Title: Stand Clear of the Closing Doors, Please

Summary: "Brittany's made up her mind- she can't wait, she's going to take Santana right now- and the look on Santana's face tells Brittany that she won't stop her." Brittana. Subway!sex. SMUTTT. SUMOSMU/WankDay! YAY!

Warning: Uh. Exhibitionism, I guess? I mean, it's a public place… But nothing too kinky. Two girls gettin' it on should be obvious by now… Lots of dirty talk. But nothing too harsh. :)

A/N: Hellooooo again! Happy Wanky Wednesday! My second SUMMER OF SMUT submission has arrived! And I have to say- I'm appalled at the lack of creativity over at the GKM. I originally came up with the idea for Brittana to have sex on a subway on my own, and then figured I'd be able to find a specific prompt at the GKM that I could tailor the situation to- you know, like some kind of exhibitionism/vehicle sex/SOMETHING. BUT NO. Not unless I wanted to get ultra dirty with the dirty talk, and that's not really my style. Meh. Go bug Lighthouse for that.

SPEAKING OF WHICH! I have two (yes, count 'em!) TWO shout-outs to make!

First, to my dearest dear jelly, jellymankelly who has graced us all with her own SUMMER OF SMUT submission, Bound and Determined! So go check it out! What are you waiting for? GO! :D

And second I'd like to dedicate this fic once again to my lil' darling lighthouse, NegativeSpaces (who is I guess talking to me again? SUCCESS, FOLKS!) because she's awesome and stuff and stuff.

ANYWAYS. I think I talked long enough.

Happy reading! 8)

Brittany has an itch.

A burning, really. It started as a slow simmer, low in her stomach, and progressed to a persistent, throbbing need. She'd tried to take care of it at the apartment, by herself- but even as she arched up against her own hand, muscles strung tight with her release, a breathless moan tumbling from her parted lips, she still felt the aching pull in her center, and there was only one way to relieve it.

She had to find Santana.

It was rare for Brittany to fall into a state of arousal that she couldn't relieve herself, but her need wasn't the need to be fucked- it was the need to dominate, to control; the need to have her sexy girlfriend whimpering on the brink of release, begging for her touch. It was something she needed Santana for-

Which is what leads her to push the door open to the small diner on 19th and 7th, her focused, determined blue eyes scanning the tables like a hawk for her girlfriend. It leads her to slide into the chair next to Santana's- pressed almost too close- and lean in to plant a searing, hungry kiss on full, unsuspecting lips.

When she pulls back, eyes dark with desire, the other two girls at the table-Santana's friends- make teasing catcalls, and Santana clears her throat, sinking her white teeth into her plump lower lip; Brittany knows that if it wasn't for her girlfriend's tan complexion, she'd be sporting an obvious blush all the way down to her tauntingly-exposed collarbones, and she offers her a catty grin.

"Thanks for meeting me," Santana says, her voice hoarse with what Brittany knows is the beginnings of arousal. She reaches to lace their fingers together and rests their joined hands on the table top before nodding to her friends across the table. "I'm glad you're here. B, you remember my friends, right?"

Brittany nods, smiling politely at the two girls from Santana's dance class, who wave enthusiastically back at her, sending her knowing winks. Brittany does remember them- likes them even- but all she can concentrate on at the moment is the itch under her skin, the pull in her stomach, and now that the only person who can relieve it is sitting right next to her, it's become almost unbearable. She fidgets uncomfortably.

Santana notices- she notices everything about Brittany- and shoots her a questioning look, but Brittany just smiles and squeezes her hand reassuringly- she doesn't want to be rude, and Santana was in the middle of having lunch with her friends before Brittany decided to text her and meet up. To reassure her further, Brittany strokes her thumb fondly over the back of Santana's hand.

"Flirt," Santana accuses softly, so soft that Brittany almost doesn't hear it.

"Me?" Brittany responds, and anyone else might mistake Brittany's playful tone for genuine confusion, but Santana knows better- Santana knows Brittany better than she knows herself. Their eyes meet, and Brittany feels her sex throb with want- she wants to see Santana's eyes when she comes, wants it more than anything else at the moment.

Santana's eyes darken at what Brittany must assume is the obvious arousal swirling in her own, and she swallows. She looks at the table, sweeps her eyes around the room- would it really be so bad if she just laid Santana out on the tabletop and-

"B," Santana breathes, and Brittany licks her lips, snapping out of her short-lived fantasy. She shifts in her seat again, already beginning to feel the effects of Santana's proximity on her body. Santana lowers her voice even further, leaning forward a little to keep their conversation private from their company. "What are you thinking about?"

"Pushing you onto the table," Brittany murmurs, her voice thick with arousal. "And then eating-"

"I already ordered," Santana informs her, biting her lip again. The action drives Brittany crazy- she wants to suck on that plump lower lip. "I thought we could split a sandwich. I'm not really all that hungry, and we are gonna have dinner later, right? Back at the apartment?" Santana raises an eyebrow pointedly, suggestively.

Brittany, mesmerized by Santana's lips, nods absently, and Santana squeezes her hand, offering her a smirk before turning to her two friends and engaging them in conversation. Brittany simmers beside her, her skin feeling like there's a white hot current underneath it as the two girls from Santana's dance class and Santana all talk about their latest dance routine. Brittany keeps up easily without trying, since dance is something she instinctively knows.

Still, Santana explains who the people they reference are ("my dance partner who thinks pirouettes are a type of bread" or "this obnoxious girl in my class who has extremely poor form- seriously, how did she even get in?") and soon enough, their meal arrives, but Brittany really couldn't care less about the food, other than the fact that she now has something to focus on besides the sexy girl next to her. Brittany can't stop staring at Santana, or watching her lips form words, or do anything, really. The way they wrap around the straw and suck, the way her pink, velvet tongue darts out to clean a small drop of errant sauce that had smeared on her lower lip from their split sandwich- Brittany's pretty sure she's either going to explode, or live out her fantasy of taking Santana right there on that table. And then she'll probably get arrested- but damn, it'd be so worth it.

To keep herself distracted, she tears her eyes away and instead focuses on her food. She bites into her sandwich, trying to go slow and savor each mouthful, but god, she would rather be eating something else, going slow and savoring that-

Brittany shivers, leaving indentations in her bread from the tight grip of her fingers.

And then Santana says pas de deux and Brittany wonders if she's ever heard Santana speak French before. She clenches her thighs involuntarily. Fuck. She needs to get out of here, and, more importantly, she needs to get Santana out of here and onto a flat surface where she can sink her fingers, or her tongue, or both, between her legs and feel her shake-

When the check arrives, it's like a blessing- a blessing disguised as a check- and Brittany scoops it up and pays it before Santana can protest (even though she does, anyway.) Brittany just presses an adoring kiss to her forehead in response.

"You can pay me back later," she breathes before she pulls her lips away, and she doesn't miss the way Santana bites her lip, or the way brown eyes darken at her suggestive tone.

As Brittany makes change, one of the girls complains about having to run through choreography later with her dance partner, and Santana teases her.

"Don't brag just because you're, like, the best dancer in our class," the other girl teases.

Santana puts her arm around Brittany. "That's only because I have the best teacher." She punctuates the sentence by sending Brittany an adoring smile, and Brittany can't help but grin at her words.

"You're sooooo lucky Brittany's a dancer," the other girl whines.

"For real. Brittany, do you want to practice with me?" the first girl teases.

Santana rolls her eyes and opens her mouth before Brittany can even think of something to say, and she tightens her arm around Brittany possessively. Brittany's heart pounds in her chest. "Kristen, Brittany's a private tutor, and all of her teaching slots are currently occupied with me, so I'm afraid you'll have to dial up that Neanderthal you call a dance partner and beg him to continue smashing your toes like a beer can at a frat party on a Saturday night," she says offhandedly as she stands to slip into her leather jacket, leaving two shocked- but amused- faces still sitting at the table. Brittany's head is spinning as Santana ushers her to stand up, and her arousal punches through her so hard it's almost painful. Why is her girlfriend so fucking sexy?

They exchange warm goodbyes and Santana snatches up the small duffel bag containing her dance clothes from under her chair, bending over and giving Brittany a rather nice view of her ass in her loose jeans, and Brittany takes a deep breath and clenches her fists to keep from reaching out and touching, to keep from reaching out and guiding Santana to bend over the table instead so she can-

Santana straightens up with a sly smirk that tells Brittany she knows exactly what she was looking at, shoulders her duffel, and offers her a gentle, "Ready?"

Brittany nods, pausing for a second to appreciate Santana's appearance- she's in jeans that look like they got mauled by a tiger, and a dark green v-neck shirt that's cut so low it's just above being scandalous. Brittany's eyes immediately drop to the plump tops of Santana's breasts that are practically spilling out of her shirt, despite the tight sports bra she's undoubtedly wearing underneath. Her mouth goes dry and she swallows quickly to try and remedy it. Santana's Chucks and leather jacket complete her casual attire and Brittany tries not to be obvious in her leering as Santana laces their fingers together again and waves at her friends over her shoulder before leading them out of the restaurant.

Once out of the diner and on the street, they fall into the fast rhythm that's native to NYC pedestrian traffic, and walk quickly with the flow of people. It's rush hour- or rush hours, since the city is never still- and large groups of people are trying to make the commute home to their respective boroughs. Santana's hand is warm in hers, and Brittany is glad they have an excuse to walk quickly- she wants to get home with Santana as soon as possible.

They make a swift right turn that will take them to the nearest subway entrance and then they are flying down the steps, getting caught up in the too-fast, hurried, we-need-to-make-the-next-train pace of the strangers around them, spurred on by the echoes of trains clanking and screeching down the dark tunnels.

When they reach their platform they stop next to a pillar and the squealing of the train rolling up to the opposite platform halts any chance of verbal conversation. Instead, Brittany leans in and presses a teasing kiss to Santana's lips- it's not a deep kiss, but the sensual way Brittany teases has Santana's legs trembling beneath her. Brittany feels hands gripping her shirt and pulling her closer, and then Santana's cupping her face, causing her to growl as Santana's tongue darts out to swipe at her bottom lip, inviting- begging- for her to invade Santana's mouth. She doesn't refuse the invitation.

They kiss heatedly, and Brittany doesn't hesitate to reach around and slide a hand into the back pocket of Santana's jeans, groping her ass blatantly. If anyone is watching them, she doesn't care. There are literally over eight million people in the city so the chances of her running into any of them again are slim to none. Santana moans into her mouth and sucks on Brittany's tongue, and Brittany feels her pulse pounding harder between her legs, her slow burn morphing into a furious inferno.

Brittany's seconds away from just taking Santana against the pillar when someone jostles them on their way to the edge of the platform, and the sound of their train approaching snaps her back to the world around them- the sooner they catch that train, the sooner Santana can be spread eagle on their bed with Brittany buried between her legs. Brittany's pulse quickens again at the thought. She grabs Santana's hand and tugs her onto the train the second the silver doors slide open.

"This is a Brooklyn-bound, two express train. The next stop is: 14th street."

The car they enter is packed- all the seats are occupied, and most of the hanging hand-hold spots are full, too. Brittany stands them by the opposite door, plants her feet and pulls Santana against her as the automated robotic man's voice advises them to stay clear of the doors. She's so accustomed to the sway and rhythm of the subway that she doesn't really need to hold on to anything- her balance is good enough to support both of them. Santana's still holding her hand, using her free hand to absently trace circles on Brittany's clothed stomach. Brittany tenses at the touch, struggling to control her breathing as Santana sends her a mischievous smirk and continues to tease at her abs.

When they hit their next stop, the man occupying the corner at the front of the car exits and Brittany immediately relocates them to it, wedging herself in it with her back against the wall and pulling Santana to stand in front of her. She spreads her feet a little to both stabilize her for the swaying of the train and to bring her down closer to Santana's height, and nearly holds her breath as her girlfriend invades her space. Santana drops her small duffel bag between Brittany's feet and closes the gap between their bodies, kissing Brittany aggressively.

And that's when Brittany's control finally snaps.

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

The train lurches as it starts forward, and Santana teases her lips, curls her tongue around Brittany's, plays with the fingers of the hand she's still holding gently, and Brittany has a hard time keeping her hands from wandering all over Santana's body and touching her in publicly inappropriate places. But then Santana sucks on Brittany's tongue again, and before either of them registers what's happening, Brittany reaches forward and quickly unbuckles Santana's belt.

Santana pulls back abruptly, her eyes widening as she catches her breath, but she makes no move to stop Brittany as she loosens the belt and pops the button of her jeans open. Brittany licks her lips, then traces her fingertips across the small strip of panty she can see through Santana's open jeans. The tan skin on Santana's stomach is hot and trembling lightly, and Brittany smirks to herself as she continues to tease the area. She lifts her eyes to Santana's and chews her lip at the way Santana's brown eyes are dark with desire. She's made up her mind- she can't wait, she's going to fuck Santana right now, and the look on Santana's face tells Brittany that she won't stop her. Brittany's eyes drop back to where her hand has begun to wriggle its way down the front of Santana's pants, and then she pauses. As an afterthought, she shifts her gaze over Santana's shoulder and takes in their surroundings.

The train is still pretty much full, people packed in shoulder-to-shoulder, which makes Santana's tight proximity to her not seem out of place. Even still, Brittany can see one guy sitting on the bench giving them discreet interested looks whenever the person in front of him shifts out of his view with the swaying of the train, and Brittany smirks sneakily at him. The man standing in front of him looks homeless and is talking loudly to a black woman eating an apple and wearing headphones, gesturing wildly to a paper in his hand, his arm wrapped securely around the vertical metal support pole for balance. There's a young guy standing next to Santana but facing away from them, wearing a huge backpack that occasionally brushes Santana's arm as the train rocks. An older guy in a business suit stands directly behind Santana, reading the paper and wearing the ugliest tie Brittany has ever seen. With the exception of the creepy man sitting on the bench, none of them seem to notice or care that Brittany's hand is halfway down Santana's pants.

Not that she would stop- even if they did.

Santana's grip on her wrist snaps Brittany back to the girl in front of her, and she offers Santana a devious smile before dipping her fingers just below the waistline of Santana's panties.

"This is: Christopher Street. Sheridan Square," the robotic lady announces as the train rumbles to an abrupt stop, sending Santana leaning forward even more at the sudden halt in momentum. The doors slide open and one or two people shuffle off and a lot more shuffle on- the guy beside them with the backpack moves closer, so that his bag is pushed against Santana's arm, and Brittany pauses to lock eyes with Santana before she quickly slips her hand further down, over her underwear. Despite the slight disappointment on her face, Santana still gasps at the sudden contact, but it's masked by the loud dinging signaling their departure. The train lurches again and Brittany uses the motion to cup Santana's sex fully through her panties. She inhales sharply- Santana's soaked.

"Already?" She hums, and Santana has to lean forward even further to hear her over the clacking of the train on the rails, her upper body pressed to Brittany's, her free hand pressing to the wall by Brittany's waist to support her upright. She positions herself so that Brittany's mouth is by her ear and her own is by Brittany's, and to anyone on the train, it looks like they are having an intimate conversation.

"You drive me crazy, Britt," Santana half-moans in her ear in response. She makes a small bucking motion with her hips. "I know you want to fuck me. I could see it in your eyes the second you walked into that diner. You can't hide from me, baby." She flicks her tongue out to tease just below Brittany's earlobe, hearing Brittany's sharp inhale and subsequent shaky exhale next to her ear. "Can you feel how much I want you?"

Brittany strokes a long finger down the center of Santana's drenched panties, biting her lip and trying- but failing- to stifle a moan. "You're dripping, San…" Brittany breathes hotly, her own words turning her on as much as they do Santana.

"For you, Britt. For you to fuck me."

Brittany doesn't waste any time and quickly finds Santana's clit- which is already hard and throbbing- through her panties and teases it with her fingers, loving the way Santana's whole body is stiff and tense with the effort to not buck her hips and give them away. Brittany can't believe how turned on Santana is and the knowledge makes Brittany's own pulse throb harder between her legs. Santana's breathing has picked up, become more ragged in her ear, and the sound of it shoots even more sparks of pleasure down Brittany's spine, feeding her arousal, soothing her itch. She hums with content at the feeling of Santana's wetness seeping onto her fingers. This is what she needed.

They reach their next stop and Brittany pulls her hand out of Santana's jeans just enough to slip back in underneath Santana's panties, and as she moves her hand lower at an aching pace, she feels Santana's thighs trembling with anticipation.

"Fuck. Brittany- touch me," Santana begs lowly in her ear, her voice a throaty whisper that makes Brittany's sex ache painfully. Brittany's hand finally reaches its destination and she cups Santana again with no barriers, sliding her fingers through Santana's velvet folds and Jesus, she's so fucking wet-

"Oh, my God," Brittany half-whimpers in Santana's ear, and Santana's hips make a tiny, constricted rocking motion against her hand in response. Brittany's fingers make long, shallow strokes through Santana's wetness, just barely brushing against her clit and frustrating the hell out of her. She gasps when Santana nips her earlobe.

"Britt," she growls.

Brittany only chuckles lowly as she moves her wet fingers to stroke Santana's clit suddenly. Santana emits a sharp gasp and her hips jolt forward once before she regains control, holding them still as Brittany continues to tease circles around the hard nub at the front of her sex.

Challenge accepted.

Brittany wants to make her lose all control.

"You're so dirty," Brittany breathes hotly, knowing her words are the fastest way to make Santana crumble, and their situation doesn't really let her do much else, "getting off on being fucked in public…"

Santana only gasps in response, and Brittany tries harder, dips the tip of her finger into Santana's dripping entrance, teasing her by just barely sliding in. "Britt," Santana says again, this time a lot more desperate, a lot more whine in her voice.

"I'm gonna make you scream," Brittany tells her in a low murmur. "And then everyone will know I'm fucking you."

At Brittany's words, Santana's whole body shakes, and Brittany smirks at the involuntary response. She pulls away from Santana's entrance and instead teases over her clit again, determined to make Santana respond how she wants. Santana's low moans are making her pulse race, but she needs more. "Tell me what you want," she breathes, commanding.

"Inside," Santana pants against her ear. "Put your fingers inside me."

Brittany can't help the low groan that rumbles up from her throat at Santana's words, and angles her wrist, pressing her first two fingers up into Santana's tight heat, sliding in easily before pulling out slowly. "You're so tight, baby. And wet, fuck. I know you're loving this-" Brittany punctuates her sentence by driving her fingers in hard, as deep as she can, and Santana's grip on her hand grows almost painful.

"This is: Chambers Street. The next stop is: Park Place."

Brittany establishes a sort-of game- when the train stops, she pulls out and teases moist fingers over Santana's clit. When the train is moving, she drives her fingers into Santana hard before pulling out slow. She can tell she's driving her girlfriend crazy- Santana's quiet, whimpering moans are a clear indication. She knows she's going to break her, eventually- so she patiently keeps up with her teasing.

People shuffle on and off the train. The guy with the backpack stays beside them. The chick with the headphones is finished eating her apple and is finished listening to the homeless man's prattle even more, judging by the exasperated expression on her face. Ugly-Tie Man is deeply immersed in whatever the newspaper is telling him.

"All these people," Brittany whispers hotly, "and they have no idea. They don't know that I'm knuckle-deep inside you right now. They don't know that you're going to come right in front of them."

Brittany feels Santana clench around her fingers- hard- and doesn't miss the gush of liquid that seeps from Santana at her words. She doesn't think Santana's ever been this wet before- her fingers are covered in Santana's arousal, and it's still dripping down the back of her hand, it's still pooling in her palm-

Santana clamps again, pants in her ear. "Fuck, B-"

On her next thrust, Brittany angles her fingers and hits the spot that she knows will eventually break Santana. Santana responds by biting into the base of her neck and moaning, finally releasing her hand to slide an arm around her neck. Brittany slides her freed hand around Santana, slipping it under her jacket and splaying it on her lower back, subtly pushing her hips into her slow, maddening thrusts. From the outside, it looks like they are hugging sweetly, but Santana's breasts are pressed against Brittany's so hard, it makes Brittany wish neither of them was wearing a bra. She knows Santana's nipples are stiff- she wishes she could tug down Santana's shirt and bra and suck one into her mouth. She tells Santana as much and is rewarded with another low, desperate moan.

"God dammit, Brittany," Santana says breathlessly as the train slows and Brittany returns to teasing her clit, "fuck me."

"I am," Brittany purrs playfully, barely dipping her fingers into Santana's clenching entrance.

"No- fuck- you know how I want it."

"Tell me."


Brittany slides her fingers in as far as they will go, keeping them straight, knowing her girl is losing her patience. She grins as she hears Santana moan low in her throat. "Like that?" she asks hotly.

"No-" Santana pleads, her thighs shaking. Brittany licks her lips at the thought of Santana being close. She knows she is, but she won't give her release. Not yet. "You know where, fuck, just give it to me-"

Without warning, Brittany curls her fingers and hits that spot again, chuckling lowly. "Mm, there?"

"Yes," Santana gasps as Brittany hits it again. And again. "Oh, fuck, right-"

Brittany drives in again, pulls out slow, pushes in hard, angles her hand to fuck Santana exactly how she knows Santana likes it, and feels Santana sinking teeth into the base of her neck, feels the vibrations from her whimpers against her skin.

"Oh, god, I'm gonna come so hard, Britt-"


"Yeah, gonna come all over your fingers. God, you fuck me so good-"

"Ugh, fuck, Santana-"

The train squeals as they hit the long bridge under the East River, and Brittany continues to fuck Santana at a relentless, agonizingly steady pace. As the robot lady informs them of the next stop ("This is: Clark Street.") Santana's moans become more desperate and her hand tightens on the back of Brittany's neck.

"Please, Britt, please- we're almost at our stop-"

"Mmhm. You want to come in front of everyone?" Brittany turns her head slightly and inconspicuously bites Santana's earlobe as a few people shuffle off of the train.

"The next stop is: Borough Hall."


"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

"Say it."

"God, B- make me come," Santana pleads desperately. "I want to come in front of everyone on this train- I want everyone to know that you just fucked me so good-"

"Fuck, Santana," Brittany growls before curving her wrist and picking up her pace. Santana's hips jerk involuntarily as she repeatedly hits the sweet spot inside her, and Brittany smirks.

Mission accomplished.

"Oh, fuck, Brittany, fuck- Brittany- ugh-"

Brittany feels Santana's teeth on her neck again, feels the vibrations of her muffled cry of release and shivers, her pulse throbbing. Santana's nails scratch at the back of her neck but all she can focus on is the way Santana's walls are strangling her fingers, the way Santana's arousal drips into her palm, and she can't help but release a small moan herself at the feeling, at the knowledge that Santana's coming hard right in the middle of the subway.

Santana comes against her for what feels like ages, her hips locking, her entire body stiffening, and she's still moaning into Brittany's neck. Brittany takes a deep breath. Her eyes fall randomly on the creepy man sitting on the bench, and he's looking at them intently. Brittany smirks at him, feeling filthy in the best way, because Santana's still coming, still pulsing around her fingers buried deep inside her, and she presses a dirty, open-mouthed kiss to the side of Santana's neck, letting her tongue snake out to lick lewdly over the skin and leaving a glistening trail of wetness.

Once Santana's shaking subsides, she pulls her fingers out, wiping her hand on her pants. Santana's forehead is resting on her shoulder and she's breathing hard, her weight hanging heavily from Brittany's frame. Brittany doesn't mind. She tenderly reaches to zip up Santana's jeans and fixes her belt, then slides fingertips (still a little damp with Santana's arousal) up Santana's neck to cup her jaw.

Santana lifts her head and kisses Brittany slowly, deeply- an unspoken promise that Santana is going to repay Brittany just as soon as they get back to the apartment.

"This is: Flatbush Avenue."

"That's us," Brittany says with a sly smile as she pulls back from the kiss.

Still breathless, Santana can only nod as Brittany grasps her hand and leads her gently from the train on wobbly legs. Her legs feel like a cross between Jell-o and lead as they climb the dirty stairs that will take them above ground.

"Wow," Santana manages after a moment as they walk down the streets of Brooklyn, hands locked together.

Brittany nods, grinning. "We should definitely ride the subway more often."

And that's it!

And now, some words from Officer Safety:

You should always hold onto the handrails when riding any part of the NYC Subway. Not doing so can result in you possibly hurting yourself, but mostly you either a) falling into someone and pissing them off or b) falling on your face and looking like a complete asstard.

Also, sex in public is FORBIDDEN! Okay, not really, but definitely I would advise against it. You never know who could be watching… creepy old guys… ;)

Anyways, review if you feel like it! If not, catch you on the next train! (HAR HAR HARRRR)

****if you have tumblr and want to keep up on the SUMMER OF SMUT, check the SUMOSMU tag! :D and that's all I have to say about that!