"Oh, fuck, San. Shit!" Brittany moans loudly as Santana pumps her fingers into her harshly from behind.

Right after they put their freshly-made pizza in the Lopez's pizza oven, Santana bent Brittany over the island counter and buried her fingers knuckle-deep inside her.

"Fuck fuck fuck," the blonde chants as she thrusts back into her girlfriend's fingers. "I'm, ugh, oh fuck! San!" she screams as she climaxes. Since they started dating, Brittany has realized two things: she is pretty much always sexually frustrated, and she has been missing out, big-time, all these years of not being with Santana. "There's...no way...that was...your second time doing that," Brittany pants as her body slumps against the counter.

"Believe it, babe," Santana replies, kissing her temple sweetly. "Oh, I think the pizza is ready!"

The blonde groans as the other girl removes her fingers from her pussy.

"Looks pretty good, right?" Santana asks, holding the pie up.

It looks utterly delicious. Brittany is exhausted from their "workout" and absolutely starving. "Yum," she breathes out before peeling her sweaty face off of the counter.

"Now, Ms. Pierce, if you'd just grab that bottle of wine and follow me to the living room, where we'll be dining tonight."

"Yay! Eating time!" Brittany exclaims, suddenly getting her energy back and rushing towards the table before sitting down eagerly.

"Hey! I didn't even get a chance to pull out your chair for you," Santana pouts.

"Screw chivalry. I'm hungry."

The brunette giggles as she sets the pan down and takes her seat as well.

"Holy shit! This is freaking amazing," Brittany practically moans as she chews and swallows her first bite of pizza.

"Dang, you're right. It's not usually this awesome."

"Practically orgasmic," Brittany replies with her mouth full.

"Haven't you had enough of that tonight?" Santana teases with a smirk.

Brittany doesn't so much as blink. "From you? I could never have enough."

The two girls eat mostly in silence, not because they don't want to talk or have nothing to talk about. They're just too busy stuffing their mouths. The only words they exchange are "more wine?" and "sure." As they eat, they both get lost in their own thoughts.

Ugh, this is so beautiful and romantic. Santana is so sweet. I love her so much.

Hungry Brittany is so cute. I hope she likes what I did. What if she doesn't like dessert or doesn't want to watch a movie? I guess we could just cuddle or make love. I mean

"Wow, we polished that off fast," Brittany comments, staring at her plate and the empty pizza pan.

Santana looks at her, wide-eyed. "B, we just finished a 12-inch deep dish pizza in under 20 minutes."

"What can I say? All that teasing and sex made me hungry. But I don't think I've satisfied my craving for a certain something just yet," the blonde replies suggestively.

"You mean your sweets craving? I think I have just the thing to take care of that."

Brittany leans over the table subconsciously. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. S'mores!"

The blonde immediately goes from aroused to excited. "S'mores?!"

"Yup." Santana smiles and extends her hand. "To the backyard!"

"How did you know I love s'mores?"

"A little birdie told me. Also, it doesn't take a genius to see you have a bit of a sweet tooth."

"Oh babe," Brittany whispers when they walk through the French doors and out into the backyard. Santana grins, both at the pet name and at her ability to render the hothead speechless.

The Lopezes have an amazing backyard, equipped with a pool and a state-of-the-art outdoor living area. There is a wet bar, barbecue, fire pit with two folding chairs around it, and a large screen for a projection. In front of the screen, someone (Brittany has a good guess who) has prepared a sea of comfy blankets, pillows, beanbag chairs, and, of course, more rose petals scattered about.

"You like?" Santana asks shyly.

"I love," Brittany mumbles quietly.

"What?"

Blue eyes grow wide at her slip before she realizes Santana genuinely didn't hear her. "I-I do. This is amazing! Where are the s'mores?"

Brown eyes gaze at her curiously before Santana walks over to the barbecue and pulls out all the ingredients from underneath. "Here you go. The sticks for the marshmallows are over there. I'll start the fire."

Brittany stares the whole time Santana gets the fire ready, admiring the Latina as she bends down to pick up firewood, her arm muscles tightening as she carries the wood. For some reason, watching and knowing she can start a fire is super hot.

"All ready for s'more making!" the Latina announces, grinning proudly at her blazing fire. Then, her self-satisfied smile falls. "Britt, you didn't even open the marshmallows!"

As if coming out of a daze, Brittany's eyes suddenly snap up to meet Santana's. "What? Oh, sorry. I got distracted."

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes knowingly as she gets the sticks and unwraps the marshmallows herself. Working together, they finally get all the ingredients ready, then sit close together, enjoying the fire as they wait for it to get hot enough.

"Thanks for taking me on this date, San. This is super romantic and really fun."

"Aww, you're welcome, B, but I still think you did a better job at planning your date."

"Planning, maybe, but I had just as much fun tonight. Besides, there were no dumb girls who couldn't get a hint trying to hit on me this time."

Santana scoffs. "You really had to bring her up?"

"Sorry, babe. You know you're the only girl I want."

"Yeah, yeah."

"San! Come here," the blonde exclaims, grabbing her hand and tugging.

"Britt!" Santana laughs, but she lets the other girl pull her up and into her lap.

Santana wraps her arms around the blonde's neck to balance herself, and Brittany instinctively grabs her hips before leaning in for a kiss. "I mean it, San," she says seriously.

"I know. You are too."

For a while, they just stare at each other. Neither of them knows how long they sit there, getting lost in each other's eyes—eyes that seem to say everything their mouths are not yet brave enough to say.

"Um, I think it's hot now. The fire, I mean," Brittany whispers, breaking the silence.

Santana clears her throat. "Okay." It still comes out slightly husky. She reluctantly climbs off her girlfriend's lap, then hands her a stick with a fluffy white ball of sugar on it.

As they hold their sticks over the fire, they sit quietly. Although the silence isn't awkward, it's a little tense, those same three words occupying both of their minds.

Brittany breaks the silence again. "The Homecoming dance is coming up."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

"You forgot?" Brittany snorts. "How could you forget when practically the whole school has asked you to be their date?"

"Oh please. Like you haven't been asked by just as many people." After a brief pause, Santana asks, "Have you said yes to anyone?"

"No. Have you?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't think so." Santana chews on her bottom lip.

"Are you going to go at all?"

"Well, my parents—and the rest of the school, for that matter—are expecting me to, so yeah," she answers bitterly.

"Do you plan on going stag?"

"B, your marshmallow is on fire," Santana informs her.

"Shit!" Brittany flinches before bringing the flaming sweet to her face and quickly blowing it out. However, it's already black. "Damn it."

"I like them burnt." Santana shrugs and leans over.

Carefully pulling the charred marshmallow off the stick, Brittany offers it to Santana. She doesn't expect her girlfriend to actually eat it.

However, Santana holds Brittany's hand in place as she slowly and seductively eats the marshmallow, her tongue licking all around Brittany's sticky fingers while she looks up at her with her best bedroom eyes. "Yum."

Brittany's breath hitches, and she almost forgets what they were talking about. She really wants to pay Santana back for their wonderful dinner (and pre-dinner sexcapades), but that will have to wait. Reluctantly, she takes her hand back. "San, I have something to ask you."

"What is it?" Santana asks, curious.

"I...um. Crap, I'm not good at this. We're girlfriends, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And I like you a lot, and you like me?"

"Of course."

Fuck, why is this so nervewracking? "Well, since we're girlfriends, and we like each other a lot, and we both don't have dates to Homecoming, I was thinking that...we could maybe go together? As a couple?"

Santana's initial thought is that nervous Brittany is adorable. Her second reaction is giddiness and happiness. Finally, after all this time, the one person she wants to go to the dance with is asking her out! Finally, she feels the cold dread of reality settle in.

A squeeze on her hand brings her out of her thoughts. "San?"

"Brittany, I would love to go with you," she starts, but before she can finish, the blonde sighs sadly. Santana wants to cry when she sees the look on her girlfriend's face.

"But you can't. Because we're secret girlfriends, and you can't let your parents find out."

"Britt, baby, you know I want to go with you. So badly. But my parents...if they find out, that's it. They would never let me see you again, and I don't want that to happen. I-I can't lose you."

"They don't have to find out! Look, I have a plan. You can just tell your parents you're hitching a ride from Sam and Quinn, and then you guys can come pick me up. They would never know."

Santana bites her lip as she considers it. It is a pretty good plan.

"San, I don't want to watch you dance with anyone else, and I don't want to dance with anyone else."

"I don't know, B. People are bound to see us together, and they'll talk."

"Would that be so bad? I want to be with you, San. I want to dance with my girlfriend at our Homecoming. Do you remember when I agreed to be your fake girlfriend out in the Breadstix parking lot? You agreed that when it was all over, you would do one thing for me, no matter what it was. This is what I want."

Santana can't think of anything to say. After everything that's happened, she has completely forgotten about her promise. Can she really deny its validity? More importantly, does she even want to?

No. She doesn't. What she wants is to go out with her girlfriend.

She knows she's ready to be with Brittany in public. The only obstacle is her parents, but maybe there is a way around it. Maybe Brittany's plan will work. "Can I think about it for, like, a day?" she finally says.

Knowing that she has her, Brittany smiles sweetly and cheers internally. "Of course, babe. How about we cuddle while you think?"

Shit, how am I supposed to say no to that face? Santana internally panics. "Cuddle? Don't you want a s'more first?"

"One more s'more, and then cuddle. And then sex."

Santana's eyes widen at her bluntness. As they eat the s'mores, Brittany emits little noises of approval. The Latina thinks they sound just a little too sexual to be natural but enjoys them nevertheless.

"Come on, cuddle time," Brittany says as soon as they are both done eating.

For some reason, Santana suspects that she's in for some trouble and that they're not done with the Homecoming topic. "Okay, okay."

They quickly get under the mountain of comforters. It's a little chilly outside, but their body heat and the lingering warmth from the fire keeps them cozy. Assuming their usual position, Brittany lies on her back, and Santana rests her head on her shoulder. Their arms wrap around each other, and their legs tangle together.

The blonde kisses the top of Santana's head while stroking up and down her tan arm. "So, while you're thinking, I'm just going to add a couple more points to my side of the argument."

"Brittany," Santana sighs. I knew we weren't done with this.

"Just hear me out. First of all, I'm sure Puck will spike the punch like he always does, and I'm sure there's going to be a pre-party, so people will be so wasted they won't even notice we're dancing together. Also, most of the music will probably be upbeat club music, so we can just dance, like, next to each other. Although I really would like to make physical contact with you, I could settle for that. Now, for my favorite reason: since you're obviously going to be elected Homecoming Queen, I should run for King and scare everyone into voting for me so that everyone will expect us to dance with each other!"

That one is so cute, it makes Santana outright laugh. "Those are great ideas, Britt." Truth be told, she is actually leaning towards saying yes—not because of the ideas, but because Brittany has obviously thought hard about this, and Santana really wants to go with her, to make both of them happy.

Suddenly, the hand that is stroking her arm slides to her waist and starts stroking the sides of her stomach, making her shiver. "Cold?"

"No," Santana says. Her reply is barely audible, because she has buried her head further into Brittany's neck.

Brittany smiles triumphantly and continues her ministrations. "Plus, I was thinking that we could go into a deserted classroom, and we could have a private dance...and maybe fuck on a table."

"Mmm Britt," Santana moans quietly. She's been pretty damn aroused ever since she took care of Brittany in the kitchen. It took a lot to calm herself down, and now it's all coming back. She shifts a little, trying to ease the throbbing between her legs.

The blonde smirks. She has her girlfriend right where she wants her. Ever so slowly, she moves her touch to Santana's lower stomach, going from her belly button to her hipbone, past her waistband. Then, she starts to barely clench the muscles of the thigh that is in between Santana's legs.

Brittany does that for a while, getting Santana really worked up, before stopping completely. Now, just her fingertips are inside the brunette's pants. "Well, I understand why you don't want to go. I know you're not ready for people to know, and you have to keep up your reputation. I'll understand if you have to dance with some stupid football guy. I mean, I guess I could find another date. I can just pretend and wish it was you."

Only half-listening, Santana is seriously concentrating on not grinding down on the toned thigh between her legs. However, that last part catches her attention. In a flash, she straddles Brittany so that she's looking down at her face. "You're going to what?" Santana growls.

"I know your parents will probably expect you to go with some popular, burly guy, and I understand," Brittany replies innocently. "I'm just saying I'd have to take a date of my own. I guess I could ask—" Before she can finish her sentence, Santana kisses her violently, taking her bottom lip and biting down on it. "Ow! Fuck! That hurt, S!" Brittany yelps.

Santana isn't having any of it. "You're not going to Homecoming with some stupid puta if I have anything to say about it." She kisses her again, this time plunging her tongue into the blonde's waiting mouth. She caresses her tongue before pulling back again. "You're going with me."

Before Santana can do or say anything else, Brittany flips them over, her blue eyes sparkling with childlike excitement. "Really? Really really really?"

The Latina sighs before giving her a small smile. "Yes, really. But we have to be super careful."

"Yay yay yay!" the blonde exclaims while kissing all over Santana's face.

"Don't you think for a second that I don't know what you just did there!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sanny."

"Oh please, like you didn't just seduce me. And you were totally trying to make me jealous!"

"So you admit you were jealous?"

"No, but you just admitted you were trying to make me jealous."

Brittany leans down to whisper in her ear, "Just admit it worked, San."

"Brittany. I will go to Homecoming with you on one condition."

"What condition? Just name it," the blonde replies eagerly. She's on cloud nine, hardly able to believe that her plan worked!

"Take me right now, because I am so fucking horny," Santana husks.

Brittany's breath catches in her throat. That is one condition she is definitely willing to fulfill over and over again.