This is starting to get ridiculous. Between midterms, Cheerios, and Glee, Santana has barely had a free moment in a week and a half. Her schedule is so packed that she hasn't gotten laid in two weeks. This is absurd. Sexting and masturbating aren't cutting it anymore; she needs another person, another warm body, hands touching her that aren't her own. The way things are going, she can't even sneak in time for a quickie. It's a vicious cycle: she can't concentrate because of how horny she is, and she can't take care of how horny she is because she has to concentrate.

Santana finds herself grinding her teeth as she flips through her History textbook and forces herself to stop. This is not conducive to studying. Next to her, Brittany idly twirls a pencil through her fingers. The blonde is content to let Coach bully teachers into giving her a barely-passing grade, because she doesn't need to be perfect in every way as Head Cheerleader.

"Are you done yet, S?" Brittany asks absently.

"No," Santana grits out. Abruptly, she pushes her chair back and stands. She needs to go for a walk, calm down, and clear her head before she snaps at Brittany. Yelling at her best friend in the middle of the library will not help her ace her midterms, stick that back handspring, and remember all of the stupid lyrics to whatever stupid song Mr. Schue has assigned this week. "I'll be right back."

She strides out of the room, intent on hitting the bathroom, splashing some water on her face, and maybe fixing her makeup. Instead, she barely makes it 10 feet down the hall when Brittany grabs her arm.

Taking a deep breath, Santana silently counts to five. "B, what—"

Before she can bite out the rest of that sentence, Brittany drags her into a darkened room. "You look really stressed out right now," Brittany says, flipping on the lights. Santana glances around. They're in the dance room. "I'll help you calm down," Brittany smiles.

"Britt," Santana sighs. "I don't have time to dance it out right now. I'll dance with you later, okay?"

Instead of answering, Brittany grabs Santana's waist and slams her into the wall, so hard that her head bounces off the mirror with a crack that echoes in the middle of her brain.

"Jesus fuck, Brittany," Santana hisses, clutching the back of her head. "That hurt like hell!"

Brittany leans down and silences her with a demanding kiss, licking along the line of her lips.

It takes a second for Santana's mind to shift gears from "anger" to "sex," but she quickly opens her mouth for Brittany with a stifled groan. The blonde's tongue sweeps through her mouth, teasing, then retreats. When Santana tries to follow, tries to take control, Brittany bites her lip none-too-gently, and Santana is lost. She secretly loves it when Brittany takes charge, and she groans again when Brittany breaks the kiss, nuzzling into Santana's neck.

Suddenly, Brittany bites her neck hard, then shifts slightly and bites again. Startled, Santana moans loudly, then feels herself rocking against Brittany. They've been making out for less than a minute, and she's already practically humping the other girl, but she desperately needs relief, needs some friction. She grabs at Brittany's hips, trying to drag her closer, but Brittany refuses to budge.

Gently taking ahold of her chin and tilting her head to the side, Brittany whispers in her ear, "You've been really horny lately, haven't you?" Santana shivers at her warm breath and nods. "It's driving you crazy, isn't it?" Brittany murmurs, and Santana whimpers and nods again, rocking her hips against Brittany's.

Bracing her free hand on the wall, Brittany continues teasing, holding herself back from Santana's desperate movements. "Why didn't you ask me to help?" she asks, then places a gentle kiss on Santana's neck.

Santana shivers and whimpers again. She's so wet, so ready, but Brittany is denying her anything but the lightest of touches. "I...I don't know," she admits.

"I would've helped you, S," Brittany says, kissing the curve of Santana's jaw. "If you'd just asked."

"Please," Santana breathes, pushing herself against Brittany again.

"What?" Brittany smirks, leaning back. "I didn't hear you."

"Please, God, Brittany, please," Santana groans. "Touch me."

Apparently, that is enough for Brittany. Letting go of Santana's chin, she grabs the brunette's knee and hauls it up, sliding a lean thigh between Santana's legs.

Santana gasps and clutches at Brittany's arms, grinding herself down on Brittany's leg, seeking more of that sweet friction. The seam of her spanks is pressing hard against her clit, and every motion drags the cloth against her. Brittany's brow furrows like she is concentrating hard, rolling her hips and making Santana's breath catch. Letting go of Santana's leg, she braces her hand on the other side of Santana's head, trapping her in the circle of her arms and legs. She thrusts forward again, over and over, panting with each movement of her hips.

Her breath catching in her throat, Santana lets her head fall back against the mirror. Her leg is still looped around Brittany's waist as she rides the other girl's thigh. A small part of her is a little embarrassed by how into this she's getting, but the rest of her is climbing higher and higher with each thrust and every weak moan. Desperately, she grinds down, pressing herself into Brittany's leg as best as she can from her tiptoes.

Suddenly, Brittany pulls away, and Santana's eyes snap open. "Wha—" Before she can utter her frustration, Brittany is gently pushing her to lay down on the ground and sliding her spanx down toned, caramel legs. The blonde sits up and shimmies out of her own spanx, throwing both pairs carelessly to the side. Lifting one of Santana's legs again and resting it on her own shoulder, she positions her center between the Latina's legs. Then, looking straight into Santana's eyes, Brittany thrusts forward, joining their soaked pussies together, both girls moaning at the contact.

"Oh fuck, Britt," Santana pants, her stomach clenching at the delicious friction. As they grind their clits together, their moans and the wet sound of their lower lips rubbing fill the room. It's sticky and hot, and Santana loves the filthy intimacy of it, the slippery warmth of Brittany against her, the way their bodies slide, the tiny jolt that shoots through her whenever their clits meet. She can feel Brittany's wet arousal coating her, feel it combine with her own as they push against one another in their heated clinch. Desperate to feel more, she buries one hand in her blonde hair and slides the other over her ass, pulling her hips down harder into her. As Santana seeks more friction, Brittany reciprocates in kind, rolling her hips into Santana so their lower lips spread open and their pussies messily grind into each other. "Britt, fuck, I'm so close," she bites out.

With one particularly deep hip roll, Santana jerks and finally reaches that peak. Her eyes squeeze shut, and her jaw goes slack as she rubs herself furiously against Brittany. Wave after wave of pleasure sweeps through her, leaving her gasping. Brittany doesn't stop moving at Santana's groan of climax, ducking her head into Santana's neck and pushing harder and faster instead. Santana pants heavily, trying to regain some equilibrium, and Brittany whimpers into her neck. Finally letting go of the death grip she has on Brittany's ass, Santana slips her hands up under Brittany's top, then rakes her nails down the other girl's back.

At that, Brittany's back arches, and she throws her head back, moaning loudly as she comes. As her climax sweeps through her, she thrusts erratically against Santana, riding out her orgasm. Eventually, her movements slow, until finally, she collapses on top of Santana and sighs happily. She moves her hands to Santana's waist, cradling them against each other.

Santana runs her hands up and down the other girl's smooth back, much gentler now. She takes a deep breath and smiles. Here, surrounded by Brittany's warm, strong presence, she can't really remember why she was so stressed out before.

They lie like that for an unknown period of time, simply basking in their post-orgasmic glow and each other's warmth. Finally, Brittany breaks the silence. "You feel better now?" she asks.

"Yeah," Santana replies. She trails her fingers around to Brittany's sides and feels the other girl squirm at the ticklish sensation.

Brittany pulls away slightly to look Santana in the eye, and Santana pouts a little at the loss of the full-body hug. "So next time you get so stressed...?" Brittany prompts.

"I'll talk to you," Santana promises.

Brittany nods happily. "And I'll fix it. Okay?"

Santana nods back, then frowns a little. "My head hurts now, though."

"Hmm, I can't fix that," Brittany says. Her hands slide from Santana's waist to her ass, which she squeezes. Then, she leans in again and whispers in the other girl's ear, "But I can try."

by videlicet90