WARNING: this fic is NC-17!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE!!!
(I had the mature content filter, and it blocked my cute preview pic )
Firsts (otherwise known as "Freshman Year")
"Pinguins love skinnydipping," Brittany pointed out seriously. "So they must be French." She sat on Santana's bed with a sigh, watching her friend walk into the room after her.
"Ugh," Santana sighed dramatically, ignoring Brittany's comment. "I can't believe my parents forced me to go to the aquarium. Thanks for coming with."
Brittany shrugged. "It was great. I love watching mountain-rays."
Santana gave her a look at that, but it didn't stop her rant. "I mean, we're in high school now. I'm a cheerleader!"
"Me too," Brittany pointed out, pulling her hairband out and combing her hair with her fingers.
Santana sighed and sat on the bed next to Brittany. "This is just so embarassing."
Brittany touched her arm, leaving her hair down. "You don't have to be embarassed. Nobody knows but me."
Santana's lip twisted. "You're coming to the party next weekend, right?" she asked, changing the subject.
"I guess. As long as you're going. I don't know anybody who's gonna be there."
"Are you kidding me? All the Cheerios will be there."
Brittany looked at her, feeling vulnerable. "Yeah, but I barely know any of them."
"Also football players," Santana pressed animatedly, grabbing her friend's arm. "Hot football players."
"Oh. Yeah." Brittany shifted uncomfortably, looking down.
"I've decided to kiss one of them," Santana announced. And then it seemed that Brittany's discomfort was contagious, because then Santana slunk back, embarassed. "I... I was thinking we could practice."
"Practice what?" Brittany was looking at her now, inquisitive.
"Kissing," Santana said nervously. "So I know I'm doing it right."
Brittany looked at her friend's lips, so full and round. "I bet you're already a really good kisser," she observed, a nervous excited tremor in her heart.
But Santana stood and walked to the window at that. "We don't have to," she said, not looking at Brittany.
"Oh," Brittany said, following her and grasping her own hair, having forgotten her hairband. "You don't want to anymore?"
Santana shrugged, looking away. "Maybe it's weird. But we all have lips, don't we?"
"I've never seen a guy with lips like yours," Brittany said honestly.
And then Santana turned to look at her. She adjusted Brittany's hair, pulling it around in front of her body, and then, still holding her hair, leaned forward.
Their lips pressed together, too hard, and then they backed off and Brittany stopped tightening her lips and they melted together, bringing a sweet mindlessness. They stayed together, surprised by the unfamiliar sensation; Brittany reflected that it felt very much the same as holding Santana in bed: tingly and full of anticipation. Except Santana's lips were so soft, and they tasted of her lip gloss and delicious chewy human taste.
She opened her lips, wanting to feel Santana's lips more fully, and the kiss deepened.
And then Santana stepped back away, searching Brittany's face. Brittany managed a smile through the heavy feeling in her throat and chest, down her legs and between them. "You taste good," she said.
Santana smiled vaguely back at her, pulling her to the bed and pushing her onto it. "Easier sitting down," she explained, and then brought her glorious delicious lips back.
* * * *
They walked down the street silently, grasping each other's hands tightly. It was 12:45, an hour after their "curfew." From experience they knew that Santana's parents would already be asleep, but - "It was a great party," Brittany said hesitantly, slirring a little.
"Oh yeah. Really great," Santana agreed, squeezing Brittany's hand tighter.
They hadn't really spoken since last Sunday when they'd parted, after a relatively sleepless (and breathless) Saturday night at Santana's house. A week without substantial interaction was terribly strange to both of them, but feeling strange and lonely was better than trying to fit what they'd done into their friendship, somehow.
"I'm sorry about this week," Brittany said suddenly. "I was scared of talking to your lips."
Santana giggled, a high, odd sound in the darkness. "I know what you mean," she said. "I'm glad we left then."
"Yeah. That guy was doing weird things to you."
"I didn't like it." The confession sounded strange. After all, wasn't that what guys did? And didn't girls like it? Brittany swallowed, remembering the kisses she'd shared with Santana. She'd been kissed by a guy, too, but it was Santana that was backed against a wall, Santana whose eyes were suddenly panicked in the flashing lights. Despite the shots that were pounding their way through her system, Brittany rushed to her friend's side instantly, pulling Santana away and then soon out the door.
"It'll be okay," Brittany said finally. "I bet he's just really bad at it."
"Yeah," Santana agreed. "I bet."
They arrived at Santana's house, let themselves quietly in the back door, and made their way to Santana's room. They stripped, put on pajamas, and then dove into Santana's bed, holding each other.
"Hey Brit?" Santana said after a pregnant pause. "You awake?"
"Yeah," Brittany said, breathless.
"Want to... um, kiss?"
* * * *
Four months passed.
Santana lost her virginity at one of those parties.
Then Brittany did.
After every slimy detail was hashed and rehashed, Santana said, "But did you... did you like it?" They were laying in bed, legs intertwined, clutching each other.
Brittany shrugged. "It felt strange, and, like... like nails on chalkboard. Or really loud drums. But good."
"Kind of... um, like, it hurt?"
"Like I wanted him to stop or... slow down," Brittany said slowly.
Santana's arms tightened around her, and she put her head on Brittany's chest, just above her heart. "Me, too," Santana said finally. "Promise me... promise me if you do it again you'll tell whoever you're with? To slow down?"
"Isn't that the way you do it?"
Santana's arms tightened again, so hard it almost hurt. "Maybe you shouldn't do it then."
Brittany giggled. "We'd be bad cheerleaders if we didn't at all."
"Yeah. Plus everyone respects you more," Santana conceded. "If you're experienced. And you got to learn somehow."
"Too bad it feels so weird."
"Please don't do it if you don't like it," Santana begged, a strange note in her voice.
"But it's fun," Brittany said.
"Maybe not for us."
Brittany thought about this, and then turned to Santana and nuzzled her. "I know I like your lips."
Santana's reply was wordless but enthusiastic.
And today, Brittany did more than rub Santana's body and back through her shirt, or even stroke her naked stomach. She sild her hand up Santana's body to cup her breast gently, tentatively.
Santana paused, and then attacked Brittany with renewed vigor, holding her close. Eventually Brittany's hand stopped being numb from nerves, and she started to realize how soft and pliable Santana's breasts were, like her own but delightfully different, with a certain depth to them that Brittany could feel when Santana shifted. She wasn't sure what pushed her to do it. It felt like holding Santana, holding some secret, intimate part of her. It felt like control.
She forgot to breathe a few times, totally blown away by what Santana's tongue was doing in her mouth. The last time she almost passed out, she felt a hard nub under Santana's shirt. Her nipple. The thought made her heart skip a beat, though she couldn't say why. She wondered how it felt to Santana, and hoped she'd ask Brittany to move her hand if it bothered her.
Brittany kept herself still, loving the way that Santana nestled her body against hers. But the slinking desire to hold Santana's breasts persisted through the weeks, and soon it blossomed into the desire to rub and squeeze, and during winter break they found themselves in bed with both of their shirts off and Brittany's mouth on Santana's breast. Every time it was new, and then it was new again when Santana returned her gestures... and yet, every time it was easy, as natural as blinking at a bright light.
And every first renewed their trust, and deepened it, so that the next time was even easier. They stopped muffling their secret gasps, delighting in the noises they could raise. They squirmed and snuggled and laid on top of each other, vying for dominance.
And though they continued partying, somehow neither of them slept with a guy after that first time.
That is, until James.
* * * *
James was on the football team. He was a hot, popular senior, obviously experienced in the ways of sex, and also newly single. He'd talked to Santana before, and when she heard he was single she... well, she approached him in a hallway and they made small talk. Then they got ice cream. After that they made out in a corner of the gym.
And then they were an item. Pretty soon that became "dating." All in the space of a week. A week that, unsurprisingly, was void of any substantial Santana/Brittany interaction.
On Friday, though, Brittany seized her opportunity before it was gone and approached Santana at her locker. "Hey," she said awkwardly.
"Hey," Santana acknowledged, taking a book out of her backpack.
"You're coming over on Saturday night for movies, right?"
"Umm... not totally sure."
"Oh," Brittany said. "Well call me?"
"Sure," she said. And that was that.
It was probably jealousy. It wasn't every day that a hot, popular senior showed interest in a lowly freshman. The fact that this freshman was Brittany's best friend was just an unfortunate inconvenience.
It wasn't like they'd ever signed a contract or anything. They'd kissed men, even been groped by them. Yes, Brittany decided. She was jealous that James liked Santana and not herself, and hoped that she wouldn't lose a best friend over it. So it would be alright.
Santana didn't call on Saturday night, though. And so for the next two weeks Brittany walked around campus in a haze of dreary confusion.
Until one Friday night, very late, Santana called with a sort of odd desperation in her voice. "Can I come over?" she asked.
"Of course! Yeah! Right now?"
"Okay, I'm gonna walk."
"I'll meet you on Thrush."
"I'm coming from the mall," Santana corrected. "So, um, Harvey?"
"Okay." Brittany turned off her phone, threw on a jacket and took off, almost running to Harvey and then down it, looking for her friend under the flickering streetlights.
Santana was crying when they met, and for a few minutes it was all Brittany could do to pat her back and keep her feet. "I'm here, I'm here," she kept saying.
"James is fucking three girls," Santana said finally, wiping her nose. Brittany's heart did a little flip-flop dive of confusion. Santana cared so much. "But not me, so he told me about them. So I agreed to sleep with him. And we did."
"Tonight? Right now?" Brittany felt the deep flame of fury ignite in her gut.
"Yeah," Santana said, gripping Brittany's hand in an iron vise and starting to walk, still sniffing. "I left when he said," and she paused and hiccupped, "I was alright but I should move more."
"Oh," Brittany said, torn between incredulity, anger, and the desperate desire to make Santana feel better. "So it's over?"
"You kidding me? I have to tear his nasty gloating heart into little bitty pieces now."
Santana insisted on showering, scrubbing her body for far longer than was necessary. That night, they held each other for the first time in three weeks. Brittany's bed became a magical warm soft dark place, the only place where Brittany could soothe her friend's shattered soul, with hugs and soft murmurs of comfort. Brittany was delighted and appalled at the opportunity.
"Hey Brittany?" Santana said, and Brittany struggled through the thick sloppy filaments of exhaustion to wake. When her eyes flickered open, Santana continued. "You're the only person in the world I'd trust myself with."
"You're always safe with me," Brittany tried to say, but the words slirred into near-unrecognizability. It was still kind of dark outside, before the sun rose.
Santana understood, though, rubbing her foot against Brittany's.
"I wish..." Santana struggled. "I wish you were a guy."
"Mmmm?" Brittany mumbled.
"Or... or I was a guy. So we could be like Quinn and Finn, a thing, and people would respect us. So we wouldn't have to date or mess around with other people."
"We don't have to," Brittany said, but Santana ignored her, instead sliding her hand up from Brittany's waist, rubbing her back. She kissed a soft line along Brittany's neck, and then nibbled on her ear.
Suddenly Brittany wasn't sleepy anymore. "Mmm, that feels so nice," she moaned.
"I know," Santana said evilly, and Brittany recognized the mood. Brittany would have little say in what was done to her now.
She started slow, though, drawing soft little circles on Brittany's ass with her fingers, kissing around the collar of Brittany's sleeping shirt and then the skin between her shirt and her pants. Brittany unbottoned her shirt from the bottom, and Santana kissed slowly up the line of smooth skin as it was revealed, finally flattening her body against Brittany's and kissing her lips, soft and slow. Brittany grasped the back of Santana's head and deepened the kiss, glorying in their renewed closeness. "I missed talking to you," Brittany said.
"Me too. And I missed your lips," Santana informed her, businesslike. "And your boobs," she said, taking them both in her hands and propping herself up with her elbows. She dipped her head and slowly licked Brittany's nipple, watching it harden, and then licked her other nipple, brushing the first with her thumb.
Brittany arched into the touch, breath quickening. "I'll eat lunch with you after I destroy James," Santana informed her, temporarily dampening Brittany's excitement. Santana noticed, and corrected, "While I'm destroying James."
"I miss you a lot when you're with him," Brittany said sadly.
"I know," Santana said. "But we have to keep our reputations up. Hey, anyway, you've kissed more guys than I have."
"Yeah, but kissing..."
"Well," Santana considered. "I'm yours right now."
"Mine?" Brittany said, processing.
"Yours," Santana confirmed, kissing Brittany again and starting with featherlight touches on Brittany's boob. "I'm all yours."
Brittany decided she really liked that idea, responding to Santana's touch by spreading her legs a little, letting one of Santana's legs slip between hers. Her arousal was like a slap, burning into her core almost intolerably, making her press Santana's hands harder on her breasts and bite Santana's tongue.
Surprised, Santana plunged her tongue into Brittany's mouth more forcefully, squeezing her breasts and then softly tweaking her erect nipples. Brittany pulled off Santana's shirt, longing for Santana's naked skin like a drowning man longs for air, with a sort of desperate need. Without even a touch, Santana's nipples were already stiff against her stomach, her skin like dusky chocolate against Brittany's whiteness. Brittany broke their kiss to bite Santana's bony shoulder, putting her hands on either side of her friend's chest and grinding Santana's breasts into her stomach.
Santana growled in response, sliding her body up Brittany's, bringing her core against Brittany's upper thigh and putting light pressure on Brittany's core, too. The burning pain between Brittany's legs lingered, but it was quick being replaced by a flood of warm, wet arousal, and she could feel the warmth between Santana's legs, too. Santana grasped her breast in one hand, and Brittany nuzzled at her chest, wiggling down to take Santana's erect nipple into her mouth, rolling it with her tongue and then with her teeth, lightly.
Santana grunted and sloppily grasped Brittany's head, holding it close to her chest. And then she started moving her hips, slowly grinding into the lower part of Brittany's stomach. They'd done that before, but somehow this seemed deeper, maybe harsher, than before. If what they did was ever a game, it ceased to be one in that moment. Santana's movements put rhythmic pressure on Brittany, and Brittany started grinding back, gasping through Santana's boob.
She put her hand down to grasp Santana's ass, pushing her down so that their hips were together, and Santana ground on the top of Brittany's thigh. This brought Santana's eyes almost on level with Brittany's, and Brittany was shocked at how flushed her friend's face was, how swollen her lips were. They both paused in surprise, searching each other's eyes.
And then Brittany kissed Santana, using the hand she had on Santana's ass to push her body into Brittany's. Santana gasped, and then pulled away. Brittany had only a moment to be embarassed before she realized what Santana was doing: pulling off Brittany's pajama pants.
She wiggled to make the job easier, and then laid motionless under Santana, naked except for her panties, wondering what Santana had in mind. Neither of them had ever taken off their pants.
Santana was taking off her own now, slipping them off and then placing her body on top of Brittany's again. Brittany had thought there was no way to feel closer, but she realized she was wrong. This was closer than they'd ever been. And the wetness on Santana's panies against her thigh was undeniable.
She suddenly had the desire to eat Santana whole, to surround her with glorious sweet love and never let her out, keep her here. Keep her heart beating so hard and fast against her chest, keep her eyes looking so warmly into hers, keep her... keep her fingers dancing so tentatively along the waistband of her panties.
There was a question in Santana's eyes now, and Brittany wondered what it was. "You're mine," Brittany whispered. "Right?"
"I'm yours," Santana said, and Brittany took her hand and guided it under the waistband of her panties, opening her legs a little more to accomodate her friend's hand. She closed her eyes for half a second, but then Santana slipped her finger between Brittany's lips and her eyes flew open again, locking with Santana's. She swallowed, gasping, as Santana slowly stroked her.
Something light and happy twisted in Brittany's gut. "That's amazing," she managed. Santana stroked her again, experimentally, and Brittany's hips bucked a little. She grunted, and Santana rolled partway off her, allowing their chests to touch and giving Santana the flexibility to fully explore Brittany on the outside. Halfway through the exploration, Brittany's light, airy feeling turned into a heavy, needy one, just as happy but with an edge of expectation.
Whenever Santana stroked the top of her, the oddest, numb excitement spiked in her, and before she knew it she was bucking into Santana's hand, her body sweaty wherever it touched Santana's.
Santana kissed her again, and then her hand found the place again and Brittany exploded, the amazing feeling flooding her body with hot sweet pure delight, sparks exploding behind her eyes. "Oh," she said in surprise, pulling her lips from Santana's and riding the wave, and then her body was limp and Santana was crawling back on top of her, raining kisses on her face.
"Mmmm," she moaned, managing to put her arms around Santana's body. "I think I just had a heart attack."
"Yeah," Santana agreed, settling her body on her friend's and grinding a little, noninvasively, on her friend's leg while she examined her soaking index and second finger.
"Kiss me again," Brittany said, and Santana abandoned her examination and kissed her. The lingering desperate want in Santana's lips reignited a tiny fire in Brittany's chest, and she put her hand between her friend's legs, pushing lightly.
Santana rolled into it, so Brittany moved her hand in a circular motion between her legs. Santana groaned, flattening her body and stiff nipples against her friend's.
It was over in moments, her friend's orgasm tearing through her body, making her twitch and collapse on Brittany. Brittany grinned happily, stroking Santana's back and kissing her cheek over and over again. "You're amazing," she said in delight.
"I'm... tired," Santana said, so Brittany fished for the covers and pulled them over the pair's prostrate bodies, snuggling under Santana. The sun was just coming up as they drifted off.
Fuckbuddies (otherwise known as "I want to have sex with you more than I'm angry")
"Hey." Santana was brief and direct. "I'm coming over after school."
Brittany's face lit up adorably. "Really?"
"Of course. It's not like I hate you," Santana informed her, closing her locker. This was news to Brittany, as intended.
"I don't hate you either!" Brittany said excitedly, following Santana.
"Your class is that way," Santana informed her coldly, and Brittany's face fell a little as she turned and walked the other direction. See, it wasn't exactly that she forgave Brittany. It was just.... "I'll see you in an hour," she added, calling after her best friend.
The car ride was uneventful; Brittany's house was close, so Santana only managed to tailgate four people and beep obnoxiously over "Bad Romance" once. Brittany was recently obsessed with the song, and Santana tolerated the endless loop, giggling at her friend's antics.
"So, what are we doing?" Brittany asked cheerfully as she unlocked the front door. She was an latchkey child, which is why they always went to her place; Santana's mother was home.
"I thought we'd watch Pinapple Express," Santana suggested, taking Brittany's hand and pulling her up the stairwell. Brittany loved Pinapple Express; she'd successfully found no less than five pineapples (Santana wasn't sure about the last one), and used every opportunity to search for more.
Her room, as always, looked like something out of a Barbie commercial if you ignored the occasional bra strewn about. Brittany went to her video collection, and Santana took the opportunity to strip off her shirt, standing naked in the middle of the room when Brittany turned around.
"Oh!" Brittany squeaked, her eyes glued to her friend's (fake) breasts.
Santana giggled at that. "Put in the movie," she said.
"Okay," Brittany said, dropping the DVD on the floor and walking up to Santana, her eyes still fixed on Santana's boobs.
Santana put her arms on Brittany's shoulders, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. It felt so real, so natural, so perfect that Santana fell into Brittany, molding her body to her friend's. Brittany's hands flew to Santana's hips, touching them with featherlight fingers, and then running her fingers eagerly up Santana's flat stomach to cup her breasts. Santana moaned into Brittany's mouth, arching into her and feeling her nipples harden instantly.
"I missed you," Santana panted.
And suddenly Brittany stepped backward, out of Santana's reach. "I have a boyfriend!" she said, remembering Artie.
"So?" Santana said. "Never stopped us before."
"When you had a boyfriend. Now's different."
"That's right," Santana said. "Different plumbing, different purposes... he doesn't care. What we do doesn't count as cheating, remember? It's not sex."
"Oh," Brittany said, brow crinkling. "I should tell him, shouldn't I?"
"But then he might say we can't," Santana said illogically, but Brittany bought it.
"Okay," she said, taking Santana's hand and leading her to the bed. "Let's get snuggly."
Santana slipped out of her miniskirt and burrowed under Brittany's covers, watching her friend unfasten her bra. When Brittany only had her panties on, Santana lifted the covers for her, and Brittany slipped her spare frame in, unaccountably smiling. "I'm so glad you're not mad at me anymore," she said, hugging Santana. Their breasts pressed together, a soft womanly mash.
Santana felt her body responding to their nakedness easily, a warmth creeping into her frigidness, relaxing her. It was probably because they did this so many times; her body was so accustomed to Brittany's. She felt safe, at peace, for the first time in a month. And she felt alive. She wiggled her body to increase the surface area shared, slipping her leg between her friend's and stroking her back. "It was dumb," she confessed, avoiding Brittany's eyes. "I don't even remember why I was angry."
"It was because I was dating Artie," Brittany said helpfully, eliciting a growl from Santana's throat. The warmth was suddenly chilly.
"Please don't say his name."
"K," Brittany said, and then she started rubbing Santana's back and side, making her skin ripple in pleasure and bringing up goosebumps. The chill disappeared in a wave of relief and teasing almost-satisfaction. Brittany giggled at Santana's reaction, slipping a hand down to grasp Santana's ass, which Santana responded to by kissing Brittany's sensitive neck, and then licking the top of her collarbone. Brittany giggled again, her nipples hardening against Santana's breasts satisfyingly.
Santana pushed her onto her back and straddled her hips, bringing her core into contact with Brittany's mound. She wondered whether two layers of underwear would be enough to hide her wetness, grinding a little on Brittany and pinching her friend's erect nipples. "You're a hot cheerleader," she observed to Brittany. "Do you know how many men want to get under that tiny skirt of yours?"
"They're not going to," Brittany said, reciting the words they'd spoken to each other so many times. "Not tonight." She responded to Santana's grinding by thrusting gently, which escalated the other girl's movements.
"And why not, gorgeous thing?"
"You're mine tonight," Brittany whispered, and Santana bent down to kiss her again, flattening her body against Brittany's and incidentally pressing her clit against her friend's pubic bone. Brittany moaned in response, and Santana wondered fleetingly when exactly it was that Brittany had learned so well what gave her pleasure, reacting to those things as if they'd been done to her. Brittany's lips were possessive now, and her fingers skittered against Santana's body, first gripping her breasts and then raking her back with her fingernails.
And then Brittany sat up, pushing Santana back onto the bed, which threw off their covers completely. She settled her head between her friend's legs, nuzzling Santana's soaking underwear with a devilish expression on her face.
Santana squirmed out of them, panting, and put her legs back on either side of Brittany's face. Brittany kissed her wet folds, and then licked her thoroughly, brushing her clit softly with the tip of her tongue before plunging in again, teasing the woman's entrance and then slipping her tongue inside, licking her spongy top plate. The deeper, more intimate contact was strange to Santana, so very different from a penis; new, and so wonderful that she cursed out loud.
Brittany stopped, peeking her head up worriedly. "Don't stop," Santana managed, but Brittany avoided going inside again, lapping at Santana's juices and then wigging her tongue against Santana's clit.
The orgasm was like a flash of lightning, quick and gone too soon. Brittany knew she came, she always knew, but she didn't stop, licking the rest of her vulva while Santana worked up her energy again, and then kissing her clit, kissing the inside of her thighs and grasping her ass.
"Can I go inside?" Brittany asked deferentially. "You're so... thick today, San."
"You don't like it?" Santana managed, whispering through her arousal.
"I love it," Brittany said, and Santana could see the utter honesty in her friend's face. "I love it when you squeeze my fingers, too. And you're so thick, it works so well when you're like this."
Somehow her friend's confession turned Santana on even more. "Come here," she said, pulling on Brittany and kissing her wet lips through her doe-eyed expression. Brittany was passive, waiting for Santana to decide, giving her body up to Santana. "Take me, sweetheart," Santana finally said.
Brittany took her time, gentle, beginning with one finger, sliding in and most of the way out, not putting too much pressure on her. Santana moaned, and the most amazing warmth spread from her core, waves of something soft and pure. "I love your long fingers," Santana whispered. "I love how gentle you are."
Brittany looked at her with adoration in her eyes and added a finger, and suddenly it was so much more than warmth - it was tingling icy fire, impossibly sweet, impossible driving need too, so deep and soft and full. "Brittany," Santana said, and then forgot what she was going to say, lost in the sensation, her eyes rolling back and her skin suddenly numb and tender. "Brittany!"
When she came down she was crying, great sobs wracking her. "Shh, shh," Brittany said, patting her with a guilty expression on her face. "I'm sorry. I love you rippling around me, I love you squeezing..."
Santana clung to her friend, her sobs subsiding. "You're mine," Santana said finally, the relief coming right before the exhaustion. Brittany nodded to her, and then slid behind her, spooning. She kissed her neck.
"Don't you... want..." Santana said incoherently.
"Later," Brittany said. "I want to watch you sleep."
"Okay," Santana said, and dropped off like a sack of lead.
Feelings (otherwise known as "that time they were happy for like four days")
Santana was going to tell Brittany that it couldn't possibly be better after talking about their feelings. She already had feelings, after all. Sam'd wanted to talk about feelings, but it was never any better with him afterwards (not that he was horrible). It wasn't the talking that made it better. It was the feelings themselves.
But the thought fled her mind when Brittany closed the door behind her. Because she could already feel the tingling warmth of Brittany, nestled somewhere under her sternum, and when Brittany's eyes fell on her it was like the fire that had been burning in her all day was suddenly all-consuming. She practically ran the pace and a half to Brittany, and, taking her hand, kissed her lips, deep and slow.
Brittany returned the slow kiss, but Santana could feel her holding back. Santana stopped kissing her, and Brittany immedately said, "San, can we... just cuddle?"
She looked almost abashed, and Santana rushed to comfort her, cupping her face. "Of course," she said, and then went on the tips of her toes and kissed Brittany's forehead.
"So you're my girlfriend now?" Brittany asked, and there was this sort of exquisite innocence in her voice that cut the unexpected bite out of her question.
"I... I guess so," Santana conceded, sitting on the bed and looking up at Brittany, who still looked a little like a confused puppy. "Unless it bothers you to switch so fast."
"No," Brittany said with certainty. "I want to be with you." She sat beside Santana on the bed, stroking her hair and looking thoughtful. "This is the way it was always supposed to be. You should never have gone with James, or Puck, or Sam, or any of those other boys." She was almost accusatory, her brow furrowing.
"And you shouldn't have made out with the male half of McKinley. We all do things we shouldn't," Santana said, temper flaring.
Brittany's hand dropped to her side, shaking her head to dismiss Santana's dismissal. "Santana, if you back out on me -"
"Don't even finish that sentence." She took a moment to collect herself. "I'm not going to, I've made my choice. I don't want to come out, but if you want me to so badly..." I'll do even that for you.
"Okay," Brittany said, and then finally she was smiling, for maybe the second time that day (the first was when Santana agreed to go on her show). She wiggled so that she was leaning against Santana's headboard. "I hope your mom doesn't walk in on us again."
Santana giggled at that, and made to approach Brittany on her hands and knees, like a prowling animal. She even growled when she got to Brittany's face, gnashing her teeth until Brittany went for her underarms, tickling her mercilessly. But her attack didn't last long; she almost immediately relented, wrapping her legs around Santana's and pinning her arms too, breathing hard into Santana's ear.
After the initial wave of arousal passed, Santana managed to squrim in protest. "Hey! Let me go!"
"No," Brittany whispered sexily in her ear, and the words went straight to Santana's clitoris, making her tingle and want. Brittany giggled. "Your nipples are hard."
Santana tried to scowl at her, but the grin shone through. "I mean, you're touching me. Did you expect any different?"
Brittany nuzzled her nose, still holding her motionless. "So now you're really mine," she said, and it was like she didn't really believe it. "After you said you loved me, I wondered what it would be like... I mean, I wanted to..."
"Is it as bad as you expected?" One of these days, Santana was going to figure out how to ask a real question about something meaningful.
"As great, you mean?" Brittany released her, and Santana turned to lay completely on top of Brittany, her legs between her lover's and her elbows propped up right beneath Brittany's arms. The pose left Santana's clit perilously close to Brittany's, but Santana figured that anything not involving grinding or nakedness qualified as cuddling.
Brittany certainly didn't seem to mind, a sort of devious smile lighting her features. "I love this shirt, San," she said, and Santana glanced down to get an eyeful of her own boob.
She rolled her eyes. "Kinda earth-mothery, isn't it?"
"You're like a nymph."
"I do kind of feel like one right now," Santana admitted, unwittingly misunderstanding. "I hope this whole cuddle thing doesn't last forever." She shifted, and her clit ground into Brittany's mound, bringing temporary relief followed by increased agitation. Santana bit her lip.
"No. Just till you go to sleep," Brittany said, and then she encircled Santana's shoulders and brought her in for a kiss. Santana lost herself in it, delighting in Brittany's escalation and then pulling her down again, slowing the pace, and then again slipping her tongue in, tasting in slow swirls.
It took a few minutes for her to realize she was grinding. When she did, she slowed down and broke the rhythm of the kiss, which made Brittany pull away and look at her. Brittany smiled vagely and said, "Do-dat-doot!"
Santana's eyebrow shot up. "What?"
"Stop making a fool out of me... why don't you come on over, Valerie. I loved that song. The whole time I was thinking, please, come on over."
Santana giggled. "I know." She pushed on Brittany's chest. "But I went to your place."
Brittany moaned and her eyes closed partway. "You were so angry, San, and I thought I was cheating..."
Santana suddenly felt vulnerable. "Maybe we were," she admitted, focusing on Brittany's collar, tracing it again and again.
"What?" Brittany panicked; she sat partway up, bringing up her knee and jostling Santana partially off her.
"Nevermind," Santana said, pushing her back down and kissing her sudden confused guilt away.
"I love you," Brittany mumbled through the kiss, and finally her hands ran down Santana's arms, and then down her chest, looping down and around her back to unfasten Santana's bra, still kissing.
She pulled the bra straps out, but kept Santana's shirt on, putting her hand through the neck hole and caressing Santana's breast, making Santana gasp and jerk a little and sending fireworks off behind her eyes. "Mmmm, don't stop," she whispered, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her whole body felt weak and fluttery and desperate, and every tiny movement Brittany made was the greatest tingling touch; it felt like Brittany was softly stroking something far deeper inside her than she'd ever reached before.
And then Brittany turned her, keeping a hand on her boob and her body tight against Santana's, and the other hand drifted down to Santana's thin jeans. Brittany's finger settled right above Santana's clit, which suddenly realized it was alive and desperate for her. Santana gasped again, and then moaned, "I want you so bad right now."
Brittany took advantage of the greater traction and superior position outside Santana's pants to trace little circles around the area, which was suddenly just so intensely amazing that it finally woke the part of Santana that moved. Santana brought her hand up and guided Brittany to her lips, and then pulled Brittany close and squeezed her ass. She knew what her body wanted, and now she needed only to chart the course.
And this is how she did it. Sweet soft lady kisses, followed by a flip and switch that left Brittany on her back again. Then some teasing aorund the hips, to remind her what might - but wouldn't - happen soon, and then off with her shirt and dive into luscious womanly bosom, pausing only for air until Brittany said, "Santana, if you don't get these pants off me I'm gonna come right now."
So Santana helped Brittany with the overly stimulating pants, and Santana explored the newly bared skin until Brittany again warned her, "San, I really want to grind on you."
"You mean you want me?" Santana asked huskily, slinking back up Brittany's body and grabbing her underwear roughly from behind.
Brittany gulped and nodded, so Santana pulled Brittany's underwear down to her knees and put her fingers between Brittany's legs. Bingo. Course charted and destination obtained.
Brittany was just swimming, soaking, and when Santana's fingers reached her she rolled her hips and even raised them off the bed to chase her teasing fingers. But when she looked in Brittany's eyes, Santana couldn't tease anymore. She kissed Brittany softly, grazing her clit, and then slipped inside her, two fingers sliding easily, deep.
The feeling was overwhelming, not as primal or raw as being penetrated herself, but somehow just as visceral. They were two before, and now they were one, coupling with an ardor that Santana had genuinely never felt in her life. Every deep stroke felt like it was driving Santana herself deeper into Brittany, and she recognized the jealous territoriality and possessiveness of the feeling, embracing it. Let this be her mark on Brittany - let this make her, body and soul, most absolutely hers.
She flicked Brittany's clit, and Brittany breathed, "I love you, I love you, don't stop, no..." So she flicked again, watching Brittany's face. Brittany breathed, "No," again, and took Santana's thumb away, her body shaking. "Don't stop, don't want to... don't want to come, Santana..." By the time she breathed the last word it was too late, and her body was rippling, her cunt gripping and releasing, and Santana stroked her clit just to make it last longer, feeling her lover's orgasm in her gut and in her heart.
When it was over she looped a leg around Brittany's body and covered Brittany like a tent, nuzzling into her neck and settling in. "Damn," Brittany said.
"I don't have to stop," Santana observed, not expecting but hoping, hoping that Brittany would agree.
But Brittany shook her head, sneaky fingers slipping the button out on Santana's jeans. "How come your clothes are on?"
"I forgot," Santana admitted.
Brittany's finger found her clit again, this time inside her underwear. "Damn," she said again, and this time she wasn't talking about the timing of her orgasm.