Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Outside the window the sun is rising over the expansive gardens of Four Seasons Hotel at Beverly Hills. Santana shrugs on a robe, swinging her legs off the bed so she could take a better look at herself from the nearby mirror.
She feels... confused... And she doesn't like it. Not one bit.
She pats the pockets of her robe for her cigarettes, then remembers she had quit smoking after Brittany's incessant nagging. She growls in frustration because somehow, chewing gum isn't the same anymore. Well, not that it ever was, really.
"Come back here." The voice from behind her says—half invitation, half command.
Santana turns.
Brittany is lying on the bed, her arms crossed behind her head, looking arrogant.
This has been a mistake. The torment of emotions after the heated argument that Brittany started the night before.
/
"Where's your mistress?" Brittany huffed as soon as she entered Santana's Los Angeles office at Chase, Beverly and Lopez LLP.
Santana didn't look up from the papers in front of her. By then, she was used to Brittany's uncanny ability to march into her office unannounced, despite her strict order of not letting anybody come in without prior appointment.
"Now, that's just not possible, is it, Brit?" Santana remarked, her attention still focused on the task at hand, eyebrow arched in annoyance. "I'm not married. Which invalidates the 'mistress' tag."
"Oh please." Brittany rolled her eyes as she marched towards Santana. "Don't be such a smart ass. You know I'm talking about that lawyer who shall not be named!" She frowned as she crossed her arms on her chest.
"Riley?" Santana finally looked up, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "She's not my mistress—"
"Other woman then." Brittany huffed. "And don't say her name!"
"Brit, what's wrong with her?" Santana was genuinely getting annoyed. "We're not married—"
"But we're still sleeping together! Don't tell me that meant nothing because we both know that's not true. Finding yourself in bed with me, almost every night if I may add, must account for something. Besides, we're practically still married—not on paper, but still!" Brittany reasons.
"And that has to stop." Santana muttered. "There's like a code of — what the hell Brittany?!" Santana gasped as she noticed that Brittany was already sitting on her lap, one hand underneath her shirt and the other tugged the waistband of her skirt. "Brittany wait—" Santana growled, pushing Brittany away. Her ex was like the world's most talented make-out artist. Santana was barely starting to make her point and she was already almost undressed. "Okay, stop! God, Brittany! I'm sort of dating Riley." The lawyer breathed out, causing the hand underneath her skirt to halt its ministrations.
"Right. And that's why you've been sneaking into my house in the last weeks." Brittany glared at her ex-wife.
"Well, we're not official. Yet." Santana gulped. "But that's inevitable." She sighed. "Brit, you know the rules. We sleep together, but if one of us—"
"That was your rule. Besides, rules are made to be broken." Brittany smirked at Santana. The lawyer gulped because she knew that that smiles was a smile of a woman who always got what she wanted.
"Brit, we really need to stop this. I'm sure you'll find—."
"Whatever Santana." Brittany got off her ex's lap, running her hands over her hair. With a menacing glare at the lawyer (who winced at the look sent her way), Brittany headed for the door, frustration pained on her face. "Your cock is saying another story though." Brittany said through a smirk, hand gripping the door knob. "You know where to find me." And with that, Brittany was gone.
/
"Well, I'm waiting." Brittany's voice announces.
"You think you can order me around?" Santana huffs, throwing her hair over her shoulders—a practiced move that she tries to make appear unrehearsed. Santana knows that Brittany finds the sight of her hair swinging over her back enticing.
Not that she's trying to look enticing for Brittany because, duh.
"As a matter of fact..." Brittany trails on, grinning widely.
"Who do you think you are?" Santana snaps, but Brittany's unaffected. Instead, she walks over to stand in front of Santana.
"Hmm... I can be whoever you want me to be." Brittany licks Santana's neck, then her ear before gently kissing her robe-clad shoulder. "Admit it, we have fun together. We're perfect together."
Santana closes her eyes at the sensation. Being with Brittany makes her feel alive and uninhibited.
All the time.
She looks at her ex-spouse, a swirl of emotions playing inside her as those blue eyes gaze at her innocently.
When she filed for divorce citing irreconcilable differences, Santana could not find a better phrase that would encapsulate their predicament.
They were just, night and day—a couple who barely agreed on anything. One could attribute their age difference—a full nine years and five months—as the biggest issue in their relationship. Yet, there were other things too. Santana came from a family of lawyers and politicians. The younger of two children, she was brought up to be as equally responsible as her older sister. In fact, she was poised to inherit her father's old political seat—that was until she drunkenly married Brittany.
The dancer, on the other hand, was an only child. Her father's a successful real estate mogul while her mother's a retired advertising executive. Being an only child, Brittany's spoiled and has been used to getting what she wants.
Santana is an organized person, wanting to have everything in order. Brittany doesn't share the same sentiment. She's a happy-go-lucky person who almost almost doesn't have a plan or a schedule to follow.
But they also agree on something, or rather, on one thing—sex.
They're very much compatible in the area, being both almost insatiable (Santana even more so).
Still, one might be tempted to ask, what about the 'love' angle?
Well...
It's a tad bit complicated.
Brittany had always been vocal about the fact that she as very much attracted with Santana. In the months following their impromptu wedding, Brittany even began declaring her love for her wife every chance she got. Santana, on the other hand, would not be opposed to saying that she was attracted to Brittany too. In fact, she would admit (not out loud, of course) that after their first time together, she thought about pursuing the dancer (who made her believe that she was a 25-year old businesswoman) if she wasn't about to go back home to Arkansas. Instead, she found herself married to the lying woman merely a week after meeting her.
/
Santana was almost disowned by William Lopez as soon as he got wind of the 'marriage' that he branded as 'travesty'
Maribel was more concerned with the ten, or nine-year age gap to be honest. She spent most of the time with her mouth agape in disbelief when she met her new daughter-in-law (Brittany insisted that she come to Arkansas with Santana so she'll meet her in-laws) especially when Brittany introduced herself as a 'unicorn'.
"Santana, honey, Brittany seems to be a really sweet and uh... unique girl," Maribel started as she watched Brittany fix her cat's eye patch after she explained that it has sore eyes. "But if you didn't want to come home and do what your father wanted you to do, you should have just said so. You didn't have to marry her to make a statement." She hissed.
"Mom, come on. I wasn't making any statement!"
"Are you kidding me?" Maribel eyed her daughter-in-law who was still busy with her cat. "Your father nearly had a stroke when he learned about your bum of a wedding. And dammit Santana, he looks like he's having another one right now!" They unconsciously eyed William Lopez who by then was pacing the lawn of the Arkansas Governor's Mansion, looking ready to kill anyone who gets in his way. "What do you plan to do now, Santana?"
Santana was taken aback by the question. "What do you mean? Like, divorce her?"
"I don't know, Santana. How about an annulment?"
"Mom—" Santana was cut off by Audrey, her father's secretary.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt, but the Governor wants to talk to the two of you in his office." She smiled warily. True enough, when Santana looked back on the lawn, her father wasn't there anymore.
"Alright. We'll be there. Can you please keep Brittany company?" Maribel asked, pleadingly. "And Audrey, please don't engage, just listen to her."
/
"I'm not divorcing her Mom, Dad." Santana said, with conviction as her parents looked at her in confusion.
"Annulment, Santana! You were incapacitated! It was null and void." William yelled.
"I wasn't, okay? And neither was she."
"Wait a minute." William looked into his daughter menacingly. From their position—with Santana sitting on the couch and her father towering over her, Santana should be shaking in fear by then. "You're saying that you wanted to get married in the first place?"
But she wasn't.
When she passed Brittany by the living room, the blonde innocently hugged her tight, and in that moment, Santana knew that she couldn't hurt Brittany like that. Especially when she looked at her with no judgment, only awe. Something that kind, that sweet and innocent couldn't have been a mistake.
"I want to stay married to Brittany, Dad."
"Do you realize—"
"Yes, Dad." She cut her father off, wanting to get the conversation over and done with. "Yes, Dad." She said with more conviction. "I realize what this could mean, not just for me, but for you too. But do you really think that leaving her would do more good than harm to your campaign?" She defended. "I don't think so, Dad. So no, I'm not filing for divorce. Nor an annulment. But if you still want me to help you out with your campaign, then I'll be there."
The governor looked at his daughter intently before muttering in a cold voice, "You can go now, Santana." William breathed out.
"William, let's not—"
"No, I'm not saying that I don't want to see my daughter anymore, Maribel." William frowned. "I was merely implying that I was done talking to her. About this."
"William—"
"I just hope you know that I am very disappointed, Santana." He muttered before he walked out.
/
"Santana, where are we going?" Brittany asked as Santana led her out of the Governor's Mansion without her saying goodbye to William and Maribel.
"I'll show you around." Santana smiled weakly, feeling really bad for Brittany.
"They didn't like me." Brittany stated more than asked.
"It's not like that. They were just shocked. They like you plenty." Santana muttered, unable to look Brittany in the eye.
"We can have another wedding. A proper one. Your parents will like that. They seem like very proper people." Brittany said as they made their way out of the mansion and towards the park. Santana was silent, a lot of scenarios playing in her head. Brittany started to ramble on and on about Lord Tubbington, but Santana's mind was somewhere else.
"Brittany, please, not right now. Let's talk later." She hissed as she continued to drive.
Minutes later, Santana parked outside Arkansas State Park. She held her hand out for Brittany to take, which the blonde did without hesitation. They started walking, with Brittany making all sorts of comments about the trees, the grass and practically everything she saw. As soon as they neared the lake, Santana turned to Brittany and asked if she wanted to ride a boat.
"I dunno Santana. Are you going to throw me in the lake and leave me there to die so you could go back to doing what you were doing before we got married?" Brittany asked with a pout, earning an eye roll from Santana.
"I'm not going to kill you, Brittany." Santana sighed tiredly.
"Can we just stay on the bench by the lake? I really want to talk."
"Okay."
/
"Do you want an annulment, Santana?" Brittany asked as soon as they sat comfortably on the bench overlooking the lake.
"I don't know, Brittany."
"But you told your father you didn't want one." Blue eyes widened as soon as the words came out.
"You were listening?"
"I wasn't. Your dad was screaming..." She explained, eyes trained on the ground.
"Hmm." Santana merely nodded, unsure what to say.
"I don't want one. I like you. And I always wanted to get married. So."
"You have more to lose than I do, Brittany. First, you're 21 for fuck's sake. Nobody wants to be married at 21. Heck, I don't want to be married at 30!"
"San—"
"And our age difference, Brittany. Come on."
"Age is just a number, Santana—"
"Oh don't give me that crap. You're just saying that now." The lawyer rolled her eyes in disbelief. "A year into our marriage, you'll feel different. And a few more years later..." She trailed on. "Come on."
"Well you basically fought for our marriage in front of your parents." It was Brittany's turn to roll her eyes. "That accounts for something."
"So what? You're saying you want to stay married?"
"Well duh." Brittany chuckled dryly. "You're treating me like an imbecile. Like someone who couldn't decide for herself."
"I'm not!"
"Oh yes you are! I was there too. You didn't point a gun in my head and forced me to get married. Sure, I was drunk, but I knew what I was doing. I'm not 12! So you better get that through that thick skull of yours, okay? You do not get to make the decision for us just because you're older or more experienced or smarter." Brittany ranted towards a stunned Santana who merely looked at her in silence. "Do I get a second?"
"I—I think that sounds reasonable."
"Cool. So..." Brittany studied Santana intently, trying to read her. "What do you suggest we do now? Are you still going back here?"
"I don't think that's a good idea right now." Santana started to toy with the rubber band around her wrist. Knowingly, Brittany gently placed her hand on top of tanned wrist. Unconsciously, Santana took Brittany's hand and intertwined hers with it. "I'm extending my stay in Robbins & McKenzie and use that time to think about what I should do next."
"That's fine. How about us?"
"I—I think that I need a little time to make sense of this. And not that I'm making the decision for you, but, I think you need some time too. So how about we just continue to live in our respective places and take it from there?" Santana asked a frowning Brittany.
"That sounds like a trial separation already, just a few days after our wedding. Don't you think?"
"Well, yeah. When you put it that way, it's sounds bad." Santana smiled sheepishly. "But how about we look at it as some sort of a trial period? I won't take long. I just need a few days. What do you think?"
"Hmm." Brittany mumbled, toying with the idea in her head. She spent a few moments of silence, just thinking about Santana's suggestion. "Okay." She said after a few minutes.
"Okay?" Santana clarified.
"Okay. I can stay in your apartment whenever I want to, right?"
"Just as long as you won't let me clean up after you." Santana teased. "So we have a deal?"
"Deal."
/
Santana found herself cleaning up after Brittany days after their talk in Arkansas. The younger woman stayed in the lawyer's apartment almost every night and in days when she didn't have classes—which meant that Brittany was in Santana's apartment everyday.
So yeah, so much for having time off to think things through.
/
Brittany graduated three months after their Las Vegas wedding. By then, Santana had already found a job at Chase & Beverly, LLP in Los Angeles while Brittany landed a job as a choreographer for a television show. They lived in a house in Beverly Hills—a gift from David, Brittany's father.
/
Their first big fight came two days after they moved to their new house.
"What the hell? We're not painting our bedroom pink!"
"What's wrong with pink?"
"What's wrong with pink? Are you serious? It's pink! I hate pink!"
"Well I like pink so fuck off!" Brittany yelled before going back to her task of painting the bedroom.
"I swear to god Brittany, if I come back from work with that stupid color in our bedroom, I'm going to leave this house!"
"Whatever."
/
Santana of course came home from work with their bedroom painted pink and Brittany on their bed with a smug smirk on her face.
/
Brittany woke up the next day with all of her clothes submerged in a pink-colored water in the bath tub, an empty bottle of pink dye sitting on the edge of the tub.
/
They bickered endlessly.
From Santana's inability to come home early to Brittany's hard partying.
From Brittany's jealous streak when it comes to Santana's famous and beautiful clients and charming interns to Santana's lack of display of affection.
They fought about Brittany's cat and ducks that she insisted to stay in the pool to Santana bringing work at home.
Their fights were explosive and ugly and often ended with one of them walking out of the house or a broken china or a numb body from rough make up sex.
/
"You're not going back to that woman, Santana." Brittany whispers, nipping Santana's neck to get her out of her trance. "You belong here. With me."
"Someone's been telling you everything that I do, am I right?" Santana looks into Brittany's eyes, knowing that she couldn't lie to her. Not in front of her. Especially when she's looking into those beautiful blue eyes. Her fingers find Brittany's core, stilling inside the dancer, the pads of her fingers gently pressing on her g-spot but not moving.
"I don't know what you're talking—ohhhh!" Brittany groans as Santana presses even harder into her.
"Is that right?" Santana smirks, knowing that she has the upper hand this time. "You appear in places I take my dates to. Like, always. Is it Martha? Huh?" Santana asks. She has always suspected Martha to be the 'mole' in her office. Brittany and her became very close during their marriage and Martha's the only one who knows her schedule by heart (even businesses that are not in Santana's work schedule).
"Please I need more…" Brittany answers, whining.
"Oh baby girl, I'm going to make you cum so many times you'll lose count," Santana smirks before pressing hard on her g-spot and leaning down to take her clit into her mouth. "But I can't do that until you tell me who's the source of your intel is."
"Oh fuck!" Brittany gasps; Santana's fingers are slipping in and out quickly, each time pressing into that pleasure spot inside her walls as red lips and tongue plays with her clit.
"Such a naughty girl, such language…" Santana hums, feeling Brittany's pussy gush at her words. "You like me to talk dirty do you?" Brittany's answer is a long moan. Another minute of Santana's mouth on her clit and her fingers deep inside her and she's tensing up, rushing towards the end harder and faster than ever before. "Are you going to cum honey?" Santana asks with a satisfied smile and Brittany just nods, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, her back arching and her mouth opened and she's... falling over the edge. "You know what? I'll get it out of you anyway. I'll eventually know everything." Santana rasps out as she sees Brittany orgasm violently.
"That's right, cum all over my fingers…" Santana says before she pulls her fingers out of Brittany, licking up the wetness that's still gushing out of the dancer. "You taste so good," She whispers before lifting her two soaking fingers to her mouth to allow her a taste. Brittany licks Santana's digits clean, loving how naughty and dirty it made her feel to lick her own juices.
Santana then moves down to continue her assault on Brittany's folds, her fingers still being sucked by Brittany who by now is bucking her hips. She's still so sensitive after her first orgasm but Santana wouldn't stop licking. Her tongue swipes through her folds again and again and again.
"Oh I'm going to…," this time there is no build up; Brittany's second orgasm crashes into her out of nowhere. She hears herself scream in pleasure but all she could see is white. She opens her eyes to see Santana smirking with satisfaction from between her legs, her mouth and chin wet with her juices. Santana crawls up her body quickly setting herself on top of her as her mouth crashes into hers once more. She could taste herself on Santana and it only makes her hotter. She raises her knees as she feels her shaft settle between her folds, and in one breath Santana pushes in.
"You are so damn tight," Santana moans into her neck, sucking and nipping at the soft skin there. She moves slowly at first, rocking into Brittany in smooth, strong strokes that had the younger woman panting.
"You feel so good…" Brittany gasps, thrashing her head back and forth while her fingers ball into fists, trying to find something to hold onto. Santana moves her hands into Brittany's and their fingers entwine together as she gradually begins to pick up the pace. Knowing Brittany so well, Santana releases her hands as she leans away, resting on her knees before gripping Brittany's hips tightly and beginning to spear into her again.
"Oh yes! Just like that!" Brittany screams, reaching behind her to grab at the headboard as Santana fucks her roughly.
"You are such a brat," Santana says, one hand moving from her hip to splay across Brittany's lower stomach, her thumb rubbing circles on her the dancer's clit. Brittany moans, her hips pressing up to meet Santana's every thrust.
"I'm so close..."
"So, who's telling you about the things I do?" Santana asks as she stills her movement, causing Brittany eyes to widen in surprise.
"San..." Brittany whines. "Keep going!"
"Is it Martha?" Santana narrows her eyes playfully. "It's okay. I won't be mad."
"Fine! It's Martha!" Brittany growls, pulling Santana's hips towards her. "Now put your fucking cock back in!"
Santana smirks, before giving three more hard thrusts into Brittany, just enough to have the dancer crashing into oblivion once again; her body seized in pleasure. "That's it, Brit..." Santana urges, still gliding into Brittany, only slowly this time, prolonging her pleasure. After a few more thrusts, Brittany finally sags into the bed, her body tingling.
"I'm not done with you young lady," Santana says, reaching around pale waist, gripping on it tightly, and rolling them over. She's still hard inside Brittany, and now, the younger woman's hovering over her. Pale legs are on either side of tanned ones, Brittany's hands braced on Santana's toned stomach.
"It's time for you to do some of the work," Santana says, gripping Brittany's hips and slowly guiding her up and back down. Brittany hisses as she feels Santana's cock rubbing the sensitive walls of her thoroughly fucked pussy, yet she still couldn't resist Santana. She starts to ride the lawyer, slowly at first and then building up speed until she is bouncing on top of Santana without a care. Santana watches as Brittany throws her head back, moaning loudly, the soft skin of her neck stretching tightly as the dancer bounces on top of her.
Brown eyes trails down to stare at Brittany's tits bouncing in heavy circles, wild and plump above her. Her hand reaches up to cup one, pulling on the nipple softly and Brittany bucks her hips, squealing in pleasure.
"Touch yourself while you fuck me," Santana orders, watching as one pale hand moves to where they are joined, pale fingers rubbing frantic circles on the sensitive clit. The sight above Santana is beautiful.
On top of her, Brittany's wild and untamed above her—bouncing and writhing.
"Oh fuck…San!" Brittany screams her ex's name, bucking and writhing as her climax hit again as soon as Santana starts to buck her own hips upward to meet her thrusts. Santana feels Brittany's inner muscles squeeze her. She watches Brittany falls apart above her.
Santana slips out of Brittany and it's during that act that the younger woman notices that Santana's shaft is still hard.
"My turn to taste," she smiles. moving between Santana's legs and lowering her mouth to her hard thick cock.
"Fuck!" The lawyer curses, threading her hands into wild, blonde hair, guiding Brittany's head over her shaft again and again. Santana groans.
What is it about this woman that had her so ready for her all the time? She always tells herself not to get in bed with her ex-wife, but all her efforts are futile as soon as Brittany bats those beautiful lashes and those hands reach out to touch her.
"I'm going to cum baby, take it all…" Santana orders and with only three more passes of Brittany's mouth on her cock, she's bursting into Brittany's mouth with a groan. The blonde swallows every drop and licks her lips when she's finished. "Come here," Santana grabs Brittany by the back of her neck and kisses her deeply. "You get some rest because I am so not done with you," she adds, her hands gripping Brittany's ass and pulling her closer.
Brittany closes her eyes for a moment, catching her breath before another furry of passionate lovemaking consumes her already spent body.
