Not sure why I didn't post this chapter sooner, considering it's been done for, literally, weeks... Eh well. Here it is. :)

Next chapter should be up later this weekend, in keeping with the theme of Canon-corresponding updates, lol.

Almost no angst this chapter, so happy reading! (for once! ;)

And I just wanna sink into your crazy laughter
Come on- make me feel until the pain don't matter
Every second here makes my heart beat faster

Brittany knows whose doorstep she's standing on before she rings the buzzer, and, not for the first time, she wonders how she even managed to end up in New York for her Spring Break- the train ride passed by so quickly, in such a blur, that Brittany hardly remembers anything about it except the overwhelming feeling of anxiety settling into the pit of her stomach, the overwhelming feeling of anticipation sinking into her nerves, the overwhelming feeling of excitement and nervousness and joy and fear taking over her senses.

And then she was in New York.

On Santana's (And Rachel's, and Kurt's) doorstep.

Oddly enough, Brittany's parents had been the ones to notice how mopey Brittany had been lately (it's been over a month since Brittany's seen Santana) and (Brittany's never gone that long without seeing Santana before) they came to her the Tuesday before Spring Break wearing concerned expressions.

Honey, they'd said, What are your plans for your break?

I haven't thought about it, Brittany had lied with a noncommittal shrug, but her parents had seen right through her. (Brittany only thinks about Santana, Santana, Santana.)

You don't have to hide from us, Brittany's mom had said gently.

We know you miss her, Brittany's dad had added with a knowing look.

Brittany wondered if he meant we miss her, too, but then her mom was handing her an envelope with a reassuring smile and holy shit, her parents had bought her a train ticket and told her to have fun and Brittany wonders if they don't secretly ship her and Santana and aren't somehow rooting and conspiring for them to reconcile; if her parents did, it would be cute and perfect and yeah, of course they ship her with Santana (just like Brittany does, just like Lord Tubbington does) and now she's standing on Santana's (and Rachel's, and Kurt's) doorstep and swallowing nervously and the buzzer rings once before Santana opens it, looking impossibly beautiful- looking about as nervous as Brittany feels.

Hi, Santana says almost shyly, biting her lip and holding back a huge grin. Brittany's heart thumps harder at the sight of Santana's plump lower lip pulled between her teeth, and the way her brown eyes sparkle-

Hi, Brittany murmurs back, equally as shy and uncertain of the rules. She allows her eyes to trace Santana's face and then notices that Santana's eyes are moving. They regard each other slowly, their lingering gazes traveling up and down each other's bodies like a heat trail, and then Brittany's eyes finally find Santana's again and the eye contact makes Brittany throb with want, and then they're both staring at each other's lips and Brittany is suddenly imagining pressing Santana to the door and sinking two fingers into her tight, wet-

Brittany! Rachel exclaims with far too much enthusiasm from inside the apartment, and she rushes forward to greet her, and the moment is broken. Santana doesn't lift her gaze from Brittany's lips, though, and Brittany feels another throb pulse through her and she struggles to greet Rachel and then Kurt as she's ushered inside to the kitchen for refreshments. Somehow a drink is placed in her hand but her brain still hasn't caught up from pressing Santana to the door.

They ask things like how was your trip and how long are you staying, but all Brittany hears are the silent things Santana's hot chocolate eyes are telling her, like I missed you so much and I want to taste your lips and I wish Rachel and Kurt weren't here so I could bend you over this table and fuck you-

Brittany bites her lip. Her gaze darts down to the kitchen table.

Brittany?

Oh, right. Rachel. Kurt.

Brittany stumbles her way through her responses, not missing the smirk Santana tries to hide behind a glass of water pressed to her lips, and then Rachel's going on about celebrating Brittany's visit to the city later at their favorite club down the street but all Brittany hears are Santana's silent kiss me, kiss me, kiss mes and it suddenly sinks in to Brittany that this is going to be an agonizing visit.

It's not until later when they're all at the club (she'd used her fake ID right alongside Santana like old times) that Brittany realizes how agonizing this trip will really be. Santana's been not-so-subtly fucking Brittany with her eyes all night: staring at Brittany's lips, staring at the exposed tops of Brittany's breasts and bare collarbones, staring at her legs- Brittany's not sure she can handle the intensity of her gazes. Santana's completely filthy in her leering, and Brittany can't say she's less lascivious. (Brittany only thinks about Santana, Santana, Santana.)

Santana's finding any excuse to tease fingertips up Brittany's bare arms, to press palms along Brittany's thighs, to trail hands across Brittany's hips- and Brittany has never wanted to lose herself in Santana more. Brittany feels alive for the first time in over a month basking in Santana's presence, soaking up her heat like Santana's the sun that lights up Brittany's life.

And she's never loathed Rachel and Kurt's existence more.

She's grateful for them existing- of course she is- they've taken such good care of Santana when she couldn't and given her a place she belongs, but-

As long as they are hovering like overly dramatic vultures over them, Brittany can't kiss Santana. She can't grab Santana's firm, amazing ass that's been provoking her all night beneath the tight black dress Santana's wearing. She can't dart her tongue out beneath Santana's earlobe just to hear her moan, delicious and low in her throat. She can't press Santana to the wall and sink two fingers into her tight, wet-

Because even though Brittany knows that Rachel and Kurt know that she and Santana have been secretly hooking up, she has to pretend that they don't. There are rules to the game they are all engaged in, and even though it's frustrating, Brittany has to play along for Santana's sake, and for Sam's- she'd completely forgotten about him (Brittany only thinks about Santana, Santana, Santana)- so she takes another sip of her G&T to keep from exploding from the amount of her longing.

And then Santana breaks the rules.

Brittany feels Santana move into place close behind her, feels Santana's hot hands slide sensually around her waist, pulling Brittany back into her so that Brittany's ass pushes against Santana's molten center, feels Santana's warm, heavy breaths in her ear, purring, Come dance with me, B.

Brittany feels the shudder rip through her involuntarily and has to actively fight to control herself, control her hips from grinding back into the girl behind her, because she wants Santana so, so much, and now Santana's touching her-

Brittany quickly downs the rest of her drink and turns. Her blue eyes meet heated brown ones, and Santana's hands move intimately from Brittany's hips to her hands, pulling her towards the dance floor, and Brittany spares a fleeting thought for Rachel and Kurt, who are nowhere to be seen. Did they leave, or-

But then Santana pulls her close and Brittany forgets to care. Her skin is practically vibrating with energy and arousal, like someone jabbed an electrical wire into her. Her face moves closer to Santana's automatically and they quickly lose themselves in each other, foreheads touching as Santana's hand slips around to Brittany's lower back, too low to be friendly and chaste, and her other hand rests on the back of Brittany's neck, holding her close, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

Santana licks her lips.

Brittany never stood a chance.

Brittany leans forward slightly, letting her lips brush against Santana's. She's shaking with desire to close the gap, to feel those plump lips pressed against hers, to suck on them, bite them, anything-

-and then she's gasping, because Santana's slipped her toned left thigh between Brittany's legs and started moving, started dancing, started rolling her hips, and Brittany whimpers at the delicious pressure and friction in the place where she needs it most.

Santana's eyes are dark with night, dark with want, and Brittany struggles to breathe, overwhelmed with Santana's clear desire added to her own, overwhelmed with the heat from Santana's proximity and the heat caused by Santana's proximity blazing through her own body to end with a steady, aching, almost painful throb at her center, and finally she hears- no, feels- the song change, feels the beat thrum through her skin and into her heart, bringing her to life. All of the sensations make Brittany feel alive for the first time in over a month, and she trails her fingertips up Santana's sides daringly to bring her arms up level to her head, to give Santana a show, because surely Brittany can't be the only one about to break-

Brittany smirks inwardly at Santana's heavy moan in response to the sight of her dancing, and she rolls her hips expertly, runs her hands down her own body, as if taunting Santana- don't you wish these were your hands? and then back up, just barely groping her own breasts on the way, to tangle in her blonde hair, as if reminding Santana- I do this when you're going down on me- And suddenly Santana's dragging her closer, pressing her thigh more firmly into her, and Brittany releases a loud, shaky moan, bucks her hips, drops her head to the shelf of Santana's shoulder. She inhales the scent of Santana's skin, letting it addle her senses, letting it intoxicate her. (She wasn't drunk, but now she thinks she might be.)

Boldly, with more and more of her control slipping due to her proximity to Santana, Brittany drags her lips up Santana's neck, aching so badly to kiss it, to suck on it, to bite it and mark her (she can't- there are rules) and then she's right there… and then she can't resist; she slips her tongue out, slowly teases the spot under Santana's earlobe, feels the moan rumble out of her throat, feels Santana's grip tighten, and Brittany's so wet she can feel it on her thighs, and wonders if Santana can feel it on hers.

The loud, fast pulse of the music matches Brittany's as she loses herself to dancing so intimately with Santana. Santana's holding her hips, pulling her into the thrust of her pelvis as they dance, and Brittany closes her eyes and just breathes, closes her eyes and tries to think. (Brittany only thinks of Santana, Santana, Santana.) Brittany closes her eyes and listens to the music, feels it vibrate through her.

When Santana pulls back slightly, Brittany lets her mouth stray to Santana's jaw. She hears Santana's breath hitch and she sucks there, lets her teeth nip, and then Santana's warm palm presses into her lower back, pushes Brittany harder into her dirty grinding motion, and Brittany knows she can get off this way, just a few more thrusts-

But Santana knows, too- can sense it in the animalistic way Brittany moves against her, in the shudders that roll through her- and pulls her thigh away without warning. Teeth find Brittany's earlobe and then Santana's breathing into her ear in her low, raspy, arousal-filled voice, I want you so much, Britt.

Brittany shivers, but lets her hand slide up to tangle in Santana's hair, tugging it slightly, knowing it drives her girl crazy. Brittany wants what Santana wants. She can hardly breathe, she wants it so much. Her heart is pounding, her blood is racing, her center is throbbing with need- her senses are alive with Santana, and she half-moans against Santana's neck, missing Santana's thigh pressed against her. Then why haven't you had me yet?

I haven't decided if I can wait long enough to leave here or not.

Santana's hands grab her ass and pull her against her, so that they are completely pressed together, and Brittany chokes back her embarrassingly loud moan at the flush pressure of her body against Santana's. Won't Kurt and Rachel-

I'm past caring.

Brittany draws a shaky breath. Then take me home, Santana.

Fuck, San- fuck!

Shhh, Brittany, Santana whispers, planting a kiss to the corner of Brittany's mouth. You have to be quiet.

Brittany whimpers as Santana slows her thrusts down, instead staying inside of her, stroking inside of her.

Can you stay quiet, B? Santana teases, sounding amused.

I d-don't- Santana picks up the pace and -ugh, fuck, Santana!

Brittany's moans are swallowed by Santana's hot mouth as she brings their lips together, and they kiss fiercely. Muffled by Santana, Brittany lets go, crying out over and over into Santana's mouth as Santana hits that spot inside her repeatedly, and Brittany knows Santana's arm must be burning from exertion as she fucks Brittany into oblivion. Brittany wraps her legs tightly around Santana as she gets closer to her release, and she breaks the kiss to gasp- I love you.

Santana just kisses her again, fucks her faster, hits that spot, hits it, hits it, and Brittany comes, mouth opening in a silent scream against Santana's jaw as her body arches, tenses, shakes.

Fuck, Santana whimpers into Brittany's neck, and Brittany shivers as Santana adjusts and brings her dripping core to Brittany's. It takes four jerky, erratic thrusts against the firm bone of Brittany's pelvis before Santana's hips are bucking forward in her release, and Brittany tries and fails to stifle her moan as she feels Santana's wetness coat her own, the difference in warmth of the sticky liquids bringing a sense of familiarity and calm to Brittany as she gulps air, her naked body sweaty against the sheets, trembling on her back in the aftermath of her orgasm.

Santana shifts and Brittany reaches up, pulls Santana to her, cradles her to her, cups her face, kisses her soft, kisses her fierce. Brittany revels in Santana's weight atop her and she lets their legs entwine together and hums quietly in content, stroking her fingers through Santana's damp hair.

Santana shivers in her arms and Brittany feels alive for the first time in weeks.

So next chapter we should return to our normally scheduled angst with a side of fluff, simply because of the material being covered. Fuck Glee forever! :D But it's okay, I FIX. Lol.

Anyways. Review if you feel like it. If you don't, well, okay then, catch you on the flipside. :D

See you next time!