Title: Bring your trust and your truth to the table.

Pairing: Brittany/Santana

Rating: M

Warnings: Brittany girl!Peen, smut,

Fandom: Glee

Wordcount: 3007

Summary: Santana wants to take things one step further; Brittany's not too sure.

Notes: Anonymous reviewer "brittanabear" asked for some Brittany girl!peen. So here it is, thanks to Watermelon for constantly pushing me to do this or it would never have been done. I feel that Brittany would have less of a laissez-faire attitude towards being 'different' than Santana would, so this is the result. Slight AU for virgin Brittany.

Santana is being driven slowly, frustratingly, and completely mad by her girlfriend, one Brittany S. Pierce. They've been going out now for three months, and for the fast-moving Santana Lopez, their slow moving sex life is the issue. She doesn't like to wait. When she wants something, she gets it.

Apart from her girlfriend, apparently.

For weeks now they've been getting intimate, sure, Brittany had gotten Santana off several times – and she's so, so good – but Santana wants to return the favour. Yet each time she goes anywhere near the blonde's sinfully tight waistband, she gets a forceful shove away from it and Brittany runs off to somewhere. Even if they're right in the heat of the moment, half dressed and sweaty, breathing laboured and faces red. It's really starting to irritate Santana, who, although she's trying her hardest to understand, is getting little in the way of explanation. Whenever she tries to speak to her girlfriend about it, she gets met with a stubborn, uncomfortable silence.

So tonight was different. The table was set, food warming in the oven, candles flickering and filling the room with the delightful wafts of strawberries and cream – Brittany's favourite scent. Santana was going to sit her down to dinner and finally get some answers. Despite wracking her brains for weeks, she hadn't come to a plausible conclusion, except that Brit was nervous as it would be her first time.

The sound of her doorbell tore her from her thoughts and she all but ran to answer it. She was greeted with the sight of her girlfriend, wearing clothes that were so revealing she wasn't sure that they were legal. Her top was loose, strappy, but revealed her bellybutton and her hipbones that lead down, down to the top of her light blue denim skirt. No wonder Santana was frustrated when such a delectable woman was all there to see, but not for the taking.

Brittany threw her arms around Santana, glee written all over her face as her smile lit up the small hall they were in. Returning the hug, the Latina had to smother a groan when Brit's breasts pressed against her own, sending her mind down all sorts of routes... Wordlessly, she ushered her girlfriend into the main room and the blonde looked round appreciatively. She knew Santana was cooking, but not that she was going to go about it with so much effort. Inhaling deeply, her eyes light up as she recognizes the smell – how couldn't she? After all, she only had shampoo, body cream, facewash and numerous other cosmetics that smelled the same way.

"The food's nearly ready, Brit." Santana says over her shoulder as she heads into the kitchen. Brittany takes that as a hint to sit down so she does, eyes raking over the table, set as if it was a high class restaurant as opposed to a front room in Lima Heights Adjacent. For a few minutes Brittany keeps herself amused by looking at the cutlery, shined to perfection but still obviously cheap and bought in bulk.

"Ta-da!" The darker-skinned girl reappears, two plates in her hands, piled high with spaghetti bolognaise that smells absolutely divine, even over the candles. Placing them down, she vanishes for a moment and comes back with a tub of nothing other than breadsticks, a homage to their favourite restaurant. They eat to the sound of Brittany detailing Lord Tubbington's recent exploits in the clubbing and ecstasy scene. After that they fall quiet, the only interruption being when Brittany smothers her bolognaise with tomato sauce and Santana screws her nose up in disgust. How could Brittany ruin something as good as the food she'd worked so hard to made with some sugary, full of crap sauce?

Santana finishes her food before Brittany and lays down her cutlery, eyeing up the beautiful blonde opposite her at the table. She's going over things in her mind, how should she say what she wanted to say? It's almost impossible to figure out a nice way to say it. Usually Santana wouldn't care, not one to mince her words in the slightest, but she doesn't want to run the chance of hurting the other's feelings.

Halfway through a rant of how Lord Tubbington stole $20 out of her purse to buy pills, Brittany stops. "What's wrong?" She asks, not dense enough that she doesn't notice Santana's contemplative expression.

"Why won't you let me fuck you?"

That was not how Santana had wanted to say it at all, but she'd been caught off guard by Brittany's curiosity.

The whole atmosphere changes. Brittany's eyes close, her hand stills halfway between her plate and her mouth and her shoulders seem to droop like a wilted flower. Every fibre in Santana's being wants to apologize, to take the question back but now that it's out there, maybe she'll get some answers.

A heavy, tense silence falls between them both, and the fork held in Brittany's hand starts to shake. It's not long before the silence becomes too much, and Santana opens her mouth to speak.

"Brit? I'm-"

"I'm different." Brittany says quietly, cutting Santana off mid-sentence. Her eyes are staring down at the half-empty plate in front of her. Her lips are trembling as much as her hands, wobbling in a way what's so cute, but makes Santana feel all sorts of guilty as it plucks at her heartstrings like a finely-tuned harp. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed it. Reaching over the table, she takes hold of Brittany's free hand, now balled into a tight fist. "It's not right." Her voice quivers as she speaks, as if she's desperately fighting to hold back tears.

Brittany was upset at how she looked down there? Didn't she know that not everybody looked like a porn star, all neat and perfect and tucked away?

"Brit." Santana says seriously, giving the balled fist under her hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you. And I want you. All of you; no matter what insecurities you have." At that, Brit vehemently shakes her head, blonde hair obstructing her face and her wonderful blue eyes that are now threatening to overspill with tears.

"You don't love this. You won't, you can't. It's all wrong." That was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, and the tears that had been threatening to spill finally did, rolling slowly down cheeks that were more accustomed to being graced with a happy smile. Santana immediately sprung to her feet, crossing over to wrap her arms round her beloved partner and direct her slowly towards the couch. For a moment, they were still, Santana hoping that being held would stem the flow of tears coming from Brittany.

"Sssh." She shushes quietly, nimble fingers wiping tears off the other's face. "I love you no matter what surprises you have for me." Trying to inject a little humour into the situation, Santana speaks with a smile. Brittany sniffles, mumbling words into her girlfriend's chest, where she's nestled rather comfortably. Then there's silence for a moment, until Brittany's chest rises and falls with a deep, shaky breath.

"Promise me you won't laugh?" The connotations were thick in the air. Laugh, make fun of, be disgusted was the most prevalent one. Santana nods, swallowing thickly, not trusting herself enough to speak.

Brittany's next sentence comes out in a rush of syllables and it takes a few seconds for Santana's brain to process and register it.

She must have heard that wrong. There's no way that was possible, not in a million years.

"You have a...dick?" Brittany pulls a face at the bluntness of it, and then moves her head in a carefully pronounced nod.

Despite having a lingering feeling that Brit was joking, Santana felt a jolt in her abdomen that quickly turned into a low heat that pooled out and downwards. It was a heat that she was far too familiar with, especially in regards to Brittany.

Arousal.

Why was she so aroused at that thought? She knew that she shouldn't be, but her mind was running rampant. Suddenly she was filled with images and fantasies that were so different from her usual ones concerning the blonde, but still having just as powerful an effect on her. Her silence must have given the wrong impression, she realizes, as Brittany stands up. She looks around, wiping her face and refusing to meet Santana's eyes.

"I'm sorry." She breathes, sounding completely heartbroken as she starts to walk towards the door. The feeling of fingers being wrapped around her wrists stops her dead in her tracks.

"Stay." One word. That one word made Brittany's heart soar, feeling completely overwhelmed. If Santana wants her to stay, then that must mean she didn't think anything was wrong with her, she wasn't disgusted, despite the way that Brit felt towards her little problem. Dropping back down onto the couch, she was barely sitting for more than a few seconds before the other girl was straddling her lap. Resisting her usual urges to push Santana off in the worry that she would give herself away, a smile sneaks across her face.

Santana grins in that wolfish way that makes Brittany's heart pound in her chest, as it's always a promise of good things to come.

"That's hot." Santana practically purrs, making the blonde's breath catch in her chest until soft pink lips meet her own and then with Brittany's exhale, all her barriers come down.

Within seconds she's kissing back with a new fervour she's never expressed before, 3 months of carefully restrained passion and frustration – funnily enough, matching Santana's - being poured into this one kiss. Santana can feel the difference in the kiss and her heart speeds up, racing and bringing a light dusting of colour to her cheeks.

Santana wastes no time in turning the heat up; immediately she presses her body against Brittany's and licks the other's lips, slowly running her tongue across the soft crevice before delving into the waiting mouth. As Santana's tongue presses against her own with no hint of softness, Brit can barely stifle a moan. As her brain starts working again, she returns the motions, forcing the other's tongue back into her mouth and biting Santana's bottom lip in one short, sharp motion.

Brittany can feel her body responding already, parts of her that she'd rather not acknowledge that she has stirring and starting to come to life. For once she's not ignoring it, but rather embracing it. She just wants to thrust up and rub against Santana – part of her can't believe how ready to go she is after barely anything, but it's Santana – but on the other hand she doesn't want to move too fast. Santana solves that mental dilemma for her, grinding down hard against Brittany. The low, guttural moan the bottom girl gives her in return is like nothing Santana had ever heard before.

It spurs her on to do more, to return all the pleasure that Brittany has given her over the past few months. Smirking against the other girl's lips, Santana bites back, sucking gently afterwards to both soothe the ache and fuel the burning heat of arousal that was pooling in the blonde's stomach. It feels like Brittany's hands are everywhere at once; tangled in long, dark hair, scraping nails down the sensitive skin of Santana's back, groping at her ass through impossibly skintight jeans and it's driving her absolutely insane with pleasure. The tiniest touch feels amazing, making goosebumps break out across her skin, the tiny hairs all over her body standing up in suspense, waiting for the next action.

They both roll their hips at the same time and hardness meets jean-clad hot heat. Santana can feel her wetness seeping down onto her panties, but she's not embarrassed in the slightest.

She grabs Brittany's top and all but rips it off over her head, throwing it behind her and not paying the slightest bit of attention to where it lands, attacking the suddenly exposed skin with kisses, hands cupping ample breasts that are barely contained by a lace covered bra so small that it shouldn't even be considered underwear – not that either of them are really complaining. Peppering nips and bites down the blonde's cleavage, she takes the time to leave a rather dark love bite just above the top of Brit's bra as her fingers make small work of the clasp.

Long fingers slide down Santana's navel, pushing roughly past the waist of her jeans and down, down so agonizingly slowly until two fingers press hard against her clit through her panties, making her moan and look down. She sees the oh so obvious bulge in Brittany's skirt before she sees the blonde's hand in her pants and she's not even ashamed to admit to herself that the other girl's obvious arousal makes her feel even more aroused than the fingers rubbing her. She shifts her hips, trying to make those fingers dip lower but it's to no avail.

Santana grinds her heel against Brittany's clothed erection, and even through two layers it's the best thing either of them has ever felt. Brittany can barely believe this is happening, wondering why the hell it took her so long to just come out and tell her girlfriend the reason why she'd been abstaining from contact. It takes only a few seconds for Santana to get sick of the clothes in the way, and another few for her to wrap her fingers round Brittany's newly exposed hard on. She starts to stroke, base to tip and back down again, letting one of her nails scrape carefully over the underside.

Brittany forgets how to breathe.

Swiping her thumb over the head and collecting some of the pre-come already beading there, Santana raises her thumb to her lip and licks off the fluid. She smiles devilishly at the blonde, hand going back down to continue stroking. Britt's fingers have stopped moving, all her concentration gone at the feelings Santana's provoking. They're overtaking her mind, making her skin feel like it's on fire, too hot to touch but yet she wants more.

Santana pulls her hands away and stands up, and Brittany gives quite a childish moan of impatience until the brunette's shirt hits the floor with a soft noise. She looks her girlfriend up and down, tongue darting out to unconsciously lick her lips as more skin is revealed and her bra joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor between them.

By the time Santana starts on her jeans, Brittany's on her feet with her skirt on the floor and tugging them off for her with little regard for the welfare of the clothes. The Latina barely has time to step out of them before her back collides with the table and her panties are being tugged towards her feet. By the time her pleasure addled brain figures out what's happening, Brittany's pushed all the dishes out of the way, lifted her onto the table and is pushing hard, rutting against her. Despite taking control, she still seems reluctant to remove the final article in the way and Santana does that for her, grabbing and pulling the offending pair of underwear down. The next time Brittany thrusts, she's met with a heat that's wet, hot, so hot, and as desperate as she is.

Santana's nails dig into the tender skin of Brittany's ass and she's dragging her forward, pulling her as close as she possibly can.

"Please." Santana never begs, but she can't bear the teasing any more.

Brittany groans at the sound of desperation in the other girl's voice and finally pushes in, not even thinking to take it slow because, fuck, she just wants to know how it feels.

It's amazing.

They moan simultaneously, Brittany at the feeling of being buried in something so tight, Santana at the feeling of being so full. It's so different to the other girl's fingers – or sometimes her tongue – and it's so much better. All of her spots are being hit at once, she's not sure how but she knows it's pure ecstasy.

Santana's hips move, urgently encouraging Brittany to move too, and when the blonde pulls out completely and then pushes back in, it almost pushes the brunette over the edge. Brittany holds the other's hips, nails digging in to the point where it's almost pain, but that just makes the pleasure so much more intense. The blonde sets the rhythm – hard and fast – and it's not long before they're both sweaty and panting, hurtling closer and closer to get off. One of Santana's hands scrabble for purchase on the table, the other sandwiched between their two bodies as she's rubbing circles around her sensitive nub.

With one final thrust, Santana shudders, back arching and breasts pressing against Brittany's chest, clamping tight around her girlfriend's cock. Her breath is rapid and stars are exploding behind her eyelids, her whole body becoming super-sensitive as her hips thrust of their own accord.

Santana coming is what tips Brittany over the edge. She buries herself deep inside the other, loudly moaning something that sounds suspiciously like "sotightohfuckSantana-!" and her hips jerk uncontrollably as she shoots her load, collapsing against her girlfriend as all her muscles fail to work.

They're silent for a few minutes apart from the sounds of quick, laboured breath becoming slower and steadier. Brittany barely manages to wrap her heavy arms around Santana and they simply hold each other as they recuperate.

Eventually, Santana clears her throat and pushes Brittany away, licking dry lips as she struggles to her feet. "I need a drink." She practically croaks, eyes languishing on Brittany before she takes steps towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The look she throws over her shoulder says more than words ever could; her eyes are full of easily read emotions – lust, love, pleasure, happiness and so many more, but it's her words that make Brittany scramble to obey.

"You think that's it? Bedroom. Now."