(kind of a part two from last chapter)
tw: g*n-play
Santana was too busy to do much of anything other than dig her fingers a little harder and kiss a bit more forcefully.
Brittany had surprised her earlier and was now currently straddling the Latina's abdomen, hands tangled in dark hair as they continued to make out as they'd done for the past half hour, alternating between slow, languid kisses and ones with much more teeth and tongue. The two hadn't been able to spend much time together lately because of conflicting schedules and a robbery streak that had left the police (and thereby Santana) with limited downtime. Now they were making up for it.
"I wish I could have seen it," Brittany murmured, her lips blazing a path down Santana's neck, earning a grunt in response, nails scraping down her pale thighs.
"I wouldn't want you near that situation," Santana grumbled in return.
Brittany scoffed lightly, sinking her teeth deliberately hard into the tender flesh of Santana's neck. "Don't think I can handle it?" She asked over the quiet whimpers.
"No," Santana said through a pant, closing her eyes tightly to regain any natural capabilities like putting together coherent thoughts, other than ravishing her favorite blonde until she couldn't walk straight. "Just.. I don't like the thought of you in harm's way."
There was a hum of thought, before soft lips and a gentle tongue soothed the red bite mark. "You think I like it? Wondering if you'll make it back from each shift?"
Santana sighed deeply, her fingers tickling up pale flesh, palms gliding over a pert ass until she could rest them on defined hips. "Britt," she started, only to be quickly cut off.
"I know. It's the risk of the job," she mumbled, face still buried between a tan shoulder and neck. After a long moment Brittany pulled back and cupped Santana's face, her thumbs stroking over high cheekbones, before reuniting their lips in a heated kiss.
Santana was focused on warm, wet lips attached to hers, a skillful tongue invading her mouth, and the expanse of soft skin beneath her finger tips that she didn't register that Brittany was moving.
Until the cold press of metal against her ribcage shocked her into breaking their kiss. She immediately smacked Brittany's hand, pushing her own gun so that it wasn't directed at her body, hissing, "What the hell Britt?"
The blonde merely smirked, leaning her body back to separate them slightly, bringing Santana's gun between them and pressing the barrel against her sternum. "You like the thrill right?" Santana gulped, eyes flickering between the gun and Brittany's dark blue eyes. "When a criminal has you in his sights, his gun or pocket knife trained on you, desperate to get away, willing to do anything not to go to jail."
Santana set her jaw and bucked Brittany up, shifting their positions so that the blonde was now flat on her back, wrist pinned to the mattress by Santana's firm hand. "Don't ever point a loaded pistol at someone unless you plan on shooting them," she growled.
A wicked grin curled the corners of Brittany's mouth upwards, the only warning before Santana found their positions reversed. Brittany had both of Santana's dainty wrists in her grasp, pulled over her tousled head of dark hair and pinned firmly to the mattress, keeping her down with the entire weight of her body sprawled against her legs and lower abdomen. The gun pressed firmly into her stomach.
There was a faint click. Brittany watched fear flicker in mocha orbs as Santana's trained ear recognized the noise. The safety switch of her own personal weapon. "What makes you think I won't shoot?"
Santana swallowed thickly. She was pretty sure Brittany would never hurt her, or anyone, especially with something so unnecessarily violent as a gun. But it was a basic instinct to fear a weapon as powerful as a loaded pistol with the safety switched off. "Britt," she whimpered, eyes wide as she stared up at the normally innocent blonde, now looking menacing.
