Brittany moans when Santana pushes her against the front door, effectively closing it.
The Latina thinks she could really get used to this routine: waking up next to Brittany, going to school together, then coming home together to fuck themselves into oblivion, only to repeat it all over again the next day. Fucking heaven. "You are such a tease, Pierce, you know that?"
"I just can't help myself with you. You're so fucking hot, Santana." Unable to wait any longer, Brittany pulls at Santana's shirt, which the brunette quickly shrugs off before going for the other girl's pants.
"Did I tell you that you look fucking sexy in my clothes?" Santana asks, undoing the button on her own jeans before pulling them down the blonde's long legs.
"No, but wouldn't you prefer them off?" Brittany chirps, discarding her shirt.
"Bedroom. Now," Santana growls as she eyes Brittany's underwear-clad body.
"Can't wait. Couch," Brittany replies, crashing their lips together as she pushes the smaller girl into the next room and onto the couch before straddling her. The blonde nips at her bottom lip before trailing hot, wet kisses all over her neck.
Santana flings her head back as she pants. "Britt," she whines desperately. "I need you. Eres hermosa...te necesito...te amo."
Brittany immediately sits up, eyes wide. "What?"
For all of two seconds, Santana is pissed that she stopped. Then, she realizes what she said. "W-what?"
"In Spanish. Just now. What did you say?"
"You're beautiful?"
"After that."
"I need you?"
Brittany sighs. "Santana, I've taken Spanish for three years. If you didn't mean what you said, I—"
"I love you," Santana blurts out. Eyes widening, she is both shocked and relieved at having finally said it out loud. She has never said those words to anyone romantically before, and honestly, it feels kind of amazing. However, she panics when she looks at Brittany's shocked face. "I-I love you, Britt. I know we haven't been dating for that long, but fuck. I'm so in love with you. You're the best part of my day, and you make me so unbelievably happy, and, like, I can't even describe the way you make me feel, because words that awesome haven't been invented yet, and...shit, are you freaking out? I know it's fast, but please, please don't break u—"
"I love you too," Brittany breathes out, cutting off her speech. Her thin lips spread into the widest smile ever as her eyes light up. "Oh my god, I love you too, San!" She leans down and kisses all over the Latina's face before pressing a long kiss to her lips. "I am so in love with you, Santana Lopez."
Relieved and feeling like she's going to burst from joy, Santana grins and reconnects their lips for a deep and slow kiss. Their tongues slide against each other in a soft caress, hands roaming all over each other's bodies, taking time to explore. Santana pulls back ever so slightly. "Make love to me, Brittany," she husks.
"It would be my pleasure," she replies, unfastening Santana's bra and sliding it off before doing the same with her own. Simultaneously, they take off their own panties so that they are both completely naked. "God, I love feeling all of you against me," Brittany moans as they press against each other.
"I love you."
"I will never get tired of hearing you say that."
They reconnect their lips and grab each other's breasts, kneading together like they are one.
They can both feel the other's need increasing, and soon enough, Brittany moves to put one of her legs between Santana's. Then, she sits up and asks, "Do you trust me?"
"Of course I do. Always."
Brittany smiles down at her and places her hands on either side of her head, careful not to press down on raven locks. Looking straight into Santana's eyes, Brittany thrusts forward, joining their soaking pussies together. Both girls groan at the contact.
"Fuck," Santana moans. Never in her life did she think anything could feel this good. This is so much better than having a dick pressed against her.
"Shit, you're so wet, San," Brittany whines, thrusting harder. The smaller girl rolls her hips into her, creating more friction as they easily find a rhythm.
Santana loves the feeling of their clits rubbing against each other, their juices mixing together. Fuck, at this rate, she isn't going to last long. "Fuck. Faster, Britt, faster!" she screams, wanting—no, needing—more. Brittany complies, grinding against her harder, their pants and moans and the wet smacking of their pussies echoing through the room. "Oh God! Make love to me, Brittany."
Their steady rhythm falters as both girls approach their peaks. Their orgasms are so close. Both of them are drenched with sweat as they continue to thrust and buck against each other. Then, Santana reaches up and palms Brittany's boobs, pinching her nipples. "Fuck, San. I'm gonna come!" she moans.
"I'm coming!"
Both girls scream each other's name as they fall over the edge together, their bodies writhing as pleasure shoots through them. After almost a minute, Brittany collapses on top of Santana as her orgasm continues to ripple through her. Both of them are still breathing hard as they come down, exhausted.
"That was...fuck," Santana pants.
"Yeah," Brittany replies, equally winded. "I love you, San."
"Love you too," the brunette mumbles, barely awake. With the last bit of her energy, she pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over their bodies. "Good night, B."
"Night, San."
Both girls are still fast asleep when a car pulls into the driveway.
"What the," Antonio mumbles as he sees a pair of shorts and a shirt on the floor.
"What is it?" Teresa asks, stepping in after her husband.
After they close the front door, they notice another set of clothes, and they look at each other, confused.
"Santana?" he calls. No answer.
Then, Teresaa sees two bras and a thong thrown onto her living room floor. Her eyes narrow, and she storms into the living room, where she almost faints at the sight of her daughter and Brittany Pierce on her couch, nothing but a blanket covering them.
"Oh my," Antonio gasps.
"Santana Maria Lopez!" she screams. She doesn't wait for them to wake up before ripping the blanket off and pulling Brittany off her daughter.
"What the—?" the blonde asks, now wide awake. As soon as her eyes find Teresa's disgusted ones, they widen. Next to her, she hears a loud scream and assumes that Santana is up too.
"Mami, I can explain!"
"Explain what?!" she yells angrily. "Explain why you were naked with this whore?!" She throws the blanket at Brittany, who scrambles to cover up her parts.
"Mami, por favo—"
"Don't 'Mami' me! There is no explanation I will accept for you being with this...this filth!"
"Please, Mrs. Lopez—" Brittany starts.
"Silence! Do not talk to me. How dare you, after you come into my home and taint my daughter?!"
"Papi, please!" Santana begs her father, who doesn't say anything.
She begins to cry, loud sobs that rack her whole body.
"I'm sorry, Santana. You brought this on yourself," he says, shaking his head.
"I love her! I love your daughter!" Brittany screams.
Suddenly, it seems like all the air is sucked out of the room. Teresa's eyes widen in disbelief and anger. "Get out."
Brittany doesn't move.
"Get out of my house right now, or I'm calling the police!"
The blonde cringes before standing up.
"Britt," Santana whimpers.
"I love you," Brittany whispers, tears in her eyes. "It'll be okay."
"Now!" Mrs. Lopez yells.
Dropping the blanket, Brittany runs out the front door into the cool night, Teresa's look of absolute rage, Antonio's cold eyes, and the terrified expression on Santana's face burned into her memory. Naked as the day she was born, she runs across the yard and pounds on Quinn's door. Tears stream down her face as she tries desperately to not throw up or pass out.
As soon as the door opens and she sees Quinn, she falls into her arms.
"Brittany? Why are you nak—" Quinn stops talking as soon as she realizes that Brittany is sobbing into her chest. "What's wrong? What happened?" she asks, wrapping her arms around the hysterical blonde.
"T-they caught u-us. They know!"
Quinn pales. "Who?" she asks, already knowing the answer but hoping with all her heart that she is wrong.
"S-San's parents!"
Sitting on the Fabray's couch, Brittany is clothed in Quinn's pajamas and has a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her eyes are red and swollen, her nose rubbed raw from all the crumpled Kleenex on the table in front of her. She taps the side of a tea-filled cup relentlessly while her dull blue eyes stare aimlessly at a spot on the wall in front of her, unmoving.
"Brittany," Quinn says softly, her hand lightly rubbing her distraught friend's back. "Your tea is cold."
After looking down at the no-longer steaming cup of liquid, she sets it down on the coffee table wordlessly. Then, she spaces out again, buried in her thoughts. Is Santana okay? Why hasn't she replied to any texts? What did her parents say after Brittany left? What if they somehow make her believe that loving Brittany really is a sin? What if Santana realizes she can't handle being with her? All these thoughts, and more, fly through her mind.
Not knowing what to say, Quinn just looks at her, worried. She has never seen Brittany like this before: a mixture of extreme sadness, anxiety, anger, confusion, despair, and desperation. She looks so vulnerable. "Sweetie, I'm here if—"
Brittany doesn't even seem to hear her. "What if they hit her?" she asks quietly, with none of her usual confidence. She sounds so small.
"Oh honey, I don't think they would resort to that," Quinn tries to reassure her. While she honestly doesn't believe that they would, at the same time, nothing is off the table.
"B-but what if? I'm not there to protect her," Brittany rambles before standing up abruptly. "I have to go protect her!"
"Brittany, please," Quinn pleads. "There's nothing we can do right now. You or me going over there would just make things worse. It's late, and you've just taken a serious emotional toll. You need rest," she reasons. "Hopefully, Santana will text back soon, or we'll see her at school tomorrow. If we don't, I promise I will go over there with you to see her, okay?"
Brittany looks at her, pain written all over her face, before she leans into the other blonde and sighs. "Okay," she whispers.
"I'll text your mom, and you can sleep with me tonight. Sound good?"
The taller girl nods. She trudges up the stairs like a zombie, and when they finally make it to Quinn's room, she simply falls into bed before curling up into a ball.
Quinn holds her as she breaks down again, sobbing. "Shhh shh. It's alright. It's going to be alright," Quinn chants. Her heart is breaking for her best friends.
"I-I'm just so w-worried about her. I l-love her so much."
"I know, Britt. I know."
"Britt," a voice whispers in the sleeping blonde's ear. "Brittany," it says again.
"Santana," she groans, still asleep.
"Britt, wake up." Quinn shakes her, hard.
Brittany's swollen eyes slowly flutter open. "Quinn?" she asks, slightly confused.
Then, everything comes rushing back.
As Brittany maneuvers herself to sit up, Quinn takes a seat on the bed next to her. "My head hurts," she whines.
"It's probably from all the crying. You should drink some water."
"And I feel like shit." Seriously, heartache is so much worse than a hangover.
"You don't have to go to school, you know. I can take you home, or I can skip with you."
At that, a smile almost forms on Brittany's tired face. "You'd skip for me?"
"Of course, B. You're one of my best friends, and I love you. No homo," she adds with a small smile, causing Brittany to laugh a little.
"I want to go to school, in case she comes. Her parents wouldn't keep her from school over this, right?"
Quinn bites her lip and looks down at her hands, which are fiddling with the sheets. "I don't know."
"Oh."
Silence envelops them as they both think. Then, Quinn speaks again. "We'd better get ready. You can borrow whatever you need."
After they get dressed, they stand by each other in front of the vanity, Brittany applying more makeup than normal on account of her less-than-awesome appearance. Then, they both head downstairs into the kitchen.
"Brittany, good morning," Mrs. Fabray greets.
"Hi Judy."
"Want anything to eat? I could whip up some eggs," she offers, not too surprised to see the girl since she's slept over numerous times.
"No, thank you. I'm not that hungry." Honestly, Brittany has completely lost her appetite. Ever since last night, she has felt sick to her stomach, just thinking about the way Santana looked, tears streaming down her face.
"Brittany, you have to eat something," Quinn insists. She's starting to feel more than a little concerned about her friend.
"I said I'm not hungry." The two girls glare at each other for a little bit before Brittany's features soften and become melancholy again. "Sorry. I just—"
"I know," Quinn sighs.
Confused, Judy looks back and forth between the two girls. "Am I missing something?"
The shorter blonde looks at her friend, silently asking permission, and Brittany nods. "Brittany and Santana are dating. They've kept it a secret, but yesterday, the Lopezes came home and caught them in a...compromising position. They, well, they kicked Brittany out, and we haven't heard from Santana since."
Brittany sniffles.
"Oh, sweetie," Judy says, much like her daughter did. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks," Brittany says out of courtesy. "I just hope she comes to school today. I just...I need to see her."
"Completely understandable."
"Come on, Brittany. Let's go," Quinn beckons.
Mrs. Fabray walks over to give Brittany a sort of side hug. "You let me know if I can do anything, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you again. And thank you for letting me stay here."
"Anytime."
When they open the front door and walk out, something on the lawn catches Quinn's eye. "Brittany." She nudges the taller blonde and points to the object.
Brittany looks over to see her backpack, which has been haphazardly thrown onto the Fabray's lawn. "Huh. I forgot I left this at San's." Brittany bends down to pick it up. "So much happened so fast..." She looks away as her eyes fill with tears once again.
Out of comforting things to say, Quinn simply links their arms together, then walks her to the car.
Santana isn't at school. She also hasn't texted Brittany, who checks her phone every five seconds, hoping for some sign of the girl. Quinn keeps trying to reassure her that everything is okay, that her parents probably just wanted her to take a day off to "think about her actions," and that they probably confiscated her phone and computer.
However, nothing Quinn says makes Brittany feel any better. She trudges through the hallways and sits in her classes in quiet misery, different scenarios of what might have happened to her girlfriend running through her mind. It feels like her mind is a complete fog.
Right now, she is standing at her locker, trying in vain to get her combination right. Usually, Santana is right next to her, telling her some funny gossip about a random person, while she effortlessly opens the stupid metal box without even thinking about it. Now, however, the numbers are all jumbled in her head, and she's getting frustrated.
"Hey Britt. I heard you haven't been sleeping around lately," a random girl says, walking up to her.
Without looking up, Brittany continues to spin the little dial. "You heard right." Her jaw clenches when a hand ghosts down her arm, then lightly strokes over her palm.
"You must be so frustrated."
Yanking her hand away, Brittany focuses harder on the lock, willing it to open. Suddenly, she feels a warm breath caress her neck.
"I can take care of you. If I remember correctly, I had you screaming the last time we met."
Completely fed up, Brittany drops her hand, faces the girl, and gives her a look that would have a full-grown man shitting bricks. "First of all, I don't even remember your name. Second of all, if we did have sex, which I'm pretty certain we didn't, I was more than likely faking it the whole time, because I didn't want to deal with you crying over your lack of skill if I told you to fuck off. Thirdly, I don't want you now, so can you just get the hell away from me, because I am not in the mood to deal with this shit!" With that, she grabs the handle of her locker and shakes it violently.
The girl disappears in a matter of seconds, but Brittany really couldn't care less. Still, someone must have felt sorry for her, because her locker miraculously opens when she punches it. At that moment, however, the bell rings, signaling that she is late. Swearing to herself, she can feel her emotions overwhelming her and a fresh set of tears beginning to blur her vision.
"Fuck!" she yells when she drops her bag, and its contents scatter across the floor. "Fucking, dipshit, cocksucking, tit-bitching cunt," she angrily mumbles to herself as she bends down and starts rapidly shoving stuff into her backpack.
When she picks up her European History textbook, she notices a piece of paper sticking out of it. She plucks it out, confused because she doesn't remember putting it in there, and she never takes notes in class. After wiping her eyes (why the hell didn't she wear waterproof eyeliner today?), Brittany unfolds the paper.
B,
I'm on house arrest, courtesy of my fucking parents. They've just been talking and shit downstairs, nevermind the fact that their daughter's been bawling her eyes out.
You know what? I'm not even sad anymore. I'm just pissed. I wish my parents weren't a couple of homophobic snobs.
The only thing I'm sad about is that you got kicked out. I'm sorry, baby. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. You are so perfect; don't listen to a word they say. I miss you so much. Hopefully my stupid parents will ditch me for some stupid conference, and I can see you soon.
I love you.
S
P.S. I'm not sure if my plan to get this to you will work, but hopefully none of your stuff breaks when I throw your backpack out of my bathroom window.
P.P.S. Still love you :)
Sitting on the floor, Brittany rereads the letter over and over, smiling to herself and not giving a damn if she looks stupid or that she's missing class.
