Anonymous asked: 8. Seductive Kiss


It's not that Brittany doesn't want to go to the loft for Rachel's get-together, it's that she really doesn't want to go to the loft for Rachel's get-together.

And she knows that Santana is equally reluctant, not just because Rachel's like the most annoying person on the entire planet, but because they've barely seen each other these last couple weeks between picking up overtime shifts at their respective jobs and furiously studying for midterms.

Aside from falling into bed beside the other at increasingly ridiculous hours, and waking up for brief morning kisses when their first alarm goes off, it's like they aren't even married and living in the same apartment. Brittany figured that their fourth year of university would be stupidly busy, but she never imagined it would be this bad. Even when they can spare a couple hours for each other, it usually results in takeout on the couch before immediately falling asleep against each other.

So of course the first free evening they have together in weeks is when Rachel decides she just has to throw a get-together to celebrate god knows what. Most of the former glee club is in attendance—even if Brittany can only stand about half of them these days—and while she wants to see her friends, she really wants to see her wife more.

"What time is it?" Santana asks, coming out of the bathroom in a swirl of steam and heat, "We're probably going to have to leave soon." She catches sight of Brittany sitting on the edge of the bed, still in sweats and a t-shirt, her blue eyes darkening in interest as she stares at her wife in nothing more than a tiny towel, and rolls her eyes. "C'mon, Britt, it'll only be a couple hours."

"Ugh," Brittany whines, throwing herself back on the bed and letting her arms stretch high above her, "But we could be doing much more important things during those hours,"

The room is silent until she feels Santana's legs press to hers where they're hanging off the side of the bed. "Important like what?" Santana asks teasingly, tickling gently at Brittany's thigh.

Brittany remains very still while she considers her options. If she plays her cards right, she's pretty sure she can get Santana to forget all about the get-together, and luckily for her, Santana's only wearing a towel, which means that most of her work is already done.

She shrugs nonchalantly, keeping her eyes closed because she already knows that Santana will be able to read the intent in them, and she needs to wait until the last possible second before she springs her trap. "You know, just stuff."

Santana laughs, and Brittany can feel the damp warmth of Santana's skin against her legs even through her sweatpants. "We can do important stuff when we get back."

Brittany shakes her head, cracking one eye open and feeling satisfaction curl in her body when she realizes Santana's eyes are caught on her stomach where her shirt has ridden up. She subtly stretches a little and sees Santana's eyes darken at the movement. "But we'll both be too tired for that," she pouts.

"We can leave early," Santana says absently, a pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Brittany smirks lazily, knowing that Santana's unintentionally fallen into her trap even before Brittany had set it up. "Or," she drawls, moving slow enough that Santana doesn't realize she's about to be pounced on, "We could just not leave."

"Everyone will be there," she protests half-heartedly, still unaware of Brittany's intent.

Brittany hums in acknowledgement, low and rumbling, and brown eyes dart to hers a moment before Brittany attacks. Santana gasps as eager hands land on her hips and spin them around until she's pinned to the bed below her wife, the towel once snuggly tucked against her breast loosening at the movement. "And we'll be here," Brittany purrs, before ducking her head to kiss her wife, wet and hot and demanding. Santana lets out a surprised whimper before she's kissing Brittany just as desperately, these past hectic weeks weighing just as heavily on her as they do on Brittany.

Brittany's lips are both loving and desperate as she descends on Santana's neck. It takes Santana a long moment to regain the ability to speak, her fingers digging almost painfully into Brittany's hips as she tilts her head to give Brittany better access. "I told 'Cedes we'd be there," Santana finally manages to gasp, just as Brittany's lips find that sensitive spot behind her ear and all coherent thought leaves her again.

"And I told her that we'll be catching up on all the quality time we've missed these last few weeks." Brittany's breath is hot against her ear, and Santana gasps as Brittany trails sucking kisses along Santana's jaw.

"She won't believe that," Santana protests, even as her hands start tugging at the hem of Brittany's shirt until her wife is half-naked above her.

Brittany's kisses gentle and turn sweet as soon as her head emerges from the collar of her shirt. "She's been listening to me whine about never seeing you because of our schedules for, like, weeks," Brittany says with a slightly sheepish smile, "She said she'd cover for us tonight."

Santana's hands come up to brush Brittany's hair out of their faces, twisting her fingers through golden hair with a tiny smile. "I've missed you," she admits quietly.

Brittany catches Santana's left hand, pressing a long kiss to the rings nestled snuggly against the knuckle of her fourth finger. "Me too," Brittany murmurs, "My last midterm was today."

Santana smiles softly and tugs Brittany back down to her lips. "I know, so was mine," she whispers.

Brittany sighs into the kiss, twisting her wrist to tangle her fingers with Santana's and pinning them beside her head, careful to avoid pulling the waves of damp hair spread out around Santana's head. "So we have nothing to do tomorrow then?" she mumbles hopefully against Santana's lips.

Santana hums in agreement, more focused on exploring her wife's mouth with her tongue than actually answering.

Brittany pulls back a little bit, ignoring Santana's pout. "And nothing to do tonight?" she asks cheekily. Her smirk widens before disappearing into a groan as Santana answers with a bruising kiss, shifting until her towel falls completely away and pressing up into her wife until Brittany forgets her own name.

She's going to have to get Mercedes a gift card or something.