You're My River Running High
As Karofsky retreated down the hallway towards the weight room, away from the auditorium; Kurt turned and grabbed hold of Santana, pinning her against the wall and slamming their mouths together. The Latina moaned as Kurt tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her head in place and giving a lie to her claims about hiding razor blades in her raven tresses. She parted her lips and Kurt's tongue immediately delved deep; she responded in kind, the sweet, honeyed taste that was all Kurt exploding on her tongue as it tangled with the countertenor's own before thoroughly exploring his mouth.
Kurt's hands trailed down her side until they reached the hem of her red dress, hiking it up before his hands gripped underneath her thighs, lifting her up, her legs wrapping round his waist as he supported her against the wall. She ground forward, pouting against his mouth at the complete lack of hardness she encountered. He chuckled and detached his mouth from hers, beginning to suck hickies down her neck as she threw her head back, a throaty moan rising unbidden from her throat as his mouth sucked a line of bruising kisses down the column of her neck. She ran her hands down his back to his ass, squeezing the perfect globes in her palms as she continued to grind against him.
Kurt raised his head from her neck to lick down the shell of her ear, before biting the lobe, chuckling as she released a whine, hands squeezing his ass harder. His mouth descended on the other side of her neck, licking and sucking more love bites as she panted and writhed against him. She could feel the pleasure building deep within her, and spared a thought to marvel at the fact that the gay kid was getting her off where no one but Britt had ever been able to before. She was snapped out of her introspection when one of his hands suddenly left her thigh and abruptly tweaked her nipple, hard. She shrieked and rode against him faster; his hand slowly spanned across her chest, and she knew what was coming even as his fingers wrapped around her other nipple. She groaned in anticipation and knew that this would be her undoing; his fingers gripped and twisted, and she could feel the pleasure rising. Her head slammed back against the wall and she released a string of filthy Spanish curses as she came, hands convulsively squeezing his ass as her legs tightened around his waist.
As she came down from her orgasm she slumped in his embrace, supported solely by his body and the wall at her back. He held her, lipping softly at her neck comfortingly as she shook in his arms. As she recovered he lowered her back until she could stand under her own power and kissed her tenderly before drawing away. They both turned to see Blaine stood there, wide-eyed, staring back and forth between Kurt and Santana. Santana chuckled darkly at his gobsmacked expression. "Homo Baggins, where did you think your boy learned to kiss?" Blaine's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Santana looked at Kurt, who shrugged, "I don't know what I was thinking either. I think I'm gonna have to break his heart soon, he's just too......... bland." They shared devilish smirks for a second, then Santana jumped slightly as her cellphone buzzed. She extracted the cell from her cleavage and quickly checked to see she had a Twitter message.
Cursing the duplicity of Phillipino midgets, she turned an apologetic look on Porcelain and headed straight for the choir room to warn the others; tossing a look over her shoulder she saw Kurt crouched by his furry boyfriend, a genuine laugh bubbling up as she heard his voice echo down the hallway after her, "I wonder whether Coach Sue really does keep hair clippers in her office?"