Pairing: ProPunk/Sarah x Rachel
POV: Sarah Manning
Rating: M
Word Count: 2553
Summary: Summer camp AU inspired by sharkodactyl's shenanigans. Sarah deals with her feelings with a bottle in her cabin when she's confronted by the source of her problems (Rachel) and things… escalate.
That Bitch.
Throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind me it creaks noisily I stumble into the cabin. Who the hell does she think she is anyways. Crumbling in front of my small, creaking twin bed I reach back through several duffel bags as tears begin to well over my eyes. I brush them away hastily with the back of my hand and then see the drawstring bag tucked away in the back. I reach for it and take it out, ripping out ratty clothes from it and my hands reach the bottle, and I do not hesitate before placing it next to my knees. I place the clothes back in the bag and my hand meets a cold metal. Curling my hands around it and pulling it out I remember the tin of weed. I stoke my thumb around the circular tin before I put it back in the bag and push everything back under my bed, turn and lean up against the bed frame, and remain on the floor.
My right hand reaches out for the bottle of vodka without looking, finds it and pulls the nearly full bottle into my lap. I take off the top carelessly and it rolls across the floor but at this point I'm settled in too much to go and retrieve it.
I take several sips before I feel the burning and take the bottle from my lips. Pretentious asshole. I take another sip. Her perfect fucking bob and her proper little walk and her lists and her orderly take to everything and her politics and always thinking she's right and her condescending tone of voice. Another sip. Does she think she can just say whatever she wants? Who gave her the right to be such a bitch? I wish she would just leave the camp and go intern for some corporate connection her father could undoubtedly set her up with. I wish she would get out of my space. Camp was always a place where I could be free and bond with the kids who I adore and she's ruining it. More tears run down my face and fall onto my lap freely. Another several sips. I don't know why she bothers me as much as she does. Sarah, why can't you just ignore her? I've always been so stupid. Why does it bother me to see the male counselors hit on her? I'm not - no. Its not even a possibility. I'm not gay. Another sip.
I hunch over and breathless sobs rake over my body. Why does she bother me so much why can't I just forget about Rachel Queen Bitch Duncan why can't I get her out of my head. What the hell is wrong with me. I just want her to leave I want her to go away I never want to see her again I want things to be normal I want her to - fuck. I feel out of control and afraid and its all because of that asshole. I straighten up my body after being hunched over crying for several minutes go to take another sip but I miss my mouth and spill vodka on my camp shirt. I curse under my breath and take off the shirt, leaving me in a tank top. I reach for the bottle again and make sure the liquor makes it into my mouth before I set it aside and curl down onto the floor and hug my knees.
The tears have stopped and yet I still feel like shit. My stomach is wobbly, my head pounds, and I stare at the wood floor of the cabin for what seems like an eternity before my eyelids are far too heavy to keep open and I allow them to close.
I hear the creak of the door opening and I twitch. Fuck I don't even remember falling asleep. I must not have been out for long; twenty minutes max. I don't have any time to react before I hear a tentative "Sarah?" from the doorway. Shit.
I hear the little lock on the door slide shut and light footsteps pad into the cabin. Shit is the liquor still out where do I go I can't hide its dark maybe she won't see me why is she here. Footsteps go straight towards me and stop and I hear her rustle and I assume she squatted down next to me.
I could hear her sigh and let out a soft "Sarah, why are you doing this."
"Go away."
"I refuse to leave until you at least look at me."
I open my eyes and shit is she perfect; but I don't dare let my thoughts show. I scowl at her and try to sit up but I waver in my attempt; suddenly her soft hands find me and she tuts disapprovingly as she helps me up.
"S'm fine, alight? I don't need your help, asshole." Feeling my words slurring as I speak Rachel just shakes her head at me. She goes from her squat to sitting in front of me and leans in to force eye contact.
"I'll ignore that. But tell me what your problem is Sarah Manning. What did I do to you?" Her voice has a constant condescending air to it that makes me want to punch her in the face.
"I don't need to explain myself to you. We hate each other, that's just the way it is." I snark looking at her directly she leans in close and narrows her eyes and I can smell her. Fire wood, and chocolate, and perfume, and a perfect hint of sweat and she's so sexy an- no.
"Ah, but both of us know that that isn't exactly true."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't try to play me. I can see right through you. I can see the way you look at me. Its not the hatred you claim it is, no no. I've dealt with girls hating and its not the same look. Its more than you'd like to admit to even yourself. And I'm never wrong." I can feel my heart pounding.
"No, fuck you. You don't scare me and I'm no lesbian, alright. Just because you can order everyone else around and get what you want, don't expect the same from me."
"Oh, you're right about one thing. I do always get what I want. And what I want right now is you." Her face was already six inches from mine, but she leaned closer until our faces were just barely touching and her hand goes down to my inner thigh and her other hand rests on my hip and I can feel my breathing getting heavy. We're making direct, intense eye contact for what feels like an eternity and I can feel her warm breath on my face, am surrounded by her scent. I hate myself for it, but I'm exhilarated. My right hand clutches the back of her hair and I tug on it bringing her head back, and then forwards a bit so her proximity to me was still unchanged.
"I still fucking hate you." I growl as I pull her hair tighter and press our lips firmly together.
We clash together in an aggressive mix of hair and nails and lips and panting. Rachel moves forward and straddles me, grinding her hips into mine, and her rhythm is decided by how hard I pull on her hair. Her hands are everywhere on me; under my tank top, pressing into my chest and raking her nails hard into my back causing an insane pressure that I again hate myself for loving. We stay in that position, frantically trying to gain friction before Rachel breaks the kiss and looks at me.
"Sarah Manning I'm going to fuck you now." She grins. I lift her weight off my body and lean up and onto my bed, sitting on the edge. Rachel stands up, removes herself of all clothing, and I find myself breathless. I do the same and can feel Rachel staring at me as I do so. "Lay down." She orders, and I'm quick to oblige as I'm writhing in anticipation.
The half naked girl in front of me takes the belt out of her pants swiftly and picks up my fallen tank top. Her head mentions for me to move up on the bed and I know what she's doing. I place my hands over my head, resting at the head board and Rachel straddles me again and secures them at an uncomfortable tightness against the wood, and yet I can't complain.
"For the record, I still don't like you." I let out even though we both know its a lie.
Rachel 'hmm's and traces a light hand against my bare stomach, twirling at my hips, rakes her nails down my inner thigh, and drags a single finger through my slit and we both feel her collision with my sex and I inhale sharply. "Then why are you so wet?" She poses and I don't have an answer for her and so she just smiles and licks her finger maintaining full eye contact.
"Base rules for this little arrangement; let's agree not to lie to each other." The words are let out in a low, sultry tone.
Rachel leans down and spreads her body out directly parallel to mine and lets our faces hover for a few seconds before she kisses me again. Her hands run over my breasts, cup and put pressure on them before raking nails down my stomach before letting it rest on my hip. Fingers press into my hip bones and her other hand twirls and pinches at my nipple as she bites my lower lip; I can't help the moan that flows into Rachel's mouth. I can feel her smile against my lips. Impatient with her teasing I buck my hips into her trying to gain a release and she tuts disapprovingly again, but begins to kiss her way down my taut stomach, my back arches in anticipation, my mind free of previous gay panic. Everything is her, nothing else exists. Nothing else matters. All I can focus on is her soft lips that have reached my inner thigh.
She bites at the sensitive skin on the inside of my legs and curls two fingers upwards along the length of my slit. I bite my lip to keep from making noise as her fingers reach my clit, hover there for a moment, then back down in long motions, massaging. Its teasing and cruel. I writhe and she looks up from between my legs, glares, and slows down. I'm not surprised as I always knew Rachel had a thing for control, and if I wasn't so turned on I might have been annoyed. I 'behave' for a few minutes and suddenly I feel two digits inside me, curled in, taken out and straightened, and back inside curled again, and I gasp. Rachel's mouth is on my clit pulling it between her lips and licking circles. I moan her name and she laughs, applying more pressure and pushing her fingers in deeper. She's going at a painfully slow pace and my core is craving more but I know that release will come faster if I do as she wants. I want to press her head into my cunt, to knot my hands in her hair, to feel her, but instead I'm naked, tied up, and vulnerable. The fact that this girl who has a reputation for being so manipulative has me in a position in which I would do anything for her and completely at her disposal would make me laugh if I wasn't so lost in her motions. She gets off on the power, and that I'm sure of.
All at once gentle foreplay is over. Rachel's fingers pick up pace, her mouth gains intensity, and I can feel myself coming undone. I have to remind myself that its okay to lose myself in the pleasure, to let go, to allow myself to stop obsessing over the fact that Rachel Duncan is going down on me (?) and just enjoy her work. With every aspect of her life, Rachel is deliberate, exact, and purposeful. Sex is no exception, apparently. Her mouth moves up from my clit to bite my thigh and kiss other parts of my body as her fingers continue to pump; her other hand is under my thigh pressing her fingertips hard into my skin. Rachel expertly touches parts of my body that I didn't even know I liked, expertly playing my body. The thought alone of having her fuck me could easily get me off, and every time I open my eyes and see her head bobbing between my legs I feel my heat increase exponentially. I rise, and rise, and rise, and feel myself reach a place of no return, as well as an urgent need.
"Fuck, Rachel, I-" I'm cut off by her movements on my clit and am unable to finish my sentence in any way other than a groan. I assume she understands what I'm trying to communicate.
Her eyes flick up and she looks up at me, and says into my sex " Hmm. Cum for me".
I tug at the bindings at my hands and writhe, back arching. My breathing comes out in fast strained pants as she continues to work her mouth on my cunt. I don't need much more prompting as I feel my ends come undone. My hands ball into fists and my mouth opens agape and I think I probably screamed her name but it might have been in my head, I'm not really sure. Rachel continues through my orgasm and slowly lets me down. Eventually she stops and bring herself up from between my legs, climbs up closer and brings her lips to mine. I can taste myself on her and I struggle to believe that this is reality. Rachel slides to the headboard and unties my hands and comes back to my face to kiss me again. I let my hands explore her naked back and stroke the side of her jaw as we kiss. How long we stayed there in my bed, changing the energy from such intensity to calm and careful.
We're abruptly taken out of our bubble by a pounding knock on the door and footsteps of what I assume are campers coming back from the campfire. Shit. We look at each other exasperated, trying to gain the motivation to go back to responsibility and clothes.
Rachel pecks my lips before she flies over me and onto the floor retrieving her clothes. We dress in record time which in it of itself is a feat. After hastily putting ourselves together Rachel goes to leave but first turns around and laces her fingers in with mine. We meet eyes for what seems like an eternity but don't say anything, mainly because neither of us have the capacity to say anything at the moment. With this we have the unspoken knowledge that we're going to have to discuss what happened further, but not right now. She squeezes my hand, kisses me once more, and I watch her unlock and leave the cabin. I find myself wishing I could follow her. Then I remember how much of the summer is left and I smile.
Flopping down onto my creaky, old bed I stare at the ceiling and wonder what the ever-loving fuck I've gotten myself into.