Paperweight

Chapter 9

Santana will probably never be able to look at chocolate cake the same way again.

Even after she splashes cold water onto her face in the bathroom, her body still feels like it's on fire as she walks back towards the table, pointedly avoiding Brittany's heated stare. Sitting back down, she digs into the gigantic vanilla sundae she's ordered, and thankfully the ice cream begins to cool her down slightly.

It's not really helping the fact her underwear are still soaked however, and every movement she makes sends a jolt of pleasure through her. Jesus Christ, this is going to be the most wonderfully painful dessert Santana has ever had.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she glances down to see Brittany's name flashing across the screen. Santana looks up, but Brittany's not even looking in her direction, she's deep in conversation with Sam. Her phone is clutched in her left hand though, Santana notices.

She debates whether or not to open the text, since it's probably something incredibly dirty that'll just get her going again. Or get her going even more, technically. Giving in to the temptation, not that she put up much of a fight, she swipes the little bar to open the text.

My dessert would probably taste a lot better if I could lick it off you.

Santana tries, and probably fails, to keep her expression blank as she raises her gaze to the plate in front of Brittany. She then desperately tries to block out the images that assault her mind of Brittany licking chocolate sauce and whipped cream off her body, her very naked body, but judging from the smirk Brittany is now shooting at her, she's not being very subtle.

Brittany glances down at her lap, and a few seconds later Santana's phone buzzes again.

Although I still think you would taste better.

She bites her lip to stop the whimper coming out, and shifts awkwardly in her seat, feeling her underwear get even wetter.

Definitely the most painful dessert of Santana's life.

/

Santana's not sure who, but somebody suggests going to a bar – for a change – after they finish their dessert, and that is how she finds herself in Puckerman's Bar, sitting in the big corner booth, wedged between Rachel and Ryder. Rachel is eyeing the eight shot glasses in the middle of the table, looking slightly worried.

"Could somebody please explain to me again, what is the point of this game?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "To get drunk. It's kinda the point of alcohol in general, in case you didn't realize that, Hobbit."

Rachel keeps peering at the shot glasses; looking at them as if she's worried they're going to jump up at her, and possibly inform her of Barbra Streisand's untimely demise. "And what's in them again?"

"Tequila, vodka, Malibu, gin, peach schnapps, rum, Sambuca or water. Now get a move on and pick your glass Berry."

Rachel reaches forward and places her cards on the table, gingerly picking up one of the shot glasses, as Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, Sam, Ryder, Kurt and Quinn do the same.

There's ten of them left, including Sebastian and Unique, and they're playing some strange drinking card game that involves a lot of shots. According to Ryder, each person gets dealt two cards, and the two that have the highest cards don't have to drink, and the other eight have to do a shot of whatever they're unlucky enough to get. Or lucky, if you get the water one. All the shots look the same, as they're all filled with a clear liquid.

Santana curses Puck for having such a well stocked bar. She hates Sambuca, and tequila gets her very drunk very quickly, so she's hoping she hasn't gotten either of them.