olaf47: (Santana)
[personal profile] olaf47
Title: All for Swinging You Around
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairing: Brittany Pierce/Santana Lopez
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Summary: Brittany loved playgrounds. Swingsets were her favorite. Santana loved making Brittany happy. AKA Santana eating Brittany out on a swing.
A/N: Written for kink bingo: suspension. Title from The New Pornographers.

Santana didn’t actually live in Lima Heights Adjacent. Really, Brittany wasn’t sure if Lima Heights Adjacent existed or if it was just something Santana made up to intimidate people. She did know her best friend lived on the edge of Lima, her backyard fading into a patch of woods. If you went far enough, the woods ended at railroad tracks and on the other side, over a chain link fence, was an old playground.

Brittany loved playgrounds. Swingsets were her favorite. Santana loved making Brittany happy, so she would take the blonde through the trees across the tracks to the swings. That it meant disobeying her mom—who always said they were not allowed anywhere past the railroad tracks—was just a bonus.

Lima proper had playgrounds, too, but as Santana and Brittany grew older, young mothers would scowl at the teenagers. Brittany would frown and Santana would be this close to telling the mom just where she could shove it. Instead, she started only taking Brittany to the playground behind her house. It was a little rundown, but the blonde didn’t mind—plus, that meant there was almost never anyone else around. Brittany could swing and giggle and Santana could look at her with stars in her eyes, and no one judged either of them.


Late one night, Santana woke Brittany up gently.

“C’mon,” she whispered. “Put on shoes. I’ve got something to show you.”

Brittany did as she was told, slipping her feet into flip-flops as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. Santana led her by the hand downstairs and out the back door. It was warm enough that they didn’t need anything but their tank tops and pajama shorts. They used to sleep in nothing, but Santana’s brother figured that out and he’d tried to catch Brittany naked ever since.

Santana didn’t say anything as they walked, out of her backyard and into the trees. Brittany followed along, still holding her best friend’s hand. The light from the almost full moon had helped her wake up a bit, but now it was obscured by branches and leaves. It was a still night, no wind, just stagnant humid air. Mid-June, it was just a hint of what the Ohio summer would bring.

For as long as she could remember, Brittany spent summers lazing by Santana’s pool. That day had been their first pool day, and Brittany could feel just a touch of sunburn settled over her face and shoulders.

“San, where are we going?” she asked finally.

The shorter girl hadn’t said a word since she woke her up, and they’d been walking through the woods for almost ten minutes.

“It’s a surprise. I want to try something.”

Brittany giggled. She was certainly awake now. See, when Santana said she wanted to try something, it generally ended in either orgasms or conversations with police officers. Sometimes both.

When they emerged from the trees and crossed the train tracks, though, Brittany forgot her excitement. Someone had ruined her swing. Her very favorite swing. They had looped it over the top of the swingset so now it was too far off the ground to even get into. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Why would someone do that?”

“No, shhhh,” Santana said immediately, pulling her close to kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it, I promise. Don’t cry. I just want to try something.”

Brittany wasn’t sure how her ruined swing was supposed to be fun with either sex or the cops, but she sniffed and nodded.

Santana led her right up to the swing.

“Up,” the brunette said. “I’ll help you.”

Brittany didn’t want to get up—it was too high for a swing, even if she reached her toes she wouldn’t be able to touch the ground. But she trusted Santana.

She grabbed onto the chains holding the swing and jumped. Santana gave her a boost—hands tight around the blonde’s hips—and okay, now Brittany was in the swing.

She didn’t get it.

There wasn’t anything different about being in the swing than being on the ground, except she felt unstable. The moon was the same in its almost fullness (she was glad it wasn’t full; she didn’t think the woods had enough deer and stuff for a werewolf to survive, but you never know), the air was the same in its balmy warmth. The only thing that had changed was she thought she might fall. She had good balance on her feet, but sitting on the swing she was just dangling in the air with nothing really to hang on to.

Then Santana knelt in front of her.


It made sense then. The swing was at the perfect height so that on her knees, Santana’s face was directly in line with Brittany’s crotch.

“This was what you wanted to try?” Brittany said, already on her way to breathless as Santana ran her hands up and down her bare thighs.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want,” the brunette practically cooed, looking up through her lashes. She was only playing at innocence though, digging her fingernails into Brittany’s skin.

“No, it’s okay,” the blonde breathed. “I want to.”

Santana gave her a grin that was pretty much the complete opposite of innocent. Her hands edged up, under Brittany’s shorts, to grope her ass. The air was still so hot, but she couldn’t help but shiver.

Santana kissed the inside of her knee. She worked her mouth slowly, up one leg, then down to the other knee. She left wet smears of heat that barely cooled in the summer night. Brittany felt hot and sticky, her body pulsing, thrumming with the songs of the crickets. Santana just kept teasing, pressing kisses and fleeting nips to the blonde’s thighs until Brittany couldn’t help but wiggle. She clenched her fists around the chains of the swing and twisted her hips, searching for more. Santana chuckled and finally acquiesced. Her hands only left Brittany’s ass for a moment to pull off her pajama shorts. When she was finally exposed, Brittany draped a leg over Santana’s shoulder.


Brittany whined and twisted her hips again. She did not. want. to wait.

“B, you can’t hold on.”

She opened her eyes to look at her best friend. “What?”

“You can only hold on to me. Not to the swing.”

Her knuckles were white where they clutched the swing’s chains. She could feel her pulse between her legs, and she didn’t want to have to deal with this right now. She just wanted to get off.

“Only me, Britts,” Santana said.

Fine, whatever, she would deal with feeling off balance if the brunette would just stop fucking teasing. She let go of the swing, a little unsteady, and wrapped her fingers in dark hair. She wasn’t balanced and it made her tug a little, but the moan Santana let out just got her wetter.

Something amazing happened when Santana leaned in to lick along her slit.

Brittany was as turned on as she’d ever been, and a little afraid of falling, and Santana was the only thing that grounded her, her hands and her tongue and the length of her back, pressing against the blonde’s leg. Santana was solid and steady and Brittany clung to her.

She felt like she was flying, like it’s a bird, it’s a plane and she really did feel like a superhero. Or felt like Santana was a superhero, at least. Or maybe some kind of magic. She wondered if Harry Potter ever had sex on a broomstick, wondered if it felt anywhere near as good as she felt at that moment.

The swing was swaying against the pressure of Santana’s mouth between her hips. She hooked her leg tighter around her friend’s back, wanting nothing but closer and more. The brunette reacted by squeezing her ass roughly. Brittany hoped she left handprints and the thought sent a tingle along her spine.

Santana rounded her tongue around the taller girl’s clit and Brittany cried out. She was close. Santana slid a hand from under her, and she’d be worried about falling if she had enough brainpower left. One, two fingers curled inside and her head fell forward, her fingers tightened in Santana’s hair. The brunette flicked her tongue out and curled her fingers again and Brittany broke.

She really felt like she was flying then. Or maybe free falling, maybe that was what skydiving was like. Santana ended up acting as her parachute, the only reason she wasn’t sprawled on the ground afterward.

“San,” she breathed, drawing out the syllable and making the brunette grin against her thigh.

“C’mon, B,” Santana said as she stood. “I’ll fix your swing and then we can go home.”

“But I want to make you feel like you’re flying, too.”

The smaller girl laughed. “You can, Britt-Britt, just at home.”

She helped Brittany out of the swing. The blonde’s legs were unsteady even on the ground, and if she could focus, she’d notice that Santana looked pretty damn proud of herself.

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January 2013

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