Let's Get Lost, Baby, You and I
Title: Let's Get Lost, Baby, You and I
Chapter: 2/2
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: He flops back onto her bed and says something about the air conditioning being perfect, and she's thinking of ways to tell him she's leaving for a week and a half.
Word Count: 19,000 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
She sleeps in. She knows it's late before she even looks at the clock, because she can hear boats on the lake and children playing outside, and this kind of noise doesn't generally start until about 11:00. It's not her fault she's tired. Okay, not entirely her fault.
There's a soft tap at the door, and the way it opens slowly lets her know it's maybe not the first one of the morning. Daddy comes in and smiles when he sees her eyes open, closes the door behind him and sits down at the edge of her bed, folds the covers down a little bit so he can see her. It's silly, but she kind of loves that he still does this, treats her like a little girl even though she clearly isn't one.
"What time did you two get home last night?"
She gives him a look. "Daddy, I know you've talked to Noah."
He laughs a bit. "Well, he managed to get out of bed at a decent hour. Did you drink?"
She shakes her head and yawns. "I drove." He nods. "What?"
"Nothing. As long as you're okay. Noah said there was a boy there."
Oh, god. What is he doing telling her dads about the boy she blew off to come home and make out with him on the couch in the living room? And what did he say? She doesn't know how to respond to this, because there's really not much of a story to tell and she hasn't a clue what he said. She can't see him lying to her fathers.
"He was nice," she says. She rolls onto her side and tucks her hands up under her face. "He's a performer, too."
"Noah didn't like him."
She laughs and he raises his brow as if to ask if she knows why Noah didn't like him. As far as gossips go, her daddy is one of the worst.
And yes, she has an idea.
"Noah is hard to please." He laughs and she wonders if she should be thinking that was an innuendo, because she didn't mean it as one until she said the words. Besides, he's really not all that hard to please. At least she doesn't find him to be.
"Dad and I are going to Dave and Caren's," he says. "We'll be back for dinner."
"Okay." She can't remember who Dave and Caren are, but it doesn't matter, she supposes.
"Are you getting up?" he chuckles as he stands.
She tosses a pillow at him and he turns the shower on and leaves, which forces her to get out of her bed.
The shower feels nice. Her hair was stringy from chlorine, and her skin felt a little gross from sleeping too long. She leaves her conditioner in a little longer than usual and stands under the spray, lets the warm water fall over her skin and closes her eyes.
She shivers.
It's July and she's in a hot shower and she's shivering because she's remembering Noah's lips and tongue and touch and the gentle way he'd said her name as they were making out.
She has to face him sometime, so she rinses her hair and steps out of the shower, blows her hair dry and pulls on a pair of denim shorts and her favourite green tank top. She gets a cup of coffee from the kitchen and hears guitar playing coming from the back porch, walks out to find him sitting on the swing and looking out over the lake.
"Hi," she says quietly, cradling her mug in both hands and blowing on it to cool it down. Also to give her something to do so she doesn't just stare at him until he explains himself.
"Morning," he says. He checks his watch. "Afternoon."
She rolls her eyes and sits down to his right, smiles when he does. "I was tired."
If he thinks she doesn't notice the sly little smile on his lips, he's mistaken. He's not very subtle.
"You should kick the ass of the guy who kept you up all night."
She laughs against the rim of her mug before she can take a sip. "Why? Do you think he's into that kind of thing?"
He gives her a look. "Don't play," he mutters.
He's ridiculous.
"Okay, can we have an honest conversation?" she asks. She's not trying to play, and while part of her loves that they aren't awkward and clearly they're able to fall back into their friendship easily, the fact remains that she was up past her bedtime because he was kissing her and driving her to the point of insanity. So there.
"We made out."
"I know. I was there." She's watching him. He's playing Patience, the Guns 'N' Roses song. It's a silly thing to note, but she does anyway.
"What'd you want me to say?" he asks.
"Maybe tell me why," she suggests. "Or why now, at least. Was it because..."
"Because I wanted to." She doesn't like being cut off, and it happens less now that she has actual friends. "Why does it have to be a big thing?"
"You're my best friend," she says quietly, bringing her feet up onto the chair so her knees are pressed against her chest.
"Best friends can make out." He shrugs his shoulders and stops playing, turns to her a little. She's under the impression he actually believes what he's said. "I'm your best friend?" he asks with a grin.
"Don't change the subject. And you know you are."
He smiles and leans over, drapes his arm around her shoulder and steals a sip of her coffee, even though he takes his black and she doesn't. He says, "I didn't know that," and she believes him because she can tell when he's lying. He's clueless, perhaps, but not lying.
He feels nice pressed against her side, and his fingers are tapping impatiently against her arm.
"Keep playing," she says.
He listens.
... ... ...
Laying in the sun, she realizes their conversation from last night was far different from the one they had this afternoon. Last night he admitted he'd wanted it for a while, at least implied as much, and this morning he was saying it was no big deal and friends can kiss. She doesn't know which he actually means, nor does she know which she wants him to mean. One way she potentially ends up with a boyfriend and the other way she blurs the lines of a friendship that's been black and white practically since it started. Can she risk any of that? They're leaving for school soon and she's not naive enough to think the distance won't change them regardless of the state of their relationship or whatever label they put on it.
Why did he have to kiss her?
... ... ...
The saving grace is that basically nothing has changed between them. He's not acting any differently towards her, and she's certainly trying to act normal with him, which is easy. They've got a wonderful friendship that's comfortable at even at the worst of times, like when she admitted she slept with Finn at a party a few weeks after their breakup, or when Noah admitted he'd 'fucked' her neighbour (her married neighbour) over March Break.
Anyway.
He's currently picking lettuce hearts out of the salad she's trying to prepare, and she's trying to elbow him to keep him away, and at one point she accidentally swings her knife in his direction and he jumps back and yells at her (laughing, sort of) for being insane.
Well, stay back then.
"You're fucking nuts," he laughs, stealing a carrot from the cutting board. He leans back against the counter and looks at her.
"I am not."
"Are too," he says. She sticks her tongue at him and he shakes his head. "Really?"
Giggling, she puckers her lips and says, "You know you love me no matter what," and he chuckles, slides his hand over her stomach and presses his lips to her temple.
Oh.
As she's backing away, she gets a little flustered and trips over her flip flop. Not embarrassing at all. She bangs her ankle hard against the bottom of the kitchen island, yelps in pain and closes her eyes until there's a pair of arms around her, steadying her and pulling her over to sit on one of the stools.
"Jesus," he mumbles. "You okay?"
She nods, but there are tears in her eyes, and he pushes her hair back and looks at her. It's obvious he knows her well enough not to believe her, because he kneels down and takes her heel in his hand, sets her foot on his thigh and rolls it side to side. She knows it's not broken or anything, but it still hurts badly enough that a tear slips from her eye. He blows on the spot she can see is red, then lifts her foot and kisses it.
She watches him. He doesn't do it to be cute or to make her laugh or smile or anything like that. He just...he just does it. It's like he does it for himself, not for her, just because he wants to kiss her and wants her to feel better, so he combines the two into one tiny little thing that makes her heart jump a little.
The front door opens and he gets up and tells her to stay put, gets ice from the freezer and her dads start asking a hundred questions about her 'injury' as soon as they see her sitting there with a bag of ice on her foot and Noah finishing making the salad.
The three of them dote on her all night and she at least pretends she doesn't love every single second.
She and Noah end up watching Easy A in her bedroom after her dads have gone to bed. Noah says it's because Emma Stone is hot, but Rachel knows it's either because she loves it so much or because he actually likes the plot. Given how much he laughs, she thinks it's the latter. Maybe both.
He slips his arm around her shoulder and 'accidentally' ("I swear!") brushes his thumb directly over her nipple through her thin tank top. She elbows his side and tells him to behave, and pulls the blanket she has up over her a little higher so he can't see her body's reaction to his touch. It's not an invitation and she doesn't want him to think it is one.
"How's your ankle?" he asks, and she notices it's uncovered now, since she tugged the blanket up.
Save for the pale bruise on her skin, she's fine. "I've been perfectly fine since the initial sting wore off. You three overreacted."
Shrugging his shoulder, he says, "Whatever. Just making sure." She's giggling at something in the movie and he pulls her closer. "You have a cute laugh."
He says it like he's never heard her make the sound before. They have so much fun together that it's kind of a regular, every day occurrence, so she's not sure where this is coming from. Then again, he kissed her out of nowhere, too. Perhaps it's not so strange for him to be randomly pointing out these things.
"I have a cute everything," she replies jokingly, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. He's just looking at the television, smirking.
"Well, yeah."
She leans into him a little more.
There's a very good chance this could all go up in smoke. They're both stubborn and headstrong and sometimes it seems the only thing they can agree upon is that they disagree. He's got no problem calling her out on her diva behaviour, and he's the first (and so far only) person she ever told to fuck off. Of course, they both burst out laughing immediately after and the fight was practically over after that.
There are good things. There are a lot of good things. She knows he has her back, and generally speaking he's got the best of intentions, even when he's acting stupid. Sometimes he doesn't mean to piss her off, it's just a side effect of whatever idea he's decided is the best ever. He'd never intentionally hurt her, and if she asked him, he'd say he's never going to let anyone else do it either.
Plus, he's beautiful and he feels really good pressed against her, and his kisses shoot through her entire body.
It's safe to say the line has been blurred.
"I like the name Penn," she says randomly. He looks at her. "This actor."
"It's alright. Not very Jewish."
She sort of loves knowing he takes their faith so seriously. "We could make it Jewish."
"Could we?"
She shrugs and says, "Of course," and then sees his raised brow and realizes what she said and what he really asked, so she turns her head to get her water glass off the bedside table and make sure he won't see her blushing.
If his entire plan was to make her do this, blush around him and think too much, he succeeded.
By the end of the movie, he's toying with the strap of her tank top and she's toying with the idea of straddling him. Regardless of the fact that her door is open and her fathers are sleeping across the hall.
She switches the television off and realizes it's maybe a little romantic that there are candles lit and an open window letting the sounds of the water and birds and whatever else in.
All her life she's been guilty of overthinking absolutely everything, plotting and planning and working so hard to get what she wants. What she wants right now is this boy, and his fingers against her skin, his side warm against hers, gives her the confidence to just go for it.
"How long are you planning on waiting before you kiss me again?" she asks suddenly, then widens her eyes a little as she looks at him, because everything she does just seems so embarrassing right now.
His hand moves to her cheek and she leans towards him (or he pulls her; she's not sure) and says, "Right fucking now," and it doesn't make any sense whatsoever, but she's too busy to point that out to him and he probably wouldn't care anyway.
This is so much better than the couch. He can be half on top of her and she can want more and actually get it, which is very obviously a good thing, if you ask her. She bends her knees when he's between her legs and pushing her hair back, smiling down at her. Honestly, it's a little sad that she's just now realizing how easy it is to look at him. Obviously he's attractive, but it's more than that. He's just...She just wants to look at him.
"What?" he asks, laughing.
"Nothing," she whispers. She knows she's smiling up at him, and probably too widely, and he's looking directly into her eyes as he slides the strap of her tank top down off her arm. See, talking inhibits kissing and she's not in favour of that. "Aren't you going to kiss me there?"
"Am I that predictable?" He almost looks offended. "I was gonna go for getting the whole thing off you." She giggles a little and tries to pull him closer, his shirt fisted in her hands. "Yeah?"
She shakes her head a little, however regrettably. "The door is open."
He lets out a grunt, which she takes to mean he understands and isn't going to push her shirt up over her head. She supposes that's a good thing. Then he's peppering kisses to her lips, cheeks, and down her neck, and he mumbles, "Fuck," and actually does kiss her shoulder where he pulled that strap aside. It's like he didn't want to give in, but couldn't help it, and he's driving her a little crazy.
And they could close the door, but her fathers are rather strict about this kind of thing, and she's sure the universe would have some way of waking one or both of them only to come in and find Rachel with her best friend between her thighs and his hand on her breast and his lips on...
"God," she whines when his teeth graze the skin below the hinge of her jaw. "That..."
"'S'your spot," he says, voice muffled against her skin. She has no clue what he's talking about. "Found it that first time."
That first time? The first time they made out? That was approximately two years ago. What the hell?
"You remember?"
"I remember everything that makes you whine at me like that, baby," he says gruffly, lips moving back to hers.
If it's the truth, she's in more trouble than she initially assumed.
He rolls them over so she's on top, and the motion throws her a little. She's disoriented, looking down at him and enjoying the slide of his hands over her bare thighs. These little shorts don't do a hell of a lot to cover her and now she's wondering if this was her plan when she put them on. Then he shifts his hips just subtly (or what she knows he thinks is subtly) and she's reminded what they're actually doing, here. She pushes her hair so it's all over one shoulder instead of completely falling in her face.
"C'mon," he practically pouts.
It's very hard not to want someone badly who wants you like this.
Leaning down, she smiles and sets her hands above his shoulders, and she knows he's dying to look down the front of her top, so she says, "Just look if you want to," and instead of doing it, he pushes his hand between her shoulder blades so she's close enough to kiss.
Making out with him is fun. Not just because he's a brilliant kisser and his body feels rather remarkable no matter how he's using it, but because he's letting her joke and sometimes be silly. He's not making fun of her and she feels completely comfortable. It's hard to be embarrassed, even if she does something mildly embarrassing (like grind against him just a little bit when he tugs her lip with his teeth) because he's obviously so very into this.
She loses track (again; it seems to be a bit of a habit) of how long they actually kiss, but she's laying beneath him and his hand is under her shirt and she knows just exactly how aroused she is. And how aroused he is, for that matter. She'd look at a clock if it meant opening her eyes. Well, opening her eyes to look at something other than the gorgeous boy teasing her to within an inch of her life. (She's exaggerating only slightly, she swears.)
"How pissed d'you think your dads'd be if I slept in here?"
She laughs and shakes her head. "Very."
It's unfortunate.
"Yeah," he says, like he's known the answer all along but had to ask anyway.
Plus, she's almost completely positive there'd be no sleeping if he stayed in her bed for the night.
It's nearing 3:00 a.m. again.
"This is a terrible habit," she says as he kisses her neck. He mumbles something she can't hear. "I need sleep."
"Fuck it. You're gorgeous."
It's funny that men think the only reason women need sleep is to be 'beautiful.' She'll berate him for that later and explain that no, it's not true.
But he just called her gorgeous, and she's choosing to address that now.
"Thank you," she says quietly, sliding her fingertips over the back of his head. He loves that, she knows. "I'm tired."
"Hmm."
"My jaw hurts." He laughs and pulls away to look at her and see if she's serious. Which she is. "That's a lot of kissing."
He kisses her. She doesn't stop him, but it's not exactly what she was hoping would happen after that point she made.
He licks at that spot again and she arches a little beneath him, says his name and feels him start to smile.
"Where's your spot?" she asks, even though she's slightly afraid of whatever answer he's going to give her.
"You have to find it," he says, like he really believes it. Also like he wants to tease her.
"Have I?" She runs her fingers down the side of his neck.
"Not telling."
"Is it below the belt?" she asks. She's not really joking. He laughs a little, but then presses himself against her and she fights a losing battle trying to keep her eyes from falling closed and the sound from escaping her throat.
"Wanna find out?" His voice is practically seducing her out of her clothing, because she's very close to agreeing and just closing the door. She's an adult and she should be able to...He rolls off her and she looks at him, confused. "I can't."
"Because of my dads?" she asks, propping herself up on her elbows. It's infuriating, but he doesn't answer, just leans over and puts his hand under her chin, tips her head back and kisses her.
"See you tomorrow."
He leaves the room, pulls the door closed behind him, and honestly, she doesn't know how he can kiss her that well for that long and then just walk away without much of an argument or protest at all.
... ... ...
Thanks for updates, bitch.
This is the text she wakes up to at 9:00, and she's not sure whether she's surprised Santana is up this early, or just that she herself was able to be woken up by just the sound of her phone vibrating in her bag on the floor. She's exhausted. She and Noah really need to start doing their kissing during reasonable hours.
Something in her stomach flutters as she sinks back into her bed and pulls the covers up again, her phone in her hand.
Busy. How are you?
She turns on the television hoping for a weather report, which is kind of silly since her window is open and she can hear the rain outside. She just wants to know how long this is going to go on for so she can plan her day accordingly.
Sore as hell. I'm teaching Finn sex. Boy that fine shouldn't suck so bad. Poor you he's the only one you had.
Rachel giggles. It's hilarious that this is Santana's idea of a charitable donation to a good cause. Then again, Finn really...well, he could definitely use the help. She still knows, however, that Santana actually likes Finn, even if she won't say it, and 'teaching' him probably really isn't as much a chore as she's letting on. Plus, in Rachel's experience, Finn will do just about whatever you tell him to do in the bedroom, so she's sure he's learning quickly.
And she really needs to stop thinking about her best friends having sex, especially since one of them is her ex-boyfriend.
She wants desperately to talk to Santana about this whole thing with Noah, but she doesn't really think it would be fair to do it without talking to him first. She just needs to say something to someone before she loses her mind thinking about everything.
Noah and I have been making out. I don't know. Don't ask.
Her phone rings seconds later, and she's laughing when she answers, mostly because she was making a wager in her head over how long it would take for Santana to call.
"About fucking time."
"Shh," Rachel hisses, even though no one could possibly hear the girl.
"How'd that happen?" Santana asks.
"He kissed me and I let him."
Basically the easiest explanation of the events of the last couple days.
"Nice. You gonna sleep with him?"
She can't very well say no, but she honestly doesn't see it happening during this trip, not when her fathers are around. She won't do it and she doesn't think he would either.
"No."
"Lying bitch," Santana laughs.
"Why don't you sound more surprised?"
"'Cause a guy and a girl can't be friends without fucking," she states matter-of-factly. Rachel rolls her eyes, but all signs are pointing to it actually being the truth. "And come on."
"What does that mean?" Rachel asks, brow furrowed.
"Don't tell me you think this is sudden," Santana says.
She can't. Not now that she's been thinking back anyway.
They talk a bit, though Rachel keeps having to tell Santana she really doesn't want the details of sex with Finn, because she's been there and honestly has no desire to revisit it. Santana admits she's actually having fun with him outside the sex part, and Rachel smiles, turns on to her side and asks for more details about that. Of course, what Santana wants to hear is how she and Noah ended up on the couch, kissing, and what he's said to her and how he's acted. Rachel spares a lot of the details because she wants them to be between she and Noah. She quite likes it when they share things like that, that no one else knows.
The door opens and she looks over and sees him walking in wearing just a pair of boxers and a tee shirt. He's tired, she can tell, and he leaves the door open and climbs into bed with her, pulls the blankets up and doesn't touch her, which she deems hardly fair.
"I have to go, Santana," she says, looking at him laying there with his eyes closed. He doesn't seem fazed that she's on the phone with their mutual friend, even if he probably already knows what they were talking about. "Text me later." She hangs up and sets the phone on her bedside table. "Good morning."
"Hmm," he murmurs, eyes still closed. "Your dads are singing. Quieter here."
The first question she can think to ask is, "What songs?"
"Who cares?"
He slides his hand across her stomach to pull her closer, ends up with his face buried against her neck and he takes a deep breath. She should probably tell him they should get up and start their day, and she knows there's no going back to sleep now that she's really awake. Still, she just lays there and listens to his breathing and the rain outside, even though she knows he's not sleeping either because his thumb is tracing little circles on her stomach beneath the tank top she's wearing.
Sometime around 10:00, her dad comes in to ask if they want brunch, and Noah opens his eyes, finally, and says, "God, yes," and gets up, leaves her in her bed alone. Her dad laughs and leaves the room, and Noah peeks down the hall, then walks back over to the bed, drops a kiss to her lips and winks before he leaves.
It rains all day, and they play Risk to pass the time while a channel that plays old movies is on in the background. Her dads love this game, so she's played it enough, but she's really not terribly good at it. Noah, on the other hand, is strategizing and contesting her dads' moves and sipping coffee as he narrows his eyes at the board and tries to plan his attacks.
She's bored out of her mind and doesn't even try not to lose. It's very unlike her, as Noah points out, but she just sits back in her chair, holds her hot cocoa in her hand and watches the three of them play. Turns out that's even more boring than being part of the game. She retreats to her room when Daddy and Noah start bickering back and forth about China or something or another, and figures whatever she can do alone will be more fun than that.
Noah comes up an hour later with a smug smile on his face. She's heard almost an entire commentary of his game echoing up the stairway, so she knows he won.
"Your dad's pissed."
She laughs a little and sets down her book. "He's reigning champion, you know."
"Not anymore." He turns off the television and grabs her bikini from where it was hanging on the doorknob to her bathroom. "Put this on."
"Excuse me?"
"Let's go swimming."
"It's raining," she argues, looking outside again.
He smirks. "Exactly." He comes over to the bed and kisses her quickly again, but she grabs the front of his shirt to keep him close. "What?" he laughs.
"Stop doing that. You can't just..." She sighs and looks into his eyes, which are sparkling with amusement or something. "Kiss me."
He does as he's asked, ends up with one hand in her hair and the other tugging up the bottom of her sweatshirt. Anticipation courses through her when he pulls the shirt up over her head, but he just drops it onto the floor beside him and backs away, tells her to change, and she could kill him for teasing her like that.
She doesn't know how she's going to survive almost another week of this without just taking her clothes off for him.
They really need to talk.
She meets him by the front door and they tell her dads they'll be back after dinner. Well, Noah says that and she takes it to mean he's planning on buying her dinner, because she doesn't have her wallet with her. She's a little weary of looking like a drowned rat while they dine, but she has waterproof mascara and braids always look tidy, so she can improvise.
They get to the little beach near the cabin they're already soaked before they even think about getting into the water. She hates this and doesn't understand his need to swim in the rain. No one else is doing it; they're the only two people at the beach. He tells her to take her clothes off, and that just makes her think really hard and want everything and want him, so she grabs his arm and he states, "You want to talk," like he's expected it all along.
"We have to."
"I know," he says. "In? 'S'fuckin' cold here."
She rolls her eyes, because she told him it'd be freezing, swimming in the rain. Still, she lets him pull her towards the water and then holds her waist tightly when she claims the water isn't warm enough. He's holding her and pulling her with him into the water until it's up to her shoulders, and it's really not all that cold. The rain is making the water steam a little bit, and it sounds loud and kind of musical, if she thinks about it. Which is hard to do because he's standing in front of her, looking at her, and she can feel his hands on her hips, playing with the ties of her bathing suit there.
"What are we doing?" she asks when she realizes he's not going to talk first.
"Having fun," he says. She hates that answer. It rarely means anything good. "Doing what we want. What I want."
"Are you just kissing me because it's summer, and we're on vacation and I'm here?" she asks. She's horribly terrified to hear what he says to that. If that's all it is, she thinks she'll be a little heartbroken, which is ridiculous considering she never really gave much thought to them ever being together in the first place.
"Are you...?" He lets out a scoff, shakes his head and takes his hands off her. "Really, Rach?"
"What?" She doesn't think she's honestly offended him, so she doesn't understand why he's acting like this.
"You act like you're so fucking shocked by all this," he says, scrubbing a wet hand over his hair. It makes a mess of it and she wants to fix it, but she'll wait. She needs to be focusing on what he's trying to tell her right now. "I've been sitting here like, waiting for you to let me make a move."
She blinks up at him. "What?"
She should probably at least attempt to come up with more intelligent responses.
He smiles at her a little bit and drags the knuckle of his index finger down the middle of her stomach under the water. "'S'not because it's summer or whatever you said," he tells her.
He's saying these words, but he's not really telling her anything, and this is basically all the same stuff he said the other night, and she's afraid she needs more. She wants some kind of declaration, even if she's trying to be the kind of girl who needs one. They've been kissing and she's very much enjoying that and she doesn't want to stop, but she needs to hear him say something to indicate he doesn't want to stop either, and not just because it feels so damn good when they're together.
"Do you have feelings for me?" she asks. A raindrop falls directly into her eye when she looks up at him, but she blinks it away in time to see the way he's smiling and shaking his head like she's just the slowest, most naive girl ever.
"So many."
He kisses her before she can say anything in response to that, and she's thankful because she couldn't think of something good enough anyway.
He pushes them a little further into the lake and holds her up, wedges his thigh between her legs and if there were anyone around to hear the noise she lets out, she'd be wildly embarrassed. It's just the two of them, though, and he's smirking as he kisses her, and she doesn't think it's fair that he has such an upper hand, so she tugs at his stupid nipple ring and he hisses out her name and pushes his thigh up against her. This is a very dangerous power play they have going on.
The last few days have left her ridiculously sexually frustrated, and while she's certain he's not above self-pleasure to alleviate some of that, she hasn't given in. She needs something more and she's not against begging, which is what she's just about to do when he pushes his hand between them and into her bikini bottoms. She hates water during this kind of thing (she and Finn tried it once, but this is the last she's going to think of him right now) and she didn't find it very pleasurable.
Noah, she's not surprised to learn, knows exactly how to make her arch her back in this situation.
"'S'this okay?" he asks.
Given the way she just moaned his name and bucked against his hand, yes, she's thinking it's okay.
"Yes, yes," she breathes out. "Please do it."
He kisses her the entire time, talks to her when his lips aren't directly on hers, and holds her up as she lets go. She should be ashamed of herself for letting him do this in public where anyone could see and someone probably did.
Then he says, "You're so fucking perfect," and she completely forgets to think of that whole thing as anything less than amazing.
... ... ...
It's his bed this time, and her half-listening for her fathers but mostly not, because she's got Noah's pants unzipped and her hand inside, and he's panting against her cheek. One breath, he says, "Baby, no, you don't..." and the next he's saying, "Fuck, yes. Like that," as if this is the first hand job she's ever given. It's the first one she's ever given him, and she's more nervous than she should be, actually, but mostly because she can feel his size, obviously, and she's kind of just...impressed.
She slips across the hall to wash her hands, then kisses his cheek and tells him she's going to bed.
"What?"
"I need sleep," she says seriously. He legitimately pouts, whether he knows it or not. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Come in here," he murmurs.
Laughing, she asks, "Why?"
"'Cause," he says, tugging her hand so she'll lean down. "Thanks, baby."
She's never been much of a fan of pet names, but she's kind of powerless to that one, which is why she slides into bed with him in the morning and lets him pull her close so she can lay with him for a while.
... ... ...
She struggles to think of a way to tell her parents that the boy she's always been adamant is just a friend is, decidedly, more than that. Noah has been, rather shockingly, mindful of the fact that they're with her fathers and hasn't said anything inappropriate, nor has he done so much as kiss her when they were around. She slips up and pecks his cheek once, but it's not as though her dads have never seen her do that either.
"What should I say?" she asks when he brings up that she should tell them.
Honestly, it's sometimes difficult to believe this is the same boy who passed gas on Finn's arm two weeks ago and laughed until he had tears in his eyes.
"Who cares? Just tell them."
She lets out a huff. "But how?" She tucks her feet under his thigh as they sit on the back porch swing after dinner and he plucks out a melody on his guitar for her.
Well, he's just kind of playing. She's decided it's for her.
"'S'is your way of asking what this is?" He slants his eyes towards her as he smirks.
Oh. She never even considered that, but she can see how he could think that was what she was trying to do.
"Not really," she insists. She glides her teeth over her bottom lip. "But what is this?"
Laughing, he leans over and kisses her, the body of his guitar between them. "Do you like, take classes on being cute? 'Cause fuck."
It's sort of a compliment, she supposes.
"No," she pouts. He laughs again, shakes his head and pecks her lips.
"They probably already figured it out. They're not dumb and you're not quiet. Last night in your room..."
She puts her hand over his mouth and feels her cheeks going red. He bites at her palm a little when she meets his eyes.
Last night was not something she could really control. They were just kissing and all of a sudden she was on top of him with his hand in between her legs and him saying some of the dirtiest things she's ever heard. No, she probably wasn't as quiet as she should have been, but he didn't give her much of a chance. And besides, they'd broken the rules (it was late anyway) and closed the door.
"You started it," she says, for lack of anything better.
He chuckles. "Finished it, too."
She hates this new thing she gets where she blushes every time he says something lewd. Covering her cheeks with her hands, she lets her hair fall in her face.
"Jesus," he mumbles, pushing her hair back and forcing her to look at him. "How the fuck am I supposed to not be crazy about you when you do shit like that?"
There's a chance that question is rhetorical, but she gives him a smile, wiggles her toes under his thigh and says, "I suppose you are fighting a losing battle," and giggles when he lets out a breath and leans over like she's just forced him to kiss her.
Her dads come ask them to come inside and drink some wine. Two things happen: The men come outside with the bottle, and Noah asks if he can have beer.
Okay, three things.
Her dad stares at them for a moment and goes, "When did this happen?"
Rachel blanches and looks at Noah, who is wearing this very cute smile and looking downward.
"What?" she asks.
"Sweetie, I'm a behavioural psychologist." Oh. Right. "I was beginning to wonder if he'd ever make a move."
Her dad is the first and only person she's ever known to make Noah blush.
"I was working up to it," Noah says, somewhat defensively.
She asks him about it later, after her dads have exhausted their questioning. They seem a little obsessed, but she doesn't want to say that out loud, and she knows all they want is for her (for both she and Noah, actually) to be happy. If they get together to make that happen, then so be it. Actually, she thinks Daddy has been wanting this for a while.
"I've never known you to need to work up to anything," she says as she lays against his chest, fully clothed on her bed with an episode of Law and Order playing on the television. "Why me?"
"Had to make sure you were over him." Finn, she assumes. "When you got all stoked on him and Santana, I figured I was good to go."
That just raises another question she's selfish enough to want an answer for.
"How long would you have waited?"
He shrugs, pushes his lips against her hair, so his voice is muffled when he says, "I dunno."
She thinks he would have given it quite a bit more time.
... ... ...
She wakes up in his arms to the sound of someone clearing their throat, opens her eyes to see her father standing there with his arms crossed.
Shit.
They'd shut the door last night because they were watching a movie, and then apparently they fell asleep. The television screen is glowing blue and Noah is fully clothed next to her under the covers. She almost wants to pull them back to show she's wearing shorts and a top and he's still in his jeans. She doesn't think her father cares about their state of dress, but more about the fact that she's very much in bed with a boy when she shouldn't be.
"We fell asleep," she says quietly, and she'd sit up if Noah's arm wasn't around her midsection the way it is.
"I can see that."
"It wasn't...He has pants on."
Her dad chuckles and Noah stirs, draws her closer and nuzzles her hair, saying, "Don't move, baby."
She looks at her father and he smiles, says, "Don't sleep in too long," and pulls the door closed when he leaves, and she thinks that's as good as a stamp of approval.
... ... ...
If she could manage to pull her lips away from his for more than just breaths at a time, she'd tell him to slow down and that they really shouldn't be doing this. When her fathers said they were going to dinner with friends, Rachel is almost positive that didn't mean that she should let Noah take his shirt off and push her dress up only to tease at the elastic of her panties with his fingertips. Surely, this was not what her fathers were thinking was going to happen when they'd said, "We trust you both." In fact, she thinks that meant 'we trust you not to have underage sex while we're out'.
She knows Noah just a little better than they do. And yet she still let him lay her down on the sofa beneath him.
"We should really slow down," she says as he presses his lips along her neck.
"Yeah, you say words but I just hear you whispering in my ear," he chuckles, pulling away a bit.
"I'm not whispering dirty things," she points out needlessly. He raises a brow.
"Are you capable?"
She glares. How dare he imply that she's not creative enough to dirty talk? "I have many talents, Noah, not all of which you've experienced personally."
"I'm trying," he says, sounding exasperated. She smiles, because it's at least sort of funny. "Give me a preview." He slips his fingertip beneath the elastic of her panties at the front of her thigh. She shakes her head, because no. "C'mon. I've done it for you."
"I didn't beg."
"Exactly. That was like, a gift." She giggles and he presses himself into her a little more. "Please?"
"This is not one of those situations where asking nicely gets you what you want," she tells him. He pouts a little, then kisses her and tugs his fingers through the ends of her hair. His hand moves to her hip and pushes her dress up more, exposing the bottom part of her stomach and she finds she's disappointed that he doesn't just push the whole thing up off her body. "Please, Noah."
It's a far cry from what she was saying moments ago. This boy is trouble and she's known it all along. At least it's the good kind.
"Please what, baby?"
Logically, she knows he's leading her into doing exactly what he wants, but she doesn't much care when there's such promise of him making her feel incredible. This is all moving incredibly quickly (it's been just a few days, really, and he's already coming dangerously close to having her on her knees in front of him, and no, she's not going to tell him that). And anyway, he's her boyfriend, or whatever he is, and she's sure that means she's allowed to dictate the pace, and if fast is what she wants, there's nothing wrong with that. There's a good chance he'll oblige.
"Touch me," she says breathily into his ear. He lets out a noise from the back of his throat, grinds into her a little, which feels better than it should, since they're both wearing clothes. "Make me come."
"Fuck," he murmurs, lips pressing harshly against hers. "How?" One of his hands starts tugging down her panties at her hip. It feels kind of dirty, the urgency with which he does it, but she finds she likes it. "How do you want me to get you off?"
This boy may kill her. Or at the very least turn her completely bad.
And maybe it's because he has his index finger pressing against where she's wet for him, but she has enough desire running through her to give her the courage to spell it out exactly like he wants her to.
"I want you to use your mouth," she says against the shell of his ear. He drops his forehead to her shoulder and she slides her fingernails over the back of his neck and up into his hair. "Use your tongue." He licks at her collarbone. It's like a preview or something, and it makes her shudder. "And do it slowly until I tell you I need it faster."
He's off her in an instant, pulling her hands to help her up and practically pushing her into his bedroom. His hands are on her hips as he stands behind her, and yes, he very much beats her in dirty talking - if that's even possible - when he talks low in her ear and tells her he needs her naked and spread out for him on his bed.
She's a sweaty, trembling mess, and she can taste herself on his lips when he kisses her. He's still wearing all his clothes, minus his shirt, and looking at her like she's amazing and he knows he's amazing.
She says, "And I thought you were good with your hands," because it's the only thing she can really focus on right now, and he laughs and says, "Just wait," and she doesn't know what that means, really, but god, she likes the sound of it.
... ... ...
Noah is downstairs with her fathers. Actually, she thinks they've just moved out to the back deck to begin barbecuing dinner.
She's in her room packing, and she's not at all happy about it.
The rest of the summer is going to be spent in Lima, which is clearly not as good as here. She's just had such an amazing time that she doesn't want it to end. She's definitely got the 'last day of vacation blues', and she can't shake them, no matter how hard she tries. Earlier, she and Noah went swimming in the lake and then lay outside together in the sun on the deck, and it was great, but she can't shake the funk. She thinks maybe it's because this trip has been the best one she's ever taken, notably because of the addition of Noah and all these feelings to their relationship.
That itself is as of yet undefined, and she's not doing what she normally does in this situation and asking a million questions and trying to force him to put a label on it. They're having fun together and he obviously cares about her, and she can think of a lot worse things than not officially calling him her boyfriend. Worse things like him being nothing at all or even still just being her friend.
She doesn't know how they didn't get here sooner. Yes, he mentioned that he was waiting for her to really be over Finn, but she's been saying that she is for a while now and she is a little annoyed that he didn't believe her. Then again, if his feelings are as strong as he's implying they are, she can understand him protecting himself and not jumping into something with a girl he thought may have still been hung up on someone else.
Still, if they could have been doing what they did last night, all along? God, she doesn't know if she'd still be herself, or instead a puddle on the floor. The skill that man possesses is slightly ridiculous, actually. She's blushing even thinking about it, and while she hates him a little for making her talk the way he wanted her to, she's having a hard time finding anything to be properly embarrassed about. They're close and she wants him and they've rarely kept secrets from one another, so if she wants him to do something, she doesn't really have too much trouble telling him.
He comes into her room with some icy pink drink in his hand and says, "'S'for you."
She laughs when he takes a sip anyway before giving it to her. She takes a quick drink from the straw, then sets the glass on her bedside table and goes back to setting things in her suitcase.
"Hey," he says, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. "You're all quiet today."
"I don't want to leave."
There. She said it.
"Me neither," he says, lips against her temple. "Pretty sure my mom would hunt you down."
She laughs and turns in his arms, and he pushes her back so her ass is perched on the edge of the tall bed. "You might be surprised."
He smiles like he knows she's right. "Okay, what the hell did you say to her?" She shrugs her shoulder coyly, smiles up at him. "Tell me."
"No," she giggles. "It was nothing anyway. It's no secret she wants us together."
He furrows his brow. "How'd you know that?"
"Noah."
He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Whatever."
She wonders if he's ever spoken to his mother about his feelings for her. Probably not, or the woman would have most likely cornered Rachel until she was sold on the idea of being with him like this, like whatever they are.
"Sleep with me tonight?" she asks. She feels his hands dig into her hips as he stares darkly down at her. "I mean sleep. In here. In my bed. Sleep."
He rolls his eyes, might mumble, "Mean," under his breath. He kisses her, says, "Okay," and doesn't ask how she's going to get her fathers to agree.
She knows they won't care.
... ... ...
He settles into bed next to her and immediately slides his hand down her side, over her hip to rest on her thigh. His free hand is gathering her hair and pulling it away from her face, then he kisses her cheek, right next to her ear, really, and takes a deep breath. Her eyes flutter closed when she starts thinking about how delicately he's capable of treating her. She loves that. Of course, he's incredibly brash and bold and very sensual most of the time, but then he does something so innocent, like kiss her cheek, and maybe those are the little things that make her understand how much he really cares about her. She's never seen him do those things with anyone else.
"What happens in September?" she asks, because she's already decided they're going to still be together then.
(Really, did you think she was going to give him up at this point?)
"Dunno," he mumbles. "I'll come see you."
She's smiling and she knows she should tell him the travel shouldn't fall all on him, but she's having a little trouble thinking of anything other than him curling up with her like this in her dorm room.
"Okay."
"You have to come see me, too," he says right before he kisses her shoulder.
She smiles and weaves their hands together. "Of course I will."
"Yeah," he murmurs.
She feels him smiling against her skin.
... ... ...
She sits in the center seat of his truck, even though the seat belt is just a lap restraint without a shoulder strap. It's not as safe as she'd like, but he slides his hand to the inside of her thigh below the hem of her shorts as he drives and she finds herself thinking they'll probably be okay.