She wants her destruction.
Like something dark, unfathomable. Brittanys breath gets caught in her throat and pain stings her skin when the Latina's sharp pearly whites cuts into it. Every heartbeat is slow, painful. Brittany can hear it in her ears, the slow thumping that tells her she's alive.
Love is hard, rough and cold. Like hands around her throat and teeth in her soul, tearing into her deepest self. That's release. The ultimate way to let go of everything.
She wants to feel her deep inside, showing her the way to go. It blooms like flowers in the blondes chest, her hands trembling around Santana's body; she presses her mouth to Santana's throat and gasps when the brunette forces the air out of her. Santana is the beginning of the end, the end to the beginning.
Desire. It's something hot that scorches her, lighting her up from the inside. Brittany knows what Santana needs. So she is happy to give it to her, teeth and nails and bruises. She will do anything just to feel her, to soothe the latina afterwards, to stroke her dark eyelids with utmost tenderness and breathe into her mouth. Santana is violent and that's just what Brittany craves.
Violence is like a caress, it brings the blonde to the fucking surface. Pale eyelids flutter, tan hands between her spread bleached white legs. Santana makes the universe unravel right there, a place Brittany can't possibly reach on her own. The brunette works on Brittany that it makes her legs tremble and shake, tasting her, her fluids dripping on tan tattooed fingers.
Santana always licks her lips so slowly. Brittany always throws her head back with a cry.
The dark woman pounds into her like a demon – there is no other word for the unraveling in Santana's movements and the way tan hands grasps her snow-white skin until it kisses black and blue – as if Santana were trying to shatter her from the inside, so hard and cruel.
Cruelty is like a feather soft touch. Santana's fingers in her mouth. She always licks and nibbles greedily.
Brittany knows that sometimes Santana's lust is like a double-edged sword, tearing into her. And in that moment she can't always reach the brunette, not until afterwards. It's just Santana's body speaking to hers, one on one. As if the dark woman's mind is somewhere else, floating, caught up in all the feeling. Afterwards Santana would hold Brittany in her arms and whisper in the blondes ear, secrets that are hers and hers alone.
Brittany knows that Santana likes feeling her rushed pulse from within. She helps the latina with whatever is tormenting her mind, those darkest thoughts of hers. Brittany will always there the way Santana needs it. Soft or tantalising, Brittany is fluid; she takes any form Santana desires.
There's some days that the brunette only wants Brittany to be close and won't touch her, only letting her pale fingers caress her tan skin softly. Some days Santana doesn't want to be touched at all and would slap her hand away if she tried. Then there's other days Brittany sees in those dark eyes just how much Santana needs her in the worst possible way. And Brittany fucking loves it when that expression takes over her lovers dark features and when she is thrown onto the bed, her clothes being torn off with so much heat Santana would remind her of a rabid beast.
The blondes moans are sometimes silenced by a tan hand – and she bites her lips until it bleeds to keep her sounds hushed. Brittany always feels so good but doesn't always voice it, because sometimes Santana requires nothing but her utter silence. The blondes soothing breathing reminding Santana that she isn't alone. Never again.
Santana will dominate her completely; filling her up until it hurts, pounding deeply into her. It's something the latina needs to express and Brittany is the only one who is trusted to see the woman like this. No one else will ever see Santana like this, in a state far more vulnerable than anything else.
