FIC: Something's Coming Over Me (Glee, Brittany/Santana) 1/1 -
Title: Something's Coming Over Me
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Genre: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating:R, NC-17ish? just an excuse for smut, really.
Spoilers for: 1x15 - The Power of Madonna
Summary: There's just something about Madonna and expressing yourself that can be the biggest turn on…
AN - You just know that after this look, after this number, stuff happened.
And because lostbitca wanted corset!sex
****
Sue Sylvester had a point.
Madonna and her music carried a certain primal essence. It rushed through Santana like some sort of possession; flowing energy through her veins, from the tips of her fingers down to her groin. And in booted heels, a turquoise corset and black slacks, hips pumping and torso arching, catching the melody of Madonna and her sex-inspired Girl Power, Brittany was damn breathtaking.
The unenlightened student population of McKinley High School could say whatever they would about Brittany's brain wattage; she was a fucking savant in the areas that really mattered.
Like dancing. Like sex. With Madonna, those were one in the same, and the resulting effect felt like the best kind of foreplay; the kind she only ever got with Brittany.
The song ended with Santana cupping herself between her legs; a raw sensual moved prescribed by Madonna. She gripped herself hard, felt the throb that caused her eyes to flutter.
"That's what I'm talking about!" she dimly heard Mr. Schuester say, as her head swiveled to Brittany.
Brittany's eyes sparkled back.
Fuck.
Inhaling deeply, Santana jerked her gaze forward, a tick in her jaw her only visible reaction when the girls crowded together in congratulation, and the unmistakable feel of Brittany's fingers smoothed down her arm and threaded through hers, palm gripping sweaty palm.
Rachel was squealing; Quinn was chattering, and she was moving off the stage, into the wings.
Wild eyes searched for the first pocket of darkness, a bit of shadow between some ropes, and then she yanked, swiveling as the other girls clattered past her.
With momentum, she pulled Brittany around her, until Brittany's back hit the wood. Fingers tangled in hers pulled hard, and suddenly they were pressed together.
They met each other halfway, mouths open. Brittany's fingers dug into her nape, grabbing hold of the knot that kept her hair restricted and tightening around it, causing an exhalation of pain that Brittany didn't apologize for. Her tongue scanted across her teeth, then pushed inside.
The throb between her legs pounded into an ache that had her hips jerking. Her boots kicked between Brittany's legs, trying to find a space to jam a knee, but she had only just began to writhe against Brittany's thigh when she heard a heated moan and the fingers at her scalp pulled sharply.
The pain wasn't so much the hair-pulling, as it was that Santana needed to fucking get-off- now.
"What?" she gasped, incredulous irritation in her voice as she fumbled for Brittany's waist, trying to buck forward.
"Not like this," Brittany whispered, but her head lowered and her lips began to plant kisses on Santana's neck, causing a shiver that nearly made her knees buckle against her.
"Not like what?" she said, because Santana was not used to 'no'. She surged forward, palming Brittany's breast over the corset.
She could hear Brittany's breath catch, heard a throaty, "Not so fast-" but then Brittany's body pushed into her palm, and when Brittany's mouth collided with hers, she released a triumphant moan, slamming Brittany back into the wall and moving her hand lower still, until she was pressing hard into the moist fabric between her legs.
Brittany groaned, low and raspy, and she tore her lips away, head falling back as her hips bucked against her hand. "I don't want it fast."
The words carried with them a soft whine. It was just enough to make Santana falter. "What?"
Brittany's jeweled eyes opened, heavy-lidded with lust. "I want to take that off of you."
Santana swallowed hard, heart pounding and body tense with sexual frustration. She felt Brittany against her hand, and god-damn, all it would take was a couple quick moves, the jerk of a zipper and she could be touching her, fucking her against this wall and -
Her eyes closed; her forehead fell against Brittany's cheek.
"Fine," she whispered, gritting her teeth. "Let's get out of here."
"Mr. Schuester's gonna wonder-"
"I could give a flying rat's ass," she snapped, as she jerked her hands away and nearly hobbled as she tried to step back. Fuck, she was throbbing. "Let's get out of here."
She kept her legs crossed in the car, and didn't speak to Brittany at all.
***
Brittany didn't mind that Santana was grumpy.
Honestly, she thought it was a little funny. Santana always got grumpy when Brittany made her wait, but what counted was the fact that no matter what, Santana always waited. If Brittany wanted her to wait, she would wait.
And besides, it wasn't like Brittany wasn't just as turned on as Santana was. Especially because Santana dancing in a corset was like watching some sort of porno, and as fun as cheerleading skirts were, it's not like they didn't wear that all the time.
Brittany wanted to take it off of her. It was what she wanted, and Santana always did what she wanted.
"Don't touch me," Santana grumbled, when Brittany reached over on the drive to Santana's house.
Brittany didn't take it personally. She knew what blue balls looked like, and Santana was really, really blue.
But she didn't feel bad.
Santana never stayed mad for long. Not when Brittany did the things she was thinking about doing to her as soon as they got to the house.
***
Her house was empty, as per the usual.
Away from the stage, in her own home, Santana felt suddenly ridiculous, dressed in a corset and a men's suit, hair tightly bound together, leading a girl who was dressed just like she was up the stairs that they had both ascended and descended hundreds of times.
As kids, playing with dolls. As twelve-year-olds, discovering make up and boys. At sixteen, taking stairs two at a time to enact some sort of Madonna-fetish fantasy scenario that would end with them fucking each other's brains out.
She didn't have the sense of humor to be amused by the progression. Her fingers were tight around Brittany's as she twisted the knob of her bedroom door, pushing it open.
She heard Brittany locking it behind her (a habit since the last time Santana's mom had almost caught them), and she headed for her computer. Coach Sylvester had ordered a ban of anything but Madonna tunes, and dutifully, Santana had committed a playlist on Itunes.
She clicked on it, until Madonna's 'Secret' wafted through the room.
When the heat of another body pressed up against her back, hands smoothing around her middle to smooth over her breasts, Santana's body shuddered, her eyes fluttered closed.
"Britt-"
"Shh."
The slender, strong fingers of her best friend continued to move, massaging Santana's chest, thumbing at her nipples, until they hardened underneath the fabric, making Santana hiss with the rough play.
She bit her lip, kept quiet, hands gripping the side of her computer desk as Brittany's groin pressed against her butt, grinding lightly against her, in time to the music.
"Britt-"
Brittany shut her up with a yank, straightening her against her, hips moving against hers, encouraging her to move. Santana's throat bobbed with emotion, and kept her eyes closed, head falling back. Brittany's lips skimmed against her bare neck and shoulder, leaving goosebumps in her wake.
Palms widened and smoothed town her torso, keeping them together, moving sensuously to the beat. When one hand slid between her legs, cupping her hard, Santana whimpered, feeling a flood of wetness that was almost embarrassing.
"You feel that?" she heard, and nodded weakly. "That's what you did to me when I saw you in this."
Brittany moved up, reaching around her with both hands, unbuckling her belt and yanking it out of her pants with a snap of leather.
Fingers dug into Brittany's nape, and Santana's head turned, catching Brittany's mouth with hers, hungrily kissing her as Brittany's fingers worked at her zipper.
Her pants whispered down her legs, falling silently to the floor.
Santana swiveled around so fast she nearly tangled in the pants, caught up in her boots and almost crashing to the floor.
Brittany caught her with a dancer's ease, kissing her hard before pushing her. Santana stumbled back, falling back on the bed, legs tangled and eyes wide as Brittany grinned at her.
"Come here," she whispered, breathing hard through her nose. But Brittany only smiled, and kept dancing, mimicking their choreography, but following 'Secret's slower, more sensuous beat.
God… no one moved like Brittany.
Breathless, without words and overtaken, Santana could only watch, as Brittany pinned her with her eyes, mouthing her the words as she edged her way to her.
Something's coming over me… My baby's got a secret…
On her knees, Brittany crawled, until her hands smoothed against Santana's bare thighs, spreading them apart, and arching up between them.
The flutter of fabric brushed against her soaked thong, and Santana groaned. The smirk that came over Brittany's face would have been irritating if Santana hadn't been so damn turned on.
Brittany pulled at her boots, untangled her slacks, and gently guided Santana's legs over her shoulders.
Holding herself up with her elbows was suddenly exhausting, and Santana gave up, falling back against the bed when Brittany's lips began to kiss her inner thigh.
When knuckles grazed her thong in time with the music, she bucked harshly. She heard Brittany's throaty laugh, and suddenly fingers were curving underneath, sliding against her, pushing fabric to the side.
When a tongue swept at her, Santana clamped her legs against Brittany's ears and closed her eyes, realizing she was being eaten out with nothing but a corset and a pushed aside thong on.
God Bless Madonna.
***
When Santana usually came, she did it with a quiet whimper, so soft that sometimes Brittany couldn't hear it, but instead felt it around her fingers, with Santana clamping down around her, her legs spasming against her, body arching over the bed.
When Santana came HARD, Brittany suspected the whole freaking house could hear it (which is what almost got them caught that last time).
Even with 'Beautiful Stranger' playing loudly from Santana's computer, Brittany heard it this time; tasted it. Santana's grip around her head was almost painful, but Brittany didn't mind. She rode it out, keeping her tongue pressed lightly against Santana's clit, breathing in hard as Santana's legs fell from her shoulders.
"Fuck," she heard, and she smiled, careful as she gently licked one last time and lifted her head.
Santana was looking at her with that glazed over, satisfied look that Brittany knew she never had with anyone else.
She couldn't say how she knew, but she did, and the feeling that it gave Brittany was … mind blowing.
Santana weakly reached for her, thumb wiping at the wetness on her chin. "Come here," she demanded softly.
Brittany only grinned, shook her head lightly as she crawled up Santana's body, biting her lower lip as she sunk down into her, feeling Santana's knee come up and push against her core. Santana's arms wrapped around her shoulders, her mouth opened against hers in that sexy, wet way that happened after Brittany ate her out, like Santana was trying to lick it all off her.
"I still want to take this off you," Brittany whispered, tugging at Santana's corset when Santana's mouth tore away from hers and began to travel down her jaw.
Santana paused, biting lightly against her neck. "Okay," she whispered, and then she bucked up, shoving Brittany off her and over onto her back. Santana straddled her, staring down at her with a smile on her face that was wicked and really, really hot. "But I go first."
--
The playlist had progressed to 'Material Girl' when Santana's eyes opened. Naked and sprawled against Brittany, her cheek brushed against Brittany's nipple as she stirred, causing the girl in whose arms she had been sleeping to whimper slightly.
"Shit," she said, looking at the clock. "We need to get up soon. We have to go back for Cheerios practice."
Brittany was currently staring at the ceiling. "I'm gonna tease my hair tomorrow," she said resolutely. "Like Madonna. And I'm going to get some of those lacey glove things."
Santana blinked, trying to process Brittany's calm statements. "You'll look ridiculous."
Brittany shrugged. "I like her."
Resigned, a boneless and sated Santana settled back down against Brittany, pausing to lightly bite Brittany's nipple, before whispering, "I like her too."
Seriously, God Fucking Bless Madonna.
FIN
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Genre: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating:R, NC-17ish? just an excuse for smut, really.
Spoilers for: 1x15 - The Power of Madonna
Summary: There's just something about Madonna and expressing yourself that can be the biggest turn on…
AN - You just know that after this look, after this number, stuff happened.
And because lostbitca wanted corset!sex
****
Sue Sylvester had a point.
Madonna and her music carried a certain primal essence. It rushed through Santana like some sort of possession; flowing energy through her veins, from the tips of her fingers down to her groin. And in booted heels, a turquoise corset and black slacks, hips pumping and torso arching, catching the melody of Madonna and her sex-inspired Girl Power, Brittany was damn breathtaking.
The unenlightened student population of McKinley High School could say whatever they would about Brittany's brain wattage; she was a fucking savant in the areas that really mattered.
Like dancing. Like sex. With Madonna, those were one in the same, and the resulting effect felt like the best kind of foreplay; the kind she only ever got with Brittany.
The song ended with Santana cupping herself between her legs; a raw sensual moved prescribed by Madonna. She gripped herself hard, felt the throb that caused her eyes to flutter.
"That's what I'm talking about!" she dimly heard Mr. Schuester say, as her head swiveled to Brittany.
Brittany's eyes sparkled back.
Fuck.
Inhaling deeply, Santana jerked her gaze forward, a tick in her jaw her only visible reaction when the girls crowded together in congratulation, and the unmistakable feel of Brittany's fingers smoothed down her arm and threaded through hers, palm gripping sweaty palm.
Rachel was squealing; Quinn was chattering, and she was moving off the stage, into the wings.
Wild eyes searched for the first pocket of darkness, a bit of shadow between some ropes, and then she yanked, swiveling as the other girls clattered past her.
With momentum, she pulled Brittany around her, until Brittany's back hit the wood. Fingers tangled in hers pulled hard, and suddenly they were pressed together.
They met each other halfway, mouths open. Brittany's fingers dug into her nape, grabbing hold of the knot that kept her hair restricted and tightening around it, causing an exhalation of pain that Brittany didn't apologize for. Her tongue scanted across her teeth, then pushed inside.
The throb between her legs pounded into an ache that had her hips jerking. Her boots kicked between Brittany's legs, trying to find a space to jam a knee, but she had only just began to writhe against Brittany's thigh when she heard a heated moan and the fingers at her scalp pulled sharply.
The pain wasn't so much the hair-pulling, as it was that Santana needed to fucking get-off- now.
"What?" she gasped, incredulous irritation in her voice as she fumbled for Brittany's waist, trying to buck forward.
"Not like this," Brittany whispered, but her head lowered and her lips began to plant kisses on Santana's neck, causing a shiver that nearly made her knees buckle against her.
"Not like what?" she said, because Santana was not used to 'no'. She surged forward, palming Brittany's breast over the corset.
She could hear Brittany's breath catch, heard a throaty, "Not so fast-" but then Brittany's body pushed into her palm, and when Brittany's mouth collided with hers, she released a triumphant moan, slamming Brittany back into the wall and moving her hand lower still, until she was pressing hard into the moist fabric between her legs.
Brittany groaned, low and raspy, and she tore her lips away, head falling back as her hips bucked against her hand. "I don't want it fast."
The words carried with them a soft whine. It was just enough to make Santana falter. "What?"
Brittany's jeweled eyes opened, heavy-lidded with lust. "I want to take that off of you."
Santana swallowed hard, heart pounding and body tense with sexual frustration. She felt Brittany against her hand, and god-damn, all it would take was a couple quick moves, the jerk of a zipper and she could be touching her, fucking her against this wall and -
Her eyes closed; her forehead fell against Brittany's cheek.
"Fine," she whispered, gritting her teeth. "Let's get out of here."
"Mr. Schuester's gonna wonder-"
"I could give a flying rat's ass," she snapped, as she jerked her hands away and nearly hobbled as she tried to step back. Fuck, she was throbbing. "Let's get out of here."
She kept her legs crossed in the car, and didn't speak to Brittany at all.
***
Brittany didn't mind that Santana was grumpy.
Honestly, she thought it was a little funny. Santana always got grumpy when Brittany made her wait, but what counted was the fact that no matter what, Santana always waited. If Brittany wanted her to wait, she would wait.
And besides, it wasn't like Brittany wasn't just as turned on as Santana was. Especially because Santana dancing in a corset was like watching some sort of porno, and as fun as cheerleading skirts were, it's not like they didn't wear that all the time.
Brittany wanted to take it off of her. It was what she wanted, and Santana always did what she wanted.
"Don't touch me," Santana grumbled, when Brittany reached over on the drive to Santana's house.
Brittany didn't take it personally. She knew what blue balls looked like, and Santana was really, really blue.
But she didn't feel bad.
Santana never stayed mad for long. Not when Brittany did the things she was thinking about doing to her as soon as they got to the house.
***
Her house was empty, as per the usual.
Away from the stage, in her own home, Santana felt suddenly ridiculous, dressed in a corset and a men's suit, hair tightly bound together, leading a girl who was dressed just like she was up the stairs that they had both ascended and descended hundreds of times.
As kids, playing with dolls. As twelve-year-olds, discovering make up and boys. At sixteen, taking stairs two at a time to enact some sort of Madonna-fetish fantasy scenario that would end with them fucking each other's brains out.
She didn't have the sense of humor to be amused by the progression. Her fingers were tight around Brittany's as she twisted the knob of her bedroom door, pushing it open.
She heard Brittany locking it behind her (a habit since the last time Santana's mom had almost caught them), and she headed for her computer. Coach Sylvester had ordered a ban of anything but Madonna tunes, and dutifully, Santana had committed a playlist on Itunes.
She clicked on it, until Madonna's 'Secret' wafted through the room.
When the heat of another body pressed up against her back, hands smoothing around her middle to smooth over her breasts, Santana's body shuddered, her eyes fluttered closed.
"Britt-"
"Shh."
The slender, strong fingers of her best friend continued to move, massaging Santana's chest, thumbing at her nipples, until they hardened underneath the fabric, making Santana hiss with the rough play.
She bit her lip, kept quiet, hands gripping the side of her computer desk as Brittany's groin pressed against her butt, grinding lightly against her, in time to the music.
"Britt-"
Brittany shut her up with a yank, straightening her against her, hips moving against hers, encouraging her to move. Santana's throat bobbed with emotion, and kept her eyes closed, head falling back. Brittany's lips skimmed against her bare neck and shoulder, leaving goosebumps in her wake.
Palms widened and smoothed town her torso, keeping them together, moving sensuously to the beat. When one hand slid between her legs, cupping her hard, Santana whimpered, feeling a flood of wetness that was almost embarrassing.
"You feel that?" she heard, and nodded weakly. "That's what you did to me when I saw you in this."
Brittany moved up, reaching around her with both hands, unbuckling her belt and yanking it out of her pants with a snap of leather.
Fingers dug into Brittany's nape, and Santana's head turned, catching Brittany's mouth with hers, hungrily kissing her as Brittany's fingers worked at her zipper.
Her pants whispered down her legs, falling silently to the floor.
Santana swiveled around so fast she nearly tangled in the pants, caught up in her boots and almost crashing to the floor.
Brittany caught her with a dancer's ease, kissing her hard before pushing her. Santana stumbled back, falling back on the bed, legs tangled and eyes wide as Brittany grinned at her.
"Come here," she whispered, breathing hard through her nose. But Brittany only smiled, and kept dancing, mimicking their choreography, but following 'Secret's slower, more sensuous beat.
God… no one moved like Brittany.
Breathless, without words and overtaken, Santana could only watch, as Brittany pinned her with her eyes, mouthing her the words as she edged her way to her.
Something's coming over me… My baby's got a secret…
On her knees, Brittany crawled, until her hands smoothed against Santana's bare thighs, spreading them apart, and arching up between them.
The flutter of fabric brushed against her soaked thong, and Santana groaned. The smirk that came over Brittany's face would have been irritating if Santana hadn't been so damn turned on.
Brittany pulled at her boots, untangled her slacks, and gently guided Santana's legs over her shoulders.
Holding herself up with her elbows was suddenly exhausting, and Santana gave up, falling back against the bed when Brittany's lips began to kiss her inner thigh.
When knuckles grazed her thong in time with the music, she bucked harshly. She heard Brittany's throaty laugh, and suddenly fingers were curving underneath, sliding against her, pushing fabric to the side.
When a tongue swept at her, Santana clamped her legs against Brittany's ears and closed her eyes, realizing she was being eaten out with nothing but a corset and a pushed aside thong on.
God Bless Madonna.
***
When Santana usually came, she did it with a quiet whimper, so soft that sometimes Brittany couldn't hear it, but instead felt it around her fingers, with Santana clamping down around her, her legs spasming against her, body arching over the bed.
When Santana came HARD, Brittany suspected the whole freaking house could hear it (which is what almost got them caught that last time).
Even with 'Beautiful Stranger' playing loudly from Santana's computer, Brittany heard it this time; tasted it. Santana's grip around her head was almost painful, but Brittany didn't mind. She rode it out, keeping her tongue pressed lightly against Santana's clit, breathing in hard as Santana's legs fell from her shoulders.
"Fuck," she heard, and she smiled, careful as she gently licked one last time and lifted her head.
Santana was looking at her with that glazed over, satisfied look that Brittany knew she never had with anyone else.
She couldn't say how she knew, but she did, and the feeling that it gave Brittany was … mind blowing.
Santana weakly reached for her, thumb wiping at the wetness on her chin. "Come here," she demanded softly.
Brittany only grinned, shook her head lightly as she crawled up Santana's body, biting her lower lip as she sunk down into her, feeling Santana's knee come up and push against her core. Santana's arms wrapped around her shoulders, her mouth opened against hers in that sexy, wet way that happened after Brittany ate her out, like Santana was trying to lick it all off her.
"I still want to take this off you," Brittany whispered, tugging at Santana's corset when Santana's mouth tore away from hers and began to travel down her jaw.
Santana paused, biting lightly against her neck. "Okay," she whispered, and then she bucked up, shoving Brittany off her and over onto her back. Santana straddled her, staring down at her with a smile on her face that was wicked and really, really hot. "But I go first."
--
The playlist had progressed to 'Material Girl' when Santana's eyes opened. Naked and sprawled against Brittany, her cheek brushed against Brittany's nipple as she stirred, causing the girl in whose arms she had been sleeping to whimper slightly.
"Shit," she said, looking at the clock. "We need to get up soon. We have to go back for Cheerios practice."
Brittany was currently staring at the ceiling. "I'm gonna tease my hair tomorrow," she said resolutely. "Like Madonna. And I'm going to get some of those lacey glove things."
Santana blinked, trying to process Brittany's calm statements. "You'll look ridiculous."
Brittany shrugged. "I like her."
Resigned, a boneless and sated Santana settled back down against Brittany, pausing to lightly bite Brittany's nipple, before whispering, "I like her too."
Seriously, God Fucking Bless Madonna.
FIN