It's Always Your Favourite Sins (That Do You In) [1/2]
Title: It's Always Your Favourite Sins (That Do You In)
Warning: NC-17
Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Puck
Summary: "That's a good look," Santana says, and Rachel rolls her eyes and reaches for the little white skirt she was planning on pulling on before she was interrupted. Rachel's already having a better time than she thought she would.
Word Count: 15,000 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Noah's been talking about senior year Spring Break since freshman year. He's kept tabs on what it costs to go where, and who comes back with the best stories from where they've gone, and how much they 'scored'. Honestly, she's never seen him take anything as seriously as he's taking planning this trip.
Rachel doesn't care. She really doesn't. The only reason she's even going is because Noah bullied her into it and went to her dads, who said they'd pay for the whole thing because she really hasn't been on a vacation since before she left Lima. She's still mad at him for that, but she can't exactly complain, can she? She's got a trip completely paid for by her parents, and any student would kill to be in her shoes.
Well, that's not true. She knows one more who is.
She and Santana...It's not that they don't get along. They get along fine. It's more like they don't make an effort to do anything more than merely get along. Santana goes to Columbia and Rachel goes to NYADA, and they couldn't be more different, academically. Noah's at a college in the city doing a four year accounting course. No, she doesn't get that either, but he's very good at it and he even earned a partial scholarship this year for his excellent grades.
She'd say he's a totally different person, but he's really not.
It's just the three of them going on this trip. Sam was going to meet them there, but he couldn't get the time off from his job, so he never ended up booking his ticket. There was talk of Mike coming along, but he and Tina decided to road trip to South Carolina for the week.
Rachel's not worried about being the third wheel or anything like that. She's spent enough time with just the two of them that she knows they're not going to ditch her or exclude her. There won't be any third wheel. They're three single people, and she cannot see herself hooking up with Noah. Not again.
God, that...It involved a lot of alcohol on both their parts, and when she's drunk, she tends to make questionable choices. She was aroused and it was because of him, so she told him he should take care of it. She swears they've only slept together twice, and that's the truth. Santana likes to say they're liars, but they're not. The first time was drunk, and the second time was bored. Rachel'd just ended some stupid relationship which was a rebound from Finn to begin with, and she'd told Noah to fuck her. Stupid, but he'd complied and given her what she wanted.
She's not going to do that again on this trip.
They've got three separate rooms, because Noah and Santana insist they're 'getting ass' on this trip, and Rachel doesn't want to be without a place to sleep when that happens. They keep telling her she needs to find someone to 'bang', too, but she isn't going with that intention.
"This bikini doesn't exactly scream 'leave me alone'," Noah says, lying across her bed as she packs a few things two days before their flight leaves.
Okay, the little blue bikini is, well, little, but that's because she...
"I have the body for it and I want to."
"I know you've got the body for it." She rolls her eyes at him. For all his insisting that he likes their friendship as it is, he sure does say a lot of things like that. "I'm just saying. You're only young once."
"You can say that all you like, but I still won't see it as a viable reason to have a one night stand with a stranger who may or may not be infected with some..."
"Fuck off. You wrap it up and enjoy it."
She drops the bikini into her bag and makes a disgusted noise when he sets his hand over the front of his pants. She's seen him do it before. A lot. With Santana, too. It's not strange that he finds either of them attractive - they both are - but he could stand to be more subtle about it.
"Stop thinking about me naked."
"I'm not thinking, I'm remembering." His smirk is annoying. "You shouldn't deprive someone else of that. We had a good time."
Incredulous, she puts her hands on her hips. "A good time, Noah?" she asks, brow raised. "You claimed I broke you. You whined."
"Shut up. I..." She's the smug one now. "Whatever. You're like, intense, which isn't a surprise at all."
"I am intense," she concedes. Noah just smiles.
"You need an orgasm."
She laughs a bit and she knows he's watching her too intently. "I do just fine on my own, thank you."
No, she's not so shy about sex anymore.
... ... ...
She starts getting excited when they're on the plane, despite the fact that she's been shoved between them because 'she's the smallest', as though that makes any difference on an airplane. But now that they're actually in the air, she can admit that it is nice to be getting away and have no obligations or classes or lessons for a week. She and Noah watch the same movie on the plane, and he plays with her fingers because he always seems to need to have something to do with his hands, and this'll have to do. Santana turns her iPod on and sleeps for most of the flight, until she wakes up and knocks Rachel's elbow off the armrest without apologizing.
Rachel tells herself not to care, because she really doesn't want to start something before they even touch down in Mexico.
She's hot as soon as she gets off the plane, and unbuttons her short-sleeved cardigan so she's standing in just jeans and a racerback tank as they wait for their baggage. Yes, she travels smartly and plans her wardrobe to account for these types of situations.
The drive to their resort is basically filled with Santana and Noah bickering over what they should do first. Santana says food, and Noah says alcohol and the beach. Rachel has a strong feeling this is going to be her entire week, playing referee between the two of them on silly things such as this. She suggests they change into bathing suits, walk the beach until they find a place to eat. Everyone's happy.
She calls her dads once she gets to her hotel room, and promises them that the accommodations are as nice as they looked on the website.
She's barely changed, wearing just her bikini - a black one - when there's a knock at the door and both Santana and Noah are telling her to hurry up. It makes her laugh instead of annoying her, so she pulls the door open and sees Santana with a pair of denim shorts slung low on her hips, and a white bikini top covering just enough, Rachel suspects, that the girl won't get arrested. Noah's board shorts are the ones he bought last week when he was with her.
"That's a good look," Santana says, and Rachel rolls her eyes and reaches for the little white skirt she was planning on pulling on before she was interrupted.
"C'mon. Tequila waits for no man."
Rachel laughs at Noah as Santana looks at him like he's an idiot. "What the fuck are you even saying?"
"That this is our first night in Mexico and we should be drinking."
Rachel reaches for her keycard and a bit of cash, and hands both to Noah so he can put them in his pockets. "It's two in the afternoon and we literally just got here."
"Whatever." Noah shrugs his shoulders and Santana's trying not to smile. "First round's on me."
She isn't sure how he manages to push both she and Santana into the ocean at the exact same time, but he gave them no warning whatsoever, so they're still wearing their bottoms as the waves crash against their legs. They were just walking along after leaving the hotel, and apparently they're too trusting of him or something. He does come into the water with them, though. Rachel feels him slip his arms around her from behind as Santana bitches at him for getting her wet. That white bikini is not exactly practical or made for the water. Rachel can see the colour of the girl's nipples through the fabric. She stops looking when Noah's fingers reach between them to pull down the zipper at the back of her skirt. Taking it off would be pointless and she doesn't want to lose it somewhere in the ocean, so she pushes him away and does the zipper back up herself.
Santana's top still isn't dry by the time they find a restaurant to eat in, and Rachel's a little worried one of the staff is going to say something to her about it, but they don't. They simply lead the three of them out onto the patio and set them up at a table, and Noah orders a pitcher of margaritas.
Rachel's already having a better time than she thought she would.
... ... ...
She's dressed and ready for a day of shopping. There's a hotel shuttle that leaves at 11:00 and she plans to be on it. The little bus takes you into town and a hotel employee apparently gives you a map and a shuttle schedule so you can get back to the hotel. She mentioned wanting to do this today, and Noah had just grunted. In his defense, or whatever you want to call it, he was eyeing a blonde at the bar, so he likely wasn't paying attention.
Santana knocks on Rachel's door at 9:30, though, and Rachel is pleasantly surprised to see her there. Santana shrugs. "Puck's still with that girl, I guess, and I'm hungry. And this shopping thing sounds kind of awesome."
So they go to the hotel restaurant, which serves free breakfast until noon - Noah would love it if he could get his behind out of bed, or whatever it is he's doing. Rachel sits there with her fresh fruit and her juice and Santana digs into a freshly-made omelet and toast as she talks about how Puck's an idiot for picking up on the first night. Rachel's actually a little surprised to hear that kind of talk, really. Santana's reasoning, of course, is more hilarious than logical, but Rachel still laughs all through breakfast.
The first shop they walk into is a horribly tacky tourist trap with shot glasses and ball caps and tee shirts. Rachel presses her lips together to keep from laughing at the look on Santana's face. They leave after taking a lap around the store, and then head to the next one, splitting away from the group from their hotel.
"Fuck it. I don't want to be around those losers."
"Santana, you don't even know them," Rachel giggles.
Santana cocks her head like Rachel's missing something. "Dude, look at them, and look at us. We're hot as fuck, and being associated with them can't mean anything good."
Rachel smiles - Santana just called her hot, and it does feel nice - and they finally get to some stores with better, nicer things inside.
Santana falls in love with a turquoise bracelet that Rachel actually has to convince her to buy, because she calls it a cliché to buy turquoise in Mexico. Rachel just reminds her how pretty it looked on her wrist, and Santana is smiling as she rolls her eyes and tells the salesperson she'll take it. Rachel buys a pretty dress that's tight through the body and has a pleated skirt. She models it for Santana and they both end up laughing as the girl takes pictures, for some reason.
She kind of can't believe how well they're getting along.
They come upon a market that's busy with both locals and tourists, and Santana grabs Rachel's hand - whether that's an instinct or not, Rachel isn't sure - as they weave through the crowds and check out hand-made merchandise. Rachel finds a set of coffee mugs her fathers will love and she will definitely have room for in her suitcase, and she's ready to take the money from her wallet to pay for them when Santana puts her hand over Rachel's wrist.
Watching Santana barter using very impressive Spanish is actually one of the better things she's ever seen the girl do. And it saves her about ten American dollars, so she's grateful. She buys Santana a chocolate bar as a thank you.
It's late in the afternoon when they get back to the hotel, and as Santana unlocks her door - the one directly across from Rachel's - she says, "Meet me at the pool when you're ready."
It's not a request, and Rachel would be contrary just for the sake of being contrary, but spending an hour or beneath the sun in her tiniest bikini doesn't sound like the worst idea. She, of course, rubs sunscreen into her skin before pulling on her swim suit, and then simply wraps a towel around her waist and heads for the elevator.
Noah and Santana are already there, so Rachel simply lies down on her back on the chair they've obviously been saving her. She gets herself comfortable and feels them looking at her, so she looks at each of them and asks, "What?"
"Nothing," Puck says, but he's smirking. He slips his finger beneath the string of her bikini at her hip where it ties, and she swats his hand away. "Nothing."
"What he means is that you look hot."
Rachel smiles and covers her eyes with her sunglasses. "Thank you."
That's twice in one day - and also twice in a lifetime - that Santana's called her attractive.
... ... ...
They all decide that they really should all get good and drunk together. Not like last night when they each just had a few and enjoyed the scenery. No, they want to go dancing and do tequila shots and at least attract attention from potential suitors.
Rachel's skin is already a shade darker than it was when she got off the plane yesterday, but she doesn't want to zip herself into the white strapless dress she brought just yet. She knows it'll look amazing against a deeper tan. So she pulls on a sunshine yellow halter dress, silver heels and grabs her silver clutch. She knows she'll be hating herself by the end of the night if she doesn't pull her hair up off her neck, so she curls it a bit and pins it in place, then goes to Noah's room, figuring that's as good a place as any to wait for Santana, who she knows takes at least 20 minutes longer to get ready than anyone Rachel's ever met.
Noah hands her a drink she thinks might be a tequila sunrise. "You're having a good time," he says, like it's an accusation.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" she giggles.
"I dunno. You didn't seem as stoked on the trip as we were. I was worried you'd have a shitty time and I'd have to feel guilty or something." Rachel rolls her eyes, but he wraps his arm around her and pulls her against him, clinks his glass against hers. "She must be looking to get fucked tonight. She's taking forever to get ready."
Rachel doesn't know what to say to that, so she says nothing.
She and Noah have two drinks while they wait, and when Santana walks into the room, well... They're both a little speechless. The woman's wearing a red dress that looks painted on, it's so tight, and her breasts are practically showcased, but not in a trashy way. Her eyes are lined in thick black liner and her hair is down and wild, likely just has some product thrown in it because there's no point in straightening it in this humidity. On her feet are a pair of gold platform heels.
And the grin on her face says she knows exactly how sexy she looks.
Rachel swallows. Puck licks his lips. Santana says, "I know. Give me some tequila, then we'll go."
They don't have to sweet talk the bouncer into letting them in to the crowded club. He takes one look at Santana and Rachel and gestures to the door. He tries to stop Noah from entering, but Rachel reaches for his hand and says, "He's with us," and she knows he gives the bouncer a smug look as he follows the girls inside.
"Thanks for implying that I'm fucking both of you," he says over the music, and Rachel just laughs instead of being offended.
"You have in the past," she shouts back at him. "I wasn't that misleading!"
Noah laughs and buys the first round.
Santana's already attracting practically all the male attention, and Rachel sits at their high top table with Noah and takes in the scene before them. Without being crass, Rachel will say that Santana is not at all interested in any of them men attempting to get her to pay attention to them.
"How does she do that?" Rachel asks, sipping her drink.
"Tits." Oh. Well, probably. Noah chuckles when she looks down at her own chest. "Don't get all insecure. You look sexy as fuck right now. She's just alone and you're sitting here with me."
"I don't want to have that many men after me."
Puck grins. "I thought you didn't want to hook up on this trip."
"I don't! But I still want to feel desired." She shrugs her shoulder coyly and watches him lick his lips and look at her breasts. Oh. She tips back one of the shots sitting in the middle of the table and sets her purse down. "Watch my things. I'm going over there."
Santana grabs Rachel's hips immediately once they're close enough together, and Rachel's a little too stunned to do anything but put her hands on the girl's arms and sway along with her to the music.
"Thank god," Santana breathes in Rachel's ear. "They didn't believe I'm gay."
"So now they think I am?" Rachel asks, appalled.
Santana just laughs. Her thigh slips between Rachel's as they dance, smooth skin brushing against the inside of Rachel's thighs. "I told them you were my girlfriend to get them to back off. There're like, no lesbians here."
"I feel like I should be offended."
"Whatever. You're not gonna fuck any of them anyway, so what do you care? Besides, if you hook up with anyone, it's not gonna be some greasy Jersey Shore looking guy. We get enough of that in the fucking city."
Rachel laughs, but supposes that's true. "Still."
She couldn't tell you why they're still dancing this closely together, so she takes her hands off Santana's arms. The girl doesn't stop holding Rachel's hips, though, doesn't move back. She can see Noah looking at them, then notices that Santana is watching him watch them.
"If you fuck anyone on this trip, I bet it's him."
"I'm not going to sleep with Noah," she says, for what feels like the hundredth time. Santana leans in closer, her breasts pressing against Rachel through their dresses. It's not unpleasant, but she's confused.
"You've said that before, and ended up on your back."
She's buzzed and bold and feels sexy, dancing like this, knowing men in the room are watching the two of them and jumping to conclusions. So she says, "Actually, I was on my hands and knees."
Santana's brow goes up and she looks down at their bodies before meeting Rachel's eyes again. "That's honestly really hot."
"I know." She stops moving, pulls back and announces that she needs another drink. Santana stays on the dance floor and still draws just as much attention as she did before.
"You two look fucking hot together," Noah tells her, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
She loves the inside little thing she has with herself when she says, "I know."
... ... ...
She's too hungover to get up for breakfast, and she'd hate to think of how badly she'd be feeling if she hadn't stopped drinking when she did, or danced as much as she had. She's miserable as it is, and doesn't want to do anything today, which is stupid, since this is her vacation and spending it inside a hotel room with the blinds drawn feels like a terrible idea.
Santana shows up at her door with a bag containing food, painkillers and Gatorade. Rachel's never been more grateful to the girl than she is right now. Santana crawls into bed with her, then Noah comes in and does the same, and the three of them eat and turn on a movie and all eventually fall asleep until some time around noon, when Rachel wakes up to Noah's arm slung over her stomach and Santana's hips pressed against hers as the girl lies on her side. Rachel's head is turned towards Santana's. She looks gorgeous all the time, obviously, but she just looks really pretty when she's sleeping. Rachel isn't used to seeing Santana without makeup on, but she can see that the girl doesn't even really need a lot of it.
Santana's hips rock slightly against Rachel, and she's realizing quickly that not only is she staring, but she's overheating, too, and she doesn't really think that has much to do with the fact that she's in Mexico, tucked into a bed with people on either side of her.
She turns her head to look at Noah and finds him already awake and looking at her. She wonders how long he watched her watching Santana. This whole thing is creepy.
He makes a terribly disgusting joke about getting them both into bed. Perhaps she's overcompensating when she shoves at him, but he gets her laughing and then Santana's awake, too. They're all still hurting, but they decide to actually venture out into the world.
Rachel tries to decide which bikini to wear. Noah's gone to his room to change, and Santana's still lying in Rachel's bed, which is mildly confusing.
"Which one?" Rachel asks, holding up four swimsuits in her hands.
"Red one."
"You would pick that one."
Santana props herself up on her elbows, which makes her breasts strain against the thin cotton of the white tank top she's not wearing anything underneath. "I like red."
"I know you do," Rachel says, and takes the red bikini into the bathroom so she can change.
If she's not mistaken, Santana checks her out right before she slips out of the room so she can go to her own.
... ... ...
None of them can handle another night like last night right now, but Noah hangs out by the pool after dinner because he found a woman he likes the looks of and has struck up a conversation with. Santana says she found this really neat place on the west side of the resort and asks Rachel if she wants to check it out. She really can't think of a reason not to go.
It's a little cove with a sandy beach that isn't crawling with people, not at this time of night, anyway. There are hammocks hanging from the trees and there's plenty of shade. Rachel drops her towel and her things and the girls smile at one another, because this is about the most relaxing thing they've done since they woke up today.
She's gotten used to walking around in her bathing suit and nothing more, and she thinks it's interesting that it's only taken her a few days to get so comfortable. But being around two people as confident in their looks as Noah and Santana, it's hard not to follow in their footsteps. She knows she's attractive, anyway, and she works hard for her body. If she can't show it off on vacation, she can't show it off anywhere. That doesn't make sense, but she doesn't care.
They each find a hammock to claim as their own, and Rachel makes what is evidently a mistake and asks Santana why she's not finding someone to take to her room later like Noah obviously is.
"I'm not all about sex."
"No, I know that," Rachel backtracks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you were."
"I mean, I wouldn't mind getting fucked, but it's not like that's my priority here," Santana says. She's not looking at Rachel.
"I'm sorry, Santana." Rachel is sincere. Santana glances at her. "I shouldn't have..."
"It's okay. I'm just not gonna have sex just for the sake of having it. I don't do that anymore."
"Okay."
Rachel feels like she's crossed a line without even knowing, and that Santana is upset with her, but they lie there in silence for a few minutes, until Santana gets up and starts walking towards the sand. Rachel watches her go, watches the way her hips sway and her thighs flex and the ties of her bikini sit between her shoulder blades. The sun's going down, and Rachel grabs her camera, gets a few photos of Santana backlit against an orange and pink sky. It's not her being voyeuristic, she just thinks the girl might like to have them. She looks kind of beautiful.
Rachel gets up and follows Santana out to where she's ankle-deep in the water.
"Please don't be mad at me," she says once they're side by side.
"I'm not mad at you." Santana laughs lightly. "I mean, with our history and whatever, it kind of makes sense for you to just assume I'd fuck around more than I do." Rachel has no idea what to say to that, so she keeps her mouth closed. "But you don't really know me that well, Rachel."
It hits her a little harder than she expects and she nods her head. "You're right."
"I don't really know you all that well, either. As far as I know, you've been with two dudes in the entire time I've known you." Rachel doesn't really mean to laugh, but Santana just smiles at her. "So, more than that?"
"A few."
They stand there in the water, side by side with their toes digging into wet sand. Rachel puts her hands on her hips and her elbow brushes against Santana.
"Fuck, it's beautiful here," the girl says.
Rachel likes the awed quality to Santana's voice a little too much to ruin that statement by responding to it at all.
She looks down at their feet, different colours of pink polish on their toes, and then her eyes travel up Santana's legs, over the navy blue of her bikini bottoms, her flat stomach and her breasts, and then up to her face. The light plays off her skin like she's meant to be here, and Rachel's cheeks burn with her realization.
She is attracted to Santana.
... ... ...
Noah signed them up for an all day hike, and Rachel's really excited for it. Not that she hasn't loved the things they've done so far, but she's looking forward to getting away from the resort, and when she looked this hike up online, the pictures were breathtaking. They meet early for breakfast and catch the bus at 8:15, to take them to the starting point of the hike. They're all dressed for the day, each of them with a small backpack and plenty of water, and she and Noah get Santana to admit she's kind of excited for this, too.
The trail is wide enough that they can walk side-by-side for most of it, along this little river. There's a group of about 15 of them, with their guide naming species of plants and birds and the occasional insect and pretty butterflies. One of them lands on Santana's hand, and Rachel has a hard time deciding what's prettier: The shade of the butterfly's wings, or the smile on Santana's face. Noah has the good sense to snap a photo.
They're all in good shape, better than some of the people in their group, but even Rachel's calves begin to burn a little on the upward hike over uneven terrain. The guide leads them through the jungle, tells them it's not far to the end point, before they'll head back, walking another trail back to where they started out.
They hear the rushing of the water five minutes before they come upon the waterfall, at least fifty feet tall and sending clear blue water down into a deep pool below. They stand on rocks in front of it, looking upward, and Noah has to raise his voice slightly when he tells them how fucking awesome this is.
"Can we go in?" Santana asks the guide. He just laughs and nods his head, and she's already pulling off her top.
Rachel doesn't honestly think she'll ever get an experience like this again in her lifetime, so she strips down, too, to the bathing suit she's got on underneath her clothes, and follows Santana into the water. Noah comes next, and then other members of their group join in.
Santana looks incredibly beautiful floating on her back with the waterfall in the background.
"She's happy here, huh?" Noah says, smiling as they tread water and watch the girl. "Her family's Puerto Rican, but like, this is still her place. I think her great-great-grandmother was from Mexico or something."
Rachel doesn't know about that, but she wants to.
She's never been attracted to a woman before in her life, so this is all very new to her, and she doesn't know what, exactly, she's supposed to do with it. She doesn't know if she even wants to do anything. Probably not. Maybe it's this thing Noah is referring to, that Santana seems a little different here than she does in New York, or than she ever has.
She's not going to act on this. It's a stupid, silly attraction to someone who is physically appealing to just about everyone who's ever looked at her. Rachel's getting to know Santana just that little bit better than she ever has, and that likely plays into these ridiculous feelings. She's always been the kind of girl who became more and more attracted to people the more she got to know them. Look at Finn. Noah. Jesse. Blaine.
On the way back, Rachel steps on a rock that turns and threatens to have her ankle rolling awkwardly, only she's supported by a hand around her waist, pulling her aside. She stumbles a little bit and Santana gives her a look as if to ask if she's okay. Santana's fingertips graze Rachel's breast as she slides her hand away, and all Rachel can do is nod. Her throat feels tight and something simmers at the base of her spine as Santana takes a few steps away from her again.
The bus ride back to the hotel feels shorter than it is, and she sits on one seat while Santana and Noah sit together, and she looks out the window at pretty much nothing - well, she doesn't notice much. When they get to their rooms, they're all in agreement that they need naps. They could do it like they did yesterday morning - they should all be comfortable with that - but when Noah suggests it (and not even in a roguish way) Rachel says she'd prefer to be alone. Santana looks at her strangely but says nothing.
Rachel feels like she's going to cry.
... ... ...
A knock at her door wakes her, so she answers and finds Noah on the other side, looking at her like he's worried. "You okay?"
She gently wipes the sleep from her eye and nods. "Yeah."
He tilts his head like he doesn't believe her. "You were a little weird when we got back."
"I was tired."
"Okay, but you're still being weird now."
"I just woke up." That puts a smile onto his face, and hopefully an end to his questions.
"Listen, Santana found out about this like, actual Latin club with a live band and stuff." He grins when she smiles. "You in?"
"Obviously," she answers quickly. He's standing there at her door and she knows it'll take him exponentially less time to get ready than it will her. "Help me pick a dress?"
It's something of a test for herself. Most of the time she doesn't want to sleep with Noah, but that doesn't mean he's not one of the most attractive men she's ever seen. It doesn't mean that she doesn't consider it, on occasion, when he all but propositions her, or makes it very clear that she turns him on. A part of her likes knowing she could have him. She wonders if she could prove Santana right and sleep with him on this trip.
He chooses the dress she bought that day with Santana, and she's glad, because it'll be great for dancing in. She knows a little Latin ballroom and it's not like you can do it in anything short and tight. She'll pull on the tight little dance shorts she brought just for this reason underneath to keep from exposing herself. She's a little excited by the prospect of doing a proper salsa with someone who knows how to lead her.
Noah lies on her bed while she showers, and she comes out after with her hair dripping wet and a towel around her body. He wets his lips a little and looks her up and down. She sets her panties on the bed, because no, she honestly does not have much to hide from him. She's not trying to tease him and doesn't want to come off like she is, but she needs him to say something, anything, suggestive to see what her body's reaction is to it.
His hand grabs her panties off the bed like she suspected it might do, and he holds them up, his fingers in either side so they're stretched between his hands. They're nothing incredibly scandalous, just black lace boyshorts with a tiny pink bow on the front.
"These're fuckin' hot."
"Are they?"
He grins at her, spreads his thighs apart a little further, and sets his hand - still holding her panties - over the front of his pants as he's known to do. She feels something swirl low in her belly.
"Yeah," he answers. "But you shouldn't wear 'em."
"Oh, really," she laughs, grabs them back from him, careful not to touch more of him than she intends to. "You'd like me to flash the entire club?"
Noah scoffs and shifts where he's sitting. "Fuck the club. We could stay here. You're already practically naked."
"I want to go." Noah sits up and wraps his hands around her thighs just below the bottom of her towel. She's completely naked underneath, obviously, and one gentle tug by his hand would have her bare in front of him. There's a part of her that wants it. "Noah."
"Third time's a charm, right?" he says, glancing up at her. She feels his thumbs moving against her skin at the front of her thighs.
"The first two times were good enough."
"Good enough?" he asks, incredulous. His hands slide up higher, settle onto her ass. She doesn't stop him. She doesn't want to. Not yet. "They were better than good enough."
"You know what I meant," she says, voice thready, weak, like she's distracted and turned on. If he moved his hand just the slightest bit, he'd find out just how turned on she is.
"Are you saying no?"
She nods. That's misleading. "Yes, I'm saying no."
He sighs like he's annoyed, but he's still smiling, so he can't be. He stands and kisses her once, quickly, pats her on the behind and tells her they're leaving in an hour and grabbing dinner at the club because they serve authentic Mexican.
Rachel is aroused as she does her makeup, can't stop thinking about his hands and the things he can do, and as she tries to get the pulsing between her legs to subside, she begins thinking about Santana. Smooth skin, small hands, breasts, and curves, and dark hair. Finally she has to turn on some ridiculous television show to distract her from thinking about her friends fucking her. She's attracted to both of them. One, at the moment, more than the other.
And Santana's never even really touched her.
Warning: NC-17
Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Puck
Summary: "That's a good look," Santana says, and Rachel rolls her eyes and reaches for the little white skirt she was planning on pulling on before she was interrupted. Rachel's already having a better time than she thought she would.
Word Count: 15,000 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Noah's been talking about senior year Spring Break since freshman year. He's kept tabs on what it costs to go where, and who comes back with the best stories from where they've gone, and how much they 'scored'. Honestly, she's never seen him take anything as seriously as he's taking planning this trip.
Rachel doesn't care. She really doesn't. The only reason she's even going is because Noah bullied her into it and went to her dads, who said they'd pay for the whole thing because she really hasn't been on a vacation since before she left Lima. She's still mad at him for that, but she can't exactly complain, can she? She's got a trip completely paid for by her parents, and any student would kill to be in her shoes.
Well, that's not true. She knows one more who is.
She and Santana...It's not that they don't get along. They get along fine. It's more like they don't make an effort to do anything more than merely get along. Santana goes to Columbia and Rachel goes to NYADA, and they couldn't be more different, academically. Noah's at a college in the city doing a four year accounting course. No, she doesn't get that either, but he's very good at it and he even earned a partial scholarship this year for his excellent grades.
She'd say he's a totally different person, but he's really not.
It's just the three of them going on this trip. Sam was going to meet them there, but he couldn't get the time off from his job, so he never ended up booking his ticket. There was talk of Mike coming along, but he and Tina decided to road trip to South Carolina for the week.
Rachel's not worried about being the third wheel or anything like that. She's spent enough time with just the two of them that she knows they're not going to ditch her or exclude her. There won't be any third wheel. They're three single people, and she cannot see herself hooking up with Noah. Not again.
God, that...It involved a lot of alcohol on both their parts, and when she's drunk, she tends to make questionable choices. She was aroused and it was because of him, so she told him he should take care of it. She swears they've only slept together twice, and that's the truth. Santana likes to say they're liars, but they're not. The first time was drunk, and the second time was bored. Rachel'd just ended some stupid relationship which was a rebound from Finn to begin with, and she'd told Noah to fuck her. Stupid, but he'd complied and given her what she wanted.
She's not going to do that again on this trip.
They've got three separate rooms, because Noah and Santana insist they're 'getting ass' on this trip, and Rachel doesn't want to be without a place to sleep when that happens. They keep telling her she needs to find someone to 'bang', too, but she isn't going with that intention.
"This bikini doesn't exactly scream 'leave me alone'," Noah says, lying across her bed as she packs a few things two days before their flight leaves.
Okay, the little blue bikini is, well, little, but that's because she...
"I have the body for it and I want to."
"I know you've got the body for it." She rolls her eyes at him. For all his insisting that he likes their friendship as it is, he sure does say a lot of things like that. "I'm just saying. You're only young once."
"You can say that all you like, but I still won't see it as a viable reason to have a one night stand with a stranger who may or may not be infected with some..."
"Fuck off. You wrap it up and enjoy it."
She drops the bikini into her bag and makes a disgusted noise when he sets his hand over the front of his pants. She's seen him do it before. A lot. With Santana, too. It's not strange that he finds either of them attractive - they both are - but he could stand to be more subtle about it.
"Stop thinking about me naked."
"I'm not thinking, I'm remembering." His smirk is annoying. "You shouldn't deprive someone else of that. We had a good time."
Incredulous, she puts her hands on her hips. "A good time, Noah?" she asks, brow raised. "You claimed I broke you. You whined."
"Shut up. I..." She's the smug one now. "Whatever. You're like, intense, which isn't a surprise at all."
"I am intense," she concedes. Noah just smiles.
"You need an orgasm."
She laughs a bit and she knows he's watching her too intently. "I do just fine on my own, thank you."
No, she's not so shy about sex anymore.
... ... ...
She starts getting excited when they're on the plane, despite the fact that she's been shoved between them because 'she's the smallest', as though that makes any difference on an airplane. But now that they're actually in the air, she can admit that it is nice to be getting away and have no obligations or classes or lessons for a week. She and Noah watch the same movie on the plane, and he plays with her fingers because he always seems to need to have something to do with his hands, and this'll have to do. Santana turns her iPod on and sleeps for most of the flight, until she wakes up and knocks Rachel's elbow off the armrest without apologizing.
Rachel tells herself not to care, because she really doesn't want to start something before they even touch down in Mexico.
She's hot as soon as she gets off the plane, and unbuttons her short-sleeved cardigan so she's standing in just jeans and a racerback tank as they wait for their baggage. Yes, she travels smartly and plans her wardrobe to account for these types of situations.
The drive to their resort is basically filled with Santana and Noah bickering over what they should do first. Santana says food, and Noah says alcohol and the beach. Rachel has a strong feeling this is going to be her entire week, playing referee between the two of them on silly things such as this. She suggests they change into bathing suits, walk the beach until they find a place to eat. Everyone's happy.
She calls her dads once she gets to her hotel room, and promises them that the accommodations are as nice as they looked on the website.
She's barely changed, wearing just her bikini - a black one - when there's a knock at the door and both Santana and Noah are telling her to hurry up. It makes her laugh instead of annoying her, so she pulls the door open and sees Santana with a pair of denim shorts slung low on her hips, and a white bikini top covering just enough, Rachel suspects, that the girl won't get arrested. Noah's board shorts are the ones he bought last week when he was with her.
"That's a good look," Santana says, and Rachel rolls her eyes and reaches for the little white skirt she was planning on pulling on before she was interrupted.
"C'mon. Tequila waits for no man."
Rachel laughs at Noah as Santana looks at him like he's an idiot. "What the fuck are you even saying?"
"That this is our first night in Mexico and we should be drinking."
Rachel reaches for her keycard and a bit of cash, and hands both to Noah so he can put them in his pockets. "It's two in the afternoon and we literally just got here."
"Whatever." Noah shrugs his shoulders and Santana's trying not to smile. "First round's on me."
She isn't sure how he manages to push both she and Santana into the ocean at the exact same time, but he gave them no warning whatsoever, so they're still wearing their bottoms as the waves crash against their legs. They were just walking along after leaving the hotel, and apparently they're too trusting of him or something. He does come into the water with them, though. Rachel feels him slip his arms around her from behind as Santana bitches at him for getting her wet. That white bikini is not exactly practical or made for the water. Rachel can see the colour of the girl's nipples through the fabric. She stops looking when Noah's fingers reach between them to pull down the zipper at the back of her skirt. Taking it off would be pointless and she doesn't want to lose it somewhere in the ocean, so she pushes him away and does the zipper back up herself.
Santana's top still isn't dry by the time they find a restaurant to eat in, and Rachel's a little worried one of the staff is going to say something to her about it, but they don't. They simply lead the three of them out onto the patio and set them up at a table, and Noah orders a pitcher of margaritas.
Rachel's already having a better time than she thought she would.
... ... ...
She's dressed and ready for a day of shopping. There's a hotel shuttle that leaves at 11:00 and she plans to be on it. The little bus takes you into town and a hotel employee apparently gives you a map and a shuttle schedule so you can get back to the hotel. She mentioned wanting to do this today, and Noah had just grunted. In his defense, or whatever you want to call it, he was eyeing a blonde at the bar, so he likely wasn't paying attention.
Santana knocks on Rachel's door at 9:30, though, and Rachel is pleasantly surprised to see her there. Santana shrugs. "Puck's still with that girl, I guess, and I'm hungry. And this shopping thing sounds kind of awesome."
So they go to the hotel restaurant, which serves free breakfast until noon - Noah would love it if he could get his behind out of bed, or whatever it is he's doing. Rachel sits there with her fresh fruit and her juice and Santana digs into a freshly-made omelet and toast as she talks about how Puck's an idiot for picking up on the first night. Rachel's actually a little surprised to hear that kind of talk, really. Santana's reasoning, of course, is more hilarious than logical, but Rachel still laughs all through breakfast.
The first shop they walk into is a horribly tacky tourist trap with shot glasses and ball caps and tee shirts. Rachel presses her lips together to keep from laughing at the look on Santana's face. They leave after taking a lap around the store, and then head to the next one, splitting away from the group from their hotel.
"Fuck it. I don't want to be around those losers."
"Santana, you don't even know them," Rachel giggles.
Santana cocks her head like Rachel's missing something. "Dude, look at them, and look at us. We're hot as fuck, and being associated with them can't mean anything good."
Rachel smiles - Santana just called her hot, and it does feel nice - and they finally get to some stores with better, nicer things inside.
Santana falls in love with a turquoise bracelet that Rachel actually has to convince her to buy, because she calls it a cliché to buy turquoise in Mexico. Rachel just reminds her how pretty it looked on her wrist, and Santana is smiling as she rolls her eyes and tells the salesperson she'll take it. Rachel buys a pretty dress that's tight through the body and has a pleated skirt. She models it for Santana and they both end up laughing as the girl takes pictures, for some reason.
She kind of can't believe how well they're getting along.
They come upon a market that's busy with both locals and tourists, and Santana grabs Rachel's hand - whether that's an instinct or not, Rachel isn't sure - as they weave through the crowds and check out hand-made merchandise. Rachel finds a set of coffee mugs her fathers will love and she will definitely have room for in her suitcase, and she's ready to take the money from her wallet to pay for them when Santana puts her hand over Rachel's wrist.
Watching Santana barter using very impressive Spanish is actually one of the better things she's ever seen the girl do. And it saves her about ten American dollars, so she's grateful. She buys Santana a chocolate bar as a thank you.
It's late in the afternoon when they get back to the hotel, and as Santana unlocks her door - the one directly across from Rachel's - she says, "Meet me at the pool when you're ready."
It's not a request, and Rachel would be contrary just for the sake of being contrary, but spending an hour or beneath the sun in her tiniest bikini doesn't sound like the worst idea. She, of course, rubs sunscreen into her skin before pulling on her swim suit, and then simply wraps a towel around her waist and heads for the elevator.
Noah and Santana are already there, so Rachel simply lies down on her back on the chair they've obviously been saving her. She gets herself comfortable and feels them looking at her, so she looks at each of them and asks, "What?"
"Nothing," Puck says, but he's smirking. He slips his finger beneath the string of her bikini at her hip where it ties, and she swats his hand away. "Nothing."
"What he means is that you look hot."
Rachel smiles and covers her eyes with her sunglasses. "Thank you."
That's twice in one day - and also twice in a lifetime - that Santana's called her attractive.
... ... ...
They all decide that they really should all get good and drunk together. Not like last night when they each just had a few and enjoyed the scenery. No, they want to go dancing and do tequila shots and at least attract attention from potential suitors.
Rachel's skin is already a shade darker than it was when she got off the plane yesterday, but she doesn't want to zip herself into the white strapless dress she brought just yet. She knows it'll look amazing against a deeper tan. So she pulls on a sunshine yellow halter dress, silver heels and grabs her silver clutch. She knows she'll be hating herself by the end of the night if she doesn't pull her hair up off her neck, so she curls it a bit and pins it in place, then goes to Noah's room, figuring that's as good a place as any to wait for Santana, who she knows takes at least 20 minutes longer to get ready than anyone Rachel's ever met.
Noah hands her a drink she thinks might be a tequila sunrise. "You're having a good time," he says, like it's an accusation.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" she giggles.
"I dunno. You didn't seem as stoked on the trip as we were. I was worried you'd have a shitty time and I'd have to feel guilty or something." Rachel rolls her eyes, but he wraps his arm around her and pulls her against him, clinks his glass against hers. "She must be looking to get fucked tonight. She's taking forever to get ready."
Rachel doesn't know what to say to that, so she says nothing.
She and Noah have two drinks while they wait, and when Santana walks into the room, well... They're both a little speechless. The woman's wearing a red dress that looks painted on, it's so tight, and her breasts are practically showcased, but not in a trashy way. Her eyes are lined in thick black liner and her hair is down and wild, likely just has some product thrown in it because there's no point in straightening it in this humidity. On her feet are a pair of gold platform heels.
And the grin on her face says she knows exactly how sexy she looks.
Rachel swallows. Puck licks his lips. Santana says, "I know. Give me some tequila, then we'll go."
They don't have to sweet talk the bouncer into letting them in to the crowded club. He takes one look at Santana and Rachel and gestures to the door. He tries to stop Noah from entering, but Rachel reaches for his hand and says, "He's with us," and she knows he gives the bouncer a smug look as he follows the girls inside.
"Thanks for implying that I'm fucking both of you," he says over the music, and Rachel just laughs instead of being offended.
"You have in the past," she shouts back at him. "I wasn't that misleading!"
Noah laughs and buys the first round.
Santana's already attracting practically all the male attention, and Rachel sits at their high top table with Noah and takes in the scene before them. Without being crass, Rachel will say that Santana is not at all interested in any of them men attempting to get her to pay attention to them.
"How does she do that?" Rachel asks, sipping her drink.
"Tits." Oh. Well, probably. Noah chuckles when she looks down at her own chest. "Don't get all insecure. You look sexy as fuck right now. She's just alone and you're sitting here with me."
"I don't want to have that many men after me."
Puck grins. "I thought you didn't want to hook up on this trip."
"I don't! But I still want to feel desired." She shrugs her shoulder coyly and watches him lick his lips and look at her breasts. Oh. She tips back one of the shots sitting in the middle of the table and sets her purse down. "Watch my things. I'm going over there."
Santana grabs Rachel's hips immediately once they're close enough together, and Rachel's a little too stunned to do anything but put her hands on the girl's arms and sway along with her to the music.
"Thank god," Santana breathes in Rachel's ear. "They didn't believe I'm gay."
"So now they think I am?" Rachel asks, appalled.
Santana just laughs. Her thigh slips between Rachel's as they dance, smooth skin brushing against the inside of Rachel's thighs. "I told them you were my girlfriend to get them to back off. There're like, no lesbians here."
"I feel like I should be offended."
"Whatever. You're not gonna fuck any of them anyway, so what do you care? Besides, if you hook up with anyone, it's not gonna be some greasy Jersey Shore looking guy. We get enough of that in the fucking city."
Rachel laughs, but supposes that's true. "Still."
She couldn't tell you why they're still dancing this closely together, so she takes her hands off Santana's arms. The girl doesn't stop holding Rachel's hips, though, doesn't move back. She can see Noah looking at them, then notices that Santana is watching him watch them.
"If you fuck anyone on this trip, I bet it's him."
"I'm not going to sleep with Noah," she says, for what feels like the hundredth time. Santana leans in closer, her breasts pressing against Rachel through their dresses. It's not unpleasant, but she's confused.
"You've said that before, and ended up on your back."
She's buzzed and bold and feels sexy, dancing like this, knowing men in the room are watching the two of them and jumping to conclusions. So she says, "Actually, I was on my hands and knees."
Santana's brow goes up and she looks down at their bodies before meeting Rachel's eyes again. "That's honestly really hot."
"I know." She stops moving, pulls back and announces that she needs another drink. Santana stays on the dance floor and still draws just as much attention as she did before.
"You two look fucking hot together," Noah tells her, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
She loves the inside little thing she has with herself when she says, "I know."
... ... ...
She's too hungover to get up for breakfast, and she'd hate to think of how badly she'd be feeling if she hadn't stopped drinking when she did, or danced as much as she had. She's miserable as it is, and doesn't want to do anything today, which is stupid, since this is her vacation and spending it inside a hotel room with the blinds drawn feels like a terrible idea.
Santana shows up at her door with a bag containing food, painkillers and Gatorade. Rachel's never been more grateful to the girl than she is right now. Santana crawls into bed with her, then Noah comes in and does the same, and the three of them eat and turn on a movie and all eventually fall asleep until some time around noon, when Rachel wakes up to Noah's arm slung over her stomach and Santana's hips pressed against hers as the girl lies on her side. Rachel's head is turned towards Santana's. She looks gorgeous all the time, obviously, but she just looks really pretty when she's sleeping. Rachel isn't used to seeing Santana without makeup on, but she can see that the girl doesn't even really need a lot of it.
Santana's hips rock slightly against Rachel, and she's realizing quickly that not only is she staring, but she's overheating, too, and she doesn't really think that has much to do with the fact that she's in Mexico, tucked into a bed with people on either side of her.
She turns her head to look at Noah and finds him already awake and looking at her. She wonders how long he watched her watching Santana. This whole thing is creepy.
He makes a terribly disgusting joke about getting them both into bed. Perhaps she's overcompensating when she shoves at him, but he gets her laughing and then Santana's awake, too. They're all still hurting, but they decide to actually venture out into the world.
Rachel tries to decide which bikini to wear. Noah's gone to his room to change, and Santana's still lying in Rachel's bed, which is mildly confusing.
"Which one?" Rachel asks, holding up four swimsuits in her hands.
"Red one."
"You would pick that one."
Santana props herself up on her elbows, which makes her breasts strain against the thin cotton of the white tank top she's not wearing anything underneath. "I like red."
"I know you do," Rachel says, and takes the red bikini into the bathroom so she can change.
If she's not mistaken, Santana checks her out right before she slips out of the room so she can go to her own.
... ... ...
None of them can handle another night like last night right now, but Noah hangs out by the pool after dinner because he found a woman he likes the looks of and has struck up a conversation with. Santana says she found this really neat place on the west side of the resort and asks Rachel if she wants to check it out. She really can't think of a reason not to go.
It's a little cove with a sandy beach that isn't crawling with people, not at this time of night, anyway. There are hammocks hanging from the trees and there's plenty of shade. Rachel drops her towel and her things and the girls smile at one another, because this is about the most relaxing thing they've done since they woke up today.
She's gotten used to walking around in her bathing suit and nothing more, and she thinks it's interesting that it's only taken her a few days to get so comfortable. But being around two people as confident in their looks as Noah and Santana, it's hard not to follow in their footsteps. She knows she's attractive, anyway, and she works hard for her body. If she can't show it off on vacation, she can't show it off anywhere. That doesn't make sense, but she doesn't care.
They each find a hammock to claim as their own, and Rachel makes what is evidently a mistake and asks Santana why she's not finding someone to take to her room later like Noah obviously is.
"I'm not all about sex."
"No, I know that," Rachel backtracks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you were."
"I mean, I wouldn't mind getting fucked, but it's not like that's my priority here," Santana says. She's not looking at Rachel.
"I'm sorry, Santana." Rachel is sincere. Santana glances at her. "I shouldn't have..."
"It's okay. I'm just not gonna have sex just for the sake of having it. I don't do that anymore."
"Okay."
Rachel feels like she's crossed a line without even knowing, and that Santana is upset with her, but they lie there in silence for a few minutes, until Santana gets up and starts walking towards the sand. Rachel watches her go, watches the way her hips sway and her thighs flex and the ties of her bikini sit between her shoulder blades. The sun's going down, and Rachel grabs her camera, gets a few photos of Santana backlit against an orange and pink sky. It's not her being voyeuristic, she just thinks the girl might like to have them. She looks kind of beautiful.
Rachel gets up and follows Santana out to where she's ankle-deep in the water.
"Please don't be mad at me," she says once they're side by side.
"I'm not mad at you." Santana laughs lightly. "I mean, with our history and whatever, it kind of makes sense for you to just assume I'd fuck around more than I do." Rachel has no idea what to say to that, so she keeps her mouth closed. "But you don't really know me that well, Rachel."
It hits her a little harder than she expects and she nods her head. "You're right."
"I don't really know you all that well, either. As far as I know, you've been with two dudes in the entire time I've known you." Rachel doesn't really mean to laugh, but Santana just smiles at her. "So, more than that?"
"A few."
They stand there in the water, side by side with their toes digging into wet sand. Rachel puts her hands on her hips and her elbow brushes against Santana.
"Fuck, it's beautiful here," the girl says.
Rachel likes the awed quality to Santana's voice a little too much to ruin that statement by responding to it at all.
She looks down at their feet, different colours of pink polish on their toes, and then her eyes travel up Santana's legs, over the navy blue of her bikini bottoms, her flat stomach and her breasts, and then up to her face. The light plays off her skin like she's meant to be here, and Rachel's cheeks burn with her realization.
She is attracted to Santana.
... ... ...
Noah signed them up for an all day hike, and Rachel's really excited for it. Not that she hasn't loved the things they've done so far, but she's looking forward to getting away from the resort, and when she looked this hike up online, the pictures were breathtaking. They meet early for breakfast and catch the bus at 8:15, to take them to the starting point of the hike. They're all dressed for the day, each of them with a small backpack and plenty of water, and she and Noah get Santana to admit she's kind of excited for this, too.
The trail is wide enough that they can walk side-by-side for most of it, along this little river. There's a group of about 15 of them, with their guide naming species of plants and birds and the occasional insect and pretty butterflies. One of them lands on Santana's hand, and Rachel has a hard time deciding what's prettier: The shade of the butterfly's wings, or the smile on Santana's face. Noah has the good sense to snap a photo.
They're all in good shape, better than some of the people in their group, but even Rachel's calves begin to burn a little on the upward hike over uneven terrain. The guide leads them through the jungle, tells them it's not far to the end point, before they'll head back, walking another trail back to where they started out.
They hear the rushing of the water five minutes before they come upon the waterfall, at least fifty feet tall and sending clear blue water down into a deep pool below. They stand on rocks in front of it, looking upward, and Noah has to raise his voice slightly when he tells them how fucking awesome this is.
"Can we go in?" Santana asks the guide. He just laughs and nods his head, and she's already pulling off her top.
Rachel doesn't honestly think she'll ever get an experience like this again in her lifetime, so she strips down, too, to the bathing suit she's got on underneath her clothes, and follows Santana into the water. Noah comes next, and then other members of their group join in.
Santana looks incredibly beautiful floating on her back with the waterfall in the background.
"She's happy here, huh?" Noah says, smiling as they tread water and watch the girl. "Her family's Puerto Rican, but like, this is still her place. I think her great-great-grandmother was from Mexico or something."
Rachel doesn't know about that, but she wants to.
She's never been attracted to a woman before in her life, so this is all very new to her, and she doesn't know what, exactly, she's supposed to do with it. She doesn't know if she even wants to do anything. Probably not. Maybe it's this thing Noah is referring to, that Santana seems a little different here than she does in New York, or than she ever has.
She's not going to act on this. It's a stupid, silly attraction to someone who is physically appealing to just about everyone who's ever looked at her. Rachel's getting to know Santana just that little bit better than she ever has, and that likely plays into these ridiculous feelings. She's always been the kind of girl who became more and more attracted to people the more she got to know them. Look at Finn. Noah. Jesse. Blaine.
On the way back, Rachel steps on a rock that turns and threatens to have her ankle rolling awkwardly, only she's supported by a hand around her waist, pulling her aside. She stumbles a little bit and Santana gives her a look as if to ask if she's okay. Santana's fingertips graze Rachel's breast as she slides her hand away, and all Rachel can do is nod. Her throat feels tight and something simmers at the base of her spine as Santana takes a few steps away from her again.
The bus ride back to the hotel feels shorter than it is, and she sits on one seat while Santana and Noah sit together, and she looks out the window at pretty much nothing - well, she doesn't notice much. When they get to their rooms, they're all in agreement that they need naps. They could do it like they did yesterday morning - they should all be comfortable with that - but when Noah suggests it (and not even in a roguish way) Rachel says she'd prefer to be alone. Santana looks at her strangely but says nothing.
Rachel feels like she's going to cry.
... ... ...
A knock at her door wakes her, so she answers and finds Noah on the other side, looking at her like he's worried. "You okay?"
She gently wipes the sleep from her eye and nods. "Yeah."
He tilts his head like he doesn't believe her. "You were a little weird when we got back."
"I was tired."
"Okay, but you're still being weird now."
"I just woke up." That puts a smile onto his face, and hopefully an end to his questions.
"Listen, Santana found out about this like, actual Latin club with a live band and stuff." He grins when she smiles. "You in?"
"Obviously," she answers quickly. He's standing there at her door and she knows it'll take him exponentially less time to get ready than it will her. "Help me pick a dress?"
It's something of a test for herself. Most of the time she doesn't want to sleep with Noah, but that doesn't mean he's not one of the most attractive men she's ever seen. It doesn't mean that she doesn't consider it, on occasion, when he all but propositions her, or makes it very clear that she turns him on. A part of her likes knowing she could have him. She wonders if she could prove Santana right and sleep with him on this trip.
He chooses the dress she bought that day with Santana, and she's glad, because it'll be great for dancing in. She knows a little Latin ballroom and it's not like you can do it in anything short and tight. She'll pull on the tight little dance shorts she brought just for this reason underneath to keep from exposing herself. She's a little excited by the prospect of doing a proper salsa with someone who knows how to lead her.
Noah lies on her bed while she showers, and she comes out after with her hair dripping wet and a towel around her body. He wets his lips a little and looks her up and down. She sets her panties on the bed, because no, she honestly does not have much to hide from him. She's not trying to tease him and doesn't want to come off like she is, but she needs him to say something, anything, suggestive to see what her body's reaction is to it.
His hand grabs her panties off the bed like she suspected it might do, and he holds them up, his fingers in either side so they're stretched between his hands. They're nothing incredibly scandalous, just black lace boyshorts with a tiny pink bow on the front.
"These're fuckin' hot."
"Are they?"
He grins at her, spreads his thighs apart a little further, and sets his hand - still holding her panties - over the front of his pants as he's known to do. She feels something swirl low in her belly.
"Yeah," he answers. "But you shouldn't wear 'em."
"Oh, really," she laughs, grabs them back from him, careful not to touch more of him than she intends to. "You'd like me to flash the entire club?"
Noah scoffs and shifts where he's sitting. "Fuck the club. We could stay here. You're already practically naked."
"I want to go." Noah sits up and wraps his hands around her thighs just below the bottom of her towel. She's completely naked underneath, obviously, and one gentle tug by his hand would have her bare in front of him. There's a part of her that wants it. "Noah."
"Third time's a charm, right?" he says, glancing up at her. She feels his thumbs moving against her skin at the front of her thighs.
"The first two times were good enough."
"Good enough?" he asks, incredulous. His hands slide up higher, settle onto her ass. She doesn't stop him. She doesn't want to. Not yet. "They were better than good enough."
"You know what I meant," she says, voice thready, weak, like she's distracted and turned on. If he moved his hand just the slightest bit, he'd find out just how turned on she is.
"Are you saying no?"
She nods. That's misleading. "Yes, I'm saying no."
He sighs like he's annoyed, but he's still smiling, so he can't be. He stands and kisses her once, quickly, pats her on the behind and tells her they're leaving in an hour and grabbing dinner at the club because they serve authentic Mexican.
Rachel is aroused as she does her makeup, can't stop thinking about his hands and the things he can do, and as she tries to get the pulsing between her legs to subside, she begins thinking about Santana. Smooth skin, small hands, breasts, and curves, and dark hair. Finally she has to turn on some ridiculous television show to distract her from thinking about her friends fucking her. She's attracted to both of them. One, at the moment, more than the other.
And Santana's never even really touched her.