at least her nipples did anyway. I began around the edges of her small breast, training my tongue into wide circles before zeroing in on her nipple. I took the bud between my teeth gingerly and fluttered my tongue against it. Brittany inhaled sharply, encouraging my actions to flourish. Brittany's legs bent at the knee and her thighs squeezed around me, pinning me to her. Her hands snuck up behind me to palm my ass while she curved her hips deliciously into mine. Biting down on her breast was all I could do to stop myself from coming right there on the spot. Brittany had that kind of effect.
My dark locks were a sharp contrast against Brittany's creamy skin. The ends of my hair tickled over her breasts, her arms, and her neck. The contact of bare flesh sent a shiver up my back. A thumb rolled over her erect nipple and the rest of my hand cupped to massage the whole of her breast. Her moans were a direct link to my body; they serenaded it, seduced it, and supplied it. Brittany's fingers prodded against my spine, drumming over each vertebrae. The simple graze of her touch invigorated the throbbing between my legs. The ache burned through my veins and just soared. Without even thinking about it I hiked a leg over hers, allowing my clothed sex to press into the bareness of her thigh. I couldn't help the throaty moan that escaped. I couldn't help the kiss I planted on her smiling lips. And I surely couldn't help the way I rocked myself against her without a hint of shame.
Brittany's eyes locked onto mine and my brain shut off. The chilly blue hypnotized my hands to linger south. Her fingers fluttered over my lower back as mine roamed past the muscles of her stomach. Those same muscles clenched in just the slightest way when I kissed the spot right below her navel. I bunched the material of her underwear in my fist and cocked an eyebrow at her. Her eyes were in agreement.
"Take them off," she practically purred. Her voice embodied sex and it ignited my entire being in an invisible flame. I would do anything she asked. Anything.
Removing my leg to perch between hers again, I peeled her panties down her hips. I held my breath and slid them past her thighs until her feet pulled out of the leg holes. I dropped them to the floor and swallowed back the knot forming in my throat. A patch of scarlet warmed up Brittany's neck at my new view. Her bare sex laid there before me and nothing had ever looked so...so beautiful. I took her bent leg and swarmed the smooth skin in kisses; over the knee cap, behind it, and up the inner thigh. My lips hummed against her, purposely sending the vibrations to her throbbing sex.
"Santana." My gaze snapped to hers; gentle brown to serene blue. "I want to feel you."
It was as if my brain had turned to mush and all I had left to rely on were my hands which moved with an automatic purpose to my own panties. I rolled them down right there between her legs, kicking them off somewhere behind me. It wasn't as graceful as I would've liked but they were off; that's all that really mattered.
Brittany's eyes lingered for a very long time. The depths shone with the same enthrallment I possessed for her earlier. It was my turn to blush now, never feeling more exposed than I did right now. Not even Puck had had the liberty to view me this bare; no boy did. Brittany got all the firsts.
"Come here."
The beckon implied such safety that I instantly found myself in her warm embrace; her long arms swallowed me. A moan slipped past me involuntarily as our centers collided. More heat than I ever thought possible generated, multiplied, and migrated down below. Brittany's hand traveled through my hair before resting securely around the nape of my neck. In an easy silence she closed the distance between our mouths. Her tongue tangled with mine in the same fashion as our legs. I couldn't decide what to concentrate on more, the friction of our hips or the dueling of our tongues. Mmm definitely the hips thing.
The ache between my own legs drove me to lift a thigh around my waist, effectively yanking her as close as she could ever be. And god she'd never been so hot. Like literally. I could feel her sex and every bit of arousal it secreted. I concluded our kiss with the tug of her lower lip between my teeth; she loved that. I circled her entrance with lonely fingertips. Her hips pushed out in expectancy. Her folds were swollen and soaking under my touch. Eyes locked once more; molten chocolate to smoky blue gray. Lips found her ear.
"I want you more than I can bear right now. This is your last chance, B. Stop me if you want out," my voice breathed barely above a whisper but the chill I felt run through her in that instant told me she had understood just perfectly. My body had no intention of letting her go, I just...couldn't do that. But it was polite to hand out a choice...even if the answer proved inevitable.
Her breath tossed right back into my ear: "You know this isn't even up for debate."
I allowed the muscles in my face to climb upward into a smile that hurt just before I pushed a single digit inside of her. The reaction was instantaneous and loud. Brittany chewed her bottom lip to muffle the noise just long enough for me to pick up on a steady pace. I tilted my palm upward, allowing it to graze her clit with each motion. Her walls tightened around the welcomed invasion which made the struggle that much hotter. I leaned down to take her right lobe into my mouth and positioned myself further in between her legs so that my hips pressed into my busy hand.
"You feel amazing," I whispered into her ear as I slowed my hand just briefly to add a second finger.
I turned my head just in time to see her fist the comforter. My fingers pumped rhythmically and she met me with an equally timed thrust of her hips. I curled and explored her walls, taking them as far as they could go while brushing my thumb over her bundle of nerves.
"Oh god, San," she gasped sharply, ruffling the ends of my hair with each ragged breath.
Her free hand reached out to palm my breast, tweaking the nipple with a sense of ruthlessness. I hissed out my satisfaction and found my fingers skating down between my own legs. I changed the tempo of my speeding hand to a significant crawl. Brittany groaned at the agonizing pace and then before she had time to utter a complaint I drove my fingers into her deep, making sure my palm tapped her clit with enough force to make her cry out. And she did. I heard the true range of her vocals when I reiterated this action over and over again. The noises she made only encouraged the pace of fiddling fingers over my own sex. Her roaming hands boiled me over the edge. I worked faster, harder, and hungrier. My fingers curled up inside of her in a come hither motion that had her arching off her own bed. She'd never looked hotter.
I ran my tongue flat against her cleavage, tasting the saline of her sweat and everything else she had to offer. With each thrust, I watched her face contort into a mask of satisfaction only I knew. Just witnessing that lower lip quiver churned coals in my stomach. I loved watching her get off as much as I loved getting her off. It was an automatic turn on; another direct link to my body. I concentrated more on our clits now because I could feel her walls shutting down and my own temperature preparing to pop off the fucking meter. I buried my fingers into her while at the same time grinding my pelvis against it, applying pressure to the both of us. Brittany's breaths came out in choppy sequences and her hands gripped my waist painfully tight; nails left crescent moon shapes on my skin.
Our movements grew frantic. I rocked into her, she rolled into me. I had to swallow away the dryness in my throat in order to produce my next groan when Brittany suddenly cupped my center. Her thumb circled over my nub rapidly, conjuring up a twisting feeling just below my waistline. I was close and I worked my digits into her five times faster to teeter her onto the edge with me.
"Fuck, Santana. I think I'm gonna...I'm gonna—"
All at once she came undone by the curl of my fingers nudging that spot that was rougher than the rest of her walls. With a final flick of her thumb I began my own ride over mountains, cliffs, everything. Brittany shuddered beneath me and her walls quaked around my fingers. I covered her mouth in a kiss to muffle my own sounds from the thin walls of her bedroom. The muscles in my legs weakened until they felt completely liquified. A wave of heat washed over my skin and quite possibly incinerated Britt's as I laid upon her, too drained to do anything else.
I breathed in her smell and exhaled out to steady my pulsating heart. Brittany stroked lines up and down my back and drew breaths over my shoulder. The silence was deafening but content. We didn't need to explain just yet. I wouldn't have minded if we didn't explain at all. This whole thing was pretty self explanatory...
"San?" Brittany asked after a beat.
"Yeah?" I murmured against her warm skin.
"I had fun tonight. Not just this, but everything today."
"Me too, Britt Britt. Pretty kick ass wedding...even though it seems kind of blurry now."
"You had fun though. I watched you," she said, playing with my hair. "You danced with everyone at the reception. You even grabbed Mr. Shuester's butt a couple of times."
"I did? Oh my god that's embarrassing," I bemoaned, placing a hand over my forehead.
"Don't worry," Britt assured, taking my hand down. "We got you out before he could really grasp what was happening."
"Thanks, B."
"You looked really beautiful tonight, Santana." My cheeks warmed.
"So did you." I trailed a finger down her ribs.
"I know, you told me in the car."
"I was still pretty wrecked back then. But I'm telling now, B. You look beautiful."
The words just seemed to tumble out by the load. Maybe I was still under the influence, or maybe it was the post amazing sex we just had; I don't know. But when I uttered those words, I felt them truthfully in the pit of my stomach and in a region of my heart. Brittany failed to respond because I'm pretty sure the smile on her face had frozen her lips.
