She wraps the silk sheets around her slim fingers and sinks comfortably into the mattress, a soft contented noise slipping from her throat.
There's bruises on her wrists, her neck, her thighs. There's scratches and welts, whereas Santana sported tiny expanses of broken skin trailing down her back and a busted lip. She'll feel her lovers bruises that bare her porcelain skin for days like she'll feel the dull ache between her thighs for hours after she wakes up.
Brittany's fairly sure she knew what she was in for before they even made it to the bed. Just the way the brunette was talking earlier, the way her mouth had moved to form words. The way she glanced, then stared, then called Brittany over into her lap.
She'd heard Santana mutter, breath hot against her ear, barely audible over the thumping bass that made their glasses vibrate on the table.
'As soon, as soon as there's a door between these... these fucking animals and you, you, my sweet baby doll...'
Santana wasn't lying, and her hand was between Brittany's thighs as soon as they shut the car doors.
Santana had pressed her against the door as soon as they got home, and her knees were scraped from where she'd spent sometime outside the club. Her throat ached delightfully, probably bruised. Santana was always relentless, no matter what she did to her. Tonight had been her throat.
The leather cuffs around her wrists, the chain through the steel posts of the headboard, a sharp intake of breath when she was inside her.
Teeth. Nails. Sweat. Blood. Brittany had tore Santana's lip open with her teeth, and all she could smell was metal. More. More. More. When her brunette lover leaned back as she began to come undone, crimson smeared all over their faces and dribbled down onto Brittany's flushed chest.
When they finished, Brittany had pulled the woman down into another bruising kiss. The brunette let her crawl beneath the covers, watching with post-orgasm doe eyes as she gathered a glass of water from the bathroom and the first aid kit. Santana had complained childishly, 'brit no.. the antseptic tastes unbelievably foul. Owwie...' when she dabbed it on her lip.
And now she lays solid againt Brittany's spine, tight and warm, on the cusp of sleep. So, naturally, she grinds her ass back against Santana's crotch with a giggle.
Fin.
An: dunno if this is a part two or not. It's just rushed. Hmph.
No Santana's were hurt too badly during this event. Well... nothing she wouldn't have liked.
