In books' written pages (puck/rachel)
Aug. 23rd, 2010 11:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ms_beccaTitle: (half of my life’s) in books’ written pages
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Rachel, mentions of Puck/Santana, Puck/Quinn
Word count: ~ 7700
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: He can’t really remember why he started keeping it. It’s not like he’s a stalker or something. He just wanted a record.
A/N: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
auchic, fuzzy_paint, cruiscin_lan, and une_fille, for moral support, being awesome friends, super supporters, betas, and enablers. You are all incredibly wonderful and I am lucky (so so so lucky) to have your help!
Written for the community in the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
gleefics Hot Summer Nights Exchange.
He calls it his BlackBerry, the journal he keeps under his mattress.
Because it’s black. And it’s about Berry. Get it?
He can’t really remember why he started keeping it. It’s not like he’s a stalker or something. He just wanted a record.
September 9th, 2008: Sour Apple and Coke. $0.99. Locker 10:15 a.m.
September 12th, 2008: Coke. $0.99. Mid-hallway 12:45 p.m.
September 15th, 2008: Blue Raspberry. $0.99. Outside of school 7:55 a.m.
A list of dates, slushie flavours, costs and kill zones.
He’s pretty proud of himself when November rolls along and he’s managed to slushie her thirty eight times using a different flavour combination every time.
It’s not that he’s actually got anything against her. Sure, she’s a bitch and all, but if Quinn hadn’t dared him to do it that first day of freshman year, he probably wouldn’t have looked at her twice.
It’s not about Quinn anymore. She’s a hot piece of ass, but even she’s not worth the potential suspension or worse, getting kicked out of athletics.
It’s about other things. Like the laughs he gets from the other students. And the friends he’s made because he’s a totally bad ass motherfucker. He’s popular because of the slushies. Matt Parker, senior right tackle, finds him in the hall and claps him on the back after the cranberry/sour apple combo of September 21st. He makes varsity football even though he wasn’t around for the pre-season because Rick, Nate and Steve, all juniors, had totally stood up and told Tanaka how fucking fearless he was.
And Puck, the super decent guy he is, took his best friend on the ride with him.
Then he’d totally hooked up with Santana Lopez and her friend Brittany because Puck wasn’t just an athlete, he was also a total stud. Too bad it wasn't at the same time. He’s still working on that one.
None of that would have been possible without Berry.
-
He tries to be really inventive with his schedule, keeping track of locations so his sneak attacks, which are by far the most epic, don’t become totally predictable.
This one is going to be another awesome one, definitely a faceshot. And it’s going to be ridiculous because this time he’s got grape. That shit stains so bad. He takes a little sip before ditching the straw into the nearest garbage can. She’s at her locker, and yeah, he’s hit her there before, but today is going to be so much better because of the grape and because it’s his fucking birthday. And what he really wants is a chance to see through that nice thin white shirt she’s wearing. Halls are nice and crowded. It’s gonna be so fucking perfect.
He’s three steps away from her when he calls out, “Yo, Berry!”
She looks up at him (girl has huge brown eyes – they take up at least half of her face) and he sees the fear. Every time it’s a fucking rush. He blinks against the adrenaline pumping his heart faster and tosses.
The ice crystals hit her face and shirt in this weird and sticky spatter pattern, like blood on C.S.I. or Call of Duty, spraying along the wall in splotches.
He stands there in front of her for a beat, then two, eyes following the trail of ice and colouring until he can make out the clean white cut of her bra beneath the shirt. Berry would go for that traditional super coverage shit, totally lame. Whatever, it’s still awesome.
Her hand comes up to swipe the slushie out her eyes and then something unexpected happens.
It’s like someone pressed the slo-mo button on the remote of Puck’s Life: The Greatest Story Ever Told. He totally stares, but it’s this moment of topsy-turvy insanity. Her tongue pokes out between her lips, licking a line of purple ice into her mouth. From where he stands, still more than arms length away from her, he can almost feel - or at least imagine - the slow wet slide of her tongue against her cheek. The sugar and cold mixed together so perfectly, it would almost be refreshing once it hit her mouth. Or his. Fuck, his pants are tight. He wants nothing more than to help her clean off that tiny body of hers, preferably with his mouth and nothing else.
“Whoops,” he says when the action returns to normal speed. He walks past her, tossing the empty cup into her locker before continuing on his way, a huge smile plastered on his mouth.
August 29th, 2009: Grape. $1.19 (fucking inflation). Locker. White shirt. Full Coverage white bra with lace detailing. Pink and yellow plaid skirt. Yellow Knee High Socks.She tongued for a taste.
-
Quinn gets pregnant and he has to join the fucking Glee Club just to get her to look at him.
-
He stops throwing slushies at Rachel in early October. He’ll say that it’s because it’s been done, but really he can’t afford to be wasting that much money on sugar and ice. He needs to save up for his baby momma.
And maybe it has a little something to do with them being on the same team, no matter how fucking lame that team might be.
-
He starts to write about the stupid shit she does because he hadn’t started this journal for nothing. And it’s kinda funny to reread some of her crazy.
October 1st, 2009: Storms out of Glee Club in that super short plaid skirt, wailing about inequal-ness or something. Funny shit.
October 10th, 2009: Comes back to Glee with something she calls “humility.” Can’t figure that one out. Sang well though.
October 30th, 2009: Caught making ‘fuck me’ eyes with Finn during practice. Don’t know how such an awkward motherfucker gets so much play. Boy has no moves.
November 4th, 2009: Ridiculous outfit again. Glad that Figgins has his head up his ass about those short skirts. Caught a flash of yellow cotton panty when she crouched down in English.
It’s sometime around the fourth time Quinn tells him in her very proper Christian way to fuck off that he decides enough is enough. He’s danced around this thing with Berry for a while. She’s totally crazy, but she’s hot, and the cougars just aren’t doing it for him anymore. Besides it’s totally Ohio winter. No more pools to clean and it’s harder to make up excuses for booty calls when there’s a foot of snow on the ground.
Besides it’s not like she’s getting any love from anyone. Sure, she makes the goo-goo eyes at Finn all the time, but the dude is never gonna leave Quinn. Ever. Maybe she just needs some other options or something.
So he comes up with a plan, because blue balls are just not something that IronPuck is equipped to deal with.
November 12th, 2009: Put operation ‘Seduce Berry’ into effect.
-
It starts simple. With a slushie.
Then asking her to help him with mash-ups.
Then a make out session on her bed. That preview he got of her tongue in the hallway really wasn’t anything compared to the feel of it against his own. She tastes like mint and raspberries and she just keeps smiling at him before covering his lips with hers over and over.
It’s all pretty awesome, except for the fact that she eventually pulls away.
It’s okay. He totally got to cop a feel. Now he knows that she owns a lacy bra which totally translates into her wanting to have sex really bad. All of this is in the win category.
Besides, if he got to second with super virginal Rachel and they weren’t even on a date, imagine what he could accomplish if he actually tried.
Still, he has to pull some pretty impressive moves to get her to stay in the room, cause she’s running, skittish, and there’s no way he’s giving up on her after that taste.
“So you wanna work on the mash-up ideas now?” He says it like he’s totally not imagining the little strips of fabric she’s got on under her clothes. Says it like he’s really interested in this stupid mash-up thing and whatever. And she goes for it. Her face does that sweet little melty thing where it changes from super uptight to almost relaxed because Rachel Berry is in her element whenever there’s music involved. He should probably make a note of that somewhere.
November 16th, 2009: Stage one complete. Slushie. Mash-up offer. Berry’s lips taste like berries. She is also very talented with her tongue. Lace bra. Second base.
-
When he finally asks her out, on a date - a REAL one, not a sex date - he’s in her room again. On her bed again. Underneath her again.
It’s weird though, because as soon as the words come out of his mouth she slides off him. Her eyebrows move together like they do when she’s totally pissed or trying to hit that note that even dogs can’t hear it’s so freaking high. More importantly it means that for these few moments, he’s not getting any sugar.
Whatever, she looks really concerned. And he just knows that whatever she says he isn’t going to like.
“Noah,” she starts quietly. “I don’t know that we should see each other anymore.”
We’re not seeing each other now. He catches the words before they slip out because he’s actually pretty smart when it comes to women. Sometimes.
“What do you mean, babe?” He really needs to touch her. He’s almost one hundred percent sure that she’s going to stop this little arrangement they have going because of Finn – yeah, he’s totally noticed. You’d have to be blind to miss it – and that is totally not okay. Finn is not going to cockblock him again. Besides, when he touches her she can’t seem to think straight. He knows.
“I just – I don’t see us working out,” she says, and even though he’s totally prepared himself for those words they still strike him full-on.
What. The. Fuck? He really can’t do anything but stare at her dumbfounded until she continues.
“I just feel like we both want different things. And the safest and wisest course of action here is for us to just end this before it really turns into anything and someone gets hurt.”
“Shit, Berry.”
“I’d prefer it if you could keep your language civil, Noah.” She looks at him hard and he feels a little bit like that time his mom caught him stealing cookies from that stupid Garfield Cookie jar they kept on the counter. “I just don’t want to start something with you that will clearly only end in heartbreak for me.”
She pulls her gaze away from him at the last second and he wonders if she knows that she’s lying to herself and to him. She’s already heartbroken. That’s why she’s here with him. He knows the score. He gets that she’s fucking over the moon for Hudson, but Finn can’t deliver. He’ll always be the boy she can’t have. Which is something he understands better than he really wants to admit at this point. Wanting someone he can’t have.
And with this thought comes a rare moment of clarity.
“I’m not him.” He says strongly. “I’m not him. I’m not this big, bumbling, socially retarded, awkward-as-fuck guy. I won’t sing you love songs, and I sure as shit won’t sit and braid your hair.” Surprise is all over her face at his words. “But I can give you things that he can’t. That he won’t. I can be here. I want to be here.”
“This isn’t about him.” She whispers. He feels unnaturally angry at her denial.
“The hell it’s not. We both know it is. But he’s not going to leave her. Not now. Not ever.” She turns her face from him again and this time he thinks she might be crying. Fuck. He hates it when chicks cry. Nine times out of ten they get all snotty and gross and it’s totally not hot at all.
“Look,” he says as he walks to the door. “The offer stands. You call me if you change your mind.” And with that he leaves.
-
He doesn’t know exactly what to write in the journal when he gets home. He’s sure that he doesn’t really want to mention that the only reason she’d want to be with him is because Finn is a giant douchebag. But he still feels like he should document it somehow.
He ends up writing the obvious.
November 21st, 2009: Heavy ‘n’ hot make-out session. Talked briefly about the Jolly Green Giant. May need to turn to plan B.
-
He’s tried to not think about her at all while he’s at school. ‘Tried’ being the operative word, but whatever. She’s just a chick and it’s not like she’s his only source of ass.
Well, she kinda was, but that was more because he wanted the challenge and less about other options not being available. There are other options now. Oh yes, there are.
Like Mindy, the new transfer from East Lima. Or Santana.
Okay, maybe not Santana, but she’s been weirdly possessive since their epic break up in the hallway. That shit is weird. Not that he minds or anything.
Maybe after he showers off the dirt and sweat from football, he’ll sext her. Her sexts are awesome.
Tanaka-San is being a complete dick about practice. To be honest, Puck is the best thing on the team and he’s so underrated. Finn gets all the attention. Finn gets all the praise. Finn gets everything, not that this is a surprise. That’s always been the way of things. Finn succeeds while Puck fucks up.
But today’s practice was really tough. Coach made him run laps for like no reason. Fucking stupid. So Puck is the last one to leave the locker room.
He’s just about to pull his phone out when he hears something, a sweet little “ehm ehm.” He turns around, and sure enough, Rachel is standing before him, with her little plaid skirt and her ridiculous white knee highs. Her sweater has cats on it, but he’s totally willing to overlook that if she’s here to tell him that she’s back in.
“Yeah?” He says before putting his phone (temporarily?) back in his pocket.
"I've been thinking about some of the things that we discussed earlier this week and I've come to the conclusion that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." The way she tucks the section of hair behind her ear is strangely erotic. Doesn't really help him understand what the hell she's saying to him.
"Ok. What does that even mean?" He reaches out to toy with the strand of hair she's just tried to fix.
"It means yes."
He leans close to her. Her shoulder touches the wall beside the change room, and he moves in so close he’s barely an inch away.
"Yes what?" He's smirking, but come on! What's he supposed to do? He's got her now. Can’t he have a little fun?
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.” It’s whispered under her breath but he hears it and feels it – the little stab in his chest, that’s quickly soothed away when her mouth meets his.
As far as kisses go, it’s definitely not as dirty as he’d like. But if he’s going to date Rachel Berry, he supposes there are concessions he’s going to have to make. Chaste PDAs will probably be one of them.
It doesn’t matter. He’s totally got the girl now.
She pulls away without involving her tongue at all. He’s a little disappointed but that quickly fades when she asks if he wants to come over to her place.
When they get there, she totally pounces on him.
If he’d known that getting Rachel to agree to date him would lead to under the shirt boob action, he’d have done it a lot earlier. Who cares that it’s over the bra. It’s still totally rockin’.
-
He doesn’t stop writing in his BlackBerry. But the stuff he writes now is much more detailed. It’s pretty great.
November 24th, 2009: Made it to second base for real today. Red panties, red lace bra, under the bra boob action. Score!
November 26th, 2009: Actually attended math class today. As a reward, B and I had a special session in the practice room. Under the skirt. So fucking wet. Still get hard thinking back on it now.
November 27th, 2009: She totally fucking sneak attacked me today at practice with that damn song “Underneath it all.” Wearing my favourite skirt and those Goddamn knee socks. Don’t know how everyone else in the room didn’t realize that she was singing to me. It was the hottest fucking thing ever. Had to go have some ‘special alone time’ in the locker room after practice.
-
They’ve been dating for a few months the first time she brings up sex. He’s brought it up a time or two before.
It sounds weird, but he actually kind of likes her. She’s a barrel of crazy, but she makes strange sense sometimes. She`s very talented, and not just with her mouth but also singing and stuff, too. It doesn’t hurt that when she’s singing those ridiculous love songs with Finn sometimes her eyes fall just a little bit behind and to the left (normally where he’s sitting). She’s totally hot for him all the time too. Puck knows that he’s totally ruined her for any other guy.
What? His tongue is amazing.
That night after winter break, when they’re sitting in her room watching a blow ‘em up movie because he got to choose and she says, “I think we should have sex,” he’s damn excited about it. It’s not like she hasn’t been getting him off in other ways. She totally has. And he’s taught her exactly what he likes. He’d never been so proud of her for being such a good student.
Still he’s a little unprepared for her to swing her leg over his and straddle his lap, because his attention is on Bruce Willis as he tries to save the world from another terrorist attack.
“Okay,” he says between kisses. He tries not to sound overly excited as her mouth covers his again, and she does that awesome thing where her tongue curls around his. She’s an amazing kisser. So amazing that every time she does it, she makes him want more. And more, and more, and more.
“That’s it? Just ‘okay?’” She says, staring down at him, her hair falling along his cheek. It tickles just a little bit, and he has to force himself to focus. This is a prime opportunity. Her dads aren’t home. Aren’t expected home until tomorrow actually, and they totally know that he’s over, too.
The thing is, they haven’t really talked about the elephant walking around between them, huge and unavoidable. Technically, two elephants really. One is expanding in the middle every day, and the other is just tall and awkward as fuck.
He thinks that maybe now is not the time. Really not the time at all. He really likes her and he knows that she likes him too.
He wants to punch Berry’s V-Card because he just knows that sex with her will be fantastic. And maybe because he has feelings for her. Shut up, he’s totally not a pussy.
“What did you expect me to say, B? I haven’t been chasing any other tail, there’s only you, and you’re offering up sex. Yes, please!” He smirks because he knows that deep inside she just loves it. When he talks dirty to her, she always gets hot. Then again, she’s got this thing for honesty too, and she has crazy honest radar. It’s like she just knows when he’s not being truthful about stuff. He loves it when those two worlds, the dirty and the honest, collide.
He moves his hand up under the hem of her skirt, gliding his thumb along the skin there until the rise and fall of her chest quickens. “Are you totally sure about this?” He asks her.
She moans, small and soft, so completely anti-Rachel Berry, and nods her head. He loves it, loves all the sounds she makes for him.
He walks two fingers up her thigh to brush along her panties – classic cotton today – before dragging them slowly down to her knee in parallel lines. She shifts closer to his hands, arching her hips harder onto his body. His thumbs trace lazy circles high on her leg. Then higher again, until his fingers latch onto the elastic waist and pull down. She stands so he’s able to pull her underwear completely off her body.
She settles back down, lining her body up to his before she presses down with her hands on either side of his shoulders. She slips her tongue along his lips until he parts them. God, she tastes good, all sugary lip gloss (not the sticky kind) and the iced tea she was drinking earlier. He loves it when she takes charge like she’s doing. He likes to believe he taught her some of that no-fear attitude towards kissing and other things.
His hands trail back up her legs before guiding her hips over his. His index traces the line where her thigh meets her torso until it slides between her legs along the slick skin.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that he should stop. He should. But he’s been sex-free since pool season ended and he started seeing Rachel. Three months, twenty three days and five hours since the last time his dick even saw pussy – and it hadn’t even been all that awesome.
But that’s totally not the point. Berry’s dry humping him like a champ right now, and she’s already said this is what she wants. So really, who is he to argue?
His decision has almost nothing to do with the thought of some other fucker taking the first ride on the Berry Express making him a little bit sick to his stomach. That other shithead would probably fuck it all up. Puck’s had some experience with virgins. It’s become a kind of speciality of his ever since Britt the night before freshman year. All of his Vs get off; he makes sure of it.
He moves his attention to her shirt, because this is only about her. None of those other girls matter right now. Thank God her shirt isn’t one of those ones with all the buttons. Small mercies, he thinks as he pulls up hard. She has to sit back on her knees and put her arms in the air for him to remove it completely. Her skin is flushed pink and for such a tiny thing she sure shows a lot of it. She’s beautiful. And she’s fucking hot. He really can’t help the blood that rushes straight to his cock. He totally can’t.
Her bra isn’t anything fancy, but he doesn’t mind. They’re boobs. He totally can’t complain. Plus they’re Rachel’s so they’re totally perky and rounded and awesome. He cups one of her boobs in his hand and smiles as her nipple hardens against the pink cotton. He pinches it through the fabric, rolling it softly between his thumb and index until she squirms on top of him. He really likes that she trusts him enough to let him do this. To let him touch her where no one else ever has.
(Sometimes she takes his breath away. But it’s nothing like that totally lame song from Top Gun. It’s like his chest is heavy and he physically can’t pull the air into his lungs. Most of the time it happens when she’s only in her underwear. But sometimes... sometimes he’ll see her in Glee and she’ll be looking down at her sheet music. Or she’ll be leaning over her textbook in Math Class. Or when she’s at her locker brushing her hair after gym class. Yeah, sometimes it happens then, too.)
“Did you know,” she says breathlessly, and he tries to snap his brain back to the moment, “that some women are capable of achieving orgasm through breast play alone?”
Yeah, he knows, but he’s never been with a woman who was willing to wait that long. Even Quinn had been really self-conscious about her boobs. Hardly let him play at all before she was demanding he get down to business.
Puck thinks that might be an overshare so he murmurs against her as his lips attack her other nipple. He licks at the cloth until it scratches his tongue, then he sends his mouth down to taste the salty skin just below. He slides his hands outside along the outside of her arms all the way to her shoulders. He hooks a finger under each strap and pulls his mouth away from her skin. She’s breathing heavily, and he swears he can hear her heart as it gallops in her chest. He doesn’t touch her anywhere but her bra straps for a moment. Just looks into her eyes, and for a second this whole thing isn’t about his dick, it’s about something else.
He’s totally hesitating because something has just occurred to him. And it wasn’t like a lightning flash or a bus or a train hitting him, it was just this realization. He could go on kissing her forever. He doesn’t really care about getting off. Sure it’d be nice and all, but it doesn’t matter. Sex isn’t a game here, or a play. If she asked him to stop right now, he would. He knows that she won’t ask him, but if she did. He’s pretty sure that means something. A big something.
He leans in close, brushing his nose against hers but keeping his hands where they are, unmoving. Her jaw loosens just a bit allowing her breath to pass through the gap. He feels it flutter softly along his mouth, hypnotic and so sweet.
Normally, this is the kind of stuff he doesn’t bother with. Not the foreplay, he’s pretty skilled at that, but the anticipation piece. Denying. He’s not so good at that. He’s definitely of the ‘instant gratification’ school of sexytimes. Normally. This is so not normal.
Something about this time and this girl is different.
He stays where he is, watching her eyes as they heat to a soft liquid brown. How does she do that? It makes her even more beautiful.
Something explodes on the T.V. startling both of them until Puck reaches around and uses the remote to turn off the movie. The quiet just makes everything seem so much more real. There’s nothing else, no other distractions now, just his body and hers and his mind and hers.
“I don’t know what to...” she starts. He moves his finger to her lips and she stops.
“Rachel, are you really sure about this?” He asks. “That’s the only thing that matters here.”
She nods again, but it’s not enough. She needs to say it. She needs to want him for him, not status, not because she’s drunk, or because he’s a hot piece of ass. He totally is, but that can’t be the reason this time. “You have to say it.” His finger traces her lower lip. He watches her tongue dart out and chase after it. Like an automatic response she can’t control. He wants that for her so badly.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “I’m sure.”
Ordinarily this would be the moment where he’d hurry things up, lose his clothes and hers. Then he’d kiss her and his cock would be inside her like a fucking shot. But he likes this feeling right now, the feeling that anything could happen between them. He wants her bad. Wants to claim her as his so no one else will ever be able to. He wants to ruin her for anyone else. Wants any of her relationships in the future to be tainted by how completely badass he is. He can’t stand the thought of her being with someone else.
And he doesn’t want it to be quick.
He kisses her then, but softly against the corner of her mouth. Her hands grip the bottom of his shirt and start to tug but he wants to go slow and he’s pretty sure once they’re both half naked things will not go that way. He pushes her hands away before kissing her mouth more fully, slipping his tongue along the smooth line of her teeth before grazing against hers. He pushes one strap down her shoulder, then the other, before he creeps his fingers along the line of her rib cage to the clasp at the back. He uses both hands to unlatch it and pull the fabric away.
Her skin is soft everywhere his hands touch and from the way it ripples under him he knows that she’s enjoying the anticipation just as much as he is. His blood is pumping hard but he keeps his fingers light as they drag up to her boobs. He cups them, circling his thumbs around her nipples but not touching them. Her mouth presses against his harder, her lips open wider, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He feels the vibrations of her moan against his lips, teeth, tongue.
He doesn’t stop to wonder why he’s never done this before. The answers all seem much too obvious.
“Why won’t you – “ she says as he pulls his mouth away from hers, pressing wet kisses at the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, below her ear. He bites, licks, and kisses his way down her neck until he finds that spot near the base. He licks quietly, the blows hot air against her, smiling as she trembles. Then he brushes his thumb over the rosy peak of one of her nipples. She pushes her entire body into his. “God!”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He says it against her skin. He can taste the tang of her perfume along with the distinctly salty flavour of skin. One of her hands reaches out and slaps him, but not hard. “Do you think you can come this way, B?” He whispers as he rolls them both over so he can stretch out on top of her. “Do you want to find out?”
She groans and arches into his hand. He lowers his mouth to one nipple, swiping against it with his tongue before lightly biting down. He continues, licking and biting until she’s shifting her hips and forcing his thigh between hers. He slides to move his free hand up her thigh, gliding straight up to her clit. He circles it twice before her back comes off the bed and her hips angle down, forcing him to press it directly.
He’s totally speechless, watching her work herself on his fingers. She’s never... not in all the times they’ve been alone has she ever acted this way. She’s always followed his example, his lead, but here all he can do is watch her. The voyeur in him loves the idea of watching her make herself come.
She doesn’t disappoint. A swivel of her hips later, and her fingers curl in the bed spread, gripping tightly. Her head tosses against the pillow, her muscles squeeze tight, her legs closing around his arm. The sound she makes when she comes is half-sigh, half-breath.
“Not this time.” He sits back and pulls off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the ground beside her bed before he moves his mouth back over hers. Her hands run along the muscles of his back; it feels fucking fantastic. He’s so hard inside his jeans, it actually hurts, but he’s totally going to make her come again before he starts.
“Gotta lose your skirt, Rach.” She sighs, kissing him again as his fingers work at the clasp and zipper, sliding it down her legs as far as he can before he has to stop kissing her. She kicks it off just as he pulls away. He thinks maybe they should have thought of mood lighting or some candles or like some music or something. This can’t be what she imagined for her first time. Don’t chicks always think of shit like that? Especially this one?
Her hand slides down to the waistband of his jeans, following the denim to the button at the front. She pops it open with one hand, fingers brushing carelessly along him. She must be able to feel his cock twitch in response. He wonders if she’s scared. He’s being all kinds of cliché, but he knows he’s going to hurt her (and probably not just tonight). But he watches. Her hands don’t shake as she undoes the zipper and, looking into his eyes again, uses her feet to collect his pants and boxers, sending them both down his legs in a highly skilled movement. He’s cradled between her legs and it would be so fucking easy to just slide into her right now. It would feel so good, so tight and hot.
But instead, he runs his fingers along her belly down through the triangle of wiry hair and around her clit again. She opens her legs a bit more and he slides one finger inside of her slowly, his thumb still circling, tracing clouds around the bundle of nerves. He slides his finger out almost all the way, then back in. He swirls it inside her, forcing the skin to stretch around him until he’s sure that he can add another finger. When he does, Rachel’s nails dig into his shoulders and her chest pushes up against his, her head falling back. The sounds in the room are hypnotic, the heavy sighs and stilted half-sounds caught in her throat, and the wet slide of his skin against hers. Even the smell of sex starts to fill the room.
He hooks his fingers, pressing up hard until she groans loudly.
“Last chance,” he says with his softly parted lips caressing hers. She kisses him back more forcefully. He spreads the two fingers inside her as wide as he can, pivoting them around until he’s fairly certain that he won’t hurt her too much when he enters.
If he enters. (Please don’t let her change her mind.)
He rolls away, wiping his hand on the cover, pulling his pants and boxers off completely before rummaging through the pocket for a condom. He’s not going to make that mistake again.
He rips the packet open and gives himself a few quick strokes before rolling the latex down. He kisses her, pressing two, then three fingers inside her, working them in and out until she’s almost on the edge. He wants to make sure it’s as good as it can be for her. Then he positions himself, removing his fingers and replacing them with the head of his cock. He thinks about warning her, about telling her that it’s going to hurt. He thinks that it’s important she know. But this is Rachel Berry. She’s done her homework. Still he whispers the question, “okay?” against her shoulder before he presses in just a touch further.
She’s so tight he’s almost afraid to move any further, but she’s looking at him, half scared, half desperate, clawing at him. There are tears pricking the corners of her eyes. He presses his lips to catch them, pulling back slightly before snapping his hips forward.
She cries out. It’s more than a moment of panic. His heart stops. So he stops and waits. He can do this for her. He can make it good. He can. But first -
“Is this still...” he starts. She looks up at him with glassy eyes the brown tainted with knowledge, pain and something else he can’t really explain. Maybe he doesn’t want to. “Is it still okay?” He finishes.
She nods her head but stays silent. It’s so weird that she doesn’t want to talk. This is the girl that talks through absolutely everything, but now she’s completely silent. And looking up at him with those eyes, telling him things he can’t hear right now. But he can see them all the same.
He can feel her absolutely everywhere. Not just where he’s inside her, but the smoothness of her thigh wrapped up around his leg, her belly pressing into his, the pressure of his hands pushing into the mattress on either side of her head as he keeps his chest off hers so she can breathe. He lowers his mouth to her lips again.
“Okay,” she whimpers a few moments later, her hips shifting restlessly. “I’m okay.” Her eyes have cleared and her mouth has gentled against his.
So he takes that as his sign to move. He starts small pulling out just a little bit before sliding back in. Hot, wet, even through the latex barrier he knows this. If he’s already thinking of dead puppies trying to hold his shit together long enough to at least get her close. He does it again and again, focusing on the girl below him, the crinkle of her skin between her eyes when she’s concentrating hard like she is now. Her wide eyes bright, following his every movement until she starts to respond, her hips shifting slightly into his and their movements become easy.
He pulls out further and leans over her mouth. Their breath mingles hot and humid between them until Rachel arches her back to bring their lips together and she changes the angle of his thrusts. She clenches around him and gasps. Or maybe he does. He can’t really tell at all. He splays one hand along the small of her back, keeping her bowed back onto the mattress as his hips crash into hers again and again, tenderness warring with this abrupt urgency. She locks her feet around his legs. She’s close, he knows, but it’s all too much for him. He feels his balls tighten, tingling as he crushes his lips over hers, jerking as he bottoms out inside her.
Shit.
He pulls out, slides the condom off, tying it quickly and setting it on the floor. By the time he turns back to Rachel, she’s already starting to cover herself up with blankets. Like she thinks that’s it.
“No, no, no. That’s not how this works.” He peels away the sheet revealing her body to him again, spreads her legs and moves three fingers inside her, curling them as high and hard as he can while rubbing her clit with his thumb. His body is heavy, exhausted by his orgasm, but he needs to do this for her. It’s important that she understand. Because he doesn’t think he can tell her what is going on inside him. He doesn’t think she’d believe him if he said it out loud. But maybe she can feel it in his touch. Maybe if he does this for her, makes sure that she comes hard against his hand, that she’ll just know all these feelings fluttering in his chest and head. It doesn’t take long before she’s tensing around his fingers. She cries out again, but the sound makes his blood hum this time instead of his head spin with terror and what ifs.
He kisses her nose, her cheeks, her neck, her mouth, all softly until she comes back to herself.
For a while after, he holds her. It’s not something he’d normally do. She curls up onto her side, and he slides his arms around her pressing her back into his chest. She strokes his arms with her fingers until they lock around her.
In this room, in this moment, there is only them. No one else.
He has this feeling in his stomach he can’t explain. He’s not sure he wants to. So he closes his eyes and tries not to think about it.
-
He dresses carefully an hour later, whispering goodbye to her before driving home. His mom doesn’t let him have sleepovers anymore. Not since she caught San in his room last June.
When he gets home, he pulls out his BlackBerry to detail the evening’s events, then he hides it back under the bed without writing a word.
Some things don’t need to be written to be remembered.
-
Practice only makes the sex even better. Hotter. Faster.
Damn, she’s flexible.
Puck doesn’t write that in his BlackBerry either.
-
They don’t really go on dates so much as hang out, just like they’ve always done. Sometimes their friends are there, sometimes they’re not.
He’s teaching her how to play Super Mario Kart, because, in his opinion, it’s the easiest one to learn. All you have to do is drive on the course, he tells her.
She’s actually pretty decent at it. And when he lets her win, well, she’s very generous with her rewards.
Other times they’ll actually sit in her living room – at least while her dads are home – and watch those old musicals with the singing and dancing. Some of them aren’t so bad.
He likes spending time with her. When it’s just the two of them she doesn’t act all snooty and annoying as shit. She’s just a girl. And maybe he doesn’t have to be so badass all the time – which is definitely more tiring than you’d think.
The part he likes best is the quiet time right after, while he’s still inside her and he’s breathing heavy against her skin. She’s slick with sweat. And as his eyes refocus he just knows that she’s never been more beautiful.
Sometimes after that he’ll play with her hair or she’ll trace his muscles. Sometimes they talk about things, meaningful or not. Sometimes they’re just totally quiet and sleep right away. Sometimes he tells her about his mom and his sister. She always listens and hugs him before she shares her opinion. She’s gotten really good at the listening piece actually.
(He never talks about Quinn. Or the baby.)
She still talks about New York and her career and Broadway. She still totally bores him with random facts about the latest Tony-scandals or what Idina and Taye are naming their next child. But for the most part, he doesn’t think it’s so bad dating Rachel Berry. For the most part, he wonders why no one else has tried to have her before.
He thinks that means something important, but he still can’t figure out what it is.
-
They’ve been together for almost five months – it’s the longest relationship he’s ever been in – and yeah, they’ve fought a lot. Rachel isn’t actually all that into make-up sex. She’s more a fan of the “I’m sorry sex” which is subtly different (more slow, less eager).
But every day Quinn expands he knows the end is getting closer. He still can’t tell her. It was a stupid mistake. A mistake he made a lifetime ago and Quinn doesn’t want him to have anything to do with the baby. His baby. No matter how much he wants to keep his little girl, he knows it’s not possible.
He can’t lose his baby and Rachel. He can’t let her go. He’s not entirely sure which her he’s thinking about.
He tries to write in his journal, but nothing comes out. Just like he hasn’t written anything profound in months. Not since he and Rachel started sleeping together. She’s not just a prize anymore.
-
She kisses him in the hallway before her History Class. Really kisses him, with tongue and teeth and nails. She’s never been one for huge public displays, but it’s like they’re finally announcing to everyone, yes, we’re together. Deal with it.
It’s pretty ballsy of her, but she totally grabs on to his ass in the middle of the hallway where anyone and everyone could see.
The bell rings and he smiles at her as she ducks into her class.
When he sees her again at the end of the day he knows that something has changed. He tries to talk to her about it but she shrugs him off.
When Finn’s fist comes flying at his face, he gets the feeling he should have seen this coming. Surprise.
-
He calls, he texts, he leaves voicemails. But she doesn’t answer.
He wonders if she’s doing the chick thing and crying into a pint of some chocolaty flavoured ice cream. He still doesn’t understand why that image makes him sick.
He stands outside her house that night, calling. He tries her cell, her house phone. No one answers, but he knows she’s home. The light is on in her room but strangely there’s no music.
The light flicks off just after 1 a.m. He’s still outside calling. Her voicemail is full of messages. Pleas.
He doesn’t have anyone else to turn to right now. So all he can do is wait. He types one finally text to her.
Call me when you’re ready.
He makes sure to type out every word carefully.
-
She avoids him in Glee. Avoids him at school. She seems to be with Finn every second of every minute of the day.
He’s pretty sure there’s nothing going on. Pretty sure.
He’s also pretty sure that the ache in his chest has nothing to do with heartburn from those tacos he ate at lunch.
When he gets home that night he sits down to write in his BlackBerry.
May 15th, 2010: The End.
He doesn’t have the heart to write anything else.
-
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Rachel, mentions of Puck/Santana, Puck/Quinn
Word count: ~ 7700
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: He can’t really remember why he started keeping it. It’s not like he’s a stalker or something. He just wanted a record.
A/N: Thank you to
auchic, fuzzy_paint, cruiscin_lan, and une_fille, for moral support, being awesome friends, super supporters, betas, and enablers. You are all incredibly wonderful and I am lucky (so so so lucky) to have your help!Written for the community in the
gleefics Hot Summer Nights Exchange.He calls it his BlackBerry, the journal he keeps under his mattress.
Because it’s black. And it’s about Berry. Get it?
He can’t really remember why he started keeping it. It’s not like he’s a stalker or something. He just wanted a record.
September 9th, 2008: Sour Apple and Coke. $0.99. Locker 10:15 a.m.
September 12th, 2008: Coke. $0.99. Mid-hallway 12:45 p.m.
September 15th, 2008: Blue Raspberry. $0.99. Outside of school 7:55 a.m.
A list of dates, slushie flavours, costs and kill zones.
He’s pretty proud of himself when November rolls along and he’s managed to slushie her thirty eight times using a different flavour combination every time.
It’s not that he’s actually got anything against her. Sure, she’s a bitch and all, but if Quinn hadn’t dared him to do it that first day of freshman year, he probably wouldn’t have looked at her twice.
It’s not about Quinn anymore. She’s a hot piece of ass, but even she’s not worth the potential suspension or worse, getting kicked out of athletics.
It’s about other things. Like the laughs he gets from the other students. And the friends he’s made because he’s a totally bad ass motherfucker. He’s popular because of the slushies. Matt Parker, senior right tackle, finds him in the hall and claps him on the back after the cranberry/sour apple combo of September 21st. He makes varsity football even though he wasn’t around for the pre-season because Rick, Nate and Steve, all juniors, had totally stood up and told Tanaka how fucking fearless he was.
And Puck, the super decent guy he is, took his best friend on the ride with him.
Then he’d totally hooked up with Santana Lopez and her friend Brittany because Puck wasn’t just an athlete, he was also a total stud. Too bad it wasn't at the same time. He’s still working on that one.
None of that would have been possible without Berry.
He tries to be really inventive with his schedule, keeping track of locations so his sneak attacks, which are by far the most epic, don’t become totally predictable.
This one is going to be another awesome one, definitely a faceshot. And it’s going to be ridiculous because this time he’s got grape. That shit stains so bad. He takes a little sip before ditching the straw into the nearest garbage can. She’s at her locker, and yeah, he’s hit her there before, but today is going to be so much better because of the grape and because it’s his fucking birthday. And what he really wants is a chance to see through that nice thin white shirt she’s wearing. Halls are nice and crowded. It’s gonna be so fucking perfect.
He’s three steps away from her when he calls out, “Yo, Berry!”
She looks up at him (girl has huge brown eyes – they take up at least half of her face) and he sees the fear. Every time it’s a fucking rush. He blinks against the adrenaline pumping his heart faster and tosses.
The ice crystals hit her face and shirt in this weird and sticky spatter pattern, like blood on C.S.I. or Call of Duty, spraying along the wall in splotches.
He stands there in front of her for a beat, then two, eyes following the trail of ice and colouring until he can make out the clean white cut of her bra beneath the shirt. Berry would go for that traditional super coverage shit, totally lame. Whatever, it’s still awesome.
Her hand comes up to swipe the slushie out her eyes and then something unexpected happens.
It’s like someone pressed the slo-mo button on the remote of Puck’s Life: The Greatest Story Ever Told. He totally stares, but it’s this moment of topsy-turvy insanity. Her tongue pokes out between her lips, licking a line of purple ice into her mouth. From where he stands, still more than arms length away from her, he can almost feel - or at least imagine - the slow wet slide of her tongue against her cheek. The sugar and cold mixed together so perfectly, it would almost be refreshing once it hit her mouth. Or his. Fuck, his pants are tight. He wants nothing more than to help her clean off that tiny body of hers, preferably with his mouth and nothing else.
“Whoops,” he says when the action returns to normal speed. He walks past her, tossing the empty cup into her locker before continuing on his way, a huge smile plastered on his mouth.
August 29th, 2009: Grape. $1.19 (fucking inflation). Locker. White shirt. Full Coverage white bra with lace detailing. Pink and yellow plaid skirt. Yellow Knee High Socks.
Quinn gets pregnant and he has to join the fucking Glee Club just to get her to look at him.
He stops throwing slushies at Rachel in early October. He’ll say that it’s because it’s been done, but really he can’t afford to be wasting that much money on sugar and ice. He needs to save up for his baby momma.
And maybe it has a little something to do with them being on the same team, no matter how fucking lame that team might be.
He starts to write about the stupid shit she does because he hadn’t started this journal for nothing. And it’s kinda funny to reread some of her crazy.
October 1st, 2009: Storms out of Glee Club in that super short plaid skirt, wailing about inequal-ness or something. Funny shit.
October 10th, 2009: Comes back to Glee with something she calls “humility.” Can’t figure that one out. Sang well though.
October 30th, 2009: Caught making ‘fuck me’ eyes with Finn during practice. Don’t know how such an awkward motherfucker gets so much play. Boy has no moves.
November 4th, 2009: Ridiculous outfit again. Glad that Figgins has his head up his ass about those short skirts. Caught a flash of yellow cotton panty when she crouched down in English.
It’s sometime around the fourth time Quinn tells him in her very proper Christian way to fuck off that he decides enough is enough. He’s danced around this thing with Berry for a while. She’s totally crazy, but she’s hot, and the cougars just aren’t doing it for him anymore. Besides it’s totally Ohio winter. No more pools to clean and it’s harder to make up excuses for booty calls when there’s a foot of snow on the ground.
Besides it’s not like she’s getting any love from anyone. Sure, she makes the goo-goo eyes at Finn all the time, but the dude is never gonna leave Quinn. Ever. Maybe she just needs some other options or something.
So he comes up with a plan, because blue balls are just not something that IronPuck is equipped to deal with.
November 12th, 2009: Put operation ‘Seduce Berry’ into effect.
It starts simple. With a slushie.
Then asking her to help him with mash-ups.
Then a make out session on her bed. That preview he got of her tongue in the hallway really wasn’t anything compared to the feel of it against his own. She tastes like mint and raspberries and she just keeps smiling at him before covering his lips with hers over and over.
It’s all pretty awesome, except for the fact that she eventually pulls away.
It’s okay. He totally got to cop a feel. Now he knows that she owns a lacy bra which totally translates into her wanting to have sex really bad. All of this is in the win category.
Besides, if he got to second with super virginal Rachel and they weren’t even on a date, imagine what he could accomplish if he actually tried.
Still, he has to pull some pretty impressive moves to get her to stay in the room, cause she’s running, skittish, and there’s no way he’s giving up on her after that taste.
“So you wanna work on the mash-up ideas now?” He says it like he’s totally not imagining the little strips of fabric she’s got on under her clothes. Says it like he’s really interested in this stupid mash-up thing and whatever. And she goes for it. Her face does that sweet little melty thing where it changes from super uptight to almost relaxed because Rachel Berry is in her element whenever there’s music involved. He should probably make a note of that somewhere.
November 16th, 2009: Stage one complete. Slushie. Mash-up offer. Berry’s lips taste like berries. She is also very talented with her tongue. Lace bra. Second base.
When he finally asks her out, on a date - a REAL one, not a sex date - he’s in her room again. On her bed again. Underneath her again.
It’s weird though, because as soon as the words come out of his mouth she slides off him. Her eyebrows move together like they do when she’s totally pissed or trying to hit that note that even dogs can’t hear it’s so freaking high. More importantly it means that for these few moments, he’s not getting any sugar.
Whatever, she looks really concerned. And he just knows that whatever she says he isn’t going to like.
“Noah,” she starts quietly. “I don’t know that we should see each other anymore.”
We’re not seeing each other now. He catches the words before they slip out because he’s actually pretty smart when it comes to women. Sometimes.
“What do you mean, babe?” He really needs to touch her. He’s almost one hundred percent sure that she’s going to stop this little arrangement they have going because of Finn – yeah, he’s totally noticed. You’d have to be blind to miss it – and that is totally not okay. Finn is not going to cockblock him again. Besides, when he touches her she can’t seem to think straight. He knows.
“I just – I don’t see us working out,” she says, and even though he’s totally prepared himself for those words they still strike him full-on.
What. The. Fuck? He really can’t do anything but stare at her dumbfounded until she continues.
“I just feel like we both want different things. And the safest and wisest course of action here is for us to just end this before it really turns into anything and someone gets hurt.”
“Shit, Berry.”
“I’d prefer it if you could keep your language civil, Noah.” She looks at him hard and he feels a little bit like that time his mom caught him stealing cookies from that stupid Garfield Cookie jar they kept on the counter. “I just don’t want to start something with you that will clearly only end in heartbreak for me.”
She pulls her gaze away from him at the last second and he wonders if she knows that she’s lying to herself and to him. She’s already heartbroken. That’s why she’s here with him. He knows the score. He gets that she’s fucking over the moon for Hudson, but Finn can’t deliver. He’ll always be the boy she can’t have. Which is something he understands better than he really wants to admit at this point. Wanting someone he can’t have.
And with this thought comes a rare moment of clarity.
“I’m not him.” He says strongly. “I’m not him. I’m not this big, bumbling, socially retarded, awkward-as-fuck guy. I won’t sing you love songs, and I sure as shit won’t sit and braid your hair.” Surprise is all over her face at his words. “But I can give you things that he can’t. That he won’t. I can be here. I want to be here.”
“This isn’t about him.” She whispers. He feels unnaturally angry at her denial.
“The hell it’s not. We both know it is. But he’s not going to leave her. Not now. Not ever.” She turns her face from him again and this time he thinks she might be crying. Fuck. He hates it when chicks cry. Nine times out of ten they get all snotty and gross and it’s totally not hot at all.
“Look,” he says as he walks to the door. “The offer stands. You call me if you change your mind.” And with that he leaves.
He doesn’t know exactly what to write in the journal when he gets home. He’s sure that he doesn’t really want to mention that the only reason she’d want to be with him is because Finn is a giant douchebag. But he still feels like he should document it somehow.
He ends up writing the obvious.
November 21st, 2009: Heavy ‘n’ hot make-out session. Talked briefly about the Jolly Green Giant. May need to turn to plan B.
He’s tried to not think about her at all while he’s at school. ‘Tried’ being the operative word, but whatever. She’s just a chick and it’s not like she’s his only source of ass.
Well, she kinda was, but that was more because he wanted the challenge and less about other options not being available. There are other options now. Oh yes, there are.
Like Mindy, the new transfer from East Lima. Or Santana.
Okay, maybe not Santana, but she’s been weirdly possessive since their epic break up in the hallway. That shit is weird. Not that he minds or anything.
Maybe after he showers off the dirt and sweat from football, he’ll sext her. Her sexts are awesome.
Tanaka-San is being a complete dick about practice. To be honest, Puck is the best thing on the team and he’s so underrated. Finn gets all the attention. Finn gets all the praise. Finn gets everything, not that this is a surprise. That’s always been the way of things. Finn succeeds while Puck fucks up.
But today’s practice was really tough. Coach made him run laps for like no reason. Fucking stupid. So Puck is the last one to leave the locker room.
He’s just about to pull his phone out when he hears something, a sweet little “ehm ehm.” He turns around, and sure enough, Rachel is standing before him, with her little plaid skirt and her ridiculous white knee highs. Her sweater has cats on it, but he’s totally willing to overlook that if she’s here to tell him that she’s back in.
“Yeah?” He says before putting his phone (temporarily?) back in his pocket.
"I've been thinking about some of the things that we discussed earlier this week and I've come to the conclusion that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." The way she tucks the section of hair behind her ear is strangely erotic. Doesn't really help him understand what the hell she's saying to him.
"Ok. What does that even mean?" He reaches out to toy with the strand of hair she's just tried to fix.
"It means yes."
He leans close to her. Her shoulder touches the wall beside the change room, and he moves in so close he’s barely an inch away.
"Yes what?" He's smirking, but come on! What's he supposed to do? He's got her now. Can’t he have a little fun?
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.” It’s whispered under her breath but he hears it and feels it – the little stab in his chest, that’s quickly soothed away when her mouth meets his.
As far as kisses go, it’s definitely not as dirty as he’d like. But if he’s going to date Rachel Berry, he supposes there are concessions he’s going to have to make. Chaste PDAs will probably be one of them.
It doesn’t matter. He’s totally got the girl now.
She pulls away without involving her tongue at all. He’s a little disappointed but that quickly fades when she asks if he wants to come over to her place.
When they get there, she totally pounces on him.
If he’d known that getting Rachel to agree to date him would lead to under the shirt boob action, he’d have done it a lot earlier. Who cares that it’s over the bra. It’s still totally rockin’.
He doesn’t stop writing in his BlackBerry. But the stuff he writes now is much more detailed. It’s pretty great.
November 24th, 2009: Made it to second base for real today. Red panties, red lace bra, under the bra boob action. Score!
November 26th, 2009: Actually attended math class today. As a reward, B and I had a special session in the practice room. Under the skirt. So fucking wet. Still get hard thinking back on it now.
November 27th, 2009: She totally fucking sneak attacked me today at practice with that damn song “Underneath it all.” Wearing my favourite skirt and those Goddamn knee socks. Don’t know how everyone else in the room didn’t realize that she was singing to me. It was the hottest fucking thing ever. Had to go have some ‘special alone time’ in the locker room after practice.
They’ve been dating for a few months the first time she brings up sex. He’s brought it up a time or two before.
It sounds weird, but he actually kind of likes her. She’s a barrel of crazy, but she makes strange sense sometimes. She`s very talented, and not just with her mouth but also singing and stuff, too. It doesn’t hurt that when she’s singing those ridiculous love songs with Finn sometimes her eyes fall just a little bit behind and to the left (normally where he’s sitting). She’s totally hot for him all the time too. Puck knows that he’s totally ruined her for any other guy.
What? His tongue is amazing.
That night after winter break, when they’re sitting in her room watching a blow ‘em up movie because he got to choose and she says, “I think we should have sex,” he’s damn excited about it. It’s not like she hasn’t been getting him off in other ways. She totally has. And he’s taught her exactly what he likes. He’d never been so proud of her for being such a good student.
Still he’s a little unprepared for her to swing her leg over his and straddle his lap, because his attention is on Bruce Willis as he tries to save the world from another terrorist attack.
“Okay,” he says between kisses. He tries not to sound overly excited as her mouth covers his again, and she does that awesome thing where her tongue curls around his. She’s an amazing kisser. So amazing that every time she does it, she makes him want more. And more, and more, and more.
“That’s it? Just ‘okay?’” She says, staring down at him, her hair falling along his cheek. It tickles just a little bit, and he has to force himself to focus. This is a prime opportunity. Her dads aren’t home. Aren’t expected home until tomorrow actually, and they totally know that he’s over, too.
The thing is, they haven’t really talked about the elephant walking around between them, huge and unavoidable. Technically, two elephants really. One is expanding in the middle every day, and the other is just tall and awkward as fuck.
He thinks that maybe now is not the time. Really not the time at all. He really likes her and he knows that she likes him too.
He wants to punch Berry’s V-Card because he just knows that sex with her will be fantastic. And maybe because he has feelings for her. Shut up, he’s totally not a pussy.
“What did you expect me to say, B? I haven’t been chasing any other tail, there’s only you, and you’re offering up sex. Yes, please!” He smirks because he knows that deep inside she just loves it. When he talks dirty to her, she always gets hot. Then again, she’s got this thing for honesty too, and she has crazy honest radar. It’s like she just knows when he’s not being truthful about stuff. He loves it when those two worlds, the dirty and the honest, collide.
He moves his hand up under the hem of her skirt, gliding his thumb along the skin there until the rise and fall of her chest quickens. “Are you totally sure about this?” He asks her.
She moans, small and soft, so completely anti-Rachel Berry, and nods her head. He loves it, loves all the sounds she makes for him.
He walks two fingers up her thigh to brush along her panties – classic cotton today – before dragging them slowly down to her knee in parallel lines. She shifts closer to his hands, arching her hips harder onto his body. His thumbs trace lazy circles high on her leg. Then higher again, until his fingers latch onto the elastic waist and pull down. She stands so he’s able to pull her underwear completely off her body.
She settles back down, lining her body up to his before she presses down with her hands on either side of his shoulders. She slips her tongue along his lips until he parts them. God, she tastes good, all sugary lip gloss (not the sticky kind) and the iced tea she was drinking earlier. He loves it when she takes charge like she’s doing. He likes to believe he taught her some of that no-fear attitude towards kissing and other things.
His hands trail back up her legs before guiding her hips over his. His index traces the line where her thigh meets her torso until it slides between her legs along the slick skin.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that he should stop. He should. But he’s been sex-free since pool season ended and he started seeing Rachel. Three months, twenty three days and five hours since the last time his dick even saw pussy – and it hadn’t even been all that awesome.
But that’s totally not the point. Berry’s dry humping him like a champ right now, and she’s already said this is what she wants. So really, who is he to argue?
His decision has almost nothing to do with the thought of some other fucker taking the first ride on the Berry Express making him a little bit sick to his stomach. That other shithead would probably fuck it all up. Puck’s had some experience with virgins. It’s become a kind of speciality of his ever since Britt the night before freshman year. All of his Vs get off; he makes sure of it.
He moves his attention to her shirt, because this is only about her. None of those other girls matter right now. Thank God her shirt isn’t one of those ones with all the buttons. Small mercies, he thinks as he pulls up hard. She has to sit back on her knees and put her arms in the air for him to remove it completely. Her skin is flushed pink and for such a tiny thing she sure shows a lot of it. She’s beautiful. And she’s fucking hot. He really can’t help the blood that rushes straight to his cock. He totally can’t.
Her bra isn’t anything fancy, but he doesn’t mind. They’re boobs. He totally can’t complain. Plus they’re Rachel’s so they’re totally perky and rounded and awesome. He cups one of her boobs in his hand and smiles as her nipple hardens against the pink cotton. He pinches it through the fabric, rolling it softly between his thumb and index until she squirms on top of him. He really likes that she trusts him enough to let him do this. To let him touch her where no one else ever has.
(Sometimes she takes his breath away. But it’s nothing like that totally lame song from Top Gun. It’s like his chest is heavy and he physically can’t pull the air into his lungs. Most of the time it happens when she’s only in her underwear. But sometimes... sometimes he’ll see her in Glee and she’ll be looking down at her sheet music. Or she’ll be leaning over her textbook in Math Class. Or when she’s at her locker brushing her hair after gym class. Yeah, sometimes it happens then, too.)
“Did you know,” she says breathlessly, and he tries to snap his brain back to the moment, “that some women are capable of achieving orgasm through breast play alone?”
Yeah, he knows, but he’s never been with a woman who was willing to wait that long. Even Quinn had been really self-conscious about her boobs. Hardly let him play at all before she was demanding he get down to business.
Puck thinks that might be an overshare so he murmurs against her as his lips attack her other nipple. He licks at the cloth until it scratches his tongue, then he sends his mouth down to taste the salty skin just below. He slides his hands outside along the outside of her arms all the way to her shoulders. He hooks a finger under each strap and pulls his mouth away from her skin. She’s breathing heavily, and he swears he can hear her heart as it gallops in her chest. He doesn’t touch her anywhere but her bra straps for a moment. Just looks into her eyes, and for a second this whole thing isn’t about his dick, it’s about something else.
He’s totally hesitating because something has just occurred to him. And it wasn’t like a lightning flash or a bus or a train hitting him, it was just this realization. He could go on kissing her forever. He doesn’t really care about getting off. Sure it’d be nice and all, but it doesn’t matter. Sex isn’t a game here, or a play. If she asked him to stop right now, he would. He knows that she won’t ask him, but if she did. He’s pretty sure that means something. A big something.
He leans in close, brushing his nose against hers but keeping his hands where they are, unmoving. Her jaw loosens just a bit allowing her breath to pass through the gap. He feels it flutter softly along his mouth, hypnotic and so sweet.
Normally, this is the kind of stuff he doesn’t bother with. Not the foreplay, he’s pretty skilled at that, but the anticipation piece. Denying. He’s not so good at that. He’s definitely of the ‘instant gratification’ school of sexytimes. Normally. This is so not normal.
Something about this time and this girl is different.
He stays where he is, watching her eyes as they heat to a soft liquid brown. How does she do that? It makes her even more beautiful.
Something explodes on the T.V. startling both of them until Puck reaches around and uses the remote to turn off the movie. The quiet just makes everything seem so much more real. There’s nothing else, no other distractions now, just his body and hers and his mind and hers.
“I don’t know what to...” she starts. He moves his finger to her lips and she stops.
“Rachel, are you really sure about this?” He asks. “That’s the only thing that matters here.”
She nods again, but it’s not enough. She needs to say it. She needs to want him for him, not status, not because she’s drunk, or because he’s a hot piece of ass. He totally is, but that can’t be the reason this time. “You have to say it.” His finger traces her lower lip. He watches her tongue dart out and chase after it. Like an automatic response she can’t control. He wants that for her so badly.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “I’m sure.”
Ordinarily this would be the moment where he’d hurry things up, lose his clothes and hers. Then he’d kiss her and his cock would be inside her like a fucking shot. But he likes this feeling right now, the feeling that anything could happen between them. He wants her bad. Wants to claim her as his so no one else will ever be able to. He wants to ruin her for anyone else. Wants any of her relationships in the future to be tainted by how completely badass he is. He can’t stand the thought of her being with someone else.
And he doesn’t want it to be quick.
He kisses her then, but softly against the corner of her mouth. Her hands grip the bottom of his shirt and start to tug but he wants to go slow and he’s pretty sure once they’re both half naked things will not go that way. He pushes her hands away before kissing her mouth more fully, slipping his tongue along the smooth line of her teeth before grazing against hers. He pushes one strap down her shoulder, then the other, before he creeps his fingers along the line of her rib cage to the clasp at the back. He uses both hands to unlatch it and pull the fabric away.
Her skin is soft everywhere his hands touch and from the way it ripples under him he knows that she’s enjoying the anticipation just as much as he is. His blood is pumping hard but he keeps his fingers light as they drag up to her boobs. He cups them, circling his thumbs around her nipples but not touching them. Her mouth presses against his harder, her lips open wider, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He feels the vibrations of her moan against his lips, teeth, tongue.
He doesn’t stop to wonder why he’s never done this before. The answers all seem much too obvious.
“Why won’t you – “ she says as he pulls his mouth away from hers, pressing wet kisses at the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, below her ear. He bites, licks, and kisses his way down her neck until he finds that spot near the base. He licks quietly, the blows hot air against her, smiling as she trembles. Then he brushes his thumb over the rosy peak of one of her nipples. She pushes her entire body into his. “God!”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He says it against her skin. He can taste the tang of her perfume along with the distinctly salty flavour of skin. One of her hands reaches out and slaps him, but not hard. “Do you think you can come this way, B?” He whispers as he rolls them both over so he can stretch out on top of her. “Do you want to find out?”
She groans and arches into his hand. He lowers his mouth to one nipple, swiping against it with his tongue before lightly biting down. He continues, licking and biting until she’s shifting her hips and forcing his thigh between hers. He slides to move his free hand up her thigh, gliding straight up to her clit. He circles it twice before her back comes off the bed and her hips angle down, forcing him to press it directly.
He’s totally speechless, watching her work herself on his fingers. She’s never... not in all the times they’ve been alone has she ever acted this way. She’s always followed his example, his lead, but here all he can do is watch her. The voyeur in him loves the idea of watching her make herself come.
She doesn’t disappoint. A swivel of her hips later, and her fingers curl in the bed spread, gripping tightly. Her head tosses against the pillow, her muscles squeeze tight, her legs closing around his arm. The sound she makes when she comes is half-sigh, half-breath.
“Not this time.” He sits back and pulls off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the ground beside her bed before he moves his mouth back over hers. Her hands run along the muscles of his back; it feels fucking fantastic. He’s so hard inside his jeans, it actually hurts, but he’s totally going to make her come again before he starts.
“Gotta lose your skirt, Rach.” She sighs, kissing him again as his fingers work at the clasp and zipper, sliding it down her legs as far as he can before he has to stop kissing her. She kicks it off just as he pulls away. He thinks maybe they should have thought of mood lighting or some candles or like some music or something. This can’t be what she imagined for her first time. Don’t chicks always think of shit like that? Especially this one?
Her hand slides down to the waistband of his jeans, following the denim to the button at the front. She pops it open with one hand, fingers brushing carelessly along him. She must be able to feel his cock twitch in response. He wonders if she’s scared. He’s being all kinds of cliché, but he knows he’s going to hurt her (and probably not just tonight). But he watches. Her hands don’t shake as she undoes the zipper and, looking into his eyes again, uses her feet to collect his pants and boxers, sending them both down his legs in a highly skilled movement. He’s cradled between her legs and it would be so fucking easy to just slide into her right now. It would feel so good, so tight and hot.
But instead, he runs his fingers along her belly down through the triangle of wiry hair and around her clit again. She opens her legs a bit more and he slides one finger inside of her slowly, his thumb still circling, tracing clouds around the bundle of nerves. He slides his finger out almost all the way, then back in. He swirls it inside her, forcing the skin to stretch around him until he’s sure that he can add another finger. When he does, Rachel’s nails dig into his shoulders and her chest pushes up against his, her head falling back. The sounds in the room are hypnotic, the heavy sighs and stilted half-sounds caught in her throat, and the wet slide of his skin against hers. Even the smell of sex starts to fill the room.
He hooks his fingers, pressing up hard until she groans loudly.
“Last chance,” he says with his softly parted lips caressing hers. She kisses him back more forcefully. He spreads the two fingers inside her as wide as he can, pivoting them around until he’s fairly certain that he won’t hurt her too much when he enters.
If he enters. (Please don’t let her change her mind.)
He rolls away, wiping his hand on the cover, pulling his pants and boxers off completely before rummaging through the pocket for a condom. He’s not going to make that mistake again.
He rips the packet open and gives himself a few quick strokes before rolling the latex down. He kisses her, pressing two, then three fingers inside her, working them in and out until she’s almost on the edge. He wants to make sure it’s as good as it can be for her. Then he positions himself, removing his fingers and replacing them with the head of his cock. He thinks about warning her, about telling her that it’s going to hurt. He thinks that it’s important she know. But this is Rachel Berry. She’s done her homework. Still he whispers the question, “okay?” against her shoulder before he presses in just a touch further.
She’s so tight he’s almost afraid to move any further, but she’s looking at him, half scared, half desperate, clawing at him. There are tears pricking the corners of her eyes. He presses his lips to catch them, pulling back slightly before snapping his hips forward.
She cries out. It’s more than a moment of panic. His heart stops. So he stops and waits. He can do this for her. He can make it good. He can. But first -
“Is this still...” he starts. She looks up at him with glassy eyes the brown tainted with knowledge, pain and something else he can’t really explain. Maybe he doesn’t want to. “Is it still okay?” He finishes.
She nods her head but stays silent. It’s so weird that she doesn’t want to talk. This is the girl that talks through absolutely everything, but now she’s completely silent. And looking up at him with those eyes, telling him things he can’t hear right now. But he can see them all the same.
He can feel her absolutely everywhere. Not just where he’s inside her, but the smoothness of her thigh wrapped up around his leg, her belly pressing into his, the pressure of his hands pushing into the mattress on either side of her head as he keeps his chest off hers so she can breathe. He lowers his mouth to her lips again.
“Okay,” she whimpers a few moments later, her hips shifting restlessly. “I’m okay.” Her eyes have cleared and her mouth has gentled against his.
So he takes that as his sign to move. He starts small pulling out just a little bit before sliding back in. Hot, wet, even through the latex barrier he knows this. If he’s already thinking of dead puppies trying to hold his shit together long enough to at least get her close. He does it again and again, focusing on the girl below him, the crinkle of her skin between her eyes when she’s concentrating hard like she is now. Her wide eyes bright, following his every movement until she starts to respond, her hips shifting slightly into his and their movements become easy.
He pulls out further and leans over her mouth. Their breath mingles hot and humid between them until Rachel arches her back to bring their lips together and she changes the angle of his thrusts. She clenches around him and gasps. Or maybe he does. He can’t really tell at all. He splays one hand along the small of her back, keeping her bowed back onto the mattress as his hips crash into hers again and again, tenderness warring with this abrupt urgency. She locks her feet around his legs. She’s close, he knows, but it’s all too much for him. He feels his balls tighten, tingling as he crushes his lips over hers, jerking as he bottoms out inside her.
Shit.
He pulls out, slides the condom off, tying it quickly and setting it on the floor. By the time he turns back to Rachel, she’s already starting to cover herself up with blankets. Like she thinks that’s it.
“No, no, no. That’s not how this works.” He peels away the sheet revealing her body to him again, spreads her legs and moves three fingers inside her, curling them as high and hard as he can while rubbing her clit with his thumb. His body is heavy, exhausted by his orgasm, but he needs to do this for her. It’s important that she understand. Because he doesn’t think he can tell her what is going on inside him. He doesn’t think she’d believe him if he said it out loud. But maybe she can feel it in his touch. Maybe if he does this for her, makes sure that she comes hard against his hand, that she’ll just know all these feelings fluttering in his chest and head. It doesn’t take long before she’s tensing around his fingers. She cries out again, but the sound makes his blood hum this time instead of his head spin with terror and what ifs.
He kisses her nose, her cheeks, her neck, her mouth, all softly until she comes back to herself.
For a while after, he holds her. It’s not something he’d normally do. She curls up onto her side, and he slides his arms around her pressing her back into his chest. She strokes his arms with her fingers until they lock around her.
In this room, in this moment, there is only them. No one else.
He has this feeling in his stomach he can’t explain. He’s not sure he wants to. So he closes his eyes and tries not to think about it.
He dresses carefully an hour later, whispering goodbye to her before driving home. His mom doesn’t let him have sleepovers anymore. Not since she caught San in his room last June.
When he gets home, he pulls out his BlackBerry to detail the evening’s events, then he hides it back under the bed without writing a word.
Some things don’t need to be written to be remembered.
Practice only makes the sex even better. Hotter. Faster.
Damn, she’s flexible.
Puck doesn’t write that in his BlackBerry either.
They don’t really go on dates so much as hang out, just like they’ve always done. Sometimes their friends are there, sometimes they’re not.
He’s teaching her how to play Super Mario Kart, because, in his opinion, it’s the easiest one to learn. All you have to do is drive on the course, he tells her.
She’s actually pretty decent at it. And when he lets her win, well, she’s very generous with her rewards.
Other times they’ll actually sit in her living room – at least while her dads are home – and watch those old musicals with the singing and dancing. Some of them aren’t so bad.
He likes spending time with her. When it’s just the two of them she doesn’t act all snooty and annoying as shit. She’s just a girl. And maybe he doesn’t have to be so badass all the time – which is definitely more tiring than you’d think.
The part he likes best is the quiet time right after, while he’s still inside her and he’s breathing heavy against her skin. She’s slick with sweat. And as his eyes refocus he just knows that she’s never been more beautiful.
Sometimes after that he’ll play with her hair or she’ll trace his muscles. Sometimes they talk about things, meaningful or not. Sometimes they’re just totally quiet and sleep right away. Sometimes he tells her about his mom and his sister. She always listens and hugs him before she shares her opinion. She’s gotten really good at the listening piece actually.
(He never talks about Quinn. Or the baby.)
She still talks about New York and her career and Broadway. She still totally bores him with random facts about the latest Tony-scandals or what Idina and Taye are naming their next child. But for the most part, he doesn’t think it’s so bad dating Rachel Berry. For the most part, he wonders why no one else has tried to have her before.
He thinks that means something important, but he still can’t figure out what it is.
They’ve been together for almost five months – it’s the longest relationship he’s ever been in – and yeah, they’ve fought a lot. Rachel isn’t actually all that into make-up sex. She’s more a fan of the “I’m sorry sex” which is subtly different (more slow, less eager).
But every day Quinn expands he knows the end is getting closer. He still can’t tell her. It was a stupid mistake. A mistake he made a lifetime ago and Quinn doesn’t want him to have anything to do with the baby. His baby. No matter how much he wants to keep his little girl, he knows it’s not possible.
He can’t lose his baby and Rachel. He can’t let her go. He’s not entirely sure which her he’s thinking about.
He tries to write in his journal, but nothing comes out. Just like he hasn’t written anything profound in months. Not since he and Rachel started sleeping together. She’s not just a prize anymore.
She kisses him in the hallway before her History Class. Really kisses him, with tongue and teeth and nails. She’s never been one for huge public displays, but it’s like they’re finally announcing to everyone, yes, we’re together. Deal with it.
It’s pretty ballsy of her, but she totally grabs on to his ass in the middle of the hallway where anyone and everyone could see.
The bell rings and he smiles at her as she ducks into her class.
When he sees her again at the end of the day he knows that something has changed. He tries to talk to her about it but she shrugs him off.
When Finn’s fist comes flying at his face, he gets the feeling he should have seen this coming. Surprise.
He calls, he texts, he leaves voicemails. But she doesn’t answer.
He wonders if she’s doing the chick thing and crying into a pint of some chocolaty flavoured ice cream. He still doesn’t understand why that image makes him sick.
He stands outside her house that night, calling. He tries her cell, her house phone. No one answers, but he knows she’s home. The light is on in her room but strangely there’s no music.
The light flicks off just after 1 a.m. He’s still outside calling. Her voicemail is full of messages. Pleas.
He doesn’t have anyone else to turn to right now. So all he can do is wait. He types one finally text to her.
Call me when you’re ready.
He makes sure to type out every word carefully.
She avoids him in Glee. Avoids him at school. She seems to be with Finn every second of every minute of the day.
He’s pretty sure there’s nothing going on. Pretty sure.
He’s also pretty sure that the ache in his chest has nothing to do with heartburn from those tacos he ate at lunch.
When he gets home that night he sits down to write in his BlackBerry.
May 15th, 2010: The End.
He doesn’t have the heart to write anything else.
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Date: 2010-08-27 07:31 am (UTC)Good fic
Date: 2010-10-20 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-01 11:37 pm (UTC)