Glee Fic: Foxy Lady
Title: Foxy Lady
Author: cameroncrazed
Characters: Artie/Brittany
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy owns everything “Glee” related. I’m not named Ryan or Murphy. Therefore, I don’t own anything about “Glee”. I also don’t own Hendrix, although I do owe him a giant thank you for both inspiration and this fic’s title ;)
Summary: After an eye-opening night contemplating Hendrix’s finest work, Artie has to endure a quite awkward lunch. Wink wink nudge nudge? Written for cruiscin_lan’s V-Day challenge.
Note: A giant “thank you!” to cruiscin_lan for massive amounts of beta work :)
“Thanks for letting me come over.” She rolled over on his bed, propped herself up on her elbow, and looked at him.
He tried to pretend he wasn’t staring at the way her uniform rode up. “Anytime.” He meant it; it was nice to have friends, and it was even nicer to have her for a friend. He knew she didn’t care about the wheelchair - she didn’t even know he was in a wheelchair until it was pointed out to her - and he appreciated that she saw him, unlike everyone else.
“I should go soon.”
He noticed that she didn’t even attempt to get up. “Yeah, okay.”
She sighed, then sat up. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Before I go, though…” she hesitated.
“Yes?”
Brittany leaned forward and kissed him before he realized that she’d even moved. When she finally broke the kiss, all he could say was “Wha?”
She giggled. “Sorry, just wanted to. You have nice lips.”
Artie didn’t know how to respond to that comment. “Thanks?”
When she kissed him again, he took the initiative to pull her off the bed and onto his lap. She wasted no time, and immediately slipped her hands under his shirt, grasping his shoulders.
“Can I… should I… Brittany?” He didn’t have a clue what’s acceptable in situations like this.
“You can touch me if you want to,” she whispered, and her breath tickled his lips. “Please, I want you to.”
His hands worked their way under the short skirt of her cheerleading uniform, and he enjoyed playing with the elastic hem of her boy-shorts as she pressed kisses against his ear and neck, knocking his glasses askew. She twisted around, trying to straddle him, but almost tipped them backwards instead.
“This isn’t going to work,” she pouted as she climbed off of him, “since there’s not enough space.”
He’d never hated his chair as much as he did at that very moment.
“So I guess I’ll just have to suck you off instead.”
“What?” He didn’t realize he had a hearing problem until that minute, but there was no way she’d just said what he thought he’d heard.
“Do you not want me too?”
He down looked at her; she was already on her knees in front of him, ass resting on her heels as she braced her left arm on the armrest and toyed with the material of his pants with her right hand. “No, go ahead,” he finally managed to squeak out, embarrassed at how unnaturally high his voice was, afraid that it was going to be obvious to her that he’d never done anything like this before.
“Relax. I’ve done this tons of times, I know what I’m doing. You’re going to like this, I promise.” She grinned at him before pressing a soft kiss against his pants; he could feel the heat of her mouth despite the layer of cloth between them.
Artie wasn’t sure how she did it, but she managed to pull his zipper down in a fluid manner with nothing but her teeth; the move left him feeling intrigued, slightly scared, and hornier than he’d ever been in his life.
She rocked back away from him as his cock popped up as soon as his pants were undone. “Um… did you forget something this morning?”
“No, why?”
“Most guys wear boxers or something. Not that I’m complaining.”
Before he could try to justify his commando status, with a long-winded and horribly embarrassing explanation, she shrugged and licked the head of his penis. Sparks shot off from behind his eyes and he started trying to list the best of Hendrix’s guitar solos in chronological order, starting with “Hey Joe”. Her head bobbed when she finally took him fully into her mouth, and he couldn’t stop himself from yelling, “All Along the Watchtower!”
That caused her to back off and look at him oddly.
“Sorry. Continue, please?”
If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the way her mouth felt, the way she licked along the underside of his shaft, the way her head bobbed back and forth. When she grabbed his balls and tugged slightly, he lost any pretense he had of having things under control, and started babbling “oh God, oh God, oh God” over and over.
His hands tightened on her ponytail, he truly did try to warn her that he was close, but Brittany started humming, humming of all things, and he came.
“Mmm, tasty.” She whispered as she licked him clean. She finally stood up, and quickly re-did her hair into a tidy ponytail. “I really do need to leave now. See you at lunch tomorrow!”
He didn’t even mind the taste when she kissed him goodbye. He couldn’t wait for lunch.
- - - - - - - - - -
Artie had not had a good morning. Caught up in a really good dream, he’d overslept, broken the alarm clock when he’d pounded it, and then hadn’t had time to eat breakfast, and now he couldn’t even get to his usual cafeteria table because of the lunch crowd. “Excuse me, excuse me…,” he called out as he tried to not wheel over people’s feet, but he couldn’t find a way through the mob.
“Hey, Wheels said to move it!” Puck came up from behind him, and gleefully elbowed people out of the way as Matt grabbed his chair’s push handles and pushed him to their table.
There was a time when he’d rather have lit himself on fire than accept their help; that time had passed. “Thanks, guys. I can get it from here.”
When Matt let go, Artie artfully rolled up to the table, taking his usual spot at the head position with Tina to his left and Brittany to his right. He’d never realized before just how dangerous that particular position could be, but he kept his cool and didn’t let his nervousness show. Tina didn’t know anything and he wasn’t entirely sure he even cared if she knew.
He didn’t listen to most of the conversation as he focused on his sandwich, ravenously hungry, but he couldn’t help but hear Puck’s completely foul joke about a blonde, two postal carriers, a broom, and a vacuum cleaner.
“Dude…” Finn interrupted him before he could finish the joke. “Not while we’re eating!”
“Don’t be such a pussy, Finn,” Puck retorted. “I’d expect it from Artie, since his joystick’s all broken and shit, or from Kurt, Queen Tink of the Tinkerbells, but you?”
Brittany interrupted before anyone else could be offended. “Oh, but his joystick does work. I played with it yesterday.” Brittany sounded confused by the conversation. “It was really fun too. If you ask nicely, I’m sure he’ll let you play with it, too.” She nodded her head emphatically, and her ponytail bobbed up and down when she did.
Artie hung his head as he remembered just exactly how that same ponytail had bobbed the day before, and why. He discreetly grabbed his napkin and placed it over his lap, just in case his ‘not-so-little friend’ remembered too.
“Excuse me?” Tina didn’t even think to pretend to stutter as she started quizzing Brittany. “What did you say?”
“That. His. Joystick. Worked. Just. Fine.” Brittany said slowly, and loudly, as if Tina was deaf. The entire cafeteria swiveled around to watch the unfolding drama at the jock/gleek table. Artie wished he could crawl under the table and get away from all the unwanted attention. “And that I really like his PS3. I wish I had one at home, but Artie’s nice enough to let me play at his house.”
“Ohhhh.” Everyone understood at the same time, and the onlookers went back to their own lunches and conversations, as soon as they realized that there wasn’t any interesting drama going on. Quinn and Rachel exchanged glances as the rest of the group laughed uncontrollably. Rachel bit her lip while Quinn’s eyes narrowed, and Artie could tell they were having one of their bizarre silent arguments.
Rachel finally spoke up. “Brittany, when Puck said ‘joystick’, he didn’t actually mean the kind you use to play a video game.”
Brittany cocked her head to the side. “But why did he say that then?”
“He meant cock,” Santana abruptly explained. “It’s a euphemism, like when we say that Coach Sylvester munches carpet and that Kurt likes to smoke sausages. We aren’t talking about actual carpets or sausages.”
“Hey!” Kurt primly interrupted Santana. “There’s no reason to be insulting. Besides, how do you know that I’m the one doing the smoking? Now, what were we saying about Artie’s,” Kurt fluttered his hand in the direction of Artie’s pants, “you know?”
Out of nowhere, Brittany chimed up again. “My mom says it’s wrong to kill people, even if they are old and wrinkly and smell bad and pee on themselves. Or bark at you when you run to the post office or library.”
If Artie hadn’t been looking for it, he never would have noticed Brittany’s surreptitious wink in his direction. He immediately relaxed as he realized that she’d successfully managed to turn the conversation away from him.
“What is she talking about?” Finn looked so confused that Artie felt almost sorry for him, especially when Quinn patted him on the shoulder and told him to stop thinking so much.
“Do you mean euthanasia, Brittany?” Rachel rubbed her face like she couldn’t believe any of her friends could be so stupid.
“Yeah! Where we kill old people because of the kids in China. Is that why we’re supposed to hate Capitalists, because they’re in charge of China?”
Puck put his head down on the table, laughing so hard he was shaking. Matt and Mike started chuckling, then Kurt started giggling, and before long, everyone except for Brittany was laughing. Artie had to hide his smile behind his napkin, extremely thankful for Britt’s intervention and the fact that everyone else - other than him, of course - took her seriously.
The bell rang, and the group reluctantly pulled themselves back together and grabbed their bags, headed to their afternoon classes. As Artie maneuvered his chair out of the cafeteria, Puck asked “What were we talking about again?”
Artie mentally marked Kurt off his Christmas list when the other boy quickly commented “Your joke, Finn’s pussification, and Artie’s broken joystick.”
Puck slung his arm around Brittany’s shoulders as they all headed towards the music room. “And when he says joystick, again, we don’t actually mean it.”
“Oh, well, if you mean his penis, that works too. Better than yours, and he tastes a lot better too.” Brittany’s voice carried over the crowd as if she was using one of the Cheerios megaphones. Everyone in the halls turned to look at them again. Tina dropped her bag, and Artie could see Jacob Ben Israel frantically typing into his Blackberry. All he could do was moan, “oh, God.”
“Yeah, you said that a lot last night too.” Brittany ruffled his hair. “By the way, can I come over again tonight? I got a new scrunchie we can play with, I think you’ll like that.”
“Brittany!” Santana screeched, hands on hips.
In all the ways he’d imagined his death, Artie had never ranked “by embarrassment” or “at the hands of an enraged Santana Lopez” towards the top of the list.
“What?” Brittany asked. “Did you want to play too? Is that okay, Artie?”
Artie was almost disturbed by the sudden gleam in Santana’s eyes, almost, but he was more intrigued. His “hell to the yes!” might have been a bit too enthusiastic, but Brittany just squealed and hugged him before bouncing over to hug Santana too.
For such a sucky morning, he knew it was going to be another very good day after all.
Author: cameroncrazed
Characters: Artie/Brittany
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy owns everything “Glee” related. I’m not named Ryan or Murphy. Therefore, I don’t own anything about “Glee”. I also don’t own Hendrix, although I do owe him a giant thank you for both inspiration and this fic’s title ;)
Summary: After an eye-opening night contemplating Hendrix’s finest work, Artie has to endure a quite awkward lunch. Wink wink nudge nudge? Written for cruiscin_lan’s V-Day challenge.
Note: A giant “thank you!” to cruiscin_lan for massive amounts of beta work :)
“Thanks for letting me come over.” She rolled over on his bed, propped herself up on her elbow, and looked at him.
He tried to pretend he wasn’t staring at the way her uniform rode up. “Anytime.” He meant it; it was nice to have friends, and it was even nicer to have her for a friend. He knew she didn’t care about the wheelchair - she didn’t even know he was in a wheelchair until it was pointed out to her - and he appreciated that she saw him, unlike everyone else.
“I should go soon.”
He noticed that she didn’t even attempt to get up. “Yeah, okay.”
She sighed, then sat up. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Before I go, though…” she hesitated.
“Yes?”
Brittany leaned forward and kissed him before he realized that she’d even moved. When she finally broke the kiss, all he could say was “Wha?”
She giggled. “Sorry, just wanted to. You have nice lips.”
Artie didn’t know how to respond to that comment. “Thanks?”
When she kissed him again, he took the initiative to pull her off the bed and onto his lap. She wasted no time, and immediately slipped her hands under his shirt, grasping his shoulders.
“Can I… should I… Brittany?” He didn’t have a clue what’s acceptable in situations like this.
“You can touch me if you want to,” she whispered, and her breath tickled his lips. “Please, I want you to.”
His hands worked their way under the short skirt of her cheerleading uniform, and he enjoyed playing with the elastic hem of her boy-shorts as she pressed kisses against his ear and neck, knocking his glasses askew. She twisted around, trying to straddle him, but almost tipped them backwards instead.
“This isn’t going to work,” she pouted as she climbed off of him, “since there’s not enough space.”
He’d never hated his chair as much as he did at that very moment.
“So I guess I’ll just have to suck you off instead.”
“What?” He didn’t realize he had a hearing problem until that minute, but there was no way she’d just said what he thought he’d heard.
“Do you not want me too?”
He down looked at her; she was already on her knees in front of him, ass resting on her heels as she braced her left arm on the armrest and toyed with the material of his pants with her right hand. “No, go ahead,” he finally managed to squeak out, embarrassed at how unnaturally high his voice was, afraid that it was going to be obvious to her that he’d never done anything like this before.
“Relax. I’ve done this tons of times, I know what I’m doing. You’re going to like this, I promise.” She grinned at him before pressing a soft kiss against his pants; he could feel the heat of her mouth despite the layer of cloth between them.
Artie wasn’t sure how she did it, but she managed to pull his zipper down in a fluid manner with nothing but her teeth; the move left him feeling intrigued, slightly scared, and hornier than he’d ever been in his life.
She rocked back away from him as his cock popped up as soon as his pants were undone. “Um… did you forget something this morning?”
“No, why?”
“Most guys wear boxers or something. Not that I’m complaining.”
Before he could try to justify his commando status, with a long-winded and horribly embarrassing explanation, she shrugged and licked the head of his penis. Sparks shot off from behind his eyes and he started trying to list the best of Hendrix’s guitar solos in chronological order, starting with “Hey Joe”. Her head bobbed when she finally took him fully into her mouth, and he couldn’t stop himself from yelling, “All Along the Watchtower!”
That caused her to back off and look at him oddly.
“Sorry. Continue, please?”
If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the way her mouth felt, the way she licked along the underside of his shaft, the way her head bobbed back and forth. When she grabbed his balls and tugged slightly, he lost any pretense he had of having things under control, and started babbling “oh God, oh God, oh God” over and over.
His hands tightened on her ponytail, he truly did try to warn her that he was close, but Brittany started humming, humming of all things, and he came.
“Mmm, tasty.” She whispered as she licked him clean. She finally stood up, and quickly re-did her hair into a tidy ponytail. “I really do need to leave now. See you at lunch tomorrow!”
He didn’t even mind the taste when she kissed him goodbye. He couldn’t wait for lunch.
- - - - - - - - - -
Artie had not had a good morning. Caught up in a really good dream, he’d overslept, broken the alarm clock when he’d pounded it, and then hadn’t had time to eat breakfast, and now he couldn’t even get to his usual cafeteria table because of the lunch crowd. “Excuse me, excuse me…,” he called out as he tried to not wheel over people’s feet, but he couldn’t find a way through the mob.
“Hey, Wheels said to move it!” Puck came up from behind him, and gleefully elbowed people out of the way as Matt grabbed his chair’s push handles and pushed him to their table.
There was a time when he’d rather have lit himself on fire than accept their help; that time had passed. “Thanks, guys. I can get it from here.”
When Matt let go, Artie artfully rolled up to the table, taking his usual spot at the head position with Tina to his left and Brittany to his right. He’d never realized before just how dangerous that particular position could be, but he kept his cool and didn’t let his nervousness show. Tina didn’t know anything and he wasn’t entirely sure he even cared if she knew.
He didn’t listen to most of the conversation as he focused on his sandwich, ravenously hungry, but he couldn’t help but hear Puck’s completely foul joke about a blonde, two postal carriers, a broom, and a vacuum cleaner.
“Dude…” Finn interrupted him before he could finish the joke. “Not while we’re eating!”
“Don’t be such a pussy, Finn,” Puck retorted. “I’d expect it from Artie, since his joystick’s all broken and shit, or from Kurt, Queen Tink of the Tinkerbells, but you?”
Brittany interrupted before anyone else could be offended. “Oh, but his joystick does work. I played with it yesterday.” Brittany sounded confused by the conversation. “It was really fun too. If you ask nicely, I’m sure he’ll let you play with it, too.” She nodded her head emphatically, and her ponytail bobbed up and down when she did.
Artie hung his head as he remembered just exactly how that same ponytail had bobbed the day before, and why. He discreetly grabbed his napkin and placed it over his lap, just in case his ‘not-so-little friend’ remembered too.
“Excuse me?” Tina didn’t even think to pretend to stutter as she started quizzing Brittany. “What did you say?”
“That. His. Joystick. Worked. Just. Fine.” Brittany said slowly, and loudly, as if Tina was deaf. The entire cafeteria swiveled around to watch the unfolding drama at the jock/gleek table. Artie wished he could crawl under the table and get away from all the unwanted attention. “And that I really like his PS3. I wish I had one at home, but Artie’s nice enough to let me play at his house.”
“Ohhhh.” Everyone understood at the same time, and the onlookers went back to their own lunches and conversations, as soon as they realized that there wasn’t any interesting drama going on. Quinn and Rachel exchanged glances as the rest of the group laughed uncontrollably. Rachel bit her lip while Quinn’s eyes narrowed, and Artie could tell they were having one of their bizarre silent arguments.
Rachel finally spoke up. “Brittany, when Puck said ‘joystick’, he didn’t actually mean the kind you use to play a video game.”
Brittany cocked her head to the side. “But why did he say that then?”
“He meant cock,” Santana abruptly explained. “It’s a euphemism, like when we say that Coach Sylvester munches carpet and that Kurt likes to smoke sausages. We aren’t talking about actual carpets or sausages.”
“Hey!” Kurt primly interrupted Santana. “There’s no reason to be insulting. Besides, how do you know that I’m the one doing the smoking? Now, what were we saying about Artie’s,” Kurt fluttered his hand in the direction of Artie’s pants, “you know?”
Out of nowhere, Brittany chimed up again. “My mom says it’s wrong to kill people, even if they are old and wrinkly and smell bad and pee on themselves. Or bark at you when you run to the post office or library.”
If Artie hadn’t been looking for it, he never would have noticed Brittany’s surreptitious wink in his direction. He immediately relaxed as he realized that she’d successfully managed to turn the conversation away from him.
“What is she talking about?” Finn looked so confused that Artie felt almost sorry for him, especially when Quinn patted him on the shoulder and told him to stop thinking so much.
“Do you mean euthanasia, Brittany?” Rachel rubbed her face like she couldn’t believe any of her friends could be so stupid.
“Yeah! Where we kill old people because of the kids in China. Is that why we’re supposed to hate Capitalists, because they’re in charge of China?”
Puck put his head down on the table, laughing so hard he was shaking. Matt and Mike started chuckling, then Kurt started giggling, and before long, everyone except for Brittany was laughing. Artie had to hide his smile behind his napkin, extremely thankful for Britt’s intervention and the fact that everyone else - other than him, of course - took her seriously.
The bell rang, and the group reluctantly pulled themselves back together and grabbed their bags, headed to their afternoon classes. As Artie maneuvered his chair out of the cafeteria, Puck asked “What were we talking about again?”
Artie mentally marked Kurt off his Christmas list when the other boy quickly commented “Your joke, Finn’s pussification, and Artie’s broken joystick.”
Puck slung his arm around Brittany’s shoulders as they all headed towards the music room. “And when he says joystick, again, we don’t actually mean it.”
“Oh, well, if you mean his penis, that works too. Better than yours, and he tastes a lot better too.” Brittany’s voice carried over the crowd as if she was using one of the Cheerios megaphones. Everyone in the halls turned to look at them again. Tina dropped her bag, and Artie could see Jacob Ben Israel frantically typing into his Blackberry. All he could do was moan, “oh, God.”
“Yeah, you said that a lot last night too.” Brittany ruffled his hair. “By the way, can I come over again tonight? I got a new scrunchie we can play with, I think you’ll like that.”
“Brittany!” Santana screeched, hands on hips.
In all the ways he’d imagined his death, Artie had never ranked “by embarrassment” or “at the hands of an enraged Santana Lopez” towards the top of the list.
“What?” Brittany asked. “Did you want to play too? Is that okay, Artie?”
Artie was almost disturbed by the sudden gleam in Santana’s eyes, almost, but he was more intrigued. His “hell to the yes!” might have been a bit too enthusiastic, but Brittany just squealed and hugged him before bouncing over to hug Santana too.
For such a sucky morning, he knew it was going to be another very good day after all.