Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/424055.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Santana_Lopez/Noah_Puckerman
  Series:
      Part 3 of How_Does_It_Feel_To_Break_And_Bend'verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-05 Words: 726
****** Shut Up And Drive (Far Away) ******
by fall_into_life
Summary
     Puck is right there with her, but Santana is a million miles away.
Notes
     Tentatively set in Senior year.
Her hips roll forward, back. She lifts up just enough to expose him, then
slowly comes back down.
Santana’s eyes are dark. They zone in on his, and in the darkness it looks as
though she isn’t blinking. Dark brown becomes one shade away from the hair that
cascades down her shoulders and almost covers her breasts. Her gaze is trained
on him, but her mind is two blocks south, in bed with eyes the color of the sky
and a halo of blonde hair.
Her nails trail down his chest, trace the contours earned from thousands of
crunches, and soften into fingertips when she reaches where they’re joined.
They slide up to a place she won’t let him taste, and she circles, predatory.
She doesn’t speak. Sometimes she does, sometimes she laughs in octaves of
whiskey and cigarettes, but tonight she is silent, letting the sounds of slick
skin gliding over skin speak into the silence of his room. Her lips are
slightly parted, though she doesn’t intend to make a sound and her breathing is
unlabored. The scent of cheap beer and cheaper cigarettes drifts down every
time she exhales, and he breathes her in.
Her skin is silken against his, the slight sheen of his sweat and her sweat
gleaming in the streetlight filtering in from his window. Toned, tanned thighs
bracket his, and the hand not between them rests on his chest. He feels her
nails absently tap against his skin, almost ticklish in their evanescent
impact.
Puck lifts his hands, settles them on her slim waist. The muscles underneath
twitch, a miniscule flinch he wasn’t meant to notice, but he knows the rhythms
of her body and knows the bass of his heart isn’t the alto she wants to wake up
next to.
He angles his hips, presses up, tries to make it good for her. Her breath
hitches in what could be a moan but he knows is a sob, and he can’t take this
illusion any more.
Santana comes back to herself when he pulls her off of him and sits up. Her
eyes are hooded, her hand automatically reaching up to cover herself, and it’s
all he needs to know he did the right thing.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” He demands. He does care, and her guarded
face gives him an opening that the old Santana, the one who would have spit
expletives and insults at him for pushing her away, would never have let
happen.
Anger fills the silence between them. His anger, because girls that don’t
really want him but are trying to settle for him is starting to get really
fucking old. First Quinn, then Santana, then Rachel, then Mercedes, then
Santana again. He might not want that Highlander crap that Quinn is always
reading, but he’s not someone to settle for. He’s his own goddamn person, not a
shadow of Finn, or Britt, or whoever the fuck Quinn was thinking of.
She curls in on herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and hiding her face.
“I don’t know.”
It’s the first time she’s ever been completely honest with him, and Puck
teeters on the border of his two selves. The person he used to be would snarl,
“then figure it the fuck out,” and kick her out before digging out his little
black book, but the man he’s trying to be would be supportive, if a little
resentful.
Right now, though, he’s not really either of those people, but at some point
in-between, so he reaches for her instead.
She flinches, and he snorts, “calm the fuck down, Lopez, it’s not what you
think,” before pulling her in completely. It works, for some reason, and she
stays in his arms, silently shaking, until well after his erection has faded
and the sweat has cooled from their bodies.
It’ll never be sexual between them again, he knows, but he wants to be capable
of having girls in his life that he isn’t trying to have sex with, and Santana
is a good start.
He sends her home the same way she showed up; with a kiss that doesn’t mean
what it would if she were kissing Brittany, and a slap to the ass she wouldn’t
tolerate from anyone else.
It still feels like settling, but for once, he’s okay with that.
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