Song Credit: The Veronicas - Lolita
A/N: So this is a continuation of the Janelle Monáe fanslide (no smut though, sorry).
Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to turn around, to ride the elevator back down to the hotel lobby and forget about it. You know you can’t do that. You’ve never stood her up before. When she texts you a time and place, you always come (and then you come- her bad pun, not yours).
You walk down the hall, check the text again to make sure you’re at the right room, and knock on the door. When she answers it wearing nothing but a leather jacket and lingerie, you start up tonight’s mantra in your head.
You’re not here for that.
You’re not here for that.
You’re not here for that.
She doesn’t know that you’re not here for that and she’s leaning against the doorjamb, looking you up and down like she’s going to eat you alive. The horny parts of your brain want to let her do it. They want you to lie down on the bed and get tied up and let her have her wicked way with you.
But you’re not here for that.
So when she steps aside, lets you in, and immediately pushes you up against the closed door, you’re ready. You grab the hand that’s undoing your belt and you put your other hand on her shoulder. For a split second, you’re scared that you won’t be able to speak, but your words find their way out.
“We need to talk.”
She fixes you with that powerful stare that means “shut up and follow directions.” When you don’t react, you can see the confusion on her face. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at you.
“We can talk after,” she says, tugging at your belt again.
You slide your hand up to her wrist. “No, we need to talk now.”
Now she’s glaring at you and you feel your body start to panic. That’s when you realize how well she’s trained you (for someone who claimed that she wasn’t training you). Challenging her is making you feel really uncomfortable. Your first instinct is to drop to your knees and start using your tongue to fix what your mouth has broken, but you don’t. If anything is ever going to change, if you two are ever going to have anything outside of a hotel room, you have to be strong.
“Fine,” she snaps. “What are we talking about?”
She puts her hands on her hips and the shifting of her leather jacket brings your focus back to her lingerie and her body. You briefly wonder if you could just have sex tonight and address all of this next time, but you know that that will just lead to two more weeks of sleepless nights for you. You came here with a plan and you need to follow through. There’s a small table in the suite with two chairs. You walk over and sit down in one and surprisingly, she follows your lead and sits in the other, crossing her legs slowly and deliberately as she sits.
Your mouth is dry. You try to swallow and you start to speak. “I… I just- I’ve been thinking a lot about last time we… about everything that’s been happening lately and-”
“I knew this was going to happen.” She’s got this patronizing smile on her face and you don’t like it. “But please, do go on.”
You clear your throat. “Well, like I said, I’ve been thinking and I just wanted to tell you…”
She’s grinning widely now and gesturing for you to spit it out. “Go on. Say it.”
You hate the way she’s looking at you. It’s like she already knows what you’re going to say. You had a whole speech planned and she’s completely thrown you off. Part of you doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of being right, so you take what you were going to say and dial it down a little.
“I… I have feelings for you.”
There. It’s out there. It’s out in the open.
Santana laughs. It’s not the laugh that you like. This one is nasty and bitter and mean. It’s at you instead of with you. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”
You blink at her, surprised. “What?”
“Brittany, you’ve had ‘feelings for me’ for months now. I almost put a stop to this thing because I could see it coming. It’s a testament to your sexual prowess that I kept calling. You can take that as a compliment.”
Your mouth is opening and closing, but nothing’s coming out. You don’t know what to say.
She raises an eyebrow at you. “Wait a minute. Did you not know that you had feelings for me?”
Your silence speaks volumes.
She laughs again, the bad laugh. “Oh honey. That’s… that’s adorable.”
Adorable. You hate that word and she knows it. It takes you back to the first time you met her, back when she thought you were too cute and innocent to want the things you were asking for. You had spent the last year proving her wrong and taking your unofficial-pseudo-Domme to new sexual heights. So you didn’t deserve her dismissive laughter and her superior attitude. You weren’t going to let her make you feel bad after you’d made her feel so good. You were not adorable.
“Fuck you, Santana,” you say, practically spitting at her.
Her eyes widen and so does her grin and for a second, you wonder if you know anything about this woman at all. The woman you’re falling in love with shouldn’t be taking this much pleasure in your anger. It’s a passing thought, though, because you do know her. Despite what she may believe, she hasn’t been completely in control and over the past year, you’ve seen parts of her that no one else has. You know that the Santana you’re seeing right now is a defense mechanism and she’s falling back on it to push you away.
“Fuck me?” She stands up and walks behind your chair.
You sit up straighter. “Yeah, fuck you.”
She leans down and whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder. “You could be fucking me right now if you would just shut your mouth and take off your clothes. You’re the one that’s making this difficult by trying to change our arrangement.”
She licks the shell of your ear. Your body wants to rebel against you, but you’re not going to give up. You’re stronger than that.
“Yeah, I want to change our arrangement,” you say, somehow managing to find your voice. “So do you. You let me kiss you and hold you and you said-”
“That was a mistake,” Santana growls into your ear. “I was drunk and whatever I said didn’t mean anything.”
“You had one glass of wine, Santana.” This time, you laugh at her. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.”
You weren’t going to let her erase what she did by blaming it on the alcohol. It wasn’t fair to either of you.
She shakes her head. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“It did,” you insist, “and I know that you want more than this. I know you have feelings for me, too.”
She’s flustered and angry now. You haven’t seen her this mad in a long time and you know you’re digging way too deep. She moves so that she’s right in front of your face.
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you know, but this is what we agreed on and this is what we’re doing. If you don’t like it, we can end it now.”
You force yourself to shrug nonchalantly as if the prospect of ending this doesn’t make you feel like your heart’s being ripped in two.
“Fine,” you say. “Just do one thing for me and we never have to see each other again.”
Her frown deepens and you know that she’s feeling the same way you are. She doesn’t want to let you go, either. You also know that she wasn’t bluffing. Santana would cut off her nose to spite her face.
“What?” Her voice is raw and tired.
“Kiss me. Kiss me and tell me that it doesn’t mean anything. Tell me that I don’t mean anything to you and I’ll walk out of here and never come back.”
“Fine,” she huffs.
She hesitates as her eyes land on your lips. You don’t wait. You lean forward and kiss her with everything you have. She kisses you back with equal force. The kiss is full of all of the same longing and desperation that was there a week ago. You can still hear the words she whispered to you all night long between kisses and cuddles.
You’re perfect, Brittany.
No one else makes me feel like this.
I need you.
Stay tonight. Please.
You deepen the kiss and she whimpers. You slide your hands up to cup her face and find that her cheeks are wet with tears. When she finally pulls away, you’re both panting and she’s looking at you like she’s losing it.
“Tell me to go.” You look at her expectantly and her shoulders sag.
“Brittany…” she trails off. She looks lost. “I… I…”
You slowly stand up and take her hands. “I don’t want to leave and never come back. Do you want me to leave and never come back?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t, but… I’m scared.”
“Of hurting you.”
“I’m into that, remember?”
She doesn’t laugh. “You know what I mean.”
“Santana,” you say gently, “you never hurt me. Even after everything we’ve done… you’ve never crossed a line. You’re so careful and you know how to take care of me. I trust you.”
“It’s not the same. Your heart and your body are two different things,” she says dejectedly. She gestures toward the open bedroom door and you can see the ropes and ball gag arranged neatly on the bed. “That’s what I’m good at. Not… relationship stuff. I want to be with you, but let’s face it: I’m probably going to fuck everything up.”
You cup her face again so that she’ll look at you.
“Do you mean that?” you ask quietly. “Do you really want to be with me?”
She nods and you kiss her. You feel her shudder. She grips your forearms like she wants to pull your arms away and hold them there at the same time. You break the kiss, smiling at her dazed expression once she opens her eyes.
“Then you have to trust me like I trusted you when we started this,” you say. “Nobody is perfect at ‘relationship stuff.’ We’ll go slow and I’ll help you.”
She lets out a watery laugh. “Never thought I’d be letting you take control, Pierce.”
“I’m not taking control,” you say, wanting to make your intentions clear. “We’re in this together. We’re equals.”
She smiles as you sweep a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She’s still scared, that much is obvious, but you don’t think anyone who has put as much effort into giving you what you need as Santana has should be worried.
She looks up at you bashfully. “Can we still… you know… play?”
“God, yes,” you laugh.
She laughs with you and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.