Title: Happy Hour Special
Summary: Sometimes Santana lets her jealousy get the better of her. (Rated M for language and lady sexy times)
A/N: Glee and its characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them. But I promise to put them right back where I found them.
Agreeing to come with you to your company's happy hour had seemed like a good idea at the time. A night out where someone else was picking up the tab seemed like a perfect way to end a busy week. What I hadn't really counted on was your popularity with your fellow dance teachers outside of work. Not that I didn't know that they liked you but I figured they saw you all day during the week and that would be enough.
Snorting out a laugh, I swirl the ice in my glass and roll my eyes at myself. I see you all the time too and I can't get enough of you so I don't know why I'm feeling annoyed at everyone pulling you into their conversations. Conversations that you included me in, your hand warm as it wrapped around my forearm, your co-workers' smiles genuine as they spoke with both of us.
However, thirty minutes ago found me returning from the bathroom to the little corner table we'd staked out at the bar, our winter coats piled on top of our purses, to find you halfway across the bar speaking with yet another coworker. Trying to remember her name from the whirlwind of introductions earlier in the night, my thoughts come to a screeching halt as I observe her resting her hand on your shoulder as she leans up to tell you something. Your hands remain at your side as nod your head and laugh at whatever it was she just said. Catching my eye, you grin at me and bring your hand up in a little wave and I force myself to relax, resting my back against the corner of the dark wood walls as I cross my legs and drape one arm across the back of your abandoned chair. Returning your smile, I wave back and try to ignore the rush of irritation as the woman touches your forearm to get your attention again. The low hum of voices in the bar is quickly replaced with the rush of blood in my ears as my irritation veers quickly into anger, my feet coming to rest flat on the floor as she slides her hand from your forearm to your shoulder and squeezes once before letting go.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I try to block her out, instead concentrating on how pretty you look standing next to the white Christmas lights hanging from the top of the bar. You'd straightened your hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, your eyes made even more gorgeous by the darker eye shadow you'd used to compliment the peach colored dress you were wearing. I'd been running late from work and had to meet you here instead of getting ready together at home, and I won't deny the little thrill it gave me to walk in and see you, your smile at seeing me washing away all the stress of the workday.
Except now I feel my shoulders tensing with another kind of stress as the woman yet again reaches her hand towards you, this time lightly touching one of your earrings as she apparently pays them some kind of compliment. I watch as you bring your hand up to touch the other one, accepting her compliment with an easy smile. I find myself standing up as instead of your hand falling back to your side, I see it stopped in mid motion as she grabs your hand. Turning your wrist towards her, I watch as she points to the small tattoo on the inside of your wrist, the matching one on my own wrist seeming to burn as she runs her thumb over the ink.
Before I can think about my actions, I'm striding to your side, lightly gripping the inside of your elbow as I turn to face your co-worker, an overly sweet smile plastered on my face, "Excuse us for a moment, won't you?"
Without waiting for an answer, I guide you towards the bathroom in the back, pulling you across the threshold and shutting the door. Taking another deep breath, I cross my arms across my chest and meet your questioning gaze, "Brittany, what the hell was that?"
Frowning, you gesture towards the bar and then back towards me, "You tell me. You're the one that just dragged me into the bathroom."
"That woman you were talking to…"
"Her name is Ambrosia? What the hell kind of name is Ambrosia?"
Shrugging your shoulders, your brow furrows with irritation as you answer me, "I don't know, Santana. I didn't ask her how she got her name when she filled out the job application. What does her name have to do with why we're in here talking in the bathroom?"
"Well, Ambrosia was being a little too touchy feely. I didn't like the way she was touching you."
"You didn't like the way…" With a sigh, you stop and press your fingertips against your closed eyes, shaking your head and letting out a breath as you look at me, "She wasn't doing anything. She was just talking to me."
"Yeah, if by 'talking' you mean copping a feel," Pacing away from you, I feel my anger return at the images replaying in my head and I briefly consider going back out there and having a discussion with Ambrosia instead.
"Santana, you're being ridiculous."
At that, I stop pacing and turn to face you, my eyebrows rising to my hairline as I come to stand in front of you again, "I'm being…wait…I'm being ridiculous?"
"Yes. You're completely overreacting."
"Britt, how am I overreacting? That woman had her hands all over you. All I did was…"
"All you did was interrupt a perfectly innocent conversation…"
"Not on her end."
"Interrupt a perfectly innocent conversation, with a new teacher at the dance studio, I might add. A new teacher that fills a spot we have needed to fill for a while now," Your voice is coated in irritation and you continue speaking even as I take a breath to interrupt you once more. "You interrupt by grabbing my hand and pulling me away in midsentence like some crazy person staking their claim and then hauling me off into this bathroom."
"Staking their claim?" Scoffing out a response, I throw my hands out to the side and stare you down. "Now who's being ridiculous?"
Heaving out an exasperated breath, you hold your hand up and the sight of your tattoo makes my jaw clench as I picture her running her thumb over it, "You know what, San? I'm not having this conversation with you right now." Turning around you reach for the doorknob, looking back at me when I put my hand on your waist to stop you, "Let me leave."
"I don't want to talk with you right now, Santana. Not until you've cooled off."
Slapping my hand against the bathroom door, I reach past you and click the lock into place, stepping closer to your body without actually touching you, "Did you really think I could just stand there and watch her run her hand down your arm while she talked with you? That I could stand there and see the way she was looking at you and not be upset?"
"Dancers are affectionate people, Santana. You know that," Your voice is softer than before and I feel a little bit of my anger dissipate even as desire starts to take its place, the nearness of your body causing my heart rate to pick up. "And she wasn't looking at me like anything."
"Yes, she was."
Sighing heavily, I can almost feel your eye roll as you shake your head, "Fine. How was she looking at me then?"
Pressing my body against your back, I keep my one hand braced above your shoulder as I bring my other hand to the outside of your thigh, letting my mouth brush against your ear as I answer you, "She was looking at you the way I look at you." Bending slightly, I slowly slide the edge of your dress up your thigh, letting my fingertips rub against your skin as I keep my lips against the shell of your ear, "Like all she can think about it is how fucking good it would feel to have you naked and spread open so she could put her mouth here."
At that, I reach under your dress and press my fingers between your legs, letting my lips graze against the side of your neck as you jerk your hips into the touch. Widening my stance, I grind myself against your ass, groaning a bit as you place your palms flat against the door above your head and arch your back, "Santana, what are you doing?"
Stepping closer to the door, I press you against the dark wood, the back of my hand trapped between your body and door as I keep my fingers moving slowly against your thong. Dropping my other hand to your thigh, I lift the back of your dress up to your waist and look down, groaning at the sight of your ass pressed against me, "You should see how good you look right now, Brittany. Do you think she's out there right now wondering why we've been in here so long? Do you think she knows that I'm about to fuck you?"
Your cheek is flush against the door so your moan is muffled against the inside of your arm and I press a kiss to the shoulder muscles I can feel flexing as you try to rock your hips. Keeping my fingers still, I scrape my teeth along the back of your neck, grinning as I feel a shudder run through your body, "Does that turn you on? Knowing that in a couple of minutes she's is going to probably know what's going on in here." Sliding my hand from your waist to your ponytail, I pull it back slowly and bring my lips to your ear, letting my fingertips rub against the wetness I can feel soaking the thin piece of material between your legs, "Do you think you can be quiet, Britt? Do you think I can make you come without everyone out there hearing just how much you like it when I let you ride my fingers?"
Pushing against the door, you force a little space between our bodies so you can reach down and pull my hand from between your legs, stepping back and turning to face me. Leaning back hard against the door, your chest is rising and falling quickly and for a few seconds neither one of us moves, my quickened breath the only sound to accompany yours in the quiet bathroom. Thinking that I might have pushed you too far, I lick my lips and step forward, reaching for your hands to apologize only to be stopped by your hand on my chest. Never looking away from me, you reach underneath your dress and slide your thong down your legs, bending down to pick it up off the floor before leaning over to tuck it inside the back pocket of my jeans. You rest the back of your head against the door and move your feet a little wider, both hands pulling up the bottom of your dress until the fabric rests just below your ribs. Dropping my gaze from yours, I look down and feel my insides clench at the sight of your naked sex, your arousal apparent even in the muted lighting of the bathroom. You reach your hand out and grab my wrist, tugging me slowly until I'm pressed flush against your body once more, your mouth barely an inch from mine as you slide my fingers into your wetness, "Let's find out."
Denying myself the pleasure of kissing you in favor of watching your face as I tease your opening with just the tip of my fingers, I feel my own desire dampen the inside of my jeans as I press my thigh against the back of my hand. Gripping your waist tight in my other hand, I press down on your hip, silently encouraging you to take my fingers deeper inside of you. As you sink down slowly, I swallow your groan with a kiss, opening my mouth to your seeking tongue. I can taste the grape-flavored vodka on your tongue and my hand slides up from your waist to palm at your breast over your dress, overcome with the feel of you. Sucking on your bottom lip, I pull back to watch your face, your eyes trained on my fingers as they move inside of you, "You're so sexy like that, fucking yourself against my fingers."
Keeping one hand holding your dress up, you bring the other to the back of my neck, holding tight as you start to rock your hips a little faster. A burst of female laughter outside the door brings your eyes to mine and I grit my teeth and groan as you clench against my fingers, your thigh muscles flexing as I start to meet your thrusts, "You like that, Britt? Knowing someone might hear you right now?"
Punctuating my statement with a hard thrust, I knock your hips into the door and the moan you release makes my lower belly pulse. Another voice joins the first one outside the bathroom and I cover your next moan with my mouth, bracing my forearm next to your head as I start to fuck you in earnest. Your wetness is coating my palm and I'm grateful I'm wearing my dark jeans as you spread your legs a little wider and start to grind down on each thrust of my fingers. Pulling back from the kiss, I cover your mouth with my hand as one of the ladies knocks on the door, jiggling the locked door knob. Stilling my fingers inside you, I press you flat against the door so you can't move, my fingers curling and pulsing as I press my palm against your clit. Keeping my eyes on you, I call out through the door to the other side, rocking my hips slowly against you as I feel you moan against my hand, "I'll be out in a minute."
A half-hearted 'sorry' comes through the door and I hear the ladies resume their conversation, your breath rushing through your nose across my hand as I feel you start to get tighter and tighter. Pressing my lips to your ear, I slowly remove my hand from your mouth and reach up to grab your hand at my shoulder, "You're going to have to keep yourself quiet now, baby."
Your husky whisper forces my eyes to widen as you fist my hair in your hand, "Don't stop, Santana. I'm so close."
Bearing down on my willpower, I bring your hand to cover your own mouth, sliding my fingers from inside you despite your whimpered protests, "I know. But not like this. Remember, you have to be quiet. Those ladies are right outside the door."
Dropping to my knees, I waste no time in burying my tongue inside you, looking up as your groan escapes the confines of your hand, keeping my eyes on you as your jerk your hips against my mouth. Groaning softly as the taste of you floods my mouth, I flutter my tongue inside you, closing my eyes as your wetness increases. Letting one hand remain pressed against your hip, I bring the other between your legs and slide my fingers inside you once more, my tongue moving to lick firmly at your clit. Your head drops back against the wood as you helplessly let loose another loud groan and this time, the knock on the door is louder as the lady calls out again.
"Hey, are you almost done in there? You've been in there for like, 15 minutes already. Come on."
Biting your lip, you bring your hand to the back of my neck, your other fist tightening against your dress bunched around your waist. The pulsing around my fingers is getting stronger and I know you're about to come. Sucking your clit into my mouth, I move my fingers faster and grunt as your fingernails dig into the nape of my neck. Your chin drops to your chest and your head is nodding frantically so I ignore the burn in my forearm, twisting my fingers as I bring you closer to orgasm.
Another knock sounds at the door and your eyes close as you hear Ambrosia's voice call, "Brittany? Are you in there? Are you okay?"
"We knocked like, 5 minutes ago. She said she'd be right out but this is ridiculous."
Knocking again, I can hear the door knob jiggling and I press my fingers deep inside you, sucking harder as I rub my fingertips inside you. Your eyes fly open and, as the ladies continue to speak outside, you press a fist to your mouth, coming hard against my fingers. Sliding my hand from your hip to your stomach, I keep you pressed upright as I replace my fingers with my tongue, lapping at your wetness as your legs tremble with aftershocks. I feel your dress fall to my face as you bring both hands to the back of my head and tug me up, pulling me into a slow kiss as I stand in front of you. Sliding my hand around your back, I pull you away from the door and smile as you tuck your face against my neck, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. With one last squeeze, I make my way over to the sink to wash my hands and splash some water on my face, meeting your amused smile in the mirror. Grabbing a paper towel, I dry my hands and face and walk over to place a soft kiss against your mouth, holding your hands between us.
"Britt, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you or anything by pulling you away from your conversation before. I didn't mean to do that, I promise. I just…I didn't like how overly friendly she was being with you, that's all. But, I probably could've handled it better."
Leaning forward, you kiss my cheek and then take a small step back, brushing down the wrinkles in your dress as best you can, "It's okay, San, though I appreciate the apology. She can be a little…overly friendly sometimes. I'll talk to her about it. She knows I'm dating you and she'll need to respect that." Reaching for the lock, you turn back and grin at me, crooking your finger to call me forward as you whisper against my ear, "Though if you're going to do this every time somebody touches my arm, I may have to hold my arms out everywhere I go."