Why Wait
Brittney Griner x fem!rookie!reader
MASTERLIST | MORE
Summary: What starts as a late-night swim turns into a teasing, intimate moment poolside—complete with soft kisses, whispered praise, and a little public risk.
Genre: Soft smut, humor, couple energy
Word count: ~ 1.3k
Warnings: SMUT, Explicit sexual content, cursing, poolside shenanigans, established situationship/marriage-like dynamic, oral (receiving), public (well?)
The hotel room was dark except for the TV glow, one sock dangling from the lamp like it had a purpose. We were supposed to be asleep—hell, the whole team was supposed to be asleep—but BG was stretched across the bed, remote in one hand, chewing on a piece of candy she found like it was dinner.
She looked over at me like a child with a bad idea already loaded in her mouth.
“Let’s go swimming.”
“…girl, it’s 1AM.” I barely blinked.
“……soooo?” she smirked.
I exhaled through my nose, already sliding off the bed. “Let’s go.”
We crept through the side stairwell like teenagers sneaking out their mama’s house, towels slung over our shoulders, our shoes whispering against the tiles.
The pool deck was empty—lights dimmed, water glowing like it had secrets. BG dove in without hesitation, big ass just gliding smooth like a damn shark.
I sat on the edge, feet in the water, giggling to myself while she swam a lazy lap and then floated toward me.
“You look good sittin’ there like that.” Her voice was soft, but smug. Confident like she knew exactly what was coming next.
She swam up close, hands sliding over my shins, then my knees, slow and warm. Then she spread her hands on my thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the softest part. I shivered, even though the air wasn’t cold.
“Girl you tew freaked out, chill on me.”
“I’m not even doing nothing,” she lied so bad, grinning up at me with her dimples.
One kiss—sweet. Just lips on lips. Then she pulled me gently back, laying me out on the cool tiles like I was her private little offering. She tugged my shorts to the side like she was too lazy to take ‘em off proper, like she knew she wasn’t gone need to. Not with how easy I melted.
“Brittney?!” I hissed, eyes wide, looking at the damn lifeguard chair like somebody might pop up outta thin air.
“What? Ain’t nobody out here.”
“Girl…” I didn’t finish, couldn’t. Her tongue slid between my folds and all that attitude I had . Gone. Slurred outta me.
She ate it like she missed it. Like I was her midnight snack, post-game feast, Sunday dinner and dessert. Soft moans left her lips while she stayed locked on my face, watching me breathe, twitch, whimper—like she liked the control, but she loved the taste more.
I was grinding against her mouth, lowkey embarrassed by how loud the water sounded slapping around us. She didn’t care. Just slipped two fingers inside like we had time, like she knew how far she could push it before I broke.
“Keep lookin’ at me,” she whispered, tongue flicking my clit like it was her name in cursive. “I said…keep lookin’.”
I did. I had to. She had me locked in, legs shaking, hands gripping wet tile, mouth open and no words coming out but high, broken little sounds. She flattened her tongue and groaned against me, making everything worse—in the best way.
She didn’t stop till my thighs quivering around her shoulders. And even then, she just kissed it once, like a thank you.
When she finally stood, I was laid out like a crime scene, blinking at the sky like I forgot what year it was. She leaned down and kissed my lips again, slow.
“You always this easy?”
I squinted up at her, breathless. “You 6’8 and nasty. What the hell I’m supposed to do?”
The walk back through the hotel lobby was disrespectfully romantic.
I had on a wrinkled U.S.A. hoodie and pool water still drying between my thighs, but BG. Oh honey. She was walking like we just got back from a honeymoon. Holding my hand. Fingers laced. Swinging our arms like we were strolling through Target on a Sunday afternoon.
I glance down and realize she’s using her shirt to dry my hand.
“Brittney…”
“What?” she shrugs like this normal. “You cold. Come here.”
Next thing I know, she’s wrapping her big-ass arm around my shoulder, tucking me into her side like a lil suitcase.
I mean…we do fit. Too well.
Two girls at the front desk clock us immediately, whispering like they just spotted Beyoncé and Jay-Z. One of them mouths “Is that Brittney Griner?” and I feel BG squeeze my shoulder tighter.
“Mhm,” she mumbles down at me, “they gon’ be thinkin’ I’m your wife.”
“You act like it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, but I don’t move. Not yet.
We get into the elevator. I’m tired now, body loose and warm from the pool and her mouth and all that damn praise. I lean against her without even thinking about it—head to her chest, hand on her stomach, body melting against her like a sleepy wife after a long day.
Her hand wraps around my back. Soft at first. Rubbing gentle. Then lower. Then a little lower.
Then— Smack.
I jump so hard I hit the wall. “Girl!”
“What?” she smiles, innocent, like she ain’t just tried to turn me into an ice cream cone on the floor. “I was…thankin’ you.”
“For what?”
“For being so damn thick.”
I back up to the other side of the elevator, eyes wide. “Let—girl, get away from me.”
BG just leans back with her arms crossed, smiling like she just won a trophy.
“Once again. I’ve done absolutely nothing.”
The doors ding open and I sprint out. Like full stride. Crocs slapping, towel flying behind me like a cape.
She laughs and chases after me, barefoot with wet hair, calling my name through the hallway like we ain’t supposed to be professionals.
“Y/N—stop runnin’, damn!”
“Nope! Not after that ass grab. I need space. You disrespectful.”
“Baby, come onnnn!”
The hall lights flicker past as I take a sharp left, barely getting my keycard out before she catches me around the waist and spins me right into the hotel door. Her arms caged around me, lips brushing my ear, breath warm.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, voice low. “Lemme make it up to you.” I turn around slow, panting, and hoodie damp, staring up at her.
“…You know you not sorry.”
She just grins. “You right. But I am still hungry.”
I gasp. “BRITTNEY—”
The next morning We looked a mess.
My hoodie was stretched, one sleeve halfway inside out. BG had on a random team shirt I don’t even think belonged to her. Her bun was lopsided.
I had a hickey on my jaw the size of a credit card. Neither of us had earrings on. And both our slides were mismatched, like we’d gotten dressed during a fire drill.
We walked into the gym dead silent, holding coffee cups and shame.
Well—I held shame. Brittney looked proud. Like her night went exactly how she planned it. She was even rubbing my back gently, like I was her little injured housewife or something.
“You good?” she whispered, leaning down as I yawned mid-step.
“Girl, shut up. Don’t talk to me.”
She grinned into her straw. “You still mad I smacked it twice?”
“…You smacked it four times.”
“Damn. My bad.” She wasn’t sorry.
Coach spotted us immediately. His eyes squinted. Took in the matching sluggish gait, the way she kept massaging my shoulder, the very obvious bruise peeking above my collar. He stared for a second longer than usual. Sipped his coffee.
Then sighed.
“Y’all lucky I stopped giving a damn.”
I blinked. BG sipped her drink.
He turned back to his clipboard and mumbled, “Get on the line when y’all done pretending y’all not married.”
Brittney leaned down, whispered with a smirk, “You wanna stretch or…”
I turned, dead in the face.
“You touch me again and I will hit you with a basketball.”
“Still worth it,” she grinned, jogging off like she ain’t got no damn sense.
We never took it serious. But it always felt real. Like it wasn’t just a situationship. Or a fling. It was just us. Effortless. Dumb. Nasty. Loving. Wrong in some ways. Right in all the ones that mattered.
We wouldn’t change a thing.
@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai
