Summary: It's Britt and Santana's first night together after Brittany's breakup with Artie (which we all know is imminent)
Spoilers: Nothing specific, but everything up to and including 2x18 is fair game.
A/N: Smut in this chapter. Trip-hop, drug use, and even more smut in the next.
Santana realizes, choking down shot number two of Malibu coconut rum, that she should have been more specific when she asked Brittany to score some alcohol with her older cousin's ID. She'd figured, wrongly, that just such a blanket request would yield one or more of the old party standards: beer, for example, or tequila. This sweet stuff was making her a little nauseous, doubly annoying given that Santana had sought out booze tonight in order to feel emboldened, not queasy. This was the first time they'd been truly alone together in months, and now that Santana finally had what she'd been pining for all that time--namely, Brittany on her bed--she felt uncharacteristically nervous. Brittany, already two drinks ahead of Santana, didn't seem to mind the cloying flavor. "It really does taste like a liquid tropical paradise," she mused, concurring with the label's promise. "They should put a warning on this stuff; I can see how it might become addictive."
Santana's initial incredulity quickly fades to tender amusement and she tickles the blonde playfully, finally feeling relaxed for the first time all night. By force of undying habit she moves her body over Brittany's, pressing the other girl into the bed. Tickling becomes tentative touching, and her hands roam over Brittany's stomach, settling at her hips. Santana rests her head in the crook of Brittany's neck contentedly, relieved that the two of them can finally do this again. "Britt-Britt," she sighs, the pads of her thumbs running feather-light circles over the soft skin between Brittany's hips and abdomen, "I missed you."
Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the fact that she hasn't been with a girl in awhile. Maybe it's because the room around them is positively humming with ineffable emotion. Whatever the reason, Brittany sees an opening and flips Santana in one practiced motion, gently pushing her knee between Santana's thighs and trailing hungry kisses along the other girl's jaw line before seeking out her lips. Santana kisses back lazily but Brittany, unsatisfied with the slow pace, grinds her hips down insistently, getting herself even more worked up as she tries to seduce her friend. She's breathing heavily now, reaching to palm Santana's breast when suddenly she feels a hand on her wrist, halting the motion. "What's wrong?" It's more of a frustrated exhale than a question.
"Nothing...I don't know."
Brittany looks worried now, and you can't blame her. Normally it's Santana who's in such a hurry to get between her friend's legs that she doesn't always have time to take her clothes off. Brittany pulls back and studies the darker girl's face. When she finds no anger or sadness there, she rolls off of her friend, turning out the light and drawing up the covers before curling up to Santana instead. "I know you need time to think about your feelings before you stop being scared of them. Just talk to me when you're ready. We have plenty of time." And with that, Brittany begins to drift off to sleep.
She's so close that she thinks she's dreaming when she hears Santana's voice pierce the darkness: "It bothers me that someone's been deeper inside you than I have."
Brittany's reply is sleep-choked. "What?"
"Don't make me say it again, Britt. This is hard enough." Santana's hands are over her eyes, like she can't stand being studied even in the dark.
"But I don't get it. You know I don't care about that. You never did before, either"
Santana considers the weight of her response before saying, "I did, actually. But more so with Artie because that was the first time you'd chosen someone over me".
Brittany nuzzles Santana's neck. "No one's ever owned my soul like you do." Santana's touched, and she thinks again that Brittany was right all along: things really are way better with feelings.
"No one else, huh?" she challenges playfully, tangling her fingers in Brittany's hair. "Not even your first cat?"
Brittany tenses under Santana's gentle ministrations. "That's different, San," she insists solemnly. Santana can't help but smile into the surrounding darkness and pull Britt closer.
"Santana?" Brittany's voice is still serious
"I love it when you're inside me." Santana feels an instant heat between her legs at that but decides to stay quiet, let Brittany continue. And she does. "But if you want to be even deeper inside me, I think we can make that happen."
Santana scoffs like it's Rachel Berry she's talking to and not the love of her life, but makes an effort to indulge her friend. "Yeah, Britt-Britt? How's that? I'm not getting a sex change, if for no other reason than the fact that Kurt would be livid if I beat him to it."
Brittany giggles. "No way. I'd miss your girl parts too much. But, um...you know Suzie's?
Santana squeezes her eyes shut, thinking hard. Hell, Brittany makes friends with everybody and Santana can't be expected to remember all their names. "Suzie" certainly doesn't sound familiar...until realization crashes down on her like a set of waves. She rolls over onto her side to face Brittany, hand still stroking blond hair, and entwines their legs. "You mean Suzie's, out by the freeway. The sex store." She already knows where this is going and can't help getting turned on.
"Uh huh," Brittany encourages, a wicked yet innocent mirth to her voice.
Santana tries to keep the mood flirtatious and light but her words come out thick with desire: "You want me to fuck you with a strap-on". Her hips cant forward involuntarily and Brittany catches her in the movement, wrapping her arms around the darker girl and pressing the two of them flush against one another.
"I want you to fuck me. And yeah, I think using a strap-on would be super hot."
It's suddenly hard to speak, especially now that Brittany has started lazily grinding against her. "It sounds pretty amazing, Britt, but we can't even get into Suzie's until we're eighteen."
Now Brittany's lips are at Santana's neck, breath hot against her skin. "Well, I've got an ID that says I'm 23, remember?"
Santana feels a rush of affection for the gorgeous girl next to her and can no longer recall why she felt so shy earlier. She captures Brittany's mouth in a heated, open kiss and moves her free hand to stroke between Brittany's thighs, finding the girl's underwear already soaked through. Brittany moans appreciatively, arching into Santana's touch. "Take those off," she husks. Brittany wastes no time complying, removing Santana's underwear as well while she's at it. It's only seconds until they're making out again, Santana's hand teasing Brittany's slit, wet and swollen. Brittany whimpers and rocks hard against Santana, trying to impale herself on the Latina's fingers. Santana can't resist a flush of pride at the way her girlfriend is squirming so desperately against her. But she also can't resist satisfying her, and finally buries two fingers deep inside Brittany, pumping them steadily to the rhythm of the other girl's thrusts. "Fuck..." Brittany cries out as Santana fills her just the way she needs. The blonde's breathing becomes ragged. Santana, knowing she must be close, works a third finger into Brittany's slick heat and rubs her thumb against the girl's clit. Santana thinks she never wants to go for so long without this again, and focuses all her efforts on bringing Brittany over the edge. But when Brittany reaches down and slides warm fingers into her, Santana's head swims with unexpected pleasure. Suddenly Brittany's curling her fingers in Santana, breathing, "I love you. I love you". Santana didn't realize how much she'd needed to hear the words, but as soon as she does she completely unravels, thrusting erratically against Brittany's hand. Brittany comes soon after, forehead falling against Santana's shoulder as she rides out her own orgasm.
Both girls lie panting in the afterglow, soaking up the intimacy in silence until Santana manages, "Fuck, Britt. I think we were even hotter than usual."
"Totally. But I feel like we set new hotness records every time." A pause, and then: "Santana? Do you still want me to get the toy?"
"Hell yes I do."
Brittany giggles. "Awesome. I'll get the strap-on if you score us some weed."
Santana laughs at the unexpected but not unwelcome request. "No problem. But, why?"
"Honestly, being stoned was the only way I could ever come with other people. So I thought if weed makes boring sex good, it has to make great sex unbelievably mindblowing, right?"
Santana marvels at her friend's logic, which, on occasions such as this, cuts straight through to a truth she'd never considered. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll hook it up. Now let's get some sleep. I know you're going to wake me up in a few hours wanting more, and I need my rest."