I am soooooo sorry for this wait my dear sweet readers! You all are seriously amazing! Seriously! This chapter might not be what everyone was expecting, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. And to the guest who inquired about Santana's sexuality, that will probably come up later, but not in this chapter. Thanks y'all!
Chapter 17: They Don't Teach You That in Driver's Ed
Brittany's gotten as far as inside her shop office, and is intent on swinging the door shut, hard, when a small tan palm connects with the door and prevents Brittany from fully closing it.
There's a clanging noise that echoes through the shop from where Santana's palm slaps the metal surface, and suddenly she is very much speaking her mind.
"Hey! Brittany! Don't walk away, it's not fair and you don't get to do that."
Brittany finds Santana's left hand wrapping around her forearm in a firm but non-forceful manner. She glances at the hand for a moment before averting her cold blue eyes up into deep brown, gritting her teeth together in an effort to not allow that beautiful depth draw her in.
"We're both big girls Santana, which means I can do whatever the hell I want." She returns, ripping her arm out of Santana's grasp. But Santana doesn't stop there. Instead she grips Brittany by the shoulders and spins her around, into the office only to slam her up against the door they've just walked through effectively closing said door and trapping Brittany.
"No, fuck Brittany, just listen to me for a god damn second!" She shouts as Brittany struggles in her grasp. "Why the hell would I do something like that?"
Brittany's eyes turn on her again, still ice cold, "I don't know Santana, maybe you're getting paid a lot of money. Maybe it's a thrill for you."
Santana looks at her in disbelief, "Are you actually listening to yourself right now? I have no reason to do any of that stuff, I have no reason to betray you Brittany. I care about you."
"Those are just words Santana."
Santana shakes her head as if dispelling any such thoughts from her mind before continuing with her words, "I hate Jesse more than anyone else in this world Brittany. He's the reason my brother, the only family I have left, is in jail and the sole reason my crew and myself are being hunted like animals. You think I'd ever side with him for something like that? Do you really think that I would sleep with you, fall for you and then stab you in the back? What kind of person do you take me for?"
"Apparently someone that I can't rely on." Is Brittany's harsh reply, seemingly missing most of what Santana has said to her.
"That's bullshit and you know it."
"Honestly, I don't know what I believe anymore. Because for a second there, you meant more to me than anything else in the world."
Brittany's words drip with certain finality of which Santana's nowhere near prepared to accept. As Brittany pushes against Santana's hands that are keeping her firmly stuck against the metal door, Santana pushes back slamming Brittany's back harder into the door. Blue eyes won't meet her own, but Santana can tell that Brittany doesn't really want to fight her.
Santana thinks that if Brittany did then she would be on the ground by now.
She loosens up on the pressure she's putting on Brittany's shoulders and blue eyes finally snap up to her own. Santana swallows as she looks into those eyes. Once so filled with possibilities and a careful joy that was magical to witness, now seem clouded and dull and lacking any sort of resolution.
In fact, Brittany looks downright terrified right now.
Santana's eyebrows pull together and she studies the rest of Brittany's for a second. Her chest is heaving up and down in heavy pants, her fists are clenched tightly at her sides but she refuses to use them, her lips are pulled thin but there is a hint of worry in them. Santana fully steps back, giving them both a little space, before she gently reaches out and cups Brittany's cheek in her palm.
As her thumb strokes softly over the pale skin, Santana murmurs, "Tell me what you're scared of. I want to do this with you, I want us to do this together."
Something flashes in Brittany's eyes for a moment before they return to stoic and steeled. Santana leans in a little closer.
"Please."
It seems to be the word that sets Brittany in motion. One second she looks to be on the brink of tears and the next she's pushing Santana backwards until she can hoist her up to perch on the edge of the desk. A squeak escapes Santana's lips at the action, but is quickly cut off and replaced by a groan when Brittany's lips attached to her neck. Santana tries to react, but Brittany is all hands and lips and tongue and driving her absolutely crazy.
"I need to hear you tell me the truth about some things."
Santana nods her compliance, as if she has the capacity to do anything else right now.
"Did you sabotage Hunter's Mustang that one night?" Brittany breathes into the skin of Santana's neck. It takes a second for her to register the question, but when she does she desperately shakes her head.
"No, I would never do that to you." Santana manages to choke out through her the haze that her body is currently surrendering to under Brittany's control.
"And the night of Jesse's party, you didn't know anyone?"
"I-oh god-I didn't know anyone but Jesse, and I didn't know him personally." Santana answers, momentarily distracted by Brittany racking her fingers across the small of her back as they slip under her top and across warm smooth skin.
"And tonight, how did you find us?"
Santana's body shivers involuntarily as Brittany's hands slide around to her front and caress the definition of Santana's abs before they reach the underside of her bra, Brittany's lips continue to work a fiery path across Santana's neck.
"I swear that I got the information from Sugar," Santana hushes, her heavy breathing now interfering with her ability to speak in more articulate ways. "You can check my phone, she was the last person I called."
Brittany knows that under the situation, Santana would have to be a damn good liar to keep up her tales. Even Brittany would have a hard time telling the truth if Santana was kissing her neck and closing in on her breasts the way that Brittany is right now. But there's still something about the whole situation that really fucking bugs the shit out of Brittany.
And why the hell would Quinn insinuate that it was Santana if she didn't have the solid facts?
What the fuck is Brittany doing jumping to conclusions as well? She's typically the one to keep her head in situations like this.
But, Brittany knows the real reason she's trying so hard to take it out on someone else.
"You want to help me out?" Brittany husks into Santana's neck as her fingers find their way underneath Santana's bra, pushing the material up and away from her heated flesh, as she slowly starts to knead at the supple mounds. Santana airs out a moan as her head tilts back in pleasure but she licks her lips and nods her head, her hands stretching forward to rest on Brittany's shoulders and ground her.
Brittany leans her lips into Santana's ear, "Then let me have you."
Santana's eyes open, two shades darker than normal and bordering on black, and she looks straight into twilight blue.
"I told you Brittany, I'm already yours."
And with that, Brittany's hands drop from Santana's breasts and her fingers fumble with the zipper and button of the ridiculously tight leather pants Santana decided to wear. Thankfully, to great skill or otherwise, it takes Brittany less than a second to unhook and zip them down, and even less time to tug them down to Santana's knees.
Brittany shifts her lips up and connects them with Santana's as the fingers of her right hand slip down to cup the woman's sex. Moans fill the room as Brittany comes into contact with an incredible wetness and Santana's hips buck forward and slide her ass to the edge of the desk.
Stepping forward, Brittany pushes further into the kiss, putting more pressure on Santana's center and stepping so that one of Santana's now bare from the knee up thighs slides between Brittany's legging covered legs. She groans into Santana's mouth as the other woman catches on and lifts her leg up a little, putting steady pressure on Brittany's own aching sex.
A whimper escapes Brittany's lips, moist and hot against Santana's own swollen lips, as tan hands grip firmly at slim hips and tug Brittany's body closer and harder onto her leg as Santana flexes her thigh muscles and trails her lips back to pink pouty ones. She jerks unexpectedly as Brittany's fingers push aside her soaked panties and glide up and down her wetness, parting her folds and dipping closer to her entrance.
There's an unspoken bond between them. An incessant need from one to the other to have an indistinguishable nearness, like the opposite polar ends of a pair of magnets connecting. It's futile to deny the pull, and impossible to resist.
The push and pull that both of their bodies are currently working with was inevitable from the start. As is the eventual outcome.
"Oh…fuck, Britt." Santana is the first to submit a mess of semi-coherent words, and they tumble from her mouth breathlessly but bare an undeniable affirmation to her enjoyment of the current situation. Brittany's fingers stroke with purpose, taking only a moment to declare their intent before Santana is squeaking at the feeling of entrance from two long slender fingers.
Suddenly the breath is ripped from Santana's lungs and her hands are gripping desperately to the shoulders of the woman whose fingers are knuckle deep inside of her.
Brittany shifts forward again, her hand thrusting into Santana with the motion as her hips grind down and find friction for her own center. They start a rhythmic rocking motion, Brittany drawing her fingers in and out of Santana, dipping them deep and curling them at the precise spot she knows will eventually make Santana fall apart, and Santana flexing and lifting her thigh to provide steady pressure to Brittany's core.
The kissing has ceased in favor of panting out deep breaths between each other. Brittany's forehead rests on Santana's shoulder, her head lulling back and forth as she pushes Santana to her climax and works on reaching her own. The build up is gradual, but explicit, exceptional, and intense.
"S-San." Brittany whimpers, the grip her left hand holds on Santana's exposed hip becoming tighter as the coil in her own belly continues to build. Brittany feels Santana clench around her fingers at the whimper of her name from pink lips, and she sucks in a sharp breath. Brittany's eyes squeeze shut, a mixture of pleasure from the constant pressure on her core and heartache from the immense amount of confusion and emotions that are building in her chest.
She's tumbling, tripping and falling all at the same time and she doesn't have any clue on where she's going to land, or what she's going to achieve when she gets there.
Santana's hands drift down to the curve of Brittany's ass and pull the woman's hips harder onto her thigh. Brittany gasps at the feeling, her own efforts faltering briefly as that tension spikes. With another hard rut against Santana's leg, Brittany comes undone. Her breath comes out in a stuttered gasp of a moan, her teeth biting at the exposed flesh of Santana's neck as wave after wave of her orgasm washes over her. Brittany's breathing comes out raggedly as her forehead rests against Santana's shoulder, her eyes remain closed and it's only when Santana lets out a barely audible whine that Brittany becomes aware of the fact she still has her fingers buried in the woman.
With renewed vigor, Brittany begins to pump her fingers in and out of Santana again, drawing the woman closer to her own intense orgasm. One deep curl of her fingers, and a brush of her thumb across Santana's clit and Brittany's got the woman tripping into her own orgasm and clenching unbelievably tight around Brittany's fingers.
A broken moan of Brittany's name escapes Santana's swollen dry lips, and she shakes in the long pale arms of the woman before her. Brittany's lips automatically search out Santana's, and when they finally connect the kiss is sloppy and wet but passionate and evocative. But as Santana's tongue traces the seam of Brittany's lips, something snaps in the taller woman's blind but emotional disposition.
She's careful as she slips her fingers out of Santana, but there's a cloud that draws over her heart and mind in that moment, and without so much as a indicative look into questioning brown eyes, Brittany steps back.
"I…I can't."
The sole words that Brittany utters reflect a deeper entanglement than she could have ever imagined. They are all she speaks before she turns away from Santana and leaves the woman blindsided with confusion and aching remorse, in search of some sort of answer to an impractical conundrum.
####################
"Hey, poster child for Martha Stewart living, we need to talk."
Quinn's head snaps up from its place buried in a book. Her hazel eyes fleetingly flash with fear as she registers the very assertive Santana, who simply oozes with a fiery influence that's impossible to overlook. Quinn's mouth gaps open in a misguided attempt to reply but the foreboding woman baring down on her calmly shakes her head and snaps her hands together in the universal sign for 'zip it the fuck up'.
"Let me revise my previous statement, blonde Mary Poppins, and let this little spoon full of sugar go down; I'm going to talk and you're going to listen."
Quinn's eyes narrow eager to defy the woman's request but in her current stature, she's in no position to argue with Santana. She'll be the first to admit that she's defenseless while sitting down. Besides, if she's being completely honest she's quite curious what the woman has to say. Properly placing her book to the side, Quinn folds her arms across her chest and waits for Santana to speak.
The thing about Santana is that even if she's confused beyond belief and still terribly disconcerted by Brittany's abrupt departure and even more perplexing last words, she's strong enough to get to the bottom of this. And you'd better believe she damn well will get to the bottom of it. It's worth the time and any trouble to Santana.
Brittany is worth it all to her.
"Here's what I know, you're a bitch who seems to have it out for me for some unknown reason. I honestly don't really give a fuck what you think about me, but I do care about Brittany. So, you're going to tell me where it is she would run off to when she's really sad."
Quinn scoffs at Santana's words, eyeing the woman up and down with a barely disguised look of distaste, "Well you got one thing right, Jennifer Lopez, I do have it out for you for treating Brittany like anything less than she deserves. The truth is that you're a user, I see it all the time, waltz right in like you own the place and siren-call your way under everyone's skin. But that doesn't work on me, and even though you have somehow managed to worm your way into Brittany's heart, it stops here. I'm not about to let you tear her down anymore than you-"
"Enough!" Is bellowed in an echo through the room.
Both woman are shocked into silence by the deceptively more powerful than it would seem voice of Sugar Motta. The younger woman, her face a mask of bitter disappointment, takes a step further into the garage to address the two relentlessly bickering woman that currently occupy it. With her fists clenched tightly at her sides, and her brow furrowed in a just under the wire anger, Sugar turns first to Quinn.
"I know that you all think I'm just some rich bimbo who likes to blow daddy's money," Sugar starts to say and Quinn's jaw flexes in a telling sign that she wishes to respond, but Sugar doesn't allow her the opportunity, "But I'm much smarter than I look."
Something about the way she says the statement with such unyielding conviction draws a brief pop laugh from Santana. That will be her undoing, as Sugar quickly swirls to face the fiery Latina, her own heated blood boiling just under the surface of her skin and making her appearance formidable with the blaze of her brown eyes.
"And you!" Sugar exclaims, "I've known Brittany long enough to understand that the best way into that girl's heart, and the best way to stay there, is by making nice with her family which just so happens to be us. So no more insults and catty remarks towards anyone."
Santana's mouth snaps shut, her brain unable to fully process what the shorter woman is saying.
Sugar turns back to Quinn, "As for you, you should know better Quinn. When has Brittany's gut ever been wrong?"
Quinn's brow furrows as she contemplates the question.
"When?"
"Never."
"Exactly, which means that Santana is telling the truth. She wasn't the one that sabotaged anything, and she certainly wasn't the one who ratted Brittany and the boys out." Sugar supplies, and Santana finds herself gradually taking a liking to this strange strange girl.
"But," Quinn starts to argue.
"But nothing Quinn."
"I just want to know how you're so sure. I trust Brittany I do, but there are too many coincidences. How do we know that Santana's not just using Brittany to get somewhere?"
"Uhh, hi I'm Santana. Still here." Santana grumbles from Sugar's left. Quinn merely has enough patience to give her a pointed look. Sugar on the other hand has other intentions when she turns to readdress Santana.
"Are you using Brittany to get something else?"
Santana's eyes go wide, impressed at the blatant inquiry and shocked at the casualness of the whole situation. She knows her answer though, and supplies it faster than a bullet shot out of a gun.
"No. I wouldn't do that to Brittany."
Quinn remains unconvinced. Because really? When has the word, of a known criminal no less, ever held any validity? She cocks her eyebrow and crosses her arms as she glares in Santana's direction.
"No really," Santana says, her body deflates. She lifts a hand to run it carelessly through her hair, "I know that you all don't know me very well but I think I've made a pretty good case for myself for you to at least trust me. And I'd never do anything to hurt Brittany. I…" Santana trails off for a moment, much to the chagrin of her two person audience who appear to be hanging on her every word now as if the very next statement that comes out of her plump lips will be the very revelation of the world.
"I care about her. She's intelligent, gorgeous, and has a wicked sense of wit and snark that nearly rivals my own. I'd be stupid to let that go."
There's a beat of silence before Sugar unabashedly claps her hands together and releases a drawn out "Awwwww." Much to Santana's distaste.
She knew she was getting too sappy.
"I'm not saying I believe you," Quinn starts to say, her stance and general expression still stoic and icy, "But it seems as though you're the first person that's gotten this close to Brittany in a long time. So I'm willing to give you a chance to prove me wrong."
Santana's lips pull slightly in a minimal smile.
"That's all I'm asking."
Quinn takes a moment to really analyze Santana as she stands before her until she decides that she'll have to do.
"Okay, I'll tell you where she'll be, but you have to understand one thing."
"I'm all ears Sandra Dee."
##################
Brittany's knees sink softly into the moss-covered earth as tears spill freely from her clouded blue eyes. Tentatively, as if afraid of being bitten, she reaches out and traces her fingers over the engraved letters on the smooth surface of weathered marble.
Garrick Raymond Pierce
As Brittany sits there in front of her late father's grave, a gust of wind picks up in the area surrounding her. Brittany doesn't miss the irony of the situation.
"You know dad, I'd think this was funny if it wasn't so fucked up." Brittany speaks aloud, her voice just barely above a whisper but still strong enough to be carried away in the wind. She shakes her head and drops her eyes to the ground. "I think that I could be happy."
Brittany laughs at her own words, again the irony does not slip her mind. Her chin tilts skyward in some kind of silent plea to the heavens.
"Despite all of the shit in my life, it finally feels like I've found someone that's just for me. Someone who understands me, who can look through all the bullshit of my life and still want to stand by my side." Brittany continues speaking to the inanimate block of stone that rests before her, the only thing she has left of her father. "But it's funny because even though I know I'm on to something good, I can't seem to get past all of the bad."
Brittany takes another deep breath as her hands dig into the soft ground beside her. There's a tear waiting to fall from her eye, but she won't give it the satisfaction. Not yet.
There's a brief moment of silence.
"And it's your fault. It's all your fucking fault."
At her last words, Brittany's fortitude gives way to the crestfallen feeling that rests in her ribcage, in the spot that formally hosted her heart. A sob wracks through her body and she crumples forward in a heap. Any sense of pride Brittany once held is quickly shattered by the pain of her emotions.
Brittany's pain is too fierce and all consuming that she doesn't hear the sound of a car door closing on the small asphalt path behind her. She doesn't hear the soft footfall of careful feet as they carry their owner to Brittany's side. She catches a whiff of vanilla and almond, but she doesn't respond until a warm palm is placed gently on her shoulder.
Santana kneels by Brittany's side but remains silent, gathering a fragment of hope when a pale hand comes up to rest upon her own. She can only imagine how Brittany's hurting as she reads the date of Mr. Pierce's death, one that just so happens to correspond with today's date.
She's no stranger to loosing a parent, but she wonders if Brittany ever really had anyone like Santana did to help her cope with the loss.
Santana is jolted back into reality when Brittany's voice, cracked with the pressure of pain, filters softly up to her ears.
"My dad, h-he said t-that he just let my m-mom leave, b-but I know t-the truth." She says and her glossy tear filled eyes finally met Santana's, "He chased her away, and then s-she never came b-back and then he couldn't handle it and he left me."
Santana's heart clenches at Brittany's confession. She makes no effort to reply, entirely unsure of what she could say in the first place. She squeezes her hand that rests on Brittany's shoulder, if nothing else allowing the woman to understand that she's there for her.
"He should have been here…"
Brittany's words trail off as she hangs her head again. Dysfunctional family, and really messed up childhood aside, a dad is still a dad and Brittany didn't get to have one when she really needed it.
There are a few more minutes of silence that pass as the tears escape mutely from Brittany's eyes, until the presence next to her enlightens something deep inside and she releases the ragged breath of her aching heart. Brittany shuffles towards Santana, eager for some kind of bond.
"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry," Brittany chokes out as she turns and hopelessly falls into Santana's arms. The other woman is swift as she wraps Brittany up in a firm embrace, stroking her hands up and down a trembling back. Brittany's face buries into the crook of Santana's neck, "I don't think it was you that did any of that stuff Santana."
Santana nods her head. Brittany's words are bordering incoherency, and the pain in her tone breaks Santana's heart, but she's steadfast to help the woman if it's the last thing she does.
"Okay Brittany." She speaks temporarily shocked at the way her voice comes out so raspy and deep. As if she hasn't spoken for several years. She feels Brittany shaking her head into the crook of her neck as words are mumbled along with the action.
"I just don't know if I can do this."
Santana squeezes Brittany nearer, "Shh, it's okay. You can do this, we can do this."
"I'm not your father Brittany." She then says, her tone completely serious and entirely genuine.
This gets Brittany attention and her sobs halt in quick succession as she glances up to look into sincere brown eyes.
"I'm not him Brittany," Santana starts to say, this time softer. Brittany shakes her head furiously.
"No please, don't talk about him. It's not fair."
Santana cups Brittany's cheeks in her hand, "I'm not here to take things from you and walk away."
Brittany is still shaking her head and the tears return to falling freely again.
"I care about you Brittany, I care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone else. And that means I get to tell you this, the best way I can." Santana tries again but Brittany continues to struggle. Finally, Santana leans in and presses her lips against Brittany's. A certain surreal calm washes over the woman the moment Santana's lips touch hers. She stops fighting and instead reaches her own hands up to desperately grab at Santana's face.
The kiss is slow but gut punching. Like Brittany's just gotten punched right in the feels, in a strangely very weird but very satisfying way. Santana rushes nothing, but gives Brittany everything. As they break for air, Santana lips press fervently into the skin of Brittany's temple, cheeks, and forehead and Brittany succumbs to the overwhelming notion that Santana's being more than truthful as she buries her face in a tan neck once more.
Brittany hiccups another sob but her nose brushes against Santana's neck in such a way the other woman is sure that Brittany is agreeing with her. She strokes loose tear soaked strands of blonde hair out of Brittany's face and leans in to press a kiss to her temple. Pale eyelids give way to cloudy blue eyes, but Santana can distinctly tell that even this shade is brighter than before. She offers Brittany a smile and gets a small one in return.
Santana leans in and places a soft kiss on Brittany's lips, "Can I take you home?"
A reply is offered as Brittany stands on her feet and holds her hand down to Santana.
################
It doesn't take long for Brittany to realize that Santana is taking her to her home, and not to Brittany's as she originally thought. Something about that thought makes Brittany's heart uncharacteristically flip in excitement.
The ride is silent, but not without meaning. Brittany takes the time to silently chastise herself for being such a seemingly hopeless and very much less than an awesome badass. In short terms, a wimp. She sighs heavily at her realization, her brain automatically calculating ways that she can redeem herself.
That is, until Santana's hand slips calmly into her own and twists around so that their fingers link together.
Perhaps Brittany could get used to this sappiness, at least for the time being.
"You okay?" Santana's question is gentle but doesn't come off making Brittany sound like an invalid. For that she is eternally grateful.
Brittany nods and swings her head to look in Santana's direction, "Actually I am."
Santana smiles in return, both at the genuineness of her answer and the smile that accompanies Brittany's lips as she gives it. Brittany takes it a step further by lifting Santana's knuckles to her lips and pressing a soft kiss against them. Santana's heart flutters at the action and she feels a blush creep up her neck, and Brittany doesn't miss the flustered manner that Santana is suddenly in.
Brittany smirks. She's still got it.
Brittany's overall confidence has more than returned when Santana pulls up outside of the townhouse that she's staying at. They exit the car and walk in silence to the door where Santana lets them in. Tossing her keys on the coffee table by the couch, the shorter woman looks over her shoulder to find Brittany watching her with interest.
With a smile Santana asks, "You can lay down for a little if you want."
Nodding her compliance, Brittany follows Santana into the bedroom. She waits on the bed while the other woman ruffles through her drawers. When Santana turns to face Brittany again her senses are overloaded by the other woman pressing into her body, hands on her hips and lips covering lips. Brittany backs them into the dresser and earns a muffled grunt from Santana as her back presses into the wood and Brittany's tongue dances into her mouth.
Santana's arms automatically wrap around Brittany's neck as the taller woman's hands dip under the back of Santana's shirt, gliding across smooth tan skin as she pulls the woman even closer. Their lips detach in a wet pop and Santana gasps for air as Brittany's lips curve a trail down the ledge of her jaw and continue on to the column of her neck. Heartbeats simultaneously increase in a rapid progression as Brittany's teeth and tongue nip and soothe respectively over the skin of Santana's neck.
Brittany takes a step back and draws Santana with her, lips never leaving the pulse point she's severely focused on, and Santana's hopeless not to follow. It doesn't take Brittany long to lie Santana down onto her bed and follow after her, crawling to hover above her as her lips nip back up to Santana's and delve in for a wet kiss. Santana's hands tangle in blonde hair, pulling Brittany closer and holding her still at the same time. She can't get enough of her. Surrounding her, invading every part of her senses, overwhelming the muscles in her body and forcing every single synapse to fire at will.
But, this isn't why she brought Brittany back, and when she feels nimble fingers unclasping the button on her pants and slipping under the tight material Santana's body shakes in an involuntary reaction, ripping her lips from Brittany's in a strangled gasp.
"B-Brittany."
Burning cerulean blue eyes regard her with hunger and desire. And soft lips fit against the shell of her ear.
"You're so sexy when you say my name." Brittany husks into Santana's ear, forcing her hips to jerk. Or maybe that's the feeling of the pads of Brittany's fingers running over the very damp panties that cover her center.
Either way, Santana's mind short circuits for just a brief moment.
Times five.
It's long enough for Brittany to hypnotize her again with a kiss.
"Actually, you're sexy no matter what you're doing." Brittany amends her previous statement and Santana gasps again as fingers continue to slip up and down her center. Brittany cranes her neck down to nip at Santana's nipples through her shirt, working her mouth over them in such a way that Santana's pretty sure she could come just from that feeling alone.
But she has to pull things together, because as much as she doesn't want things to stop she has to make one thing clear to Brittany. Before it's too late. With more effort and strength than she thought she possessed, Santana manages to push enough on Brittany's shoulders that the woman leans back and looks down at her. Santana's breath escapes her mouth as Brittany's hair falls down in perfect strands, curtaining her face in such a way that Santana's sure she's never seen anything more beautiful.
It takes her a second to gather her thoughts again and then she blinks "Brittany, you don't have to fuck me right now to prove anything to me."
Brittany's eyes flash with something before they return to desire, "What if I want to fuck you?" She inquires with a playful inflection before dipping her head to press her lips to Santana's neck once more.
"You mean more to me than that." Santana gasps out, practically turning to mush beneath Brittany's attention. Blonde hair pulls back from blanketing Santana's face and blue eyes regard her with deep concentration. Santana gathers her wits about her and lifts her hands up to frame Brittany's face, desperately trying to block out the growing felling that's building between her legs.
"You don't have to fuck me senseless to get me to stay, I'm not going to leave you." Santana whispers into the room as she stares into Brittany's eyes. There are a few moments of intense deep eye contact, before Brittany slides her hand carefully from Santana's pants and then drops suddenly in a heap on top of the woman, burying her face in the crook of a tan neck.
"I'm sorry." She apologies one more time, her voice cracking with emotion. Santana wraps her arms around Brittany's back and holds her close pressing kisses to the side of her head and face that she can reach.
"You have nothing to be sorry about, I just need you to know that."
It takes a few seconds but Brittany nods her acceptance of Santana's words into the crook of her neck.
Santana is about to suggest they both get up and get changed and lie down for a little bit when there's suddenly a knock on the front door. Brittany tenses in her arms and her head shoots up in alert. Santana soothes her hands up and down Brittany's arms that rest at her sides.
"I'll get the door."
Brittany allows Santana to slide out from under her, and watches her adjust her pants before she walks out of the bedroom. Brittany waits about thirty seconds, listening to Santana open the door and quiet murmuring before curiosity gets the best of her and she steps out of the bedroom and towards the front door.
Who Brittany finds standing framed in the doorway is not whom she's expecting to see, and apparently the other person holds the same opinion about her as well.
"What the hell is she doing here?"
Again, so sorry it took a little longer to get this out. I had to work through the next two chapters to make sure everything fits together, but that's good news for you right? Means you'll get another update sometime soon, I mean if that's alright with you and everything ;) Thanks again so much to everyone, and welcome to all you new kids! I'd be happy to hear what you think so far.
I have also decided that I will be trying to post every Friday now (with the exception of this last Friday, because FF wouldn't cooperate) and if you don't get an update then, expect it on Monday.
Oh also, I'm working on a follow up to my "It Was Only Ever You" story. Anyone interested?