(Glee) Ambush
Title: Ambush
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Santana/Lauren
Rating: NC-17
Words: 581
Notes: Rough play. For the Fireworks porn battle at femslash_today, prompt "Santana Lopez/Lauren Zizes, rough".
Summary: They don't play nice.
Lauren’s back is to her. The corridor’s empty this late into the afternoon, all the after-school activities already finished, but there’s still a chance somebody may be around, another student or a teacher or that creepy old janitor.
Santana doesn’t care.
There’s no grace to it, just her charging down the corridor, almost primal roar ripped from her throat, before she launches herself at Lauren’s back. And she knows Lauren heard her, even before her voice started bouncing off the walls, because Lauren always hears her. But Lauren doesn’t even turn, as if there’s no threat, as if Santana is nothing more than a fly buzzing around her.
Which makes Santana all the more vicious.
She latches on, one arm around Lauren’s neck, the other instantly pulling any hair she can wrap her fist around. Lauren snarls (God, Santana loves that sound) and spins easily, lurches backwards to slam Santana into the lockers hard enough to loosen her grip. Grabs at Santana’s forearm, tugging at it as she leans forward, and Santana’s being thrown face-first over Lauren’s shoulder before she can get her bearings.
Tumbling in midair because Lauren’s still got a death grip on her arm, too fast to even feel dizzy. And hitting the ground could hurt but Lauren supports her weight, doesn’t let her drop all the way, so only Santana’s heels and ass end up bruised by the floor.
Lauren’s on her before Santana can get her feet back under her, pushing her down, pinning her. And Santana knows she can’t get out of the hold (Lauren can pin Puck, for Christ’s sake) but she still hisses and spits and pushes up into the hands locked around her wrists.
Lauren’s breathing a little heavy and her eyes are so damn bright behind her glasses. “You could just ask, you know,” Lauren snorts, and then she’s laughing, laughing right in Santana’s face.
It makes Santana crazy, but the different kind of crazy, the good kind of crazy. Makes her groan and rub her head back against the floor, just to feel how solid it is beneath her.
“You’re fucking nuts,” Lauren says, and she sounds as weirdly impressed as ever, hands unforgiving as they spread Santana’s arms wider, leave her even more helpless. The heat of her, it presses down on Santana, surrounds her, and Santana’s so damn wet for this. Has been wet for this since math, when she sneered at Lauren, only for Lauren to roll her eyes and flip her off across the classroom.
“Just do it, you bitch!” Santana snaps, and she needs it, can’t wait anymore, will go insane if she has to wait anymore.
Lauren smirks but there’s that flush forming on her cheeks, the one that says she’s feeling it too. And then it’s buried in Santana’s neck, her teeth cruel at Santana’s throat, and Santana howls and drums her heels against the floor.
Lauren releases her right wrist to reach down and shove Santana’s skirt up around her waist, and Santana’s instantly grabbing at any fabric, any flesh she can, shamelessly groping and Lauren’s still laughing into the curve of Santana’s shoulder.
There’s the sound of Santana’s panties tearing along the seam and she bucking up into it, wild for it. Nobody gives it to her as rough as Lauren, nobody makes her scream as long and loud, and Santana spreads for it, moans for it, for fingers that twist and rub and always have her coming back for more.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Santana/Lauren
Rating: NC-17
Words: 581
Notes: Rough play. For the Fireworks porn battle at femslash_today, prompt "Santana Lopez/Lauren Zizes, rough".
Summary: They don't play nice.
Lauren’s back is to her. The corridor’s empty this late into the afternoon, all the after-school activities already finished, but there’s still a chance somebody may be around, another student or a teacher or that creepy old janitor.
Santana doesn’t care.
There’s no grace to it, just her charging down the corridor, almost primal roar ripped from her throat, before she launches herself at Lauren’s back. And she knows Lauren heard her, even before her voice started bouncing off the walls, because Lauren always hears her. But Lauren doesn’t even turn, as if there’s no threat, as if Santana is nothing more than a fly buzzing around her.
Which makes Santana all the more vicious.
She latches on, one arm around Lauren’s neck, the other instantly pulling any hair she can wrap her fist around. Lauren snarls (God, Santana loves that sound) and spins easily, lurches backwards to slam Santana into the lockers hard enough to loosen her grip. Grabs at Santana’s forearm, tugging at it as she leans forward, and Santana’s being thrown face-first over Lauren’s shoulder before she can get her bearings.
Tumbling in midair because Lauren’s still got a death grip on her arm, too fast to even feel dizzy. And hitting the ground could hurt but Lauren supports her weight, doesn’t let her drop all the way, so only Santana’s heels and ass end up bruised by the floor.
Lauren’s on her before Santana can get her feet back under her, pushing her down, pinning her. And Santana knows she can’t get out of the hold (Lauren can pin Puck, for Christ’s sake) but she still hisses and spits and pushes up into the hands locked around her wrists.
Lauren’s breathing a little heavy and her eyes are so damn bright behind her glasses. “You could just ask, you know,” Lauren snorts, and then she’s laughing, laughing right in Santana’s face.
It makes Santana crazy, but the different kind of crazy, the good kind of crazy. Makes her groan and rub her head back against the floor, just to feel how solid it is beneath her.
“You’re fucking nuts,” Lauren says, and she sounds as weirdly impressed as ever, hands unforgiving as they spread Santana’s arms wider, leave her even more helpless. The heat of her, it presses down on Santana, surrounds her, and Santana’s so damn wet for this. Has been wet for this since math, when she sneered at Lauren, only for Lauren to roll her eyes and flip her off across the classroom.
“Just do it, you bitch!” Santana snaps, and she needs it, can’t wait anymore, will go insane if she has to wait anymore.
Lauren smirks but there’s that flush forming on her cheeks, the one that says she’s feeling it too. And then it’s buried in Santana’s neck, her teeth cruel at Santana’s throat, and Santana howls and drums her heels against the floor.
Lauren releases her right wrist to reach down and shove Santana’s skirt up around her waist, and Santana’s instantly grabbing at any fabric, any flesh she can, shamelessly groping and Lauren’s still laughing into the curve of Santana’s shoulder.
There’s the sound of Santana’s panties tearing along the seam and she bucking up into it, wild for it. Nobody gives it to her as rough as Lauren, nobody makes her scream as long and loud, and Santana spreads for it, moans for it, for fingers that twist and rub and always have her coming back for more.