"No. No no no no. Uh uh."
Santana shakes her head vigorously and turns away, retreating to behind her desk where she promptly sits down and starts to shuffle around some folders.
"Santana," Rachel hisses in a low whisper, "what are you doing?"
She wears a twisted smile that is equal parts annoyed and uncomprehending. Santana doesn't answer. She doesn't even look up. Rachel huffs and moves right up to Santana's chair, leaning down so that her face is only a few inches from Santana's.
"Santana," she says again, in a hushed growl, "first impressions are really important in this business. Whatever switch just flicked in your brain, flick it back! Jason is not going to respond well to your attitude. If you want to have any chance of working with him, you need to stand back up and be on your best behaviour!"
Santana does stand up, but it's not for Jason. She leans forward, causing Rachel to retreat slightly.
"There is no way in hell," Santana spits, "that I am behaving myself for that guy."
She can tell by the look on Rachel's face that the diva is trying desperately to figure out what is going on.
"Santana," drawls Jason, as he sidles up to her desk, "So nice to see you, again."
"You're an ass. Is anything that comes out of your mouth ever true?"
"Santana!" Rachel chastises before turning to Jason with a smile, "Sorry, Mitch... she obviously hasn't had her coffee this morning."
Rachel kicks Santana, very unsubtly, in the shin. Jason laughs.
"It's okay, Rachel," he offers, "Santana is just showing me some tough love, as always, isn't that right?"
"Nope."
Santana shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. Somehow their familiarity had gone completely over Rachel's head when Jason first greeted Santana but, now, as she looks between the two of them, Jason with his smug grin, Santana with her icy glare, she understands that they clearly already know each other. And possibly hate each other.
"Brittany," she says, nodding to herself.
Santana and Jason both look at her quizzically.
"Oh, sorry. I was just trying to figure out how you two... you know," she waves a hand back and forth between Santana and Jason, indicating a connection, "Brittany. You obviously met through Britt, right? That bitch doesn't tell me anything anymore."
Even though she's clearly not being malicious, Santana is just about to go all Hey, that's my girlfriend you're talking about! on Rachel when Jason's expectant smirk stops her. She refuses to give him any ammunition.
"Yeah," she mutters to Rachel.
"Well, that's how we first met," Jason elaborates, "But, we just keep running into each other like this. It's as though the Universe wants us to be together."
Santana just shakes her head and sits back down at her desk, fighting the urge to gag.
"But," he continues, "I haven't seen you for, what, like a week or so?"
The pointedness of his remark is not lost on Santana. He's baiting her, deliberately throwing Quinn in her face, and she hates it. It takes all her strength not to bite.
"Yes, and poor me thought I'd finally caught a break," she says, "But, here you are."
Jason smiles proudly as Randy shuffles dramatically through the front door.
"Sorry, I'm late. The 405 was a bitch!"
Everyone turns to face him, a palpable tension in the air. It momentarily stops Randy in his tracks before he walks calmly to Santana's desk and drops his briefcase at its side.
"Randy," Rachel reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, "I'd like you to meet my manager, Jason Mitchell."
"It's nice to finally put and face to the voice," Randy says, shaking Jason's hand, "I didn't realize you would be joining Miss Berry and Santana for their, um, meeting."
The last comment is a question for Santana and he looks over at her with a cock of his head. He's confused about why his office manager would even be having a "meeting" with Rachel Berry in the first place. Weren't they friends? When Rachel had called yesterday to ask if Santana had free time in the morning, he assumed they were just going out for a coffee or something.
"Meeting?" Santana laughs, turning from Randy to Rachel, "There's no meeting."
She's being jokingly dismissive, but there is a pointedness in her tone that makes it very clear to Rachel that there will indeed be no meeting.
"That's just Rachel being her over dramatic self," she continues with a laugh, "We were just catching up. And Mr. Mitchell here just happened to be nearby so Rachel thought she'd show him our facilities. They were just about to leave."
"That's not-"
Rachel is cut off by the ringing office phone and Santana breathes a heavy sigh of relief as she reaches over to answer it, hearing Randy tell the others that he will happily walk them out.
"Hello?" Santana says into the receiver, her attention on the door, making sure that Rachel and Jason are well and truly gone.
"That's not a very professional way to answer the phone at work."
I love you. It's the first thing that pops into Santana's head when she hears Brittany's voice. Her heart jumps into her throat and she shakes her head, clearing away the scary, though not entirely unwelcome, thought.
"Santana?" the blonde giggles.
Composing herself, Santana hums into the phone with absolute gratitude, "You have no idea how good your timing is."
"Aw, really?" Brittany says, "You having a bad day already?"
"Something like that."
"Well, I can't say I hate the idea of needing to make you feel better tonight."
Santana perks up at the less than subtle implication of Brittany's words and she finds herself watching the clock for the rest of the day.
Santana leans against the door frame and watches her girlfriend fly across the studio floor, beautiful and graceful and unbearably sexy. She is wearing a white tank top that is three sizes too big, gaping at the sides to reveal a black sports bra underneath, and tight shorts that cover only the very tops of her thighs. Nothing else. Santana has been watching her dance for a good five minutes, the blonde so entranced in her own world that she's failed to notice the hungry eyes following her around the room.
Brittany can feel her heart beating roughly against her chest, her blood coursing through her veins, as she pushes herself slowly but deliberately in any direction that her feet will take her. Every inch of her skin buzzes with an expectant kind of energy that makes her feel like her body is covered in millions of exposed nerve endings. Attempting to shake it out or brush it off, her limbs are both graceful and careless in a dance of pure need. Coming to a stop in the middle of the room, she takes a few deep breaths, her hips undulating back and forth on their own, and drags her fingernails up her thighs and across her stomach. She swallows hard, finding no relief from the pulse between her legs that has been building steadily since her conversation with Santana. That was eight hours ago; she has been somewhat uncomfortable for most of the day. She fists her hair with one hand, running the other over her stomach, her fingertips tracing the red marks left by her nails.
Santana stops breathing as she watches her girlfriend push her hand down further, pressing it firmly between her legs. Brittany moans and throws her head back at the contact and Santana feels a pulse between her own legs that almost has her on the floor. She squeezes her thighs together and grips the door frame, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and closing her eyes. It's a misguided attempt to block out the sight of Brittany's dancing form, to quell the fire it has stoked deep within her belly. Because now, with her eyes closed, she can see every curve, remember every word, feel every touch. Everything Brittany has ever shown, said or done to her floods into her mind and fills her senses. Dizzy, her eyes shoot back open.
Brittany continues to sway to the music as she trails the hand she had threaded through her hair down across her jaw and neck, running it closely over her breast and down her right side. Her left hand is still between her legs and she rocks on the balls of her feet, pressing into it before bringing it back up to her stomach to meet the other. The energy that escapes her feels like tiny fireworks exploding all over her body, pinching and teasing at her crawling skin. She runs both hands over her hips and up and down her thighs, rolling her head from side to side, clawing at herself in frustration. She hums insistently, as one would when trying to stifle a scream or ignore the pierce of a needle, and once again slips a hand between her legs. It's anything but firm when she presses her fingers against herself, but it's momentarily enough. Santana chokes on a gasp as Brittany moans. The blonde stills for only the briefest instant, but it's enough to tell Santana that she heard her, that she knows she's there. Watching.
The knowledge that Santana is watching her almost sends Brittany over the edge. Her arousal pounds against her core and a small whimper escapes her lips. She hears Santana's feet shuffle on the floor, the tentative steps giving away Santana's indecision. Brittany smiles, understanding Santana's predicament, feeling herself in exactly the same position. There's something so powerfully erotic about watching your lover in such a desperate state of arousal. Or feeling them watch you. To stay apart, taunting her and teasing yourself, or to give in and let her touch you where it burns? Allowing the thought of relief to enter her head so clearly, she makes the decision for both of them very quickly.
"Santana," she moans, breathless and desperate.
Santana's hands are on her in an instant, the brunette having moved much closer than Brittany realized. She grabs Brittany's hips from behind and presses her body into Brittany's back, burying her face into the blonde's neck and breathing in the scent of her hair. Santana brushes her lips over Brittany's damp skin, feather light but still enough that she tastes salt. It causes a quiet rumble deep in her throat.
Brittany's entire body shudders and her hands shoot from her own thighs to the back of Santana's, swiftly moving them up to rest on Santana's ass. Brittany moans as Santana presses her hands flat against the dancer's stomach, right on her hip bones, simultaneously pulling Brittany back and pushing her own hips forward. They are locked into each other, not a breath of air between them. Santana glides her hands down over the front of Brittany's shorts and can already feel the warmth radiating from her girlfriend. They stay like that for a few minutes, swaying to the intoxicating soul music pumping out of Brittany's speakers, the gentle movement an exciting contrast to the wild rhythms of both their heart rates. Prompted by an appreciative moan from Santana, Brittany brings her hands up a little higher and pushes her fingertips underneath the waistband of Santana's jeans, her nails digging in just where the small of Santana's back begins to curve out. She feels Santana's skin prickle beneath her fingers, her tiny firework sparks passing between them.
Keeping her back to Santana, Brittany moves forward, almost imperceptibly, just enough so that she can trail her hands around and in between them, to clasp onto the button at the front of Santana's jeans. Santana doesn't waste a second, pulling her hips away from Brittany so the blonde can undo it. The tight waistband releases and Santana feels her insides clench. Her body involuntarily pushes into Brittany, her breasts squashing shamelessly against her back. Once Brittany has the zipper down, she hooks her fingers into the belt loops on either side of Santana's jeans and pushes her ass back into Santana. She hits just the right spot and feels the brunette's knees buckle slightly behind her. Humming through a smirk, she grinds back even harder before tightening her grip on Santana's jeans and slowly starts to lower them, by lowering herself.
Santana places her hands on Brittany's shoulders as the dancer bends her knees and moves slowly from side to side, twisting her way down the length of Santana's body. As she reaches the floor she spins around to face Santana, looking up into her girlfriend's lust-filled eyes. She swallows hard, her throat thick and her lips suddenly, and excruciatingly, dry. Licking them slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she taps gently at Santana's calves and the brunette steps shakily out of her jeans, thanking herself for having the foresight to take off her shoes when she first walked into the studio. Brittany pushes the discarded pants away and stands in a slow motion kind of body-roll, raking her fingers up the length of Santana's legs and sides, both girls swaying subtly to the music. The air in the room is as electrified as Brittany's skin; fervent and desperate but surprisingly patient. The moment Brittany is fully upright, their hands are all over each other again but their touches have become gentle, careful. Almost tentative. Though they both ache with want, the urgency is overpowered by their ardent appreciation of one another. Brittany's hands rest on the small of Santana's back, prudently fidgeting with the bottom of Santana's shirt, as she lets herself drown in coffee-dark eyes. Santana runs her fingers over Brittany's bare shoulders, hardly making contact, sending a shiver down the blonde's spine. Her fingers find their way into Brittany's hair and begin to massage lightly at the back of Brittany's neck, the blonde humming as she leans her head back into Santana's attentive hands. With Brittany's neck exposed Santana can't help but lean in and graze her nose and lips over the milky white skin. After what feels like years, she peels herself away and Brittany follows, the two girls standing perfectly upright and perfectly still. For two beats.
The music track kicks over, drawing Brittany's attention back to their dance. Taller by a few inches, she presses her lips to Santana's forehead before wrapping her arms around Santana's back. She presses her palms firmly into the girl's shoulder blades and dips her back, bending with her. She nips at Santana's collar bone with her teeth before pulling them upright then instantly dips Santana again, this time standing tall and using her strong arms to swing Santana in a slow, wide circle and back up to press firmly against her chest. She sways back and forth with the music, Santana allowing her own body to move as one with Brittany's. When the blonde leans forward, Santana falls back. When Brittany arches away, Santana bends towards her. Although she knows Brittany is a strong dancer, Santana can't help but think that the way they so effortlessly move together comes solely from the unwillingness of their bodies to be apart from each other.
Brittany rolls herself against Santana and drops her head so they are dancing cheek to cheek, the brunette's mind fogging over from the warm breath against her ear. They couldn't be any closer to each other if they tried. The way they move, they way they touch, the way they breathe against each other; it's tender and sensual and everything. Santana feels her heart constrict in a way that causes her to drop her head onto Brittany's shoulder, as though it's too heavy for the thoughts that are flowing in. Well, just one thought really. A million emotions, one thought.
Santana has always felt not quite right. It's almost like she has been constantly on edge for years, as though permanently stuck in that Lima Heights front yard, waiting to hear the sound of screeching tires. Or standing in front of her mother's judgmental gaze, waiting to be rejected. Forsaken But right now, here in Brittany's arms, she doesn't think she's ever felt so safe. The body against her is warm and soft and radiates so much tender strength that she doesn't doubt it's ability to always protect her. Even now as she's dipped and swayed, she completely trusts Brittany not just to hold on and not let her fall, but also to lift her back up. To keep her safe and close and happy. Not because she can, but because she wants to. She needs to. Santana knows it, because she can feel it mirrored in herself. Her desire to look after Brittany for as long as she can courses through her veins. It travels in her blood, right to her heart. She is suddenly aware that for the rest of her life she will always want Brittany Pierce. She will always need her. She will always care for her. She will always lo-
Brittany licks lightly at Santana's earlobe and runs her right hand down Santana's back. When it lands firmly on Santana's ass, the brunette's attention is yanked back into the moment and she growls out a wicked smile. Her tender thoughts settle themselves quietly out of reach, somewhere deep in her soul, making way for every primal instinct she has. Brittany is already there, her buzzing skin and thrumming pulse needing even more of Santana against her, around her, inside her. Brittany turns her hips slightly to place one of her legs gently between Santana's, before trailing her hand down further and grabbing onto the underside of Santana's thigh. Santana lets out a gasp as Brittany takes hold of her leg and hitches it up, causing Santana to grind down slightly onto Brittany's thigh. As the sensation registers, Brittany pushes up to meet her and Santana lets out a guttural moan. Her arms tighten around Brittany's neck as she rides the blonde's gentle thrusts, their lips teasing so close to each other in an exquisitely torturous dance.
Santana's breathing starts to become ragged as she struggles against her need for more. She licks her lips and tastes the salt of Brittany's sweaty skin that still lingers there. Her stomach flips and her hips involuntarily push down, eliciting an encouraging moan from Brittany. Spurred on by the sound, Santana lifts her already raised leg higher, curling it completely around Brittany and, this time deliberately, thrusting down. Brittany immediately reacts, jerking her own hips upwards. She leans down and loops her arm around the leg Santana still has planted on the ground, yanking it up forcefully until Santana gives her full weight to Brittany. Santana wraps her leg around Brittany's waist, to join the other, where they lock together at the ankles. Santana now sits upon Brittany's hips, the blonde still standing and canting her hips back and forth in time with the music. She hasn't missed a single beat.
Santana's chest is now inches from Brittany's face, the brunette's arms wrapped bracingly around Brittany's head and neck. Her shirt clings teasingly to the round tops of her breasts and Brittany's breath catches in her throat. She has to clear it a few times before she finds her voice.
"Baby," she chokes out in a pleading whisper, "let go."
Santana leans back, as much as she feels she can, to meet Brittany's eyes. The blonde sees her confusion and nods encouragingly, tightening her grip on Santana's thighs.
"It's ok, I got you," she adds, "I need you to take off your shirt."
Santana looks down at herself and is almost genuinely shocked that she still has clothes on. She flashes Brittany a wicked grin and squeezes the back of her neck, looking for reassurance. Brittany nods and Santana quickly lets go, reaching down to take hold of her shirt before whipping it off over her head in one swift motion. Brittany giggles at her enthusiasm and spins them around a couple of times on the spot. It catches Santana by surprise and she grips back onto Brittany to keep her balance, her fingers tangling in the dancer's long, blonde locks. Her legs involuntarily clamp themselves tighter around Brittany's waist and Santana winces in sympathy for Brittany, sorry on her lips as she peers down at her girlfriend. But, there is no sign of discomfort on Brittany's face. Contrarily, the blonde's eyes flare dark blue with bliss.
They hungrily take in the sight of Santana's bare chest and Brittany hesitates only a second before inching her head forward and pressing her lips wetly against Santana's skin. She kisses along Santana's collar bone and across the exposed skin where the curve of Santana's breast disappears beneath her black bra. She tugs at the material with her teeth quickly before dipping her tongue just underneath the cup and running it down to the valley between her breasts.
Santana squirms against Brittany, the lascivious attention of the blonde's tongue setting her skin on fire. With her arms still wrapped around Brittany's head, she clamps down with her hands, pressing Brittany's face roughly against her chest. The blonde digs her fingernails into Santana's thighs as she loses all ability to breathe. The sting shoots through Santana, right up to her fingertips, and she yanks Brittany's head back hastily.
"Sorry," she pants.
Brittany just shakes her head and adjusts her hold on Santana, putting her mouth greedily back on Santana's hot skin. Both girls moan gratefully as they continue to move against each other, still in time with the music. Brittany's hips roll up into Santana as the brunette bears down on her heavily. Brittany needs more of Santana, needs to touch her everywhere all at once, but her hands are busy supporting the very body that is using her hips as a rocking chair. She tenses her left arm to strengthen the brace and recklessly moves her right hand away, snaking it eagerly between her body and Santana's. The sudden addition of Brittany's wandering fingers, as they delve beneath Santana's underwear, causes Santana's vice-like leg grip to contract, her arms to clamp a little too forcefully, and once again Brittany is on the verge of suffocation, her face buried deep in Santana's cleavage. With her hold on Santana becoming precarious and her lungs desperate for oxygen, Brittany takes her only option. Parting her lips, as much as she can with them pressed firmly into Santana's chest, she bares her teeth and bites down hard.
Santana yelps, pulling Brittany's head back by her hair.
"Damnit," Santana growls breathlessly, "sorry."
"This is getting a little tricky," Brittany smiles, removing her hand from between them to take better hold of Santana.
Santana squirms, pushing her hips into Brittany as a small whine of protest escapes from her lips.
"Do you want me to drop you?" Brittany smirks, too breathless to laugh at Santana's pouty expression.
Santana gasps, unwrapping one of her arms from around Brittany's neck to press her hand to her chest in mock horror.
"Don't worry," Brittany grins, "I won't let you go."
The words set fire to Santana's heart and Brittany can't read the change in expression, Santana's eyes suddenly fervent and vulnerable all at once. Santana leans into Brittany so that her mouth is right by the blonde's ear.
"Promise?"
Though she whispers, Santana's words are heavy with more than a one word question would suggest. She brushes her lips over the top of Brittany's ear before pulling back and meeting the dancer's always receptive eyes. And with one look, one heart-clenchingly overwhelming glimpse at Santana's face, Brittany understands that she doesn't mean now. She's not asking Brittany to promise not to drop her. Brittany allows her mouth to curl into the smallest of smiles, but she wants to make sure that her expression reflects all the earnestness of Santana's.
"I promise."
It's little more than a whisper, but Brittany S. Pierce has never meant anything so much in her entire life.
Suddenly, Santana's lips are on Brittany's in a kiss so passionate that, yet again, Brittany feels like she can't breathe. It's only fleeting, however, Santana pulling away and pressing down into Brittany's hips.
"Will you please, then... for the love of God," she pants, "... take me to your bed?"
Brittany doesn't just hear Santana's words, she feels them. They hit her like a fiery pulse right between her legs and spread throughout her whole body, coursing through her veins, setting her blood on fire and reigniting the tiny fireworks that dance across every inch of her skin. She doesn't hesitate, tightening her embrace around Santana, whose legs impulsively tighten themselves, and strides towards the room that was, once upon a time, an office. It is now, undeniably, a bedroom.
Their bedroom.
Brittany walks them to the unfolded sofa bed and stops when her knees hit the mattress. But, instead of dropping Santana onto it, she turns around and lowers herself, sitting down on the edge, Santana in her lap.
Santana hums her approval, finally loosening her grip around Brittany's neck and running her hands over the blonde's chest. She feels the result of Brittany's exertion on her fingertips; a glistening moisture that covers her skin and stokes the flames of desire in Santana's belly. It's too much and she leans down, licking across Brittany's chest and up her neck. Her tongue trails along Brittany's jaw, up to her ear and back down, before she brings her mouth to rest right by the blonde's parted lips. Brittany nudges her head forward, but Santana pulls back slightly, not allowing them to make contact. There is no music in this room, no sound except for the deep, ragged breaths coming from both girls. But, their dance continues. Santana lifts herself up a little before dropping back down, rolling her hips into Brittany, back and forth, up and down. Brittany's eyes roll back as she bites down on her bottom lip, wanting so desperately feel Santana's mouth on hers. She takes in a deep breath and waits until Santana is sitting back down in her lap, as close as possible, and clamps her hands down on Santana's ass. The brunette attempts to lift off again, to continue her teasing dance, but Brittany is too strong and holds her completely still. Santana can't even move an inch. At least, not an inch off Brittany. But, she can definitely move towards her. She cocks her head to the left and raises an eyebrow, smirking at Brittany that I guess that was the point. Figuring it's a win-win situation, Santana is happy to go with it.
She leans forward as though she is going to kiss Brittany, but stops a few inches short. Pushing hard into Brittany with her hips, Santana takes her hands from their steadying position on Brittany's shoulders and reaches behind herself. She unclasps her bra and removes it deftly, swinging it in the air a couple of times before allowing it to fall from her fingers and onto the floor. There are maybe two or three inches between Brittany's face and Santana's breasts. She can feel Brittany's eyes on her and instantly blushes. She's not sure why; it's not exactly their first time. But, something about it all feels new.
"You're so beautiful," Brittany whispers.
When Santana looks down she finds a fervent set of blue eyes staring back at her, full of unbridled desire and unmistakable affection. All at once she feels incredibly turned on, completely adored and a little like she wants to cry. Her heart pounds so hard against her chest that it causes her breath to catch in her throat. She closes her eyes but can't get her heart to settle, Brittany's hands wandering all over her body, her hips continuing to roll up into her, gently but insistently. Suddenly she feels Brittany's thumb brush over a nipple and her eyes fly open with a deep gasp.
Brittany smirks, but her eyes are concerned and curious.
"Where did you go?"
Santana swallows the lump in her throat and takes a deep breath.
"I'm right here."
"Mmhmm," is all Brittany can manage in response as her persistent hands confirm that, yes, Santana is very much right there.
Santana presses into Brittany once again, this time using her hips, her legs, her arms, her chest. Every part of her yearns to be connected to Brittany. The ache between her legs has suddenly become unbearable.
"I need you right now."
Brittany's hand is already poised. She gently moves aside the wet fabric of her girlfriend's underwear and slowly pushes her fingers inside Santana. Santana's head falls back with a long, low groan of relief. She starts to move against Brittany again, slowly and deliberately, Brittany matching her rhythm with ease.
"Touch me, too, Santana," Brittany moans, "I'm already so close and I want us to come together."
Santana's hand fumbles blindly between them, finally finding the waistband of Brittany's shorts and clumsily shoves her fingers beneath the black lycra. She's met with a warm wetness that actually makes her salivate a little. She swallows, blushing furiously at the complete lack of control she has over her body's reactions to Brittany. The blonde in question bucks impatiently, Santana's fingers nudging against her teasingly, and Santana can see the desperation in Brittany's eyes as they stare at each other intensely. When she licks her lips and bites down on the bottom one in frustration, Santana realizes that Brittany is not just waiting for her fingers. She licks her own lips and bends down to position them right in front of Brittany's. As she brings their mouths together, Santana runs her fingers through Brittany's slick folds, coating them thoroughly in an instant, and pushes them inside.
"Fuck," Brittany whimpers against Santana's lips.
Santana nods into her in agreement. This isn't going to take long.
Their rhythm is instant, Santana effortlessly riding Brittany's skilled hips and her insistent hand. Their free arms claw desperately at each other as everything becomes faster, harder and hotter. Their lips remain hungrily connected, their tongues pushing back and forth fervidly. It only takes a matter of minutes. Brittany is the first to go, but the feeling of her clenching around Santana's fingers sends Santana over the edge right behind her.
Their bodies tighten around each other, Santana's knees digging into Brittany's sides, Brittany's arm clamping down across Santana's back, as they hold each other steady through the waves of overwhelming pleasure. As their bodies relax against each other their breaths become longer, deeper, calmer and, once she regains control of her senses, Brittany realizes that Santana is shaking. She gently runs her fingers through Santana's long, dark hair, making soft cooing noises and rocking her gently, the latina still perched intimately in her lap.
"Are you okay?" she whispers, eventually.
Santana's eyes remain closed as she nuzzles her forehead against Brittany's. She's feeling such a strange mix of emotions that she has no idea how to process any of them, let alone articulate them.
"I've never felt like this," she ventures, her voice cracking slightly.
"Mmm," Brittany hums, "tell me about it."
Brittany's tone is light and giggly and accented with afterglow. Though she's not being at all dismissive, Santana still thinks she missed the point. She didn't.
"Brittany..." Santana whispers.
"I know."
Santana wants to say something else. To say something more. Since driving away from Ohio all those years ago, she's developed a strong distaste for leaving things unfinished and right now that's exactly how she feels, as though something important is being left undone.
"I..."
The rest of the words catch in her throat before she can even figure out what they are. Her eyes are open now and darting frantically all over Brittany. The blonde cups Santana's face in both hands and kisses her gently. Then more forcefully. Eventually, Brittany's tongue finds its way into Santana's mouth, dragging over her lips and past her teeth. What little chance Santana had of finding her words is now completely gone as her heart starts to beat erratically, as though trying to jump through her chest to find Brittany's. Brittany pulls back suddenly, her eyes apologetic.
"I'm sorry," she breathes into Santana, "You weren't finished..."
Santana smirks, choosing to believe that Brittany was not talking about her forgotten sentence.
"Damn right, I wasn't."
And with that, Santana's mouth is on Brittany's again as her left hand disappears inside her shorts. The blonde gasps, pushing into Santana agreeably. Santana's other hand fists the material of Brittany's tank top roughly, clumsily jerking it upwards.
"This time," Santana growls into Brittany's mouth, "I need you naked."