Author's note: Chapter's should be a little longer from now on... I've not dabbled in fanfiction for at least a year now and this is the first time I've tried anything Brittana, so I do apologise if I'm a little rusty. Reviews are love as always and feel free to hit me up on tumblr at gemmawho.
The rushing of blood in her ears and the heavy heartbeat in her chest would never be enough to drown out the intermittent sounds coming from behind the wooden door at the top of the stairs. A thin slither of light escaped out into the hallway where the door hadn't quite been pushed closed. It wasn't bright enough to be that of a light bulb and the tell-tale flickering confirmed that the source of light was the small flat screen TV Brittany always left talking to itself in the background. At times Santana had wondered if the blonde actually knew where the off switch for the device was located. She'd lost count of the number of times they'd been making out in her bed to the soundtrack of some tediously boring daytime television show.
Frozen to the spot in the centre of the staircase like a deer caught in headlights, television shows were the last thing on Santana's mind. For several moments she stayed like that – unmoving and unblinking as her brain struggled to process what exactly was going on. Her head fell silent, struck of all thoughts until finally she got a grip on herself and forcibly engaged her mind. Sam. Her thoughts immediately jumped to the boy with the mouth the size of a bowling ball and her stomach gave an instant, unpleasant roll. The very concept of Brittany and her so-called boyfriend fucking in her bedroom left her desperately trying to control the urge to throw up – the thought that they were doing it mere feet away from where she was stood had her fighting to stay upright.
Logically, she had two choices. One: stay and sit through the decidedly sickening process that was Brittany and guppy lips having sex whilst trying to form some sort of plan to get her away from the moron. Two: turn around, walk out the front door and head back to New York to work on fucking Brittany out of her system. In the heat of the moment, option two was sounding like the better idea. Why bother to put up a fight when, judging from the long, breathless moan that just escaped into the otherwise silent house, Brittany was clearly enjoying being with her new boyfriend? Her head began to spin from the turmoil that was her thoughts as they fought for precedence at the forefront of her mind. One slender arm reached out to steady herself on the bannister that ran along the edge of the staircase. Despite it all, Santana couldn't hold back the irritation she felt at the realisation that one girl could have so much power over her.
"Oh god-," The sound came from behind the door in front of her; desperate and wanton as it forcefully pulled her away from her thoughts. Santana wasn't sure what hurt more – the stab of pain in her chest or her stomach.
That was all it took to make up her mind for her. Fuck Brittany. Fuck Sam fucking Evans and his stupid fucking guppy-lipped trouty-mouthed face. They could get married and have a swarm of half-human, half-fish babies for all she cared. It was a combination of bitterness and rage that forced her legs to carry her back down the stairs. She'd go to her parent's house and spend the night there before catching the first train tomorrow morning. Brittany wouldn't even know she'd turned up.
"Santana!" The cry of her name stopped her dead in her tracks. One hand was already poised on the front door handle, ready to open it up and walk out of Brittany's life altogether. For a moment she thought that the blonde had heard her descend the stairs and, on instinct, had left the confines of her bedroom to come investigate the sound. One glance over her shoulder told her that Brittany was still hidden from sight by the wood of her door. Then why…
Santana's mouth ran dry as her hand fell away from the cold plastic of the door handle. Not once had she heard the sound of a man's voice. The sound effects coming from behind Brittany's door had been distinctly female and, now that she thought about it, the tell-tale squeak of bed springs had been absent the entire time. Brittany's bed was notoriously squeaky. Santana had discovered that it was damn near impossible to have sex in it when anyone else was in the house. The two of them had always been far too enthusiastic for their own good and every time they'd delved between the blonde's sheets, it had sounded as though the floor was about to cave in with the racket they'd made. Eventually Santana's house had been their preferred place to stay over or, failing all else, they'd resort to sex elsewhere in Brittany's room.
The sound of her name had been all Santana needed to drag herself back up the stairs and towards the only occupied bedroom in the Pierce household. Bitter rage and jealousy quickly faded into a dull thrum of arousal coasting steadily through her veins at the thought of Brittany upstairs in her bedroom touching herself to thoughts of her. She briefly wondered if Sam knew what his girlfriend got up to when she was left alone at night. Santana made a mental note to rub it in his face once she and Brittany were safely back together again. She'd not even confirmed his lack of presence in his girlfriend's bedroom and she was already planning just how she was going to go about gloating over her superior sexual prowess. Cocky didn't even begin to describe Santana.
Practice had left Santana as silent as the shadows as she came to a halt outside the door to Brittany's room. One side of her body lent heavily against the wall as her head followed suite. The gap between the door and the wall was narrow at best, but after a few moments of quiet shuffling, Santana found a spot in which she could see semi-clearly into the room – and what a sight it was. There, lying in the centre of the bed, was Brittany. She noted Sam's absence with a blissful smirk before forcing any thoughts of the boy out of her head altogether. The tall blonde was absent of all clothes from the waist upwards and the light of television reflected off of her bare chest. Her gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts and the way her nipples hardened with her arousal before dropping to the hand that sat buried in her black cotton briefs. She couldn't see the other girl's fingers, but the repetitive flexing of her wrist and the way her expression contorted with pleasure told her exactly what it was that Brittany was doing.
The temperature out on the landing seemed to shoot up by several degrees and Santana found herself unconsciously rubbing her thighs together to try to relieve some of the burning desire building between them.
"Mmmm… San…" She heard Brittany groan and fought back the urge to throw open the door and ravish her right there and then. The blonde was close – that much she could tell. It was obvious in the way her hips moved frantically to meet her hand, rocking upwards in a manner that seemed to have lost all rhythm in favour of seeking that fast-approaching high. Santana wanted to help her out, but didn't. She remained frozen to the spot on the other side of the door as she watched her ex-girlfriend get herself off.
The hand not stuffed inside her underwear reached up to fumble with one breast, rubbing at the sensitive nipple with her thumb and eliciting another breathless groan from the blonde's lips. Her back arched deliciously off of the bed and Brittany's climax seemed to play out in slow motion in front of Santana's eyes. Every muscle in her body seemed to spasm and clench as her head rocked back into the pillow at the top of the bed, her blonde hair fanning out beneath her in a tangled mess. Brittany's face when she climaxed was one of Santana's favourite things about her. Her eyes squeezed tightly together and her nose seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly as her lips parted to let out whatever sound she decided to make that day. This time it was a strangled cry of her name.
Weak at the knees and drenched between her thighs, Santana put a hand out to steady herself. Watching Brittany touch herself was something she'd rarely had the chance to indulge in, but whenever she had it had always left her desperately aroused. Tonight was no exception. Unfortunately for her, the only object directly in front of her hand was the bedroom door handle. Steadying herself to keep from sinking to the ground quickly turned into stumbling forwards as the weight of her body forced the bedroom door open.
"Shit-," She cursed loudly, straightening up before she fell flat on her face in the middle of Brittany's bedroom floor. The other girl sat bolt upright, staring at Santana with wide, startled eyes.
"Santana? What- what are you doing here?"