Curled in bed, for their first night together, Quinn and Puck just held each other. Too preoccupied with Santana and Brittany's whereabouts, they fell into a fitful sleep.
It was taking forever for Santana to extinguish the fire and get ready for bed. Seconds ticked by like minutes and minutes like hours. Brittany lay on the loft and stared at the bright starry sky twinkling through the skylight. It was a humbling, black kind of sky; the kind that makes you search for answers to the big questions.
She was lost in it's infiniteness; her thoughts traveling to her family, her friends, her future, and ultimately Santana. There was no doubt that it was a magical day, she thought. Being whisked away, just the two of them in paradise; laughing, splashing, and making love under the stars. It was a fairytale day.
The teen knew better though. It was unrealistic. Fairytales don't happen, especially to people like her.
With every passing minute, Santana's absence wrapped her in a blanket of insecurity, leaving Brittany to question the nature of their relationship, or whatever it was. A shooting star whizzed by and the teen considered making a wish. The young girl insider her wanted to wish for Santana to love her; to fall in love with her, to stay like this forever, to live happily ever after. The grown-up Brittany knew that would never happen. The grown-up Brittany knew that the shooting star was just a meteroid, entering our atmosphere as it burns out.
It was absurd to believe that Santana Lopez, the most powerful woman in the country, could be falling in love with her; Brittany Pierce from Lima, Ohio; average student; two time runner-up as Little Miss Ohio; middle class, Podunk trash. Every adult knows that the wealthy, educated, handsome aristocrat never falls in love with the uneducated, destitute housemaid. It's just a fairytale that poor mothers tell their poor daughters to give them hope.
Brittany knew there was really only one reason to explain their newfound intimacy; only one reasonable explanation.
Honestly, it didn't matter the reason. The force of attraction pulling her to the Latina was too great. It was magnetic. It was like air. She needed to be near Santana, important to her, in any capacity, whatever the reason.
Back in the city, in a bad area of town, two men sat in a corner booth at a seedy bar. It was the perfect place for hushed tones, illicit affairs, and shady dealings. The darker of the two men waved off the cocktail waitress; both gave her a threatening look for coming over without their calling, she should known better.
"I met with Vasquez earlier. It's done. He totally bought it." The smaller man grinned proudly, but went unnoticed in the dim light.
"Two for the price of one," the dark skinned man stated confidently, as the pair clinked their glasses in celebration.
"The only thing that could ruin this now is that pompous prick. If he finds out we're - "
The darker man cut him off. "Don't worry about Schuester." He stated confidently as he dropped an excessively large bill on the table and walked out.
The short man in the cheap suit knew not to ask questions he didn't want to know the answers to.
Santana, fresh out of the shower, climbed her way up the ladder to Brittany. Even though they had done much more, just hours ago, under the stars, Santana was still nervous. The butterflies in her stomach thrashed with every step.
The Latina couldn't believe her eyes.
She knew Brittany had magnificent legs, it was impossible not to notice; however, the way the white shirt cut up the sides of her thighs, just barely covering tanned, toned skin, Santana went weak at the sight. Gripping the ladder tighter, she made her way up the last few rungs.
"I could say the same." The words purred out of Brittany's upturned mouth, as her smoky blue eyes took in the sight of the Latina, clothed only in white panties and a semitransparent tank top.
Brittany reached across the empty space between them, grabbing Santana's wrist. For a second, the blonde didn't move. They could both feel the Latina's blood pound hard and fast against the girls fingertips. Santana found it amazing that such a simple touch from Brittany could make her have such a visceral reaction.
Even if it took the whole night; Brittany wanted to take her time. She wanted to bring Santana higher than she's ever been. She had a deliciously, torturously slow plan; she wanted to give her so much pleasure that she'd make herself indispensable. It was both selfless and extraordinarily selfish.
Pulling Santana to her, she ran a slender finger sensuously over the woman's prominent collarbone and up the side her neck. Finally cupping the chiseled face, her thumb ran over the woman's cheek and pulled her close, pausing right before their lips met.
Brittany whispered, "I wanted you."
It took all of her restraint not to kiss Santana, but Brittany had a plan. Just centimeters apart, the blonde's breath tickled the Latina, sending chills down her spine.
"From the second I saw you in that crowd, I wanted you."
Pale lips grazed over the brunette's structured jaw, deliberately working their way to Santana's ear.
"You were the most amazingly, beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life."
The soft tongue brushed the bottom of Santana's lobe and her breath cooled the hot, wet flesh. Santana couldn't help but moan at the contact.
"Did you notice how I stopped fighting when our eyes locked? How I could only see you?"
Briefly regaining her composure, she nodded her response. Unexpectedly, she felt Brittany's hands at her sides, lifting the thin material.
"Every look, every touch from you, even the most innocent, sends a chill up my spine."
Short fingernails, quickly followed by soft skin, guided the material up her stomach. When the cotton top grazed her hardened nipples, the contrast in textures made Santana whimper.
"I would do anything..."
In one fluid motion, Brittany removed Santana's shirt. Quickly, her own followed.
"Anything you want."
Santana tried to reciprocate the feeling, but quickly felt Brittany push her down. It felt like she was under some kind of spell. Unable to do or say anything, the Latina leaned back and accepted her lover's silent directions.
"Anything you need."
Brittany's mouth worked a meandering path down the darker woman's body, covering every inch with a kiss, lick, or nip. Brittany softly caressed the underside of her breast, letting her fingers get acquainted with the sensitive skin there. When Santana arched her back in response, Brittany moaned into the woman's hip, sending vibrations straight to the Latina's center.
"Anything you desire."
As the words purred out of her mouth, Brittany's roaming fingers bit into the Latina's engorged nipple. The teen took her sweet time; appreciating every sight and sound, silently studying her lover's reaction.
"All I want to do is please you."
When she felt a tug at her waistband, Santana tensed. She had never felt so exposed to anyone before. It was exquisitely unnerving. Still unmoving, smoldering blue eyes pleaded for approval to continue.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Silently, Santana lifted her hips off the ground bed, allowing her panties to be pulled completely off. Brittany gulped at the sight.
The blonde settled her slender body between Santana's legs. Her hands gradually worked their way down full breasts, down tight abs, and settled on Santana's hips. The pads of her thumbs rubbed circles, while she let the woman adjust. Her mouth and tongue sweeping across the valley of her hip, while Brittany patiently waited for Santana to relax.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stop?"
As Santana's dark eyes connected with her's, the Latina subconsciously licked her lips. It was a silent yes. Slowly, she brushed her finger over her lover's folds. Santana bucked her hips at the contact, throwing her toned arms over her head and grasping for the pillow. The sight made Brittany's heart skip a beat and arousal flood threw her body.
Eager to continue pleasing her lover, she again ran her finger up and down Santana's slit slowly, making sure to press at the top, which caused the Latina's breath to hitch. Needing more, Brittany lowered her face between Santana's thighs. She inhaled deeply. Santana smelled sweet, musky, and spicy, all at the same time. It made her mouth water and she moaned into the empty space, her hot breath hitting Santana's core.
As she felt the girl's hot tongue run up her sex, Santana's eyes involuntarily squeezed shut.
It was the first words out of her mouth. The desperation in her voice coupled with the delicious taste, almost sent Brittany over the edge. Regaining her composure, Brittany stretched her free arm out and cupped Santana's breast, while still lapping at the delicious wetness. Whenever the girl rubbed the erect nipple, it resonated between Santana's legs. It felt like a string connecting the two, Santana mused. She was an instrument and Brittany was the musician.
"Brittany." Santana's voice was breathy and barely more than a whisper as she said the blonde's name. It felt so natural to say. It felt so right. She wondered why she hadn't said it earlier. Now all she wanted to do is say it again and again. She wanted to whisper it into the girl's overheated skin. She wanted to scream it into the night.
"Brittany." The name rolled off her tongue as a moan, loud enough to sneak through the thighs tightly pressed to blonde's ears.
Brittany's eyes lit up at the sound of her name on Santana's lips. She raised her head to the voice. She wasn't able to hold back when she saw the effect she was having on Santana; back arched, one arm thrown behind her head grasping for the mattress, hips canting up, mouth slightly ajar, and breath ragged.
Santana didn't think she could hold off the impending tidal wave. Grabbing frantically at Brittany's head, she tangled her fingers into the blonde locks and pulled the girl's head forward. Grinding her pelvis down, Santana needed release.
Brittany couldn't make out what the Latina was saying in Spanish; however, Brittany understood her tone. The Latina, on the brink of a colossal orgasm, needed to be pushed over the edge. No longer holding back, Brittany sucked hard on the tiny bud she was lavishing attention on. What started as a ripple had turned into a tsunami. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through Santana's body as she cried out.
Even though Brittany's body was screaming for attention, she stayed between Santana's legs, unhurriedly licking and cleaning Santana's sex, savoring in the flavor and feel. Her tongue travelled a little too close to the overstimulated nub and Santana gasped, pulling her lover up forcefully.
Curled into Brittany's side, Santana rested her head on the taller girl's neck, breathing in her scent. She relished in the feeling, the blissful afterglow, while fingers ran through her dark hair, lulling her to sleep.
In the past, Santana would lay in the loft and stare at the stars; however, being there with the Brittany, she never once looked up.
Feeling her eyelids grow heavy with contentment, the Latina's voice trailed off before she could finish the sentence. What she wanted to tell Brittany was that she wished they could stay like this forever; that nothing would change.
In the early hours of the morning, Puck woke in a cold sweat. He had dreamt about a day years ago, shortly after Santana took over for her father. It was a memory he had long forgotten.
They had been goofing around while they sparred. Suddenly, something had come over Santana's face; something dark and foreboding. She had calmly told him, "When I'm killed, there's a box in my suite - behind a fake wall in the side closet. Everything you need will be there."
He had tried to change the subject. He had tried to lighten the situation, to no avail. She cut him off, her eyes as dark as her words.
"Noah, listen to me. It isn't a question of if... It's a question of when. One day, someone will kill me. You're the closest thing I have to family. You're like my brother and you're the only one who can take over. Deep down you're a Lopez. Side closet. Got it?"
Puck shivered at the memory and the cool night air, as he jumped out of the warm bed. He didn't want to believe that Santana was dead, but he also didn't want to overlook anything. So without a second glance at Quinn, he rushed upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Tapping the walls of the closet, he finally found the hollow section she spoke of. When it didn't budge, he knocked it open, the wood biting into his hands making him bleed. He pulled the two large boxes out and dumped their contents on the floor.
Sitting cross-legged on Santana's bedroom, Puck began sorting through the excessive amount of paperwork and files. It was going to be a long night, he exclaimed to the empty room.