Summary: Santana and Brittany find a way to make an office party fun, rendering Rachel speechless.
The beer bottle in Santana's hand is her third now, and she's starting to feel a bit tipsy. There's still no sign of Brittany anywhere. Mr. Remington — the perverted man Santana calls a boss who was the one to suggest a costume party — arrived a while ago in a tuxedo, claiming to be James Bond. Thank goodness Santana has her trench coat on; it covers most of her exposed area and actually looks pretty decent. If she had an umbrella, she could be Rain Man. That's how he looks…right?
Right now, Santana couldn't care less and instead notices how full her bladder is.
Walking out of the ladies' room feeling somewhat refreshed, Santana almost collides with a body. It belongs to a dopey-looking Finn who probably had too much to drink and mumbles an insincere apology before walking past her. Almost immediately, Rachel strides in his direction and pulls him by the shirt, huffing, "The men's room is the other way."
Santana hangs out in the corridor for a while, trying to be at least a little sober when she meets Brittany. Awkwardly standing in the corridor for 10 minutes, however, doesn't help much. As soon as she enters the room to rejoin the party (not really), it's at least 30 degrees hotter than before, and the air she sucks in is disgustingly thick, filled with sweat. Desperate to escape, she dashes across the room, avoiding any drunken coworkers, and reaches her office, where it smells like lavender.
Except she doesn't have a lavender-scented air freshener for her office.
Suddenly, the door is slammed shut, and Santana turns around so quickly she almost stumbles on her own feet. There is Brittany, standing in a black rubber bodysuit, unzipped to show enough cleavage that practically has Santana drooling, complete with a matching eye mask and a pair of cat ears perched on top of her head.
"Took you long enough." She smirks before pulling Santana close, and Santana's back hits the wooden door with a thud. Brittany pins her up against the door while ravenously planting wet kisses on the crevice of her neck, and Santana fumbles with the lock behind her. The familiar click is barely heard as Santana's breathing picks up, and Brittany's talented tongue travels its way down to her chest, where her heart is drumming erratically.
Her small office isn't the best place to get their quickie on, but at the moment, Santana's just grateful to have an office for herself — except for the stupid adjoining storage room, whose door sometimes locks itself from the outside. Believe it or not, she's been trapped in there four fucking times since she started working here.
Brittany's skillful tongue swirls in circular motions on her skin, brushing her thoughts about the past aside.
"How long have you been in here?" Santana pants as Brittany continues to nip at her pulse point.
"A while," the blonde replies. "I was in the office next door for almost an hour when I realized it wasn't yours."
"Good thing I came just in time."
The alcohol seems to slowly dissipate from Santana's body as sober thoughts take over. Brittany's hands practically yank the trench coat down her arms, and she sees her blue eyes turn a shade darker at the sight of Santana's body clad in a striped white and red, button-down nurse uniform. It's tight around her chest, the buttons on the front almost popping off, and barely covers the top of her thighs.
"Fuck, I could come just by looking at you." Her wandering hands cup Santana's breasts, experimentally pinching the hardened nipples through the thin fabric. She kisses Santana greedily, and the Latina moans into her mouth when she grinds her thigh between Santana's, rubbing her clothed clit repeatedly and bringing her closer to the edge.
Santana meets her upward thrusts, and soon, she's shaking in Brittany's arms as her eyes roll to the back of her head, nails clawing into her shoulders. Brittany languidly trails kisses along her collarbone, not leaving an inch of skin unmarked, and Santana arches her neck to give her better access.
Brittany leans in. "As much as I love you in that uniform, I'd love you more out of it."
With that, she detaches her body from Santana's, bends down slightly to get a good grip on her ass, and lifts her off the floor. Santana lets out a squeal at the sudden movement, instinctively wrapping her arms around her neck as she carries her to the other side of the room and drops her gently on the desk, Santana's legs spread wide for her viewing pleasure.
Santana swallows thickly, wondering what Brittany could possibly have planned. She can be very creative in terms of sexual activities.
"Shhh," Brittany leaned in and said into her ear, her hot breath on Santana's skin burning her to the core of her being. "The only sound I want to hear is how wet you are when I'm pounding into you. Is that clear?"
Santana's body visibly shudders, the image of Brittany pumping into her from behind with a bright purple dildo, in the middle of a deserted road, still clear in her head. It has been Santana's favorite masturbation aid for the past week.
The thought fills her with a rush of heat, and she catches Brittany staring directly at her damp underwear, unconsciously licking her lips while playing with the blonde ends of her perfectly-done high ponytail. She always knows how to make Santana feel sexy, appreciating Santana's body like no one else can.
They stare at each other for another minute or so, until Brittany rasps out, voice an octave lower, "Take your clothes off." After a second, she adds, "Slowly," when Santana fumbles with the buttons with trembling hands, too turned on to work her limbs properly.
Brittany's authoritative stance is sexy yet intimidating, her catlike eyes following Santana's every move. As she undoes more buttons, exposing more and more skin, Santana hears a deep, ragged breath from her girlfriend, who seems to be fighting the urge to jump her this very second.
As Santana releases the last button and lets the fabric fall to the side, revealing her toned body, Brittany eyes it up and down with hunger, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing.
"Touch yourself." Her next command takes Santana by surprise, but Santana plays along, finding Brittany telling her what to do unbelievably hot. She sits up straighter, eyes never breaking contact with lustful blue ones, and begins tugging the material of her lace bra aside.
She lets out a soft mewl as her hands grope her own flesh before unhooking the front clasp and letting her breasts free. Brittany is still standing there, intently staring at her, unmoving, except for her chest rising up and down as she breathes heavily. A slight sheen of sweat covers her forehead, glistening under the office lights, and Santana internally applauds Brittany's self-control up until this point.
The evil part of Santana decides to torture her. She plays with her own nipples, rolling them between her fingers, then leans backwards, using one elbow to prop herself up, and widens her legs, showing the garment sticking uncomfortably between them.
"Rub your clit over your panties." Brittany finally moves from her spot, but instead of coming closer to Santana, she steps backwards until her back is leaning against the wall for support. Santana watches her hand disappear into her tight pants, moving at an unhurried pace, rubbing herself.
Santana does as she's told, running a finger over the sensitive nub, and moans at the feeling. Gradually, her consistent rubbing motion picks up to faster strokes.
As it does so, Brittany commands in barely above a whisper, "Fuck. Now get rid of your panties."
Her free hand is pulling on a faux furry cat's tail that Santana didn't notice tucked into the back of her pants before. By the way Brittany's hips move and her face scrunches in pleasure with her incessant jerking, Santana knows immediately what the tail actually is. She can't help her gush of wetness at the thought. Quickly, she kicks her panties off to the floor. Her spread legs quiver as her fingers continue their movement on her clit. She keeps her eyes locked on Brittany's, waiting for her next command.
"Think of my hands touching you as you beg for more."
Just imagining Brittany fucking Santana with her long, slender fingers is powerful enough to push Santana over the edge.
She comes hard, a gush of liquid flowing down tanned thighs while she screams out a moan, and the blonde doesn't waste a second before sprinting towards her and licking it all clean, intentionally avoiding her tender clit while running her tongue along the wet folds, earning another throaty moan from Santana. Brittany's gifted tongue makes its way around her pulsating entrance, teasing until Santana can't take it anymore and buries her hands in blonde hair, urging her to do something.
The tongue travels up, dangerously close to Santana's still-sensitive clit. When Brittany wraps her lips around the nub, sucking gently, and simultaneously enters her with one finger, Santana emits a high-pitched moan. The pleasure is almost too much for her to handle, but that doesn't stop Brittany from thrusting harder and deeper into her velvety wet heat.
Another finger joins the first, sliding in and out of her easily, as Brittany's mouth works its magic on her throbbing clit, building her up to a second orgasm. The sound of her girlfriend's hand slapping against her dripping core is enough to bring her right to the edge. Brittany wraps her free arm around one of Santana's thighs and caresses her cleanly shaven mound, grounding the brunette in place as she trembles.
When Brittany's skilled fingers curl and bend upwards inside Santana, hitting the spot that always leaves her a trembling mess, a wave of bliss washes over Santana and she screams, shaking violently. Her inner muscles clench around Brittany's fingers oh-so-deliciously as the blonde slowly pumps in and out, elongating Santana's high.
When the last aftershock and Santana's moans of pleasure gradually subside, Brittany pulls out of her wet pussy at an agonizingly slow speed. Santana uses the remaining energy in her body to lift her head and is greeted with the sight of her beautiful girlfriend licking her fingers clean with her eyes half-closed, undoubtedly enjoying the taste.
Oceanic blues meet chocolate brown, and Brittany pulls her finger out of her mouth with a wet pop. Smirking, she says, "Yum."
Her gaze falls to the floor, and she bends down to pick up Santana's discarded panties from earlier, bringing the skimpy garment to her nose and inhaling deeply before crumpling it into a small ball and storing it inside her bra.
Santana rises from the desk with a groan, wincing at the soreness in her body, and almost falls on her face when her wobbly legs fail to keep her upright. Brittany immediately comes to her rescue, catching her in her arms firmly just in time. A chuckle escapes from Santana's throat. "I can't even stand properly, and I blame you, Britt."
"Guilty as charged." She playfully holds her hands up, and Santana just shakes her head, smiling bashfully.
Suddenly, a wicked thought crosses her mind, and it takes all her remaining energy to wrap her arms around Brittany's toned torso and push her to lean against the desk. The blonde looks up at her with an arched eyebrow as Santana's mouth curves into a devious smile. "Your turn."
She hastily removes Brittany's tight pants and underwear from her long legs and throws them out of the way, admiring her pink pussy lips, already wet with arousal. Her earlier suspicions are confirmed when she sees that the metal end of the long furry tail is sunk deep inside Brittany's asshole. Unable to hold back her moan at the erotic sight, Santana wonders how long Brittany has kept the plug in.
Deciding to find out for herself, she lightly tugs the furry tail, hard enough for it to slide and rub deliciously against Brittany's anal walls, but not hard enough to pull it all the way out. Brittany's arching back and guttural moan are enough to explain that she's had it in her for a while — probably even before Santana arrived at the party.
More than delighted to leave it in its place, Santana pushes the plug all the way back in, then kisses the insides of Brittany's thighs and around her shaven sex, lingering a little to breathe in the sweet aroma. Watching her girlfriend writhing on the desk, wet and ready for her, only spurs Santana on to leave more teasing, soft, and gentle pecks along her protruding hipbones and around her belly button.
The first dip of Santana's tongue on Brittany's swollen nub causes her to buck her hips up, but Santana holds her steady and moves down her folds with one long stroke of her warm tongue. Santana moans at the taste — sweet, salty, and a little tangy — then plunges into her tight entrance, swirling her tongue around before switching to her clit, giving small but fast flicks while relentlessly penetrating the dripping hole with two fingers until the first flood of pleasure blurs Brittany's vision.
Santana stops thrusting but keeps lapping her outer lips and around her hard, engorged clit, making her cry out a long, involuntary moan. Unable to get enough of her taste, Santana replaces her fingers with her tongue, then uses her hands to rub her clit and lightly pull on the furry tail again, bringing Brittany to another climax.
She's still panting, little aftershocks rolling through her body, when Santana manages to climb onto the desk and kisses her on the lips, breathing in her sweaty, post-sex smell. She mutters a tired "I love you" into Santana's mouth, and the Latina repeats those three words with unadulterated emotion. Lost in each other, they continue to kiss each other lazily on the desk for who-knows-how-long.
When they finally get up from the desk, the party outside is long over. Santana wonders if she and Brittany are the only ones left in the building, sweaty and half-naked, hidden in their own little bubble.
However, the thought quickly vanishes when a foreign yet somewhat familiar ringtone suddenly comes out of nowhere. It echoes from somewhere in the room, but no one except Santana and Brittany are there — or at least visible. When it rings again, Santana becomes aware that they were not alone during their whole sweet lady kisses session.
Throwing a questioning glance at the blonde, who responds with a shrug, Santana heads towards the door to the storage room, twists the knob, and pushes it open to reveal a wide-eyed, red-faced Rachel, awkwardly standing inside, looking everywhere but at Santana or Brittany. There's an awkward moment of silence before the short brunette runs past Santana and out of the office without saying a word.
"What the fuck?" Santana mutters incredulously to no one in particular.
Brittany shrugs again and giggles, then leans into Santana to whisper, "I always knew we were good at sex, but given that we made Rachel — who never stops talking — speechless…I think we deserve an award."