Title: After All This Time
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7.8k
Summary: See, you've never really been one for bright ideas. Sure, you're phenomenal at revenge plans and being a total bitch, but when it comes to genuinely decent ideas, you're lacking to say the least. But this one? This one could actually work.
Notes: Loving your response on this! I know I drag out the angst and the story, so expect that to come. I won't lie and pretend it's all going to be sunshine and rainbows! Enjoy :)
/
You get changed in the locker room, taking an extra two minutes to put yourself back together since you feel like you're all over the place after that scene.
You couldn't help but notice that you looked different when you glanced in the mirror, but you just got laid and so you put it down to that. Even though as you got changed, all you could feel were the indents of her nails scratching into you, marking you in a way that made you linger over the faint red lines, and you don't feel like any other time after sleeping with someone and apparently, your face is showing it.
It just feels different.
You ignore it though, choosing not to focus on whatever the hell is going on inside your chest, gut and mind and head on out to the front of the diner, seeing most of the equipment stowed away by the storage closet in the corner – Holly agreed to take care of it overnight – and find mostly everyone there, waiting for you to join. Brittany's there, too, her make up still done but she's wearing the clothes she left the apartment in this morning, and you realise now that you've seen her naked that it literally doesn't matter what she wears, she's always breathtakingly beautiful.
Fuck, no. That's what you need to stop doing. Just because you've slept with her, doesn't mean anything's changing between you and you need to keep reminding yourself of that. Sex hasn't ever changed the way you feel about a person before, and that was without the additional pressure of it being for professional reasons, so to treat this differently with your best friend would be a huge mistake. It'll lead to doubting your feelings towards her, and whether they're genuinely platonic or not.
It was just fucking for a porno. That's all.
"Thought we'd wait up for you," Artie says, and you grin at him, bobbing your head as you slow to join the half-circle.
"Thank you," you whisper and shove your hands into your jacket pocket as you glance around the group, finishing on Brittany who's chewing her lip as she looks at you through hesitant blue eyes. "You ready to go?"
She smiles in response, but it's wary and you're already not liking the shift in the air between you, but you're sure it's just the shock of the whole day. Today has been life changing for more than one reason, with all three scenes going relatively well in the business side of things which means you can now finish up filming tomorrow hopefully, if the success of the day repeats itself, and then you can spend day three cutting scenes and put it all together as you're already one day behind.
Obviously, there are other reasons why it was life changing, but it's just a discovery of a new level of friendship with Brittany. It's just like it used to be, except you're going to have to put more effort into not remembering what she looks like when you're turning her on or the smile that graced her face when you cradled her skull as you fucked her.
That won't (read: will) be challenging at all.
Still, the only way you can think of to playing it cool is to fake it until you make it, and you all go through the diner doors, Holly locking up behind you as the chill sets in, everyone shivering at the temperature drop. You're mostly used to it, having no heating at home, but you sure were enjoying it and now it's going to be odd to go back to your apartment with Brittany and cuddle her like you used to for warmth. How are you supposed to do that normally without remembering how much warmer you two could be without clothes?
Another thing you should've thought about.
Anyway, you all bid your farewells, hugging each other in turn and it's not until you come face to face with Dani, that you start thinking about anything other than Brittany. Sort of. Your thoughts shift from the brunette to the blonde, mostly because Dani's doing that narrowed eye thing that you know means she wants to come and talk to you, but after what just happened with you and Brittany… You just can't.
You're already messy as hell in your head, unsure what anything means as out of all the ways you expected filming that scene to go, you really weren't expecting it to go like that and it's thrown all sense out the window.
So, you decide to move closer to Brittany, looping your arm through hers and Dani's eyes flicker to the movement, her eyes narrowing in a different way now, more like they're reading what you just did but you don't return your glance to her to confirm. Although Brittany seems shocked by your movement, as it's the first time you've touched her since you came back in the room, or the second time since you were inside her, and you ignore the way her eyes question you as you turn away and head down the street towards home.
/
You get home with small talk. Nothing more than about the weather, which Brittany totally calls you out on because it's not a usual topic of yours, but it makes the walk back faster and lighter as you two laugh together… But it's still weird.
It's cold, and dark when you get home. The heating still isn't paid, but at least you have electricity for the time being and you basically run through the front door to get in the shower. You ask Brittany if she wants to go first, but she insists you should and settles down on the sofa whilst you head into the bathroom.
The water is hot, and it burns as it drops on your skin. You claw at the spots on your body that Brittany was tightly pressed against, not wanting to wash it away but knowing for the greater good, you should. You take your time though, running your fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp, your throat thickening when you remember how much better it feels when she does it, and you start getting a little too excited at the memory, so you flick on cold water and let it do its thing.
It does, and you long out drying your hair with a towel until it's just damp when you climb out, staring at yourself in the mirror, not recognising who you see looking back at you. Physically, it is you, but there's a shine in your eyes that wasn't there before, and your skin is glowing a bit more. Maybe the body wash had some weird crap in it, but you know you're just excited about everything, so it's probably that. It is the first day of filming after all.
(And the first of other things, but you don't want to go down that road.)
You change into a top and shorts, making your way out into the kitchen and throwing your towel into the laundry bin, peering into the living room over the kitchen counter to see Brittany still on the sofa, legs tugged up to her chest. She wanted to shower, or so she said on the way back, so you thought she might have started getting ready when you turned the water off. She usually hears it, so it confuses you a little and despite the hesitancy you feel, you make your way into the living room and call out her name, softly, careful not to startle her.
"Britt," you say. "I'm out."
The television is on and has been since you stepped into the bathroom, but she obviously hasn't been watching it. Blue eyes are trained on the screen, but you can see a glaze in her eyes that lets you know she has no idea what's going on and is all up in her own head. The light is on, but nobody is home, and you round the sofa further, gingerly taking a seat beside her. She looks completely lost in her thoughts and it takes you setting a hand over the back of hers, still wrapped around her legs to pull her focus on you.
"Britt? You okay?"
She snaps out of it, blinking away and exhales heavily like she hasn't been breathing for the last couple of minutes, and you would focus on that, but you can feel your palm sparking from where it's touching her and even if you had sex literally hours ago, it doesn't mean you can't be touchy. You'll have to, if you want to be normal with her again. Nothing feels normal about it though because nothing is. Your body is reacting completely differently to her now, even down to the damn temperature of her skin, and you can't help but compare how soft the rest of her skin is in comparison to the part you're touching.
You've had sex now. You've fucking slept with your best friend and it was nothing like you thought it was going to be. You thought you'd be doing the dirty and bringing your kinkiest dreams to reality, but instead you ended up having this deep, intimate connection with her that's not felt like any other time you've ever had sex, and you've got a long list of memories to choose from in that area. Quinn Fabray for example: that was a long time coming, in a bitter revengeful way, but when it was done you just wanted to never speak of it and move on.
But that's the last thing you'd ever do to Brittany. You're here, sitting beside her, being the best friend despite the moment you shared and fuck, you're in so much trouble.
It doesn't matter right now, though. It doesn't fucking matter because something's bothering her and you need to find out what it is.
(And whether it's matching the thoughts you had in the shower.)
"Y-Yeah," she gets out through a stutter, chewing her lip and meeting your eye and you can see she's trying to be normal, but you know she isn't. "Just been a long day."
You narrow your eyes. It has been a long day, but it's not that that's distracting her. "Britt," you say, lowly and you can see her resolve break. Why doesn't she want to tell you, though? And what is it that she doesn't want to say?
(God, you're hoping it's the same thing in your mind.)
"Can I ask you something?" She asks, which disappoints you a little but you're not sure how you feel, so you can't really force her into telling you the truth about what she's feeling.
So, against better judgement, you bob your head, lips sucked into your mouth to hide the way you want to brace yourself. "Sure."
"Do you feel weird?" Brittany whispers, so quietly that you almost don't hear it. "Like… After our scene."
You still, unsure what the right response is because you could totally be getting the wrong end of this. "Like bad weird?"
She shakes her head. "No," she whispers, tugging her legs closer which makes your hand drop away from her. "I meant like," her eyes search the ceiling, and she takes a second to choose her words carefully. "Was it…" She dips her head, returning to your stare. "Weird for you?"
You're guessing she means was it good, weird for you, but you still don't really know what that means. Not to mention, whenever there has been weirdness between you two, you've always breezed over it, never spoke of it again, even if there was definitely something there and apparently still is. Those times were easier to sidestep though, because they were just fleeting moments and now you two have actually had sex, you can't deny you don't feel a shift in the air by just waving it off. It was there the second you kissed her, like a firework going off around you. Like you'd just seen the stars for the first time on a dark night, and you don't know what it means but you think you've been here before.
You put all your effort into getting over your little crush on her in high school. You had to because she never showed any interest you romantically or sexually, and you can't believe it took kissing her to realise that you never really did it. You've just pulled wool over your eyes, and you're scared because you don't know if she feels it, too.
So, you chicken out. "I mean, not knowing what we were going to do was weird, but we can dance together and it's basically a horizontal tango," you try, laughing at your words a little but there's an eery silence in return.
Brittany reaches out, grabbing your forearm and lets her legs fall, feet planted to the ground. She holds your eyes and looks at you seriously, and you stop breathing. "You know that's not what I meant."
Yeah, you do. You're just straight up terrified that you're going to say something stupid.
But you can't bring yourself to say it. You so desperately try to form the words and get them out from where they're lodged in your throat, but you have such a good friendship with her and if you acknowledge this, it's going to screw it up. You don't want to keep it locked inside because shit, your teenage self will kick you square in the balls, but you're remembering that tomorrow, you've got a scene with Dani and you need it for the movie. Unless Brittany's willing to speak up, you're not sure you can go through with it, even though it feels like she's asking you to without actually saying it.
Why are you so damn chicken shit?
"What do you mean then?" You ask, instead, lowering your voice and trying to regulate your lungs into doing what they're supposed to. There's no way in hell she's not going to pick up on it if you don't inhale properly because she's too close, leaning into you and still boring into your eyes.
Brittany sucks her lips in, as well as a sharp breath but shakes her head rapidly, reeling back. "Nothing," she exhales and tries to make it sound genuine, but you don't buy it. She's not saying something, but you guess you're just as bad. So are you. "I need a shower," she adds on and stands up, patting the back of your hand quickly before rounding the couch.
You grab the back of it, watching her retreating form and wish you had the courage to say something else.
You just don't know what.
/
Brittany goes to bed after she gets out the shower. Her room is down the hall, and you're sitting in the front room when you hear her come out.
She shouts goodnight to you, and that it's been a long day and tomorrow will be the same, so she's going to get some shut eye, and you try not to feel disappointed that you waited up for her because you were kind of hoping to revisit that unfinished conversation. She just got up and left. Didn't even bother coming back out to see if you'd had ten minutes to think over it, and you reluctantly head to your own bedroom after a couple minutes, flicking off the lights in the rest of the apartment before you slide into bed.
Sleep doesn't come easy, though, and you stare at the ceiling, drumming your fingertips against the covers above your stomach for what feels like hours, even though it's only been about half of one, listening to the rain drop from the gutter on to the trash cans outside, trying to find peace in it.
But you can't stop thinking about Brittany, and you want to go to her room and knock and ask why she felt weird and why you still feel weird and if she does too, but you promised her that nothing would change and now you've more or less come to terms with the potential crush that you still have on her, you think to voice it would make you go back on your promise.
How could you live with her after revealing something like that? How could you go back to set tomorrow and have sex with someone else, despite admitting the truth after spilling the beans on that? You couldn't, and that's what's keeping you rooted to your bed. You won't even get up for a glass of water, even though you're super parched because if you tempt the devil, you won't be able to fight the heavy tug when you're walking back to your room from the kitchen and you're faced with her door, taunting you at the end of the hallway.
But still… You can't help but want to find out what she was really asking you earlier, because you'd ask that question if you thought you were picking up on feels. Hell, you kind of feel like you should have done because you were getting some serious vibes during your scene and after. The kind of ones that are undeniable, and shared with looks instead of words and there's no mistaking shit like that.
A tree branch scratches against your window, making you jolt up and you squint through the darkness as you see the shadow of it shining into your room, your eyes sliding to the door because it's the same sound of someone twisting open the handle. Brittany told you to hire someone to cut it down because it wakes you up all the time and freaks her out on the nights where you go out without her – which are rare, but still happen every now and then when she has work early and you don't – and you slump back into your mattress heavily, trying to hang on that thought.
It's stupid though, because no amount of tree scratching against your window is going to distract you from the burning urge pulsing through you, almost too hot to contain, to go and finish that conversation with Brittany. You don't want to be those people who don't communicate efficiently, and you've matured because of your mindset of shooting your shot and going for whatever you want, even if you fail. You did it with Quinn and that paid off, and it usually does with other situations, too, but you didn't care if you failed then, but you would now.
You'd care if you thought fuck it and told Brittany that you don't think you ever really got over her, but there's so much at stake. She's not only your flatmate, but your best friend, too, and you only had sex that one time so it may have just been a one off. Who knows, if you ever got lucky enough to repeat the experience, it could be totally different and–
No, shit. What's wrong with you? You can't consider sleeping with her again just to figure out your feelings. That's a dick move that you'd do with other girls. Not Brittany.
You turn over in your bed, tucking your hand beneath the pillow and curling up into the foetal position, staring at the wall because you're now incredibly familiar with the patterns and wish the thoughts away.
/
Somehow, you manage to fall asleep.
You don't think for long, or even properly, because you don't have that groggy feeling inside your mind when you open your eyes, and you immediately groan because that damn tree is scratching at the window again. You try to block it out, pulling your pillow over your ear and pushing down, but it's so loud that the frustration just gets too much, and you yank the spare pillow from beneath your head to throw it at the window, sitting up as you do it.
It lands with a thud, and it's only then that you realise that there's no rain or wind anymore, which means the tree wouldn't be reaching over far enough and you're instantly confused.
Considerably less confused though, when you hear the noise again and whip your head around to stare at your bedroom door as the handle twists and it opens slightly. You squint again, trying to see through the darkness and start getting a little freaked out – wishing the Winchester Brothers were here because this has got to be some supernatural bullshit – but then you hear your name being called quietly and your heart stops.
"Santana?"
"Britt?" You mutter, your voice in a deep rasp and you clear your throat when she doesn't immediately reply or show herself, eyes shifting left to right.
Are you dreaming?
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she whispers finally, but pushes open the door and you cock your head to the side as she steps in, leaning against the door as she closes it, hands behind her. She doesn't say anything else though, and despite the lights being off, you can see how her sparkling blue eyes are staring at you from across the room and for the second time in a short period, you get confused.
"You didn't," you fire back immediately, even though it's not entirely true. You're still not sure if you're dreaming because she's acting strangely. "What's wrong?"
Your question goes unanswered, and she takes a single step forward, into the moonlight shining through the window so you can see half of her face still but she stays silent. She doesn't look mad, or sad, or confused though, and curiosity grows inside your chest. She's obviously here for a reason and you don't know why, which is making you increasingly more and more uneasy because you fell asleep wanting to talk to her, and now she's here you're speechless.
(And worried.)
You breathe hard, wondering what you could say to get an answer out of her because you've asked and she isn't responding, and for a split second, you think she may be sleepwalking. She used to, back in high school and it freaked you the hell out the first time she did it at a sleepover. Although you do know that was a while ago and she's already spoken (admittedly once but still) so that idea is out the window unless she's developed the ability to sleep talk and sleepwalk.
So, you move, knowing it's not that, sitting up a little more and leaning forward until you no longer need to brace yourself palms down on the bed, hunched over with your legs crossed.
"Brittany, are you okay?" You try again, your voice growing with concern, and you know she hears you for sure this time because she narrows her eyes, studying you for a long moment like she's answering the question without saying anything.
But then she moves, coming straight to the side of your bed and sits down, one leg tucked beneath the other, leaning over but not touching you and you jerk your head back. The way your heart pounds in your chest deafens everything other noise in the room, but you still manage to hear how heavily she's breathing, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she continues looking at you. She's reading you, or at least trying to but you don't know what she's trying to read, but at least she can feel that this moment is weirdly significant. It feels like there's something going on – what that is, you're not sure of – but she continues searching like she's trying to find an answer to your question in your eyes.
You don't think she'll find one.
She came to your room, though. She came to you and so you don't know what to say, but you don't have to figure that out because she moves again, releasing her bottom lip from between her teeth and her shaky hands come up to your cheeks, cupping them gently. Thumbs stroke over your skin, sending shivers down your spine as it reminds you of how she touched you a few hours ago, but you're far too distracted by the silent conversation she seems to be trying to have with you.
You search her face in return, but you're flat out of suggestions. You have no idea why she came into your room, and you gulp thickly, her eyes boring deeper until it feels like she's staring into your soul, but you don't care because you're starting to see what she's conveying wordlessly. There's a shift in her face now, and she's looking at you like she's always looked at you but there's something else there. The crinkle in her eyebrow, the slight tilt of her head and the way her eyes drop like she's just realised something, is telling you that.
And that's when you feel it.
In this moment, when you're not speaking, not moving, it feels like a thousand things are being said and done. It feels like this is the most in depth conversation you've ever had and barely a breath later, her face is changing expression once again, jaw tightening and for the third time, she's moving. She's coming towards you, sparing one last glance in your eye before pulling you into a kiss and all sense flies out the window. Your eyes don't shut immediately, shock shooting through your core but then your body takes over and your mind blanks off to anything else but the feel of her lips on yours and they flutter shut.
Her tongue dips into your mouth, not even bothering to keep to the light kisses you shared earlier at the beginning of your scene, and you groan, falling back on to the bed as she pushes at your shoulders and climbs over you, bracketing your hips with her thighs. Heat scorches beneath your skin, sending the temperature of your blood to the highest possible point and you can't deny that you want her. Every part of you since the camera's stopped rolling has been yearning for a repeat experience, and okay, this may not be that productive, but you're finding it hard to care.
All you know in this moment is that you want her, and she wants you back.
Your body goes on auto pilot, your hands finding purchase on her hips and rocking her against the growing bulge beneath the covers. You can feel yourself hardening by the second, her tongue flicking against your teeth and pulling the lowest moans out of you that you didn't even know you could produce. It feels incredible, even more so than before because there's no cameras or lingering eyes watching you, and something about that makes this moment so much hotter because it means it's secretive. It's just the two of you, feeling each other for the second time and remembering certain spots that you only discovered earlier today.
Like how she loves you biting her bottom lip, which you do on the second kiss she gives you after drawing back for air, and you push her hair behind her ears as she hangs over you, lifting your free hand to secure her face to yours.
It's incredible. You can't fucking deny it when you have this connection and you've had a lot of sex with other people, but nothing has ever come close to this. You never knew you could even have something like this with someone and it's making the entire room electric.
Brittany breaks the kiss, panting hard against your mouth and she's in her pyjamas, which happens to be a small pair of underwear and an equally small tank top. Her skin is barely covered, and she looks so fucking hot – even more so now that she's make-up free, freckles bared and lips swollen – and you don't know how you didn't see it before. It's like someone's given you sight after being blind and your hands slip down to her thighs again, squeezing gently, trying to see if she wants to like, do it… Or she just wanted to kiss you.
But you don't have to ask verbally, because she nods her head desperately, like she knows exactly what's going through your head, and it strikes you hard in the chest.
You're going to have sex again.
Even though there are no cameras. Even though there's no scripts. You're still going to do it.
Your hands move around to her ass, her head dipping to catch your lips again and you moan into the kiss when she stretches down to grasp at the bottom of your top. She curls her fingers around it, and you pull back only to allow her to yank it over your shoulders, leaving you bare chested. Her eyes shoot to your breasts, wide and she didn't get to see you like this last time, so you shouldn't be shocked at how amazed she is, but when she takes her own top off swiftly after, you get why.
Brittany, in clothes or without, is the best thing your eyes have ever seen and she's feeling the same about you.
This isn't anything like the last time you had sex. This is just because you fucking want to, but you don't know what that means.
She smirks down at you after you manage to rip your gaze away from tight abs and perky nipples, and leans back down to kiss you again, tongue stroking confidently into your mouth with a soft, relieving exhale through her nose. You can feel the pressure building beneath the sheets even more, your hard on prominent and you take advantage of the thinness of your cover, pushing up with your hips to press into where she needs it most. A broken moan leaves her mouth, passing into yours and you grin, breaking the kiss as she moves with urgency, shifting her legs until she can pull the sheet down to your feet, straddling you again with no sheet between.
"San," she pants, and her nails scratch down your abs between you as yours hold her face, twisting it to you can get your own back and push your tongue into her mouth. She squirms, her hips wiggling and it's entirely distracting, and she uses the opportunity to stop kissing you, sit back on your thighs, not even hesitating as she hooks two fingers into the top of your shorts and tugs them down, allowing you to spring free against your stomach.
Cold air stings your boiling hot skin, and you press the back of your head harder into the pillow, biting down on your own lip when she doesn't immediately touch you. You need her to. You need her, and you're physically aching to be inside her again. You look up at her, eyes filled with desperation and plead silently for it, your chest is heaving up and down, the oxygen seeming too little in the room and you swallow thickly as she stares at your member, highlighted by the stream of moonlight shining through the window.
Then she meets your eye again. The need to get off hits you hard in the gut, but the way she's staring at you is so soft that you're confused again, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, closing the gap a little and you start another silent conversation. You get this one, though, and as much as you want to tease her and do all the things you did to her earlier, you need to be inside her again and be responsible for more orgasms today, and you've never felt like this.
She's making you feel things you've never experienced, and as much as the teenage version of yourself is screaming at you that you've still got a pathetic crush on her, and this isn't going to do that any good, who would you be to refuse it? You'd have to be insane, and it's not because you like sex. It's because you want sex with her. Specifically. You want to have that connection again, the one you started when she came and sat down on the side of your bed and kissed you, and you don't wait another second more for it.
You reach up, grabbing her chin between your thumb and forefinger and pull her down to your level, sucking her bottom lip between yours and kissing her deeply. She whimpers against your mouth, shifting further up your lap but she rises, keeping herself hovered with strong thighs and for the first time, she grabs you. Her fingers curl around your cock, stroking firmly until you can't be any harder, and she guides you between her legs, nudging her panties to the side with the back of her hand before she strokes you through her.
A guttural moan leaves your throat when you realise she's not even going to take her fucking underwear off, and this is without doubt, the hottest thing you've ever done. You didn't know she could top her previous performance, but here she is, proving you wrong. She can't even wait to take them off as the need to fuck you is so strong, and you know exactly how she feels because you feel it, too. You even break the kiss when you watch what she's doing, gulping loudly when the wetness coats your length as she grinds over it, bumping her clit with the top your cock and memories of how good she feels around you shoot through your brain.
"Fuck… Britt," you groan, low and throaty and her eyes snap to you as she lines you up, locking the stare in place but she stills again. Your hands shoot to her hips, steadying her even though she doesn't need any help – girls thighs are thick with muscle – but you just wait. You know if you do this, it's not going to be like the other time. If she sinks down on to you, you're going to change things again and there's going to be consequences that weren't there before, and you can see those thoughts reflecting in blue eyes.
But you can't fight it. You need to do this. You have to do this, and not to be dramatic, but you might just leap out the window if she hops off you and runs away.
But she doesn't, instead seeing the approval in your eyes and exhales loudly, biting her smiling lip as she lowers herself, taking you in without any further hesitation but keeping the eye contact. Your fingertips dig into her hips, your eyes shutting and bursting open quickly as you feel her muscles clench around you, and she's so fucking wet and hot and amazing, that you don't know what to do with yourself. She told you she wouldn't need any help getting wet a few days ago, but nothing led you to believe that she'd mean because you turn her on like this, and now you're not sure what's arousing you more: her not taking off her underwear or her body's natural reaction to your touch.
"Shit," she hisses, her voice shuddering and she stops halfway down your cock, stretching to accommodate your size, whimpering as she rises and falls until she's flush against your lap, sucking in a shaky breath. Her hands come up to your ribs, hands stroking over the soft skin where they stay, gripping lightly and you watch her, completely mesmerised by the way her face is relaxing after a few seconds, her head tilting back as she releases a breath of relief like she was yearning for this connection again and now she has it.
It feels so damn good though, and even though you're waiting for her to move – but still entirely preoccupied by how fucking happy she looks with you buried inside her – you know you're not going to last as long as you want. You can already feel the walls clenching around you as she begins rolling her hips, and it's sending so many sparks down your spine that you think you could be a lit firework, about to shoot off, but you want her to take the lead on this. She's the one that needs to be in charge because she came to you, she made the first move and half of you is still entirely terrified that she just wanted to have sex again, regardless of who with.
But you don't think it's that. In fact, you're convinced that this is more than just sex. You're convinced that this means that she was looking at you like that before for the same reason you've been looking at her differently.
But you can't verbalise any of that.
It'll just break the moment and so you just watch in awe as she tilts her head back down, locking in your gaze and rolls her hips again, stronger this time, riding you in a way that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. She's so fucking good at this, and she uses the placement of her hands on your ribs to aid her in her movement, grinding against you in the least innocent way possible until you lift your hips, tapping a spot deep inside of her that makes her spine buckle.
Your hands slide up from her thighs, leaving with a comforting squeeze and you take refuge on her waist, holding her against you as you pick up the space, loud slaps echoing the room. She begins squeaking, face twisting with pleasure and you're totally enamoured. You're already too hot for this, and the look on her face isn't helping because she looks like she's in ecstasy. There's a breathless smile on her lips, her eyelashes fluttering as you slam into her rapidly and she grabs your hands from her hips, pushing them up until they're either side of your head as she makes eye contact with you again after a few more thrusts.
Then she kisses you again, stronger and harder this time and you can feel the desperation in her kiss. The softness and delicacy of before has gone as teeth nip at your bottom lip, and you moan loudly into her mouth, overwhelmed with pleasure because she knows you're matching the stare she gave you before.
Every single part of your body is on fire, and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to resist as heat flares across your skin again, and you've never felt this fucking good, or scared. Having her all over you, invading every single one your senses is too much, and you grind your hips up on one of her downward thrusts, making her whine as she collapses into you completely, bare chest to bare chest. Her face presses into your neck, but she takes advantage of the position as you take over the motions, her lips latching on to your pulse point, sucking with intent which makes you whine, too as it's the fucking spot that drives you crazy, every damn time.
And you can already feel her tightening. The hot suction around your cock, the way you feel inside of her is seriously challenging your stamina, so you slow down, gaining a visual connection when she weakly pulls back, leaning on her elbows beside your head, your hands dropping to her hips again, to stare down at you once more at the change in tempo. You drag her back and forth against your lap, creating a friction against her clit, but she just smiles, mewling lowly and it's her turn to shut her eyes.
But you don't let her for more than two seconds. You return one of your hands up to stroke at her jaw, and her eyes snap open, looking over you like you're the best thing she's ever seen. Her lips are swollen, her hair messy as it hangs around you, but you can't help but mirror the expression in front of you because you feel the same way about her. She's the best thing you've ever seen, and you suck in a quivering breath when her fingers reach over, thumb brushing over your bottom lip before she kisses you again, too softly for the way your bodies are moving.
It doesn't progress, just lips on lips but somehow, it makes everything more intense. You're no longer fucking her. You're doing something entirely different now and that scares you more than anything else because she's not fucking you, either.
You think you're having sex in a way that you've never done before.
(But you can't even think those words, or it'll be too real.)
So, you distract yourself. You put all your focus into this moment, to make it last, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and adjust your position, planting your feet flat against the mattress, shifting her further up your lap which temporarily throws off your tempo. But then you're right back to it, pounding into her in a way that shouldn't be practised considering this is only the second time you've ever done this, but now you've started, you never want to stop. You want to make her feel this way and ten times over, and you don't know if you'll get the chance to do it again, so if this is everything you're going to get, you're going to soak up every part of it.
"Oh–ugh, Santana," she whimpers, the sound muffled against your mouth, at one specific rock of your hips, and you break for oxygen, tipping your forehead against hers and pushing into her hard as you slam into her down the bed, your muscles aching but in the best way possible. You return your full grip to her hips, holding tightly as a light layer of sweat coats your brow, making you slide against her face, but she just grabs at it, anchoring you in place and you let your breath kiss her because you can't with the tempo you've built.
You want to hear that sound again, though, and so you repeat the rocking motion you did before to gain strangled whimpers, goosebumps covering your skin as she continues making it. You've never heard anything better, and you want to bottle it up and keep it, it's that precious to you.
The hold around your cock tightens, pulling you away from your thoughts and you watch her face twist as the beginnings of her orgasm approaches her. You know you can't continue for much longer either, the heat and pressure are too much in the base of your spine, the need to release right fucking there but you don't want to touch the big red button. You want to run away from it and tease the anticipation, but she's kissing you again and it's enough to push you over the edge.
You bury yourself deeply into her, spilling everything you have inside of her, and it follows with a few sloppy jerks of your hips as you tug her with you into the pleasure zone with you. She squeezes, pinches, grips around you, coming hard and you choke like all the oxygen in the room has disappeared as the kiss breaks, but lips stay barely touching and wetness coats your stomach as she lets go, too, the arousal rocketing sky high again as she slumps down on to you after a shuddered gasp.
Her hips undulate against yours, rolling gently and she's panting hard as she tucks into your neck. Your arms slide up from around her hips to her back, stroking sweaty skin and you crane your neck, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder and somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognise that now you're being too soft for what just happened, but you really don't care.
You swallow thickly, pushing away all other thoughts that don't involve Brittany and this moment, and roll her over, sliding out of her which makes you wince at the loss of contact, but you're too focused on pushing her hair back behind her ear as you slip one arm beneath her head, the top half of your body leaning against hers as you look down over her face. Her eyes are closed, so you take advantage and scan over her features, but by the time you're done, you see the blue gazing up at you, glazed with adoration and you don't even hesitate as you lean down and kiss away the smile that begins pulling at her lips.
You have no idea what just happened, but you think you're okay with it.
/
Bet you didn't see that coming ;)