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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Envious (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: hello ya big lovely bastards it’s ya gal ortega back on the scene with this wee bit of filth i promised was coming over on my blog about a month ago! thank u very much to everyone that’s waited patiently! without further ado i wish all of my readers a very pleasant jealous exes makeup sex fic xo

(this fic is sponsored by envious // aluna, go listen to it it’s is the exact vibe)

fic summary:

yeah, you got some nerve

standing over there with her just to make me mad

(or- Brooke and Vanessa are ex girlfriends at a party both missing each other and wanting to make the other jealous so Brooke spends all night flirting with Priyanka and Vanessa spends all night flirting with Kameron until neither of them can keep up the charade anymore and they go and have jealous makeup sex in the bathroom)

***

The room is dark, the music is loud, and she’s over there.

Brooke wonders if she knew she’d be here tonight. She probably did if the outfit she’s wearing is anything to go by; black lace bodysuit that’s see-through everywhere but where Brooke wants it to be, vinyl red snake print skirt that’s too short and too tight and is going to make Brooke have a heart attack. She’s not chosen heels tonight. Instead she’s in a pair of scuffed black Superstars with three gold stripes which are stained with the spilt alcohol of parties gone by. Brooke always thought it was adorable when she accepted her short stature, always used to love the way she’d have to go on her toes if she wanted to kiss her.

Which used to be all the time. And now it’s not.

Instead she’s leaning against the counter in the kitchen and talking to some tall Amazonian goddess with tumbling blonde ombré hair, long legs and intimidating-looking muscles which tell Brooke she wouldn’t win against her in a fight. Not that Brooke’s going to fight her, of course. Even if the way she tucks her hair behind her ears and laughs softly as her conversational partner screeches out a story makes Brooke want to tip the entire contents of the punch bowl they’re standing beside over her head.

“Anyone sitting here?”

Brooke blinks, a little caught out, and follows the voice to make sure it’s actually talking to her. She is pleasantly surprised when her gaze falls on a tall girl with a shock of long, straight, bright orange hair, with long eyelashes and dark eyes and full lips. She’s wearing a denim skirt with a set of metal buttons down the front and a safety pin masquerading as one at the bottom. She also appears to be part of the bodysuit club (was there a dress code? Did Brooke miss a memo?) except hers is white, long-sleeved, tight and ribbed.

Brooke might still be hung up on her ex but she knows a pretty girl when she sees one, and she runs her tongue over her teeth before she smiles. “Nope, you’re good.”

The girl grins gratefully and flips some of her hair over her shoulder before sitting down next to Brooke on the battered leather sofa. She’s close and Brooke can smell her perfume, the overpowering cloying-ness of it rendering it instantly recognisable as some Thierry Mugler invention. It’s only then that Brooke registers she’s got two drinks in her hand, and she’s holding one out for her to take.

“You want this?” she asks cheerfully. “It was meant for my friend but I think she went off to get high or something, I don’t know. Anyway, it’s yours now.”

The outgoing nature of this girl is only serving to take Brooke’s mind off of the one on the other side of the house. That’s good. She doesn’t want to think about her, or the way that she’s almost pressed up against that other bodybuilder girl, or the way that that used to be them.

Brooke blinks slowly in an attempt to hit refresh on her mind, not to dignify those thoughts with any more time. She thanks the girl and sips at the curious red liquid in the cup, narrowing her eyes a little. “What’s in this?”

“Fuck knows. It’s the punch from the kitchen,” the girl shrugs, then raises an eyebrow at Brooke. “I mean there’s no roofies, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I wasn’t…God, sorry-”

“Chill. I’m kidding,” the girl quirks a smile, and Brooke relaxes a little. Fuck, this is hard. She’s out of practise more than she’d care to admit. Luckily though the girl takes the lead again, flicking her hair once more and exposing a huge gold hoop hanging from her earlobe. “I’m Priyanka.”

“I’m Brooke,” Brooke follows suit. How can it possibly feel weird to introduce herself to someone else? “So, uh. How do you know Yvie?”

“We do netball together,” Priyanka explains, fishing something out of her drink with a long acrylic nail. “I mean, just for fun. Neither of us are actually on the team. I’m pretty much still at the stage where the ball comes towards me and I scream so loud all the insects in a five mile radius pass away.”

Brooke can’t control the way she snorts out a laugh at Priyanka’s unexpected turn of phrase. She’s funny, and that’s always been attractive to Brooke. She remembers the way someone else used to make her laugh like that, the absolutely off-the-wall observations she’d hit out with. Brooke’s thinking about her again, and she finds her gaze shifting through to the kitchen.

When Brooke’s eyes land on her, she finds she’s already staring her way. Staring at her and Priyanka sitting close together on the sofa, and Brooke having just laughed the way she used to laugh with her. And her face is like a storm cloud brought to life.

Brooke feels a little spark go off in her gut a bit like she’s won something, so she casts Priyanka a big smile, one that she attempts to make literally sparkle. Brooke reaches out and touches Priyanka’s knee lightly, can practically hear the girl on the other side of the room hiss.

“You’re funny,” Brooke simpers, and Priyanka tries to suppress a smile but fails.

“You’re cute,” she replies, and a firework goes off in Brooke’s brain.

***

“Son of a bitch,” Vanessa finds herself muttering under her breath.

“What?”

Her gaze snaps back to the girl in front of her. Kameron, the girl that works at the gym with muscles that make Vanessa wonder if she could pick her up and hold her against the wall if they made out. The girl who’s tall and blonde and who, if Vanessa squints a little, looks just like her ex.

Her ex who’s currently sat in the living room dressed in the tightest pair of blue jeans imaginable (Vanessa knows the ones- they make her butt look way too good) and an illegally tiny pink crop top, practically in some other girl’s lap, laughing and flirting and touching and doing entirely too much.

But Vanessa’s not thinking about her right now. She’s moving on. She’s talking to a hot girl with tattoos and ripped jeans and a flannel shirt tied around her waist and short nails on her middle and index fingers.

Or at least she’s trying to. If her ex wasn’t distracting her by laughing so loud the whole party is practically deafened.

“Sorry,” Vanessa smiles apologetically, bats her lashes a little. “What were we talkin’ about?”

“You were telling me about your course,” Kameron raises an eyebrow at her. “And then you got distracted by that girl over on the sofa.”

Fuck. Vanessa needs to save the situation. Kameron is incredibly gorgeous and Vanessa’s goal is to go home with her tonight, be underneath her between the hours of 1 and 4am and all the while run the risk of accidentally yelling out the wrong name. She decides to come clean. “God, yeah, sorry. It’s just…that’s my ex. An’ I forgot she’d be here tonight. Sucks when you got mutual friends after you break up so then you still gotta see each other.”

Kameron nods understandingly. “Jeez, sorry. That’s rough. And that’s totally insensitive of her to be doing all that in front of you. You think she’s doing it on purpose?”

Vanessa narrows her eyes as she flicks her gaze to the sofa again. She’s tracing the henna on the other girl’s hand. Vanessa feels the blood in her veins turn to fire. “Yep.”

As she flicks her gaze back to Kameron, Vanessa watches as a little scheming smile appears on her face. “Well, you should get to have some fun of your own, right?”

Vanessa feels little butterflies in her stomach as Kameron steps a little closer to her and lets out a laugh that’s entirely too loud but makes Vanessa smile at the sheer unexpectedness of it all regardless. “What the hell was that for?”

Kameron jerks her head to the living room and sure enough, her ex is looking over at the pair of them with a face like a burst balloon and body language to match.

“Now,” Kameron says lightly as she brings a hand up to touch Vanessa’s arm gently. “Are you going to tell me what the hell sociology is?”

***

Brooke doesn’t really know what her plan is anymore. She’s not sure if she’s trying to make her ex jealous or if she actually really wants to kiss Priyanka until she can no longer think straight. Priyanka is confident, and funny, and very attractive, and the way she smiles all excitedly at practically everything Brooke says is entirely too endearing. But Brooke is vaguely- scratch that, acutely- aware of the two girls in the kitchen who are standing too close and smiling too much and fuck, she’s giving the other girl those eyes and Brooke knows exactly what that look means.

She needs to up her game somehow.

“So wait, you must have so many crazy stories about Yvie from high school,” Priyanka distracts her. She’s curled her fingers around Brooke’s at some point during their conversation, and Brooke’s not adverse to that at all.

Brooke pauses for dramatic effect and leans close to Priyanka as she imparts her new information. “She had a full Myspace emo fringe which she used to straighten as soon as she got out the shower.”

“NO!” Priyanka yells, throwing her head back in a laugh. Score. That’s going to have attracted the right amount of attention from the girl in the kitchen, and Brooke feels like she’s been lit up inside.

“Fried her hair. Fried it! I can’t even describe the sizzling sound it made on the irons. Like twelve thousand rashers of bacon on the hottest pan alive. I heard it so many times at sleepovers, I swear I can’t eat fried food any more.”

Priyanka’s laughing again, gripping Brooke’s hand tighter and sending shockwaves down her spine. As her laughter dies down, Brooke notices she’s got her hand in her lap and it’s giving her entirely too many ideas.

She checks on the situation in the kitchen. Her ex isn’t looking at her. Instead, she’s got her eyes on the girl in front of her and a hand on her waist, and Brooke feels a little like she’s going to be sick.

“It was 2012, though, I mean we all made questionable choices back then,” Priyanka shrugs, her gaze dark and wicked as she fixes Brooke with her brown eyes. “I bet you were, like, totally on the neon trend.”

Brooke is distracted from her ex by the horrific accusation she’s just had pointed at her, and she lets out a small screech as Priyanka laughs. “Oh my God! That’s the most offensive thing anyone’s ever said to me. Fucking…neon, Jesus. So wait, you think I was one of those girls that rocked up to house parties in a bright green tutu and those Stargazer pink feather eyelashes?!”

“Exactly that! And twelve layers of fake tan!” Priyanka laughs with glee. Brooke finds the nausea dissipating. She really is very cute.

“Oh my God, fuck all the way off. No, I was more…trying incredibly hard to be the fifth member of Little Mix.”

Priyanka’s mouth drops open in shock and recognition. “No way. Your entire personality was moustache-themed accessories, wasn’t it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Brooke bites back a smile. “If I told you I had a t-shirt with the words ‘I moustache you a question’ on it…would you judge me?”

Priyanka drops Brooke’s hand in aid of flailing and squealing entirely too much, but Brooke’s only disappointed for a moment because as she speaks Priyanka rests both of her palms on Brooke’s knees. “YES! Heavily! Jesus, at least you glowed up, though.”

Brooke feels like she’s blushing. Maybe she is. She tucks a little lock of hair behind her ear and she’s not too sure whose benefit it’s for. “Stop it.”

“I mean, I don’t know what you looked like in high school, but you’re super hot now, so,” Priyanka shrugs, gives her a little wink. The girl is a massive flirt and Brooke doesn’t mind it one single bit.

She takes Priyanka’s hand before looking back through to the kitchen.

That got her attention.

***

“So he’s obviously booked himself onto the expert level class to try and impress me, and I’m like, baby…you are so not even close to my type. Because number one, you’re a guy. And that’s…that’s numbers two and three as well, actually.”

Vanessa giggles, leans in a little closer for good measure.

“So anyway, I think I maybe killed him that day. If you’re going to call yourself an expert, have the balls to back it up,” Kameron finishes her story, and Vanessa is smiling, simpering, tucking her hair behind her ears, laying it all on thick because the girl in the living room she’s attempting to stop thinking about has got her fingers curled around that other girl’s hand and she’s stroking a little strip of skin with her thumb the way she used to do to Vanessa’s hand across the table if they were out having dinner somewhere nice.

“So how much can you lift?” Vanessa asks, and if she’s leaning against the counter and pushing her chest out just a little then it’s nobody’s business but her own.

Kameron smirks at her and Vanessa finds herself blushing, the other girl obviously wise to what she’s trying to do. “Well I can squat 80 kilos?”

Vanessa frowns. “Much is that?”

“You know those bags of flour you get from the shop?” Kameron tilts her head, and Vanessa nods. “Eighty of those.”

Vanessa’s eyes fly wide open. She gives a little laugh of disbelief. “Stop lyin’, there’s no way that’s possible!”

Kameron is laughing at her reaction, and it gives Vanessa a little feeling of triumph. Suddenly she forms an idea. “Bet you couldn’t squat me.”

Vanessa feels something curl low in her gut as Kameron raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that a challenge?”

“Might be.”

There’s a little glint in Kameron’s eyes as she suddenly picks Vanessa up, ignores the way she squeals and laughs and goes a little over the top as she fires off some squats whilst cradling Vanessa in her arms as if she weighs nothing at all. Vanessa takes advantage of the situation to throw her arms around Kameron’s neck, and as Kameron deposits her back on the kitchen tiles Vanessa makes a big show of trailing her hands down past her collarbones and smiling up at her a little.

It occurs to Vanessa that she’s not looked over to the sofa in a little while and sure enough, her ex flicks her gaze quickly back to the girl in front of her as if she’s been caught staring.

Vanessa smiles triumphantly at Kameron before hopping up to sit on the countertop. If it gives whoever’s in the living room a better view of her thighs, then that’s just a happy coincidence.

***

Brooke doesn’t know how long she’s been talking to Priyanka. Could’ve been an hour, could’ve been three, but all she knows is that she needs another drink. Preferably some of the red concoction that Priyanka managed to procure from the punch bowl.

The problem is, all of the alcohol is in the kitchen. Where she is. With the fucking lesbian bodybuilder she’s chatting up. But then said lesbian bodybuilder leaves the room- not before giving her a kiss on the cheek that sends Brooke’s blood pressure skyrocketing, but it means that she’s alone.

Without knowing what possesses her, Brooke turns to Priyanka and motions to her empty cup. “You want another?”

“Yes please,” she replies politely, and Brooke’s heart melts a little bit. Priyanka is nice, and she’s sweet.

But she’s not her.

So Brooke stands up, tugs down her top a little bit before walking tall through to the kitchen. She’s sat on the countertop with her legs crossed and her thighs look entirely too good. Brooke is consumed by the sudden need to kiss all the way up them like she used to and she still hasn’t forgotten how soft her skin is or the way it smells like cocoa butter.

She’s on her phone as Brooke approaches but her eyes flick up to look at her as Brooke walks in, stands right up close beside her as she reaches for two plastic cups and then the punch ladle. She wishes she’d picked a skirt or something that exposes her legs because the outside of her ex’s thigh is touching hers and the spark that’s just sent about thirty volts of electricity through Brooke’s nerve endings is delicious.

They don’t speak. Brooke wants to say something, but her ex hasn’t broken the stalemate and therefore neither will she. She’s consumed with longing. She misses her. She misses her so much. But this isn’t the kind of place for that conversation, not that she’d deign Brooke with any of her time anyway. As she tips the red liquid into the plastic cup, Brooke becomes acutely aware of the fact that her ex has uncrossed her legs, and that she’s deliberately pressing her thigh against her. She knows what she’s doing. So much of Brooke wants to grab her jaw and smash their lips together, press her body right up against hers and rip her clothes off in the middle of the kitchen at her best friend’s house party, but she doesn’t. Instead, Brooke flips her long, blonde hair over one shoulder, exposing a strip of her neck that her ex used to love kissing all the way up and marking with red and purple hickies.

From the way her gaze darkens as Brooke sneaks a look at her, she’s thinking about the same thing right this second.

Brooke’s filled up her cups so she’s ready to go back through to the living room, back through to Priyanka and the prospect of taking her home that night and pretending she’s the girl on the countertop beside her. But all of that, all of those prospects aren’t as good as the reaction she gets as Brooke reaches out and touches her ex’s knee, lets her fingers skate up the exposed strip of inner thigh as she leans in close and whispers quickly into her ear.

“She looks a little bit like me.”

Before Brooke turns and walks back into the living room, she catches the look on her face: shocked, infuriated, and her gaze absolutely filled with lust.

Brooke ignores the heavy throb between her thighs as she makes her way back to her position on the couch.

***

Vanessa scrolls. Scrolls through her camera roll, back to all the ridiculous selfies they took together- silly ones lying on the grass at the park, glam ones before they went off to Scarlet’s fancy 21st, cute ones buried under the duvet after sex where they pulled horrific faces and laughed and laughed and still found the other the most beautiful person in the world. She scrolls through their texts, all the way back to when they first met at Jackie’s flat party and started messaging each other all tentative and shy and flirty.

She misses her. She doesn’t even remember what they had that stupid fight about now, and she should, it should have been something important because it’s the reason everything came crashing down around her. Vanessa misses the way she’d always be the first one to wake up and bring her cups of coffee, she misses the way they’d both get all excited if they went for a walk and saw a neighbourhood cat, she misses that Snow Fairy body spray she would wear at Christmas time that smelt of candyfloss and jelly beans and made Vanessa want to cuddle her and never let go.

She wishes she hadn’t let go. And now she’s over there, laughing like a dumb blonde airhead with that girl she just got punch for. Vanessa narrows her gaze. If anything, that girl looks more like her than Kameron looks like her ex. They both have dark skin (although they’re completely different shades), and dark eyes (Vanessa’s guessing), and…

Yeah, that’s probably where their similarities end.

“Hey! Sorry. I bumped into this girl I knew from class last year, hadn’t seen her in ages,” Kameron breezes back in. She clearly registers Vanessa’s radiating the same vibes as a cat that’s been taunted too many times with a laser pointer, and she cocks an eyebrow at her suspiciously. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

Vanessa pauses. She’s loath to bring her ex up again with Kameron. She’s trying hard to forget about her, and Kameron is beautiful and would probably treat her right and might end up being the one she’s never realised she’s been looking for.

And then she hears that laugh ricochet through the house again, and she visibly winces.

“Right. The ex,” Kameron grimaces. Vanessa feels herself cringe a little bit. Kameron’s clearly realised that she’s going to get nowhere with a girl who’s still hung up on somebody else, and to be honest Vanessa doesn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says, embarrassed. “You’re real sweet. But I think I’ll prolly just end up goin’ home by myself. Might cry so hard into a tub of Chew Chew that the caramel turns salted. Who knows.”

Kameron lets out a warm, genuine laugh, touches her arm in a way that makes Vanessa wish she wasn’t so hung up on her ex still. ��Well, I hope your night doesn’t end up as sad as all that.”

With that, Kameron pulls her into a hug. She’s warm and soft and Vanessa finds herself sighing a little, not realising how tight her chest had become until now. Suddenly, she feels Kameron’s chest judder in a laugh.

“What?”

Kameron murmurs against Vanessa’s ear. “Your girl’s looking over.”

Vanessa isn’t bothered. “She prolly don’t give a fuck.”

Kameron pulls away a little, a smirk on her lips. “Well. Kiss me so she does.”

So Vanessa doesn’t think and instead she simply follows orders, pulls Kameron in so that her glossy lips press against her own and kisses her deeply, presses her body against hers if only so she can add to the illusion that she’s kissing someone else. The kiss is fine- the kiss is good- but it’s not what she wants, and selfishly Vanessa opens her eyes, lets her gaze travel through to the living room and the girl on the sofa, and-

Mother fucker.

Vanessa locks eyes with her while she’s got her own tongue down that other girl’s throat and a hand in her orange hair. She can’t believe it. Can’t fucking believe it. Her ex has seen her kissing Kameron and she’s tried to beat her at her own game. Vanessa keeps her eyes on her as she brings a hand up to Kameron’s jaw, pulling her closer to her. When her ex’s eyes snap shut like she’s seen something she doesn’t like, Vanessa calls that a win.

Satisfied, Vanessa pulls away and Kameron follows her lead. They share a goodbye and Vanessa is left on her own. She can’t stop looking at the scene in the living room that isn’t yet over. She thinks about fingers on her thigh and a whisper in her ear and the way that they both so clearly want each other Vanessa’s amazed the house hasn’t burnt down with the tension of it all yet.

So, as the two girls on the sofa break away, Vanessa does what any self-confessed bad bitch would do- smooths her skirt down, tosses her hair over her shoulder, and walks through to the next room. Vanessa watches her ex react- she’s still talking to that girl but her eyes keep darting right, right, right, falling on her with every step she takes. Her body language is becoming jittery, nervous, as if Vanessa’s about to spoil this little cosy setup she’s got going with fucking Lavagirl on the sofa.

And when Vanessa makes and then holds eye contact with her before sharply turning in the direction of the bathroom, she doesn’t look back. Even when she hears her telling the girl that she’ll be back in a second, and feels the presence of someone following behind her.

Vanessa skips past the queue of people that has accumulated outside the small bathroom, jumps in front of a girl with bad extensions who’s about to go in and who yells at her in outrage. She’s silenced, however, by the way the girl following her closes the door and slides the lock in place, turning around with pure rage on her face. Vanessa smirks.

“Wow. Didn’t know watching girls pee was one of your kinks.”

“Shut the hell up,” she bites back, taking two steps towards her and setting Vanessa’s heart off like a flare. “It’s pretty fucking obvious you wanted me to follow you.”

“See, Brooke, the only way I’m viewing this situation is that you’re the one who wants me,” Vanessa replies, already feeling that flirtatious sense of excitement as she casts a slow gaze up and down Brooke’s body. It’s the way she knows exactly how this is going to end that sends a tingle down her spine and between her legs, and the way Brooke’s looking at her with her eyes all dark is doing nothing to dissipate that feeling.

“Why are you so pressed? I wasn’t the one standing flirting all night with the fucking…lesbian final boss in the kitchen,” Brooke rolls her eyes, and the knowledge that she’s been riled enough to reference Kameron is a win in Vanessa’s book.

“Says the girl who had Ginger Spice in her lap?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow questioningly. They’re both close now, and the cracked white tiles are pressing against Vanessa’s back but she doesn’t mind the cold because every single inch of her body is on fire.

“What was your plan for tonight? Go home with a girl who looks like me and then spend the whole night pretending she fucks you like I do? That it?” Brooke leans in and murmurs. Vanessa knows it’s meant to mock her but she can’t shake the feeling that Brooke’s only giving her what she wants. She’s brought it up now, and images of nights spent in Brooke’s bed are burning through Vanessa’s mind like a wildfire.

Christ, she misses her so much. And if Brooke’s playing a game here, then Vanessa decides she’s going to play one of her own.

“You couldn’t make me scream if your life depended on it,” she smirks at her, deliberately making her voice all low and sultry, and Vanessa’s heart gives a leap at the way Brooke’s pupils visibly dilate in response. She’s close now; bodies not separated by much, lips within kissing distance. God, Vanessa wants to kiss her so badly. Get the pink lipstick she’s wearing smudged all over her lips, pressed against her neck, marked onto her collarbones.

“So…leading me into a toilet and hitting me with playground-level goading. Classy. Good to see you’re still as childish as you were when we broke up,” Brooke mutters in response. Her words are harsh but her touch is gentle as she rests her hands on Vanessa’s hips and in turn sends her pulse through the ceiling.

“You were the one that followed me,” Vanessa cocks an eyebrow, challenging her. Vanessa knows Brooke, she knows she’s proud and takes herself entirely too seriously and she knows it won’t be long until she cracks, she just needs to taunt her enough. So Vanessa rests her palms against the tiles, looks down at where Brooke’s thumbs are swiping against the lace of her bodysuit at her waist, and smiles a little. “Because you still want me.”

Brooke’s face screws up, clearly battling some inner turmoil. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, but she leans in a little so that their bodies become pressed together. Vanessa lets out a little sigh of satisfaction, the contact between them delicious and satisfying. Brooke’s eyes are still shut as she hisses out a response.

“Fuck…don’t want you…”

“Seemed like you wanted me in the kitchen earlier,” Vanessa whispers a reply. Brooke’s rested her forehead on the wall beside her, seemingly in a bid to avoid eye contact, but one of her hands has dropped down to trace patterns along the outside of Vanessa’s thigh and it’s giving away what she wants. Brooke’s neck is exposed like this so Vanessa leans in a little, lets her lips skate over her skin as she pushes things a little further. “Seems like you want me now. You want me so bad.”

“Swear to God if you don’t fucking shut up…” Brooke hisses out against Vanessa’s own neck, sending shockwaves all the way from the top of her spine right down to the base and ending with a sting of heat striking between her legs and making her throb.

“What, baby? What are you gonna do?”

Brooke nuzzles her head into the crook of her neck, so close to kissing it that Vanessa hears herself letting out a whine into the tiny bathroom.

“Well, I’m not going to give you what you want.”

“Even if it’s what you want too?”

“We broke up…we didn’t work,” Brooke insists, even though she’s pushing her knee in between Vanessa’s legs so that her thigh is right up against her. Vanessa thinks this is a dangerous game considering how wet she can feel herself becoming and the fact that Brooke’s jeans are light blue denim, but she shifts against her anyway and shivers a little in delight.

“We worked in some aspects,” Vanessa teases her, relenting a little and bringing her hands up to paw at the exposed skin at Brooke’s waist. She’s got a theory that there’s no bra under that crop top and she wants to build some evidence around it, so she traces her fingers up Brooke’s spine.

When she doesn’t feel the bump of a clasp, her brain hotwires.

Brooke breathes out heavily against her neck in response to her touches, takes her knee away which makes Vanessa’s heart plummet in disappointment and a whine leap out of her mouth. As Brooke transfers the hand that’s on her hip to the inside of her thigh, Vanessa is stunned into silence as she realises what she’s trying to do. Brooke is having some difficulty, though, getting Vanessa’s legs spread any wider because of her skirt.

“This is impossible, fuck,” Brooke hisses in frustration, before scrabbling both hands up to the silver zip that runs from the waistband all the way to the hem and tugging it down.

Vanessa’s skirt is on the floor and her heart rate is through the roof and the pulse between her legs is fast becoming too much to handle. So when Brooke presses her fingers against the satin of her underwear and finally, mercifully gives her some contact, Vanessa can’t help but let out a tiny giggle of relief. All the big talk and games are gone now that Brooke’s giving Vanessa exactly what she’s wanted all night, exactly what they’ve both wanted all night, and now all Vanessa wants to do is worship her, remind her of what Brooke knows already- that she can’t pretend anyone knows her body like she does, knows exactly how to push her to the edge and hold her there before finally offering her the most blissful kind of release.

“Knew it.”

“I’m drunk, this means nothing,” Brooke mouths against her neck. Vanessa’s eyes snap open only for her to roll them.

“You’re drunk off two glasses of punch?”

“Oh what, you’re monitoring my drinks now? Psycho,” Brooke shakes her head against Vanessa’s neck, eliciting a gasp out of her as she bites down gently on her collarbone then instantly kisses it better. Vanessa knows Brooke’s only embarrassed because she’s called her out- that they can’t blame this on the alcohol, that there’s only so much damage that fruit juice and lemonade and a couple of swigs of vodka are going to do, and the fact they’re doing all of this while they’re at the most mildly tipsy means something that neither of them want to address.

But Vanessa doesn’t focus on all this for long, because Brooke’s fingers are too light against her and her hips are raised up off the tiles trying to grind down against them. She decides to tease Brooke herself- dances her fingers up to push them into Brooke’s hair and tug at it gently the way she used to like. The action makes her moan against her neck, and Vanessa is rewarded by Brooke pressing her fingers against her ever-so-slightly harder, leaning against her so that Vanessa is now effectively pinned against the wall. Even with all of this, she wants more. She wants Brooke’s fingers curling inside her and her thumb on her clit. Most of all, though, she wants to kiss her and to be kissed back, because Brooke’s still not met her lips yet and the fact she hasn’t is becoming more heightened and tense than anything physical they’re caught up in now.

So Vanessa decides to taunt her a little more. Because it’s fun, and it gets a reaction out of her, and if she’s trying to get a rise out of Brooke it means she’s not saying the things she wants to say but are far too risky to even consider.

“This all you got? You scared to fuck me in case I realise you ain’t that special?” she turns her head so that her lips skate across Brooke’s neck. “…or has it been so long that you forgot how to?”

“Fucking look at yourself,” Brooke hisses into her ear in a way that makes Vanessa want to squeal. “Begging for it against the wall in the bathroom at a house party. Desperate little bitch.”

“But you love it, don’t you, baby?” Vanessa bites back, cutting herself off with a moan as Brooke pulls her thong to one side, teases her slit with two fingers and avoids her clit completely, and Vanessa is so tense and frustrated that she feels as if she’ll explode.

Brooke’s breath is shallow against her neck, and there’s a note of awe to her voice as she speaks. “Fuck, V’nessa, you’re so wet…I’m-”

BANG BANG BANG. The slam against the door and the irritated yelling of some drunk girl outside makes them both jump, Vanessa taking one of Brooke’s arms and Brooke’s head lurching up from Vanessa’s neck sharply. They’re locked in an almost protective kind of embrace and it makes her heart hurt only a tiny bit. There’s a pause in which neither of them move but Brooke’s still got two of her fingers dangerously close to being inside her, and Vanessa’s fucked if she’s got this far and she’s not even going to get what she wants out of the situation.

So she locks eyes with Brooke, whose lipstick is all smudged and whose chest is heaving and whose pupils are still wide like a full moon, and she plays her ace.

“You gonna make me come or not? ‘Cuz I can always get that girl I was talking to in the kitchen to come an’ finish what you started.”

“Son of a bitch-” Brooke growls, before she all but slams both fingers inside her and cuts off Vanessa’s resulting moan with her mouth, kissing her deeply and sliding her tongue over hers. It’s exactly what Vanessa was hoping for and Brooke’s fingers feel even better than she remembers as she sinks down to meet her knuckles, her whining muffled by Brooke’s tongue as she pulses her fingers inside her the way she always used to, the way that used to drive Vanessa absolutely wild and still does.

Their kiss breaks apart, leaving them both with their foreheads pressed against each other. Vanessa feels her eyes flutter closed in ecstasy as she rides Brooke’s fingers, Brooke matching her pace and the pair of them falling into a rhythm that only serves to draw Vanessa closer and closer to the edge.

Vanessa knows Brooke can do more, though. So she twists her head to reach her neck, kisses up it and then puts her lips to her ear.

“Fuck…what would that girl you were talking to say if she knew you were fucking your ex in the bathroom right now…if she knew the only reason you were even entertaining her was just to get my attention…she’d be so heartbroken…you’re so mean- ah!”

Brooke sucks a hickey into her neck then murmurs against it. “You love it when I’m mean, don’t you?”

“Love it so much,” Vanessa replies, gasping as Brooke gently flicks her thumb against her clit and sends a tidal wave of pleasure crashing into her.

“You like that, babe?”

“Mmm, so much, so much,” Vanessa bites down hard on her lip as Brooke kisses her neck, sucks on a sensitive spot that makes Vanessa frown in concentration because she’s close now, and she’s not going to last much longer with the way that Brooke’s rubbing her clit in little circles. She doesn’t want her to stop so she begins some sort of sacreligious incoherent prayer, sighing out into the bathroom and not even caring who’s on the other side of the door. “Fuck, Brooke, so good…so fuckin’ amazing…fuck yes, right there…”

“You sound so pretty when you want to come,” Brooke breathes out all at once, the validation pushing Vanessa ever so close to the edge.

“Want to…want to so bad…”

“You wanna come?” Brooke taunts her, and Vanessa is tantalisinglyclose now so she confirms Brooke’s question with a whine. Her eyes snap open when Brooke brings her head up off her shoulder again, fixes her with searing hot eye contact. “Say you miss me.”

Vanessa is so wound up that she thinks she’s misheard her. “What?”

“Say you miss me and I’ll let you come,” Brooke repeats, as if she’s just made a comment about the weather.

Part of Vanessa freezes up because oh- Brooke misses her too. This isn’t just some pathetic, one-sided thing. This isn’t just about Vanessa riding Brooke’s fingers in a run-down bathroom, this is about feelings and regret and a second chance. So Vanessa takes her hands that’ve been anchored around Brooke’s neck so far and cups her jaw, pulls her close so their noses touch.

“Miss you…miss you so fucking much.”

Vanessa crashes her lips against Brooke’s and their kiss is messier this time but it’s still hot and wet and entirely too much for Vanessa to cope with. She’s completely on the precipice now so she breaks away to murmur against Brooke’s lips.

“Miss you…miss this…”

“Miss you too,” Brooke says quietly, kissing her frantically as she teases Vanessa’s clit with her thumb and crooks her fingers inside her and leaves her so close she’s almost crumbling. “You’re so perfect, fuck…perfect fucking princess, Jesus, Vanessa, fucking look at you…God, want you so much…”

“All yours, baby, all yours, nobody else’s,” Vanessa mouths against her lips. Her hair’s all in her face and her legs are aching but it’s happening, Vanessa can feel it, and so she can only squeak out a Brooke, I’m- before her orgasm hits her like a tsunami and she cries out into the bathroom, high-pitched and loud as she feels herself throb relentlessly against Brooke’s fingers, completely overwhelmed.

There’s an almost-silence as Vanessa’s breathing levels out and Brooke slides her fingers out from inside her. Vanessa watches her, flushed and sheepish, try to figure out what to do with them until eventually she remembers what room of the house they’re in and washes her hands. The running water gives Vanessa some time to think. Brooke misses her. She misses Brooke. They’re on the same page, and Vanessa’s just had the best sex she’s had in months (the only sex she’s had in months).

So when Brooke turns around and can’t quite meet her eyes, Vanessa takes a deep breath and collects herself.

“Hey,” she says, soft and quiet. “Why don’t we go back to mine? I can, uh…help you out. An’ then we can get pizza and talk?”

Brooke’s face washes over with relief, and it makes Vanessa’s heart pole vault into the air. She crosses over to her from the sink, takes both of her hands in hers.

“That’s assuming…” she begins, a wicked smile appearing on her face. “…we can wait that long to finish what we started.”

And when Vanessa pulls her back in again and she feels Brooke smile against her lips, it makes her think maybe everything will be okay after all.

***

Priyanka has been standing outside the bathroom in the seven-person queue for what could be twenty minutes but could also equally be half an hour. She grips her plastic cup tighter in her hand and puffs out a sigh. Rumours have filtered through the grapevine that there’s two people banging in there. Priyanka’s happy for them. Except she’s not. She’s wound up and frustrated. Brooke’s clearly ghosted her and Lemon’s nowhere to be found and now she’s stuck alone at a party with an ever-growing need to pee.

She’s jolted out of her moping by a tall blonde with black sweeps of eyeliner on her brown eyes and muscles that make Priyanka’s mouth dry up. She’s joined the queue and she’s said something to her but Priyanka can only look at her with a slack jaw and wide eyes because Jesus Fucking Christ she’s hot as hell and she’s appeared right in front of her. It’s definitely a sign.

“Are you…okay?” the girl asks, her face turning concerned. Priyanka snaps out of her daze, instantly turns the charm up to one hundred. Or attempts to, at least.

“No, shit, sorry, yeah. I’m good. I just got distracted by…” Priyanka gestures wildly at the girl in front of her. “…you. This. All of this.”

She’s a few glasses of punch down but she knows it’s not that that’s rendering her incapable of stringing a sentence together. Nevertheless, the girl in front of her is laughing and her body language is warming up.

“I just asked if this was the queue,” she repeats, a smirk on her face.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been here ages. Think some people have actually started going out to the garden to pee. Yvie’s gonna wake up tomorrow with her flowers growing the size of a fucking double-decker bus.”

The girl bursts out laughing and shows a row of shiny white teeth. She’s cute. Very cute. She steps forward a little to touch Priyanka’s arm, fixes her with a smile.

“You’re funny.”

She’s flirting. This is flirting. Priyanka’s into it.

“No, I’m Priyanka,” she fires back, winking at her cheekily. The girl’s laughing again, and as she tails off she cocks her head to look at her.

“I’m Kameron,” she says. Her voice is smooth like melted butter and her eyes are dark and twinkly and Priyanka thinks fuck it, might as well try. She shrugs before stepping closer, lessening the gap between them.

“Nice to meet you, Kameron. Wanna make out?”

#rpdr fanfiction #envious #branjie #kamjie #brooke x priyanka #lesbian au #smut #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #kameron michaels #priyanka

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black-john-lennon-archive · 8 years

Text

Fic: Fools Rush In

Summary: Elvis once sang, “Wise men say only fools rush in…” Blaine and Sam may be who he was singing about.

A/N Based on this post because @ckerouac and I are brain twins. Thanks to @mshoneysucklepink for being my midnight beta.

Read and Comment on AO3

Blaine felt really lucky. His college roommate turned out to be his best friend. Sure, it was rough the first few days; Blaine had never shared with anyone, and Sam was used to sharing everything. There may have been some shoving, but they talked it out and it was only awkward for a few days. Then Sam was unpacking his Funko figures and next thing they knew, three hours had passed as they discussed the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Okay, so Blaine had a preference for DC’s characters, but even he could admit that Marvel’s movies were better. They became inseparable, even though they were so different. Sam was straight, and didn’t care that Blaine was gay. Sam came from a loving family with two younger siblings who adored him; he called his parents multiple times a week and they helped him move in. Blaine didn’t talk to his brother much, his Dad only called to see if he needed him to send money, and Blaine called his Mom every day. Sam was there on a full ride thanks to an athletic scholarship from being on his high school swim team, and he still worked so he could send money home to his family. Blaine’s dad was paying for everything and sent him cash, his Father wanting him to focus on his studies and his Mom not wanting him to have to start working straight out of school like she did.

They were polar opposites, but also the best of friends. Half the people on their floor thought they were sleeping together, and everyone started calling them Blam, saying stuff like “Are Blam coming to the party?” or “Do you think Blam will loan me a DVD?” They didn’t mind it.

The one thing they had in common, besides really loving Star Wars fan fiction, was their romantic loneliness. They both really wanted to be in a relationship. Sam had dated a lot in high school, including the school nurse, and Blaine had one boyfriend in high school and a couple of hookups. They were lonely; college dating wasn’t going as well as they’d hoped.

They’d come to a decision one night over the fic Blaine was reading to Sam because he couldn’t sleep.

“Wait, wait. C3PO would never do that. He’d be too nervous and whiny to do that. This fic jumped the shark. Can fic jump the shark?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, but this is pretty bad. What should we do? Maybe try listening to podfic instead?” Blaine suggests.

“This sucks. We’re hot guys. And we’re stuck in here every night. That’s it. I’m off tomorrow, we need to get off this campus. We’re going out. We both have fake IDs, lets go be each other’s wing men. I’ll find you a hot guy, you’ll find me a hot girl.”

“I don’t know Sam, I don’t know if I’m a wing man. For a straight guy?”

“Dude, girls love you. Just wear a bow tie and the pants that show your ankles. The girls will be all over you, then you hit them with the ‘I’m gay’ bomb and then be all “Have you met Sam?” and I’ll do the same. The lips make guys think I’m gay. I’ve been told I have ‘dick sucking lips’. Guy rolls up on me, I’m all ‘wow, I’m flattered but I’m straight, my boy Blaine though? Loves the cock.”

“Please don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

Somehow, Blaine let Sam talk him into it. So he put on his red pants and black polo, finally wore the red and grey striped bowtie he’d been waiting to wear and let Sam drag him to a bar. He doesn’t know how Sam found Callbacks, especially since it was a hangout for the snobby NYADA students and they went to NYU, but Blaine just went with it. Sometimes, the easiest way to deal with Sam was to just follow along; nine times out of ten, his ideas were strange but brilliant.

As soon as they walked into the bar, Blaine saw him. He had on the tightest camo jeans Blaine had ever seen, and his shirt was even tighter. He was tall and thin, but his arms and shoulders seemed to be too big for his shirt. He stood at the bar, smiling and talking with the girls he was with.

“I’ll get us drinks, you find us a spot,” Sam said, “vodka cran?”

“Yeah.” Blaine looked around for a table and Sam headed for the bar. Blaine tried to find a table facing where the guy was with his friends, but not where he looked like a complete stalker. When Blaine sat down he saw Sam standing right next to him. Sam turned and looked towards the hot guy. The guy was flirting with Sam. Blaine hoped Sam’s idea would work and the guy wouldn’t be too disappointed when he went from tall, muscular Sam to Blaine. Sam waved Blaine over and Blaine left the table he had found to join them at the bar.

“Oh hey, there he is! Blaine, I was just talking to Kurt, and he was telling me that he sings. Blaine sings too. And he’s also gay.”

Blaine felt himself blushing to his ears, “Oh my God Sam,” he muttered, but Kurt laughed.

“You sing, but you don’t go to NYADA?”

“No, I love theater, but it’s not really what I want. I go to the Clive Davis school at NYU. I did consider NYADA. But I read up on some of the faculty, and Cassie July?” He rolled his eyes, and Kurt nodded in a way that instantly said the rumours were true and he knew from experience “And I’m not particularly sure how I feel about Carmen Tibideaux’s methods, if I’m being completely honest.”

Sam handed Blaine his drink with a smile, and sipped his own beer as he watched.

“You do know where you are right?” Kurt asked with a wink, “No I get it. If you knew what I had to do to get in. And oh my God, my roommate legitimately stalked Carmen to get accepted. And the people they reject? My friend Elliot is amazing, but he didn’t make it either. He goes to NYU too, actually he’s in the Clive Davis program also. He just had his senior showcase, and he was amazing. He wrote almost an entire album full of music, including a song about a glitter vampire.”

“Elliot Gilbert? You’re friends with Elliot? Small world; I was there for the birth of ‘Glitter Rock Vampire’.”

“No way? That is a small world!” Kurt laughed, touching Blaine’s arm. Blaine instinctively moved a little closer when one of Kurt’s friends tapped him on the shoulder.

“Kurt did you forget about us? Care to introduce us to your friend?”

“Oh, sorry Mercedes, um, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Your friend could join us, with his friend. That blonde guy is your friend, right?”

Sam and Blaine joined Kurt and his friends. And they both left with dates.

When Blaine got home from his date with Kurt, he played it over and over in his head. He was trying not to over analyze, but it was such an intense night. He lay in bed waiting for Sam to get home from his date to see if Sam could help him figure out if it was a good date or a bad one.

Sam came in an hour after Blaine, and collapsed on his bed.

“So, how was it?” Blaine asked him.

“Mercedes is amazing. But I think I screwed it up.”

“How would you screw it up?”

“Smurf penis.”

“What?”

“A guy was on the subway platform playing a blue french horn and I said it looked like a smurf penis. She laughed, but it was awkward.”

“So…how did it end?”

“Well, she kissed me on the cheek and agreed to go out with me again even though I say stupid things like, all the time.”

“So it’s good then.”

“Yeah, I guess so. How about you?”

“It was, it was interesting. Kurt and I, we just clicked right away. He is everything I have ever wanted. We kissed like twenty minutes into the date.”

“Wow. So…”

“So, I don’t know. It ended on a weird note.”

“How weird?”

“I told him that I think I’m falling in love with him.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Blaine dramatically threw a pillow over his face when his phone rang, “Oh god, it’s Kurt. It’s Kurt calling me to tell me to never call him again.”

“Just answer it.”

Blaine answered the phone as Sam started changing into his pajamas.

“He’s here. Downstairs. I have to go downstairs. Still wearing my date outfit.”

“Dude, go down there. If he came all this way, he’s probably not dumping you.”

Blaine grabbed his sweater and headed outside to find Kurt sitting on the steps, also still wearing his date outfit. When he saw Blaine he stood up. Blaine took a deep breath preparing himself.

“You said you were falling in love with me.”

“I did. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Did you mean it? Do you really think that?”

Blaine thought. He gulped nervously. “Yes. At the time, I was caught up in everything, and it was either that or burst into song, and well, I thought that might be strange.”

“Blaine, that’s crazy. I live with Rachel Berry, you bursting into song is just a Tuesday for me.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I panicked. I know we just met, but I was feeling a lot. And I said something stupid, but I don’t take it back. I don’t know where that leaves us, but I don’t regret it.”

Kurt sighed. “My friends think you’re crazy. But I don’t. I should, but I don’t. Because I was feeling a lot too. And so I came here to tell you that if you’re really falling in love with me, I’m okay with that as long as you give me some time. Don’t, like, propose to me on our next date. I need at least five dates before I consider marriage. I’m just old fashioned like that.”

“Oh five dates, I don’t know… that’s a long time but I think I can manage. I mean, I need time to find the perfect ring and plan a huge proposal,” Blaine said with a laugh. Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a kiss.

When they broke apart, Blaine was still cupping Kurt’s face and sighed, “God I love you.”

Kurt laughed, “Really? Again?”

“I can’t help it.”

“I’ll get used to it. You make me feel like a silly romantic.”

#kay writes things #blam #otp: they have a miraculous love #otp: ebony and ivory #klaine #samcedes

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