So, that T Rating is definitely changing to an M for this chapter. Beware of that kids. As always thanks for your patience and reviews and alerts. This is my longest chapter. Almost five thousand words! A small gift for being so terribly update lazy. I'll warn you though, Santana's kind of a mess in this chapter. So, if you're on a canon high and don't want me raining on your parade, then I suggest not reading any further.
"Drag My Teeth Across Your Chest To Taste Your Beating Heart"
The thing about school? It doesn't prepare you for the real world. Teachers and perky, red headed guidance counselors don't prepare you for the possibility of finding yourself packed body to body in a humid basement. Strobe lights and black lights and sweat and yelling and muscles grinding on each other and you don't know if you're in heaven or hell.
Tina's got a penchant for trying new things. A brave streak that Santana never knew existed until the new wave goth girl of the Glee club stumbled over, already two drinks in the hole clutching a handful of small powder blue pills imprinted with a unicorn's head.
"What are these?" Santana asks as Tina tongues a pill down and shoves the rest into Santana's hand.
Tina laughs loudly, Santana knows it's loud by the way Tina throws back her head, but the sound is swallowed up by the room.
A body, warm and immediately familiar presses against Santana's back and Julia breathes down, hot into her ear. Her hand clasps around Santana's pill filled fist. Julia wiggles a digit in between Santana's hand and fingers out a single pill putting it in her mouth. Santana turns her neck to watch as Julia wiggles the pill on the tip of her tongue, grins and and in a blink of an eye it's gone and Santana's wondering why she hasn't moved her body from where it stands lodged against Julia's.
Her eyes lock on to Julia's and even though her neck is beginning to hurt from the strain of their position she doesn't move. Doesn't falter as Julia's hands tighten their grip around her waist, holding her impossibly close.
Without blinking Santana takes four of the pills from her hand and moves to cram them into her mouth, but Julia grabs her hand, "Just one."
"I want to make sure they work." Santana has twisted herself around to stare straight at Julia who's arms have come to wrap around Santana's waist and rest right above her butt, hands locked together.
"One's all you need. Trust me."
Reluctantly Santana pulls a single pill and dry swallows it. The bitter tab slides roughly down her throat feeling three times its actual size. She wonders, for a moment, what she's done.
Smoking pot and drinking cheap beer was one thing. The pill, currently on it's way to creating what better be some life altering outer body experience was a horse of a different color. Her eyes flickered down to the sweaty pills in her hand. It wasn't a horse at all, it was a unicorn.
Sensing her discomfort, Julia pulled her in tighter and rested her head against Santana's ear, "Are you okay?"
"Fine." Santana mumbled against Julia's shirt. A sweet smelling mixture of delicate perfume, sweat and skin.
"This your first time?"
Santana shrugged her shoulders, her heart racing. Why was her heart racing? "Maybe."
Julia chuckled lightly into Santana's ears. She began to sway them back in forth slightly. Santana let the remainder of the pills fall to the ground as she hooked her arms around Julia's waist and buried her face into the serenity of Julia's familiarity.
Her heart beat quickened even more so, from the pills or from the closeness, she wasn't sure and she stretched her jaw as it began to tighten.
Admittedly, Santana had no idea who the girl in front of her was. She knew a name had been yelled over the bass and it sounded something along the lines of, "Kerstufllkkd." Maybe she was Turkish?
Also, admittedly Santana's not really sure when or how she met her. But, the cool thing about this place is that it's so small and so cramped that it's like you already know everyone around you and everyone knows you and they love you and they want to make you happy and when Santana screamed into the air that she was a lesbian, everyone screamed with her -even Mercedes and Tina- even though she's pretty sure no one really heard what she said. They didn't care. They didn't care because it didn't matter because they loved her. Everyone in that basement loved her.
What she does know besides the fact that she's the most wanted person in a sixty mile radius is that this girl, this cute girl with the dimples and the pixie cut and the cool Turkish name has the softest skin Santana has ever felt.
And Santana can't stop touching it.
Uninhibited and uncaring if anyone watched, Santana stretched her fingers up and under the girl's shirt her fingernails raking across her skin drawing a throaty moan that only Santana was privy to. The girl wrapped her arms around Santana's neck pulling her in, her mouth latching on to soft places on Santana's neck.
It was Santana's turn to let out a groan.
There was so much going on. Too much. But, she couldn't stop herself. It was sensory overload and Santana was thisclose to crashing and burning and crumbling into ashes and rising and flying like some ecstasy fueled Phoenix on a mission.
And there was so much warmth.
She was sweating and her mascara was smudged around her eyes, she was sure of it. But, she didn't care. In the pit of her stomach was a ball of fire. Warm, warm, warm fire that was slowly creeping across her body up her stomach to her chest, across her collar bone, to her neck and down. And down.
And down.
To the heat that had pooled between her legs. Sending warm tingles to the tip of her toes.
And there were fingertips. Turkish girl fingertips. Playing her like a well tuned piano. Skating across the the tiny, thin material that Santana called panties and payed sixty bucks for.
As the girl's fingers began to travel back North, Santana wrapped a hand around her wrist. The girls eyes, amber and dilated looked to her for an explanation. For a direction. For verbal acknowledgment of a clear, wanton need.
"Don't." Santana's croaked, her mouth impossibly dry.
"Don't what?" The girl asked and Santana thought she detected a bit of an English accent. Her head cocked to the side in confusion. Do Turkish people have English accents?
She tapped her fingers along the the outside of Santana's panties, "Don't what?"
Santana's eyes were large and dilated and pleading. The black of her pupils competely consuming the brown iris. Lust and drugs and sadness.
"Don't move your hand."
The girl grinned and Santana gulped. But, she wasn't about to play this part. Wasn't about to hand herself over to some stranger with nondescript origin. With a groan she pried herself away from the girl and pulled her in the direction of the entrance of the basement and back up the stairs.
They burst through the doors and out into the street, the cool air raising goosebumps on their clammy skin. The night air doing wonderful things to her already overly sensitive body.
The girl looked around, her features giving away that she wasn't as confident as the drugs inside of her body had tricked her into believing she was. "Where are we going?"
"Shut up." Santana's voice was cracked, her throat dry. She licked her lips once, twice and again. To no avail. She needed something. She wasn't sure of what. Maybe water? Maybe to be back inside of the building dancing her ass off like she was minutes before. Maybe Julia? Maybe Brittany?
Maybe for her keys to fucking work, she thought as she jammed the key into the lock and jiggled it without luck. She pulled the key out and inspected it intently. She giggled as she realized it was her house key.
The girl wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pushed her hair to the side as she began to suck on her pulse point. A loud moan escaped Santana's lips filtering into the night sky. She cheered as she successfully manuevered her car key into latch and unlocked her door. Opening the back door she pulled the girl down on top of her, their lips crashing together in a power struggle for dominance.
A struggle that the girl was destined to loose. Santana broke a part, holding the girl's head inches away from her own, her lips searching but feeling nothing.
"This isn't about you. Do you understand that?" Her voice was confident in spite of the crackling.
"Who's it about?"
"Wait, what happened to your accent?"
"What accent?"
Santana's face scrunched up even more-so, "Your Giles accent. In the basement you sounded as if you were some kind of descendant from a long line of Vampire slayer watchers."
"You're high." The girl laughed.
"So you're not Turkish?"
Ignoring Santana the girl began to scatter kisses along the length of Santana's jaw.
"What's your name?"
"Amy," came her muffled response.
"I love Amy Winehouse."
The girl laughed again, "What?"
"Nothing."
Santana pulled the girl's face back down to her own, their tongues tangling together roughly. She began to rock herself along Amy's bare leg, tiny moans fighting their way out of her mouth and into Amy's.
Amy's hand snaked up Santana's thigh and searched out her panties again. She let her fingers idle against the soaked fabric. "What do you want me to do to you."
Santana's eyes fluttered closed and a jolt shot through her stomach at the directness of the question. She sucked in a deep, laboured breath and breathed out, "I want you to kiss me."
Amy grinned as she bent her neck to capture Santana's swollen lips again, "Easy enough."
"Not there." Amy's lips barely grazed Santana's before she pulled back a lustful glint shining in her eyes. A look she saw mirrored in Santana's own.
"Where do you want me to kiss you, Santana?"
Another deep breath as Santana tangled her fingers into Amy's short hair. She pushed herself against the hand already placed between her legs, "I want you to kiss me there."
Amy grinned, licking her lips, "Easier, still."
Without another word Amy hiked Santana's skirt up. Using her well-toned ex-cheer leading calves Santana pushed herself up into a sitting position, her back against the car door. One leg dangling off the edge of the seat, the other hiked up over Amy's shoulder.
Pushing the thin fabric of Santana's underwear aside, Amy dipped her head down taking a tentative swipe at Santana's mound. Santana bit her lip as she stifled a cry and Amy took this as a sign to continue. She delved deeper. Her tongue prying apart the sticky folds of Santana and her teeth nipping at hot skin. Santana's legs trembled and twitched around Amy's head and her fingernails dug into the cheap plastic Jetta seats. Her chest heaved as she willed herself not to come too quickly. Throaty moans bounced around and as Amy's mouth latched onto the small cluster of excited cells a string of expletives floated out, some in English some in Spanish.
A finger entered Santana and her eyes shot open, her back arching off the seat. Swirling blue lights assaulted here already heightened senses, creating a swirling, glowing halo around their bodies.
Wait.
Santana's eyes widened. Blue siren lights.
As if reading her mind, Julia's hands slammed against the glass window her distended, glittering eyes shining with excitement for the moment. She focused her vision slowly realizing what scene she had just interrupted. Amy wiped at her mouth and Santana ungracefully tried to maneuver her skirt back down her hips.
A glint of anger shot through Julia's eyes as she snatched the door open and pulled Amy out, "Cops." She said simply her voice masking any signs of acrimony her eyes had given away. Even for the briefest of seconds.
From their obscured parking spot across the street they watched as bodies flew out of the building and scattered into the night like frenzied ants. The two cops tried to contain as many kids as possible as they radioed into their walkies for back up, but it was of little use as they slipped in and out of their clutches.
"Amy let's go!" A boy's voice yelled and Amy immediately ran after tossing out an, "That's my boyfriend," as if it was the world's easiest, most logical excuse.
From the crowd Mercedes emerged struggling to carry a completely inebriated Tina to the car. One of the cops, a beefy man with a mustache, hollered after them to stop. Mercedes eyes widened as she picked up the pace. The small contact high she had absorbed dissolved and was quickly replaced by a sobering fear.
"Stop!" Came the gruff voice again.
Tina tried to look back at him but Mercedes urged her forward. Her voice came out in a throaty rasp as she stretched her words, "What's he gonna do? Isss he gonnaa SHOOT me? Mercedes hee caan't shoot uss. We're kidss. And we're bothh mina-mina-minories? Whatever. We'ree both colored."
"Shut up, Tina." Mercedes reply was laced with fear. Regret swimming in her frantic eyes.
"That'ss RACIST, Cop!"
Breaking away from small staring contest she'd been having with Julia, Santana glanced over and caught sight of Mercedes dragging Tina and the cop hot on their tale. "Shit."
Tearing her eyes away from Santana, Julia followed her line of vision and quickly sprinted forward to help.
Santana pulled her skirt the rest of the way down and shot out of the car, racing over to the side closest to the pack of girls racing toward her to open the door. Sensing that he was on the losing end of this chase the cop cut his losses and grabbed at the kids closest to him, two super thin candy kids.
Santana opened the front passenger door and Mercedes deposited an ambivalent Tina into the seat. "Keys!" she barked at Santana.
"Hold up Wheezy, let's not get carried away."
Mercedes sent a quick punch sailing into Santana's arms. "Keys!" She demanded again.
Santana slapped the car keys into Mercedes awaiting hand, but didn't let go, "I'm a little high and that punch kinda felt good so I'mma let it slide. Do it again and I'll break you off a piece of Lima Heights."
Rolling her eyes, Mercedes snatched the ringlet of keys out of Santana's hand and bolted for the drivers seat. Julia and Santana dived into the backseat and before another word was said they sped out of the parking lot and down the street leaving dozens of kids behind them pleading for a ride.
Forty-five minutes into their ride back home and Mercedes had finally decided to stop white knuckling the steering wheel and drive at a speed that sort of resembled the legal limit. In the front seat Tina yammered on about topics ranging from Mike's abs to Artie's (surprisingly large) penis to particle physics and why Asian people should break stereotypes and not enter the medical field. Santana half listened as she filed each anecdote into her, "I Don't Give a Flying Fuck" file.
This night had been too much, too quickly.
She felt hollow and endlessly tired, but somehow wide awake and wired.
Julia scooted next to her, their legs flushed with each other. Her denim jeans on Santana's bare legs.
More skin, more warmth.
She let her head lull back as she turned to find Julia staring. Their eyes locked again and Julia placed her hand on Santana's bare thigh sliding it back and forth reveling in the texture of the soft skin.
Santana stifled a hiss. The throbbing in the pit of her stomach and in the middle of her legs building back quickly. She was so intent on coming too hastily earlier that she never got to at all.
"What are you doing?" Santana's voice was a gravelly whisper.
Julia slightly lifted her fingers and raked her nails across Santana's leg, "What were you doing?" She asked matching Santana's whisper.
Santana shrugged her shoulders, "Getting my mack on."
The teasing fingers nails stopped and Julia abruptly grabbed at the flesh, squeezing tightly. Eyes shining with anger again. Santana bit back a whimper. Their eyes never parted from the each others. Anger and lust.
"What are you doing?" Santana asked again.
Without answering, Julia released her grip, but her hand stayed on top of Santana's thigh. Her fingers inched upward, stopping momentarily at the hem of her skirt to ponder the consequences of her actions only to throw it all to the wind as her hand dipped under the skirt and fingernails grazed against the side of her thigh drawing nearer to heat.
Santana's finally broke the eye contact when Julia's knuckles grazed against her panties and her eyes fluttered shut. Julia gulped back a moan at the sight of Santana, eyes clenched shut legs just slightly parted so willing to just give herself over. She gulped at the heat that was radiating off of her in waves against her hand. At the pressure the was steadily building between her own legs.
She check to make sure the two in the front seat were still oblivious and they were. Mercedes was hell bent on her mission to get them home without a trip to juvie and Tina was currently harping on hardships the modern goth girl faced. Or something like that.
Julia turned her attention back to Santana and slowly slid a finger behind lacy panties. Santana braced herself a silent mantra going off in her head, not to moan, not to moan, not to moan-
Another finger rubbed at her slit-
Not to moan loudly at least.
Julia maneuvered her entire hand into Santana's panties and raked brutally slow against her. Santana's felt her leg twitch into Tina's seat who prattled along, unaware. Her right hand clutched at the arm rest.
And then-
Nothing.
Julia removed her hand, taking a moment to stare, amazed, at the fluid coating her hand. Tangible signs of an internal want that Julia knew she couldn't satisfy.
Santana watched as Julia wiped her fingers against her jeans and scooted back over to her side of the car, refusing to make eye contact. Her already erratic heart seemed to be working double time as she tried to discern what just happened. There were words floating inside of her head, but she had forgotten how to use them. She pulled her legs together, as tightly as possible and rested her head against the window.
Julia was just another person who didn't want her.
Too much again.
Too quickly.
She had told everyone she was going for a walk after they had pulled their funds together for a room at a local flea bag motel. Mercedes had been against it originally but as Santana begin to threaten to cal Puck over she had finally acquiesced and let her go out with strict instructions to not leave the parking lot.
That was thirty minutes ago and nine unanswered phone calls later.
She found herself throwing two twenty's at a cab driver and standing outside of Brittany's house. Sweaty and cold. Her body trembling from excitement and exhaustion.
Julia hadn't spoken to her since the car ride. She had dipped out of the back seat as soon as they pulled up to the hotel and had since been ignoring Santana. Not that she cared. It was her loss.
It was all their losses. Puck's and Turkish, British girl Amy and Julia and Brittany and Finn. Fuck Finn, that doughy, freakishly tall toddler with crazy nipples, could eat a dick. Seriously.
She entered inside of the gate and quietly made her way around the house to Brittany's bedroom. First she tried to just open the window but it was locked. If this had been any other Friday night a few months ago it would've been unlocked and cracked open, already waiting for a half inebriated or completely stoned Santana to craw through it.
She tapped her fingernails against the glass. Once, twice. When no one appeared she used her knuckles to knock lightly. A small crash and then a groan and moments later a groggy Brittany appeared at the window.
She opened it, "Tana, wha's wrong?" She asked yawning.
"Is Artie here?"
"My parent's don't let Artie spend the night, you know that." Brittany rubbed the sleep from her eye. "Do you wanna come in?"
Santana shook her head, "Yes" and Brittany stepped back to let her scurry through the window. She sat on the bed and Brittany grinned down at her any signs of being sleepy no longer apparent.
"It's good that you came tonight."
"Why's that?" Santana asked not bothering to look up.
"Because Charity and Lord Tubbington are out on a date. I told them to be in before twelve but they never listen. We have the whole room to ourselves."
Brittany sat down next to her, placing her hand on Santana's thigh. She was expecting the same glorious feeling she'd been getting all night from contact with others, but got nothing. If anything Brittany's hand felt heavy and way too hot.
No warmth, just a searing pain. "It's been so long since we've done this."
Santana quickly stood, "I didn't come here to have sex with you."
The smile disappeared from Brittany's mouth and her head fell, "Then why are you here?" Her voice was small and sad, "It's only four a.m shouldn't you still be out with Mercedes and Tina and your new best friend?"
Santana's ears perked up as she realized that mingled in with Brittany sad voice was jealousy. But, she was too exhausted to even enjoy that one small victory properly. She sat back down on the bed and rested her head against Brittany's shoulder. "I'm here because I'm high and I'm coming down."
"What did you take?"
"Unicorns, Britts." Santana sleepily replied.
Brittany began to fiddle with Santana's fingertips, "I don't know what that means, but do you want to sleep here?"
"Is that okay?"
"I never told you to stop, Santana."
Brittany set Santana's hand down and pushed back against the head board, diving under the blanket. Santana kicked off her shoes and her jacket. Opting to keep the dress on instead of changing into her usual nakedness for sleep time with Brittany.
Brittany bit her lip when she realized that Santana was going to stay dressed. Something Santana never did, not even when it was really cold. Brittany would always warm her up. "Do you want a shirt to sleep in?" She asked hoping to mask the disappointment she knew Santana saw on her face with hospitable concern.
Santana pulled the blanket back and sank down into the bed, letting out a appreciative sigh as her weary body began to relax, "I'm okay."
They lay in silence on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Brittany wondered if she should start singing to make things less awkward. It always made Santana smile when she sung. Or maybe she could knock out an impromptu dance routine. Santana likes that too. A lot. Because usually, when she gives her a private dance, her body gets all tense and her eyes get dark and she can tell that Santana wants her even if she never ever says.
And she never ever said it.
She just pounced and had her way and Brittany let her because she liked it but when they were done Santana would pretend like nothing happened. Or she would text Puck. Or she would remind Brittany that it didn't mean anything.
Until recently.
But, even though Brittany knows Santana would never lie to her, she can't help but wonder if the reason Santana wants her so much is becuase Artie wants her too. And Santana has always wanted what made other people happy or what she couldn't have.
"Britts?"
Uh-oh. Brittany froze. Could Santana hear what she was thinking? "Yeah?"
"We had sex last Tuesday in Mr. Kidney's supply closet, don't you remember?"
"It's not something I would ever forget." Brittany turned on her side to face Santana who stayed motionless on her back, her eyes half closed.
"You said that it's been a long time since we've done this."
"It has."
"It's been three days."
Brittany giggled and used her arm to prop herself up, "No, I meant since we had like actual sex. Not hot janitor's closest sex."
Santana opened her eyes and turned her head to face Brittany, regretting it immediately. Brittany's the kind of beautiful that hurts to look at. "What's the difference?"
"Well..." Brittany didn't know if she should go on. But, Santana was talking to her. Santana was in her bedroom. She wasn't about to make her angry, for any reason. "...You're different."
"How so?"
Brittany fiddled with a fraying thread of her pillow case, unraveling it even more-so, "Well when we have sex in Mr. Kidney's closet you're like crazy impatient. Which isn't that out of the ordinary for you. But, you're way rougher, which I like a lot. But, when we're in my bed or your bed you take your time more. You like, unwrap me. And you kiss more. You kiss me all over. And..."
Her voice trailed off. Santana rolled over on top of Brittany laying her head against the bare skin the v-neck shirt didn't cover. Her heart beat drummed inside of her ear. "And what, Brittany" Santana prodded.
"...And when you were still hooking up with Puck and you guys would sext or he would call you for phone sex you would sometimes tell him about the stuff we did in Mr. Kidney's closet or in the bathroom at Breadstix or on the bus ride to cheer competitions. But, you would never tell him about the stuff we did in our beds..."
"That stuff was for you and I, Brittany. Not for stupid boys or anyone else for that matter." Santana's voice was muffled against Brittany's skin.
Brittany smiled, "I know. I liked that. I liked that you didn't tell him. I like that there was parts of me that you didn't want to share."
Santana peppered kisses across the exposed flesh, let her teeth rake across the thump, thump, thump of Brittany's heartbeat. "I don't want to share you at all, anymore."
Brittany pulled Santana up to her so she could bury her face into the smaller girl's shoulder and wrap her legs around Santana's waist, "I don't know what to do, Santana."
Brittany's voice was small and pleading and confused. She was searching for an answer. Santana had none. "Let's just sleep, Britt."
Brittany pulled Santana's face in front of her own and dusted a few kisses to her cheek before placing one softly on her lips. She grinned, "Okay."