Rachel/Puck- Hey, Jealousy
Title: Hey, Jealousy
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4, 177
Summary: Rachel has always been jealous of everything Quinn has- including the fact that she had Puck's child.
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt at glee-kink-meme.
Rachel knows its stupid to still be jealous of Quinn. Over their senior year the girls had become somewhat friends. Yes, they still had some strange moments where they didn’t see eye-to-eye and they had arguments but they had become friends despite all reason and rationale. It was something she never thought would happen. And yet they were friends. And yet she was still jealous of Quinn for so many, many reasons.
She always felt like it wasn’t fair that Quinn, even with the pregnancy problem, had a rather nice high school career. She was popular and had friends; boys drooled over her. She was pretty, the prettiest girl Rachel had ever met. And she knew it was wrong to be jealous of Quinn because she was pretty- even without the nose job she had after she lost all of the weight she had before moving there she would have been beautiful and that was just genetics- she couldn’t help herself.
Quinn had the life she had wanted in high school. She would have even taken an unplanned pregnancy if it meant she got to have friends, she got to have guys want her. She was the girl people wanted to be; she was desirable. In some ways she ruled that school for the better part of two years. And yes, she had her problems. She even fell apart a little bit their senior year but somehow she always managed bounce back. It never seemed to fail.
Even with all the bad things Quinn suffered through Rachel wished she could have her life. She wanted to know how it felt for one minute to be the popular girl, to be the girl that guys wanted. She wanted to feel like she was desired, loved, wanted. It was definitely something she hadn’t really and truly gotten to experience in high school. Even when she was crowned prom queen her senior year she didn’t delude herself into thinking that it was because she was adored. It was either a joke or a lie, something that her friends cooked up so she would feel alright since she was pretty sure she had just ruined her life by bombing her audition.
But lately she’s been jealous of her over something else entirely. It’s not something that most people would understand- or at least not the people she went to school with. They’d tell her that she should be happy that she didn’t have to deal with what Quinn did sophomore year. But the fact of the matter is that she’s jealous because Quinn got something she hasn’t gotten even though in theory she could- she had Puck’s baby.
Yes, at the end of the day Quinn didn’t keep that baby she had with Puck but she still was the mother of his child. And now, years later, with Quinn dating Sam again- no surprise to Rachel there- and Rachel dating Puck again- much to the surprise of a lot of people- their lives were all in very different places than when they were teenagers and Quinn had Beth. But the fact is that even though now, after all the time has passed, Puck knows giving Beth up was the right thing to do for his daughter he still misses her badly.
She’s not sure if it’s the little girl herself he misses or if he misses the chance he had been given in that moment to be a father. She isn’t even sure if it matters which one he’s missing. She just knows that because of the fact he misses that little girl- something Rachel understands, she truly does- she cant help but have this deep-rooted jealousy inside of her towards Quinn, towards the girl that gave that child to him to miss. Its just another thing on the long list of things Quinn has had and Rachel hasn’t. Just because high school ended doesn’t mean that list stopped growing.
At the end of the day, the fact of the matter is that she wants to have Puck’s baby. It may sound silly, it might even sound pathetic. Hell, she knows it may sound like she just wants to have his baby just because Quinn has his baby. But that’s not the reason she wants the baby. She wants the baby for a myriad of reasons. Her jealousy over Quinn was just one of the reasons. And yes, in that moment it was probably the biggest reason she had. But the situation came and went. Sometimes the other reasons definitely were stronger than the jealousy. But that jealousy was always there beneath the surface. And because of that she started to try to find ways to make sure she had a good chance of getting pregnant.
She stopped taking her birth control pills altogether. She knew that not taking them anymore was a very good start to being able to get pregnant. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that the fact they weren’t always effective left her enough of a chance to get what she wanted. And then she systematically started to make sure that they either used up whatever condoms they had or made sure they didn’t have any to begin with.
Most of the time Puck didn’t seem to object. Not that she expected him to put up much of a fight when she offered him sex just because they didn’t have any condoms. It wasn’t really in his nature to just turn away sex. So it wasn’t difficult at all to get him to sleep with her without protection. She’s been doing it for months now and so far she hasn’t achieved her goal. She’s wanted to; she’s tried to. But it hasn’t happened so far. It doesn’t seem to matter how much she tries. It just doesn’t seem to be happening for her. And with each time she takes a pregnancy test and finds out she’s not, in fact, pregnant? She gets more and more discouraged. And the more discouraged she gets the more desperate she gets.
When Puck comes home that night Rachel is still in the shower. He strips off his shoes and tosses them into the corner of the room like he always does, takes his shirt off and tosses it into the laundry basket, strips off his pants and tosses them into the laundry basket as well and then sits down on the bed, rubs at the back of his neck to try to relieve some of the tension that’s mounting there. It’s a routine he’s quite use to by then.
Rachel comes out of the bathroom wrapped up in the pink cotton robe that her fathers had bought her for her last birthday, her hair still wet from the shower. She finger combs her fingers through her hair as she approaches the bed, watches him watching her. He always watches her when she comes back into the room that way with her hair still wet from the shower and wrapped up in nothing but her robe. She knows it makes him watch her. That’s part of the reason why she does it. She likes knowing that he watches her when she comes into the room that way. And like she does every single time she walks into the room and he looks at her like that she stands there for a few moments and contemplates her next move. And like always the answer comes without much contemplation.
She moves over and sits down on the bed in front of him, reaches out and takes his free hand in hers, threads their fingers together and sort of rubs her fingers against the back of his hand like she can relieve some of the stress there with that simple little gesture. She knows she probably can’t make him feel any better by doing that but in that moment there honestly isn’t anything else that she can do. He’s already rubbing the back of his neck, after all. And she would offer to do it for him but when he’s already doing it then she doesn’t see the need. She offers though when she’s in the room already when he gets there.
“Rough day?” It’s sort of an obvious question. She doesn’t really have to ask it but she’d rather ask it than sit there in silence with him. And if she doesn’t start the conversation there probably wont be one. He isn’t exactly always very talkative when he gets home from work, after all.
“You could say that.”
“Poor baby.” She’s sort of teasing him but at the same time she’s genuinely sympathetic. Without the small smile that spreads across her face she might have seemed like she was just teasing him, almost mocking him. But she reaches out with her free hand, brushes her fingers down his cheek almost like she’s petting him. “You never sleep well when you’re stressed. You toss and turn all night.” Sometimes when he tosses and turns he ends up accidentally hitting into her or kicking her or something of the sort.
He lets out a bit of a weary chuckle, drops his hand down and away from his neck. He can’t deny that he can get restless and that sometimes when he gets restless he can end up kicking her. He doesn’t kick her hard and he feels really bad about it afterwards but he isn’t exactly in control when he’s sleeping there and rolling over and over and over to try to get his body to relax enough for him to actually get to that deep stage of sleep.
“You should try relieving some stress,” she suggests in such a logical way that he almost laughs. She sounds so innocent, so logical that its really rather adorable.
“Yeah? And how should I do that?”
Rachel shrugs just a little bit like she doesn’t know what to suggest to him but she does it in the way where she cocks her head slightly to her side while she tries to look totally innocent. She always tries to look innocent. “I don’t know.” She brushes her fingers down his cheek again like she’s petting his face. And then she leans forward, presses her mouth against his in a kiss.
She does that every time he seems stresed out, kisses him like she can help to calm him down by doing so. But he knows her well enough to know that she sometimes has something up her sleeve. She brushes her tongue across his bottom lip and he nips at the tip of her tongue. She whimpers in the back of her throat, sits up on her knees to look so she can kiss him easier. His hands move to her waist and in that moment she reaches down and undoes the tie of her robe, lets it hang open around her.
He leans back from her just a little bit, his eyes skipping over her body for a moment and he almost laughs, almost smirks because he knows then that he’s right, that she was up to something. But she’s rather predictable in some ways. After getting to know her well enough it’s pretty easy to read her, to know when she’s up to something.
“You’re naked,” he notes unnecessarily, his eyes remaining on her body while she kneels there in front of him. He looks at her dusky nipples, hard in the cool air of the room; he looks at the patch of hair between her thighs, at her taut stomach.
“Technically my robe is still on,” she notes, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly so she’s sort of smiling a little bit. She’s splitting hairs and they both know it. For all technical purposes she’s kneeling there naked in front of him.
He doesn’t try to argue that she’s not really being totally honest. Instead he just sort of chuckles under his breath, cocks his head just a tiny bit to one side while he watches her, both of his eyebrows arched in question, an almost amused smile on his face. “Right. Of course.” He slides his hand into the robe, rests it against her waist, rubs his thumb over her skin. “Silly me for saying you’re naked.”
“Yes, silly you.” His fingers continue brushing against her skin but she keeps her gaze on his face, doesn’t look down for even a second. “You should try to relax, Noah. Or you won’t get much sleep tonight.”
Telling him to relax to get some sleep when she’s kneeling naked before him seems to be a contradiction. And he’s pretty sure she knows it’s a big contradiction. So he just smiles at her a little bit and then leans closer to her, slants his mouth over hers, kisses her and slips his arms around her waist, draws her closer to him.
Her arms go around his neck, her body pressing close to his, the robe hanging on her shoulders like it’s trying not to fall off. But in the end she shrugs it off so it pools behind her, his arms being inside of her robe so that they don’t hinder anything. For a few moments they just stay like that with his arms around her, their mouths together.
He rolls her over on her back, moves so he’s hovering over her, is settled between her legs, his hands still on her bare skin. Even after being with her for a long while he sometimes gets amazed by how soft her skin is, is amazed by the way she presses her body up against his as though she wanted to make them into one body rather than two separate beings.
And then, as though she has to clarify what she meant by saying he should find a way to relax- she doesn’t have to since he knows her so well- she presses herself more firmly against him, moves her hips against his as though she’s in the middle of a seductive dance, keeps doing so until he groans against her mouth and he has to lean back just a little bit. Its not that he hates it or feels like objecting. He just can’t keep his mouth pressed against hers with the friction she’s causing. He doesn’t really want her to stop though. “You’re tempting fate,” he whispers down to her, amusement in his voice.
She smiles though, this sort of cross between being amused and like she’s being a brat. There’s something about that smile that’s both adorable and undeniably hot. “You say that like you don’t like it.”
He narrows his eyes like he’s glaring at her even though the glare has absolutely no fire behind it. She knows he’s not really frustrated, not really mad or upset or anything of the sort. He just has to give her that withering look to save face. “Not the point, babe.”
“I could help you relax,” she offers, presses herself against him again. “If you relax you’ll sleep better. And we both know I can help you relax.”
“You’re killing me, babe,” he groans.
“Then just give in.”
He lets out sort of a laughing groan and looks down like he’s trying to catch his breath, watches her chest move as she presses herself against him again. Moving one hand he rests it against her chest, cups one breast in her hand and brushes his thumb over her nipple, enjoys the way her body shudders slightly against his palm. Back in high school he never imagined she would end up being so sexually confident, that she would be able to accept and control her desire the way she can. He sort of wondered if she would be but never expected her to. For as much as he liked her- and he did like her- she always seemed way too rigid, way too determined to be in control to turn herself over to something as base as sexual desire. But the Rachel Berry he knew in high school and this version are very far cries from each other in a lot of ways. And somehow, on most days, exactly the same.
“I don’t know…”
“Noah.” Her voice comes out in a sort of almost pathetic whine, her back arching a little bit, her hands grabbing at his waist like she could pull him closer to her. It’s both adorable and sexy and he has to bite his bottom lip against a laugh when she does that. Sometimes he can’t help himself, he really can’t. He just has to tease her that way, has to make her think that he isn’t even a little bit tempted to give into her when they both know that’s not true. Sometimes he just likes to hear her let out that tiny little whimper.
She opens her mouth to whimper at him again but he slants his mouth over hers, kisses her both to try to stop her from talking and with all of the affection that’s swirling around inside of him for her. There’s been affection there for a very, very long time but there was nothing he could do about it until they got together. But he doesn’t have to worry about not showing her any affection anymore. He can be with her in whatever way he really wants to and not worry about crossing a line or anything.
Her hands move around so they’re both brushing against his stomach, nails scratching slightly against his skin while she lies beneath him, her body still pressing up against his. She slips one hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, moves it so she can take him into her palm, wrap her fingers around him and down her palm up and down the length of him. He groans against her mouth, shudders just a little bit and she can’t help but smirk against his lips.
He moves his mouth away from hers and he rests his face against her neck, his breath warm on her skin, her body shivering a little bit at the feeling. “You’re killing mere, here…”
“You’re the one killing me,” she whispers back to him. “Because you wont just give in.”
Leaning back a bit he looks down at her, at her shiny, sort of hazy eyes, at her full lips and the way her hair is fanning out beneath her as she lay there on the bed. She looks undeniably sexy and it only takes him half a moment of thinking before he just mumbles, “Fuck it.” And then his hands move down and sort of shove hers away and push his boxers down over his hips. He kicks them away as she moves her fingers back to his stomach, fingertips brushing over the planes of his stomach.
She spreads her legs further apart and watches him as he leans over towards their bedside table so he can grab a condom but she stops him. She presses one hand against his chest, takes him in her hand with the other hand, arches her hips up to brush him against her body, her own silent way of telling him not to bother with a condom, to just get over it and have sex with her already. He takes a shuddering breath as he looks at her. She looks back up at him, this completely innocent look on her face and this sort of growl crawls up his throat.
He presses his mouth back against hers, all teeth and tongues. His hands go to her hips, squeeze down once, twice and then he moves inside of her, his hips pressing close up against hers. For a few moments they just stay like that, her hands sliding up so she can dig her nails into his shoulders. They’re short enough not to draw blood but long enough to leave a bit of a sting afterwards. But he scarcely notices it because she’s warm and wet and tight around him, so familiar and yet somehow so very new every single time.
There’s no desperation in the way his hips snap against hers, the way he draws out and thrust back in, leaving her almost entirely and moving back into her so he’s bottoming out in a slow, steady rhythm. And it isn’t just being tense or tired that makes him keep that slow, steady pace with her. It’s the way her face contorts both like she enjoys him teasing her in that way and like she wants to slap him repeatedly for it. Its because she looks so hot when she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and whimpers in the back of her throat, her nails digging deeper into his skin.
The muscles in his back move beneath her fingers, her thighs pressing tighter against his sides like she can trap him there with her, trap him against her body. She hikes her legs higher against his sides, sort of folds slightly into herself. It chances the angle he’s thrusting into her a little bit and she shudders and wines with each slow, deliberate thrusting of his hips, with each time their bodies meet and even more pathetically as his hips draw away from hers.
He knows her body so well by then that he knows when she’s getting close because her thighs clench tighter around him as though trying to trap him in place and her eyes always start to close a little bit as though looking up at him has become too great of an effort. And as soon as she does that, as soon as she’s looking up at him with her half-lidded eyes and her lips are slightly parted, her tongue darting out to wet the bottom one his hands tighten on her waist and he abandons that slow, steady rhythm he’s keeping up, more intent on reaching the end than making it last.
Her breath catches in her throat when he thrusts harder into her and she holds it for one, two, three seconds before she releases it in an almost pathetic little moan of need and desperation. Her hands slide down his back and sort of press against it to press him closer to her. She tilts her head back against the bed, the muscles in her neck becoming taunt and the skin looking even smoother than it normally does.
His hand slides between their bodies and he rubs his thumb against her clit while her body shakes beneath him, every muscle in her body tense like a rubber band about to snap. And then it does snap, in a matter of speaking. She shudders like a jolt of electricity has just shot through her, her mouth falling open for a few long seconds before she moans out his name in a way that’s halfway to a scream but too breathless to really be one. She clenches around him, her body squeezing down and relaxing and then repeating the cycle again and again while his hips meet hers again. Once, twice, three more times and then he comes as well, his hips stuttering against hers though not entirely stopping, her name falling past his lips in a sort of growl.
For a few seconds it feels like he cant even breathe, like oxygen no longer exists in his world and he thinks, like he always does, if that were true then it wouldn’t be such a bad way to die. But oxygen slowly starts to fill his lungs again and he sort of lays down on top of her careful not to crush her beneath his weight, presses a lazy kiss to her shoulder and turns his head so he can hear her heart beating in her chest in that frantic rhythm it seems to be so use to by now.
Rachel closes her eyes entirely then, lifts up one hand to lazily pet the back of his neck with the tips of her fingers, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. The sheen of sweat that covers their bodies slowly starts to cool in the evening air, their skin sticky from it but it’s the good kind of sticky, the kind that comes when you’ve been trying to meet a goal and have finally gotten there.
“Told you I could help you relax,” she whispers to him as her breathing starts to become normal again, her heartbeat starts to slow down again. He laughs under his breath, the sound making his chest shake and she can feel him smiling against her skin.
She knows, like she knows every time, there’s no guarantee that she got what she wanted. She may very well end up disappointed once again when she takes her next pregnancy test but she’s not going to give up. And she can try again and again and again. They’re still young and they still have time.
And besides- its not as though she cant get him right back into the same spot he’s in right in that moment. She can get him into that position any time she wants to.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4, 177
Summary: Rachel has always been jealous of everything Quinn has- including the fact that she had Puck's child.
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt at glee-kink-meme.
Rachel knows its stupid to still be jealous of Quinn. Over their senior year the girls had become somewhat friends. Yes, they still had some strange moments where they didn’t see eye-to-eye and they had arguments but they had become friends despite all reason and rationale. It was something she never thought would happen. And yet they were friends. And yet she was still jealous of Quinn for so many, many reasons.
She always felt like it wasn’t fair that Quinn, even with the pregnancy problem, had a rather nice high school career. She was popular and had friends; boys drooled over her. She was pretty, the prettiest girl Rachel had ever met. And she knew it was wrong to be jealous of Quinn because she was pretty- even without the nose job she had after she lost all of the weight she had before moving there she would have been beautiful and that was just genetics- she couldn’t help herself.
Quinn had the life she had wanted in high school. She would have even taken an unplanned pregnancy if it meant she got to have friends, she got to have guys want her. She was the girl people wanted to be; she was desirable. In some ways she ruled that school for the better part of two years. And yes, she had her problems. She even fell apart a little bit their senior year but somehow she always managed bounce back. It never seemed to fail.
Even with all the bad things Quinn suffered through Rachel wished she could have her life. She wanted to know how it felt for one minute to be the popular girl, to be the girl that guys wanted. She wanted to feel like she was desired, loved, wanted. It was definitely something she hadn’t really and truly gotten to experience in high school. Even when she was crowned prom queen her senior year she didn’t delude herself into thinking that it was because she was adored. It was either a joke or a lie, something that her friends cooked up so she would feel alright since she was pretty sure she had just ruined her life by bombing her audition.
But lately she’s been jealous of her over something else entirely. It’s not something that most people would understand- or at least not the people she went to school with. They’d tell her that she should be happy that she didn’t have to deal with what Quinn did sophomore year. But the fact of the matter is that she’s jealous because Quinn got something she hasn’t gotten even though in theory she could- she had Puck’s baby.
Yes, at the end of the day Quinn didn’t keep that baby she had with Puck but she still was the mother of his child. And now, years later, with Quinn dating Sam again- no surprise to Rachel there- and Rachel dating Puck again- much to the surprise of a lot of people- their lives were all in very different places than when they were teenagers and Quinn had Beth. But the fact is that even though now, after all the time has passed, Puck knows giving Beth up was the right thing to do for his daughter he still misses her badly.
She’s not sure if it’s the little girl herself he misses or if he misses the chance he had been given in that moment to be a father. She isn’t even sure if it matters which one he’s missing. She just knows that because of the fact he misses that little girl- something Rachel understands, she truly does- she cant help but have this deep-rooted jealousy inside of her towards Quinn, towards the girl that gave that child to him to miss. Its just another thing on the long list of things Quinn has had and Rachel hasn’t. Just because high school ended doesn’t mean that list stopped growing.
At the end of the day, the fact of the matter is that she wants to have Puck’s baby. It may sound silly, it might even sound pathetic. Hell, she knows it may sound like she just wants to have his baby just because Quinn has his baby. But that’s not the reason she wants the baby. She wants the baby for a myriad of reasons. Her jealousy over Quinn was just one of the reasons. And yes, in that moment it was probably the biggest reason she had. But the situation came and went. Sometimes the other reasons definitely were stronger than the jealousy. But that jealousy was always there beneath the surface. And because of that she started to try to find ways to make sure she had a good chance of getting pregnant.
She stopped taking her birth control pills altogether. She knew that not taking them anymore was a very good start to being able to get pregnant. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that the fact they weren’t always effective left her enough of a chance to get what she wanted. And then she systematically started to make sure that they either used up whatever condoms they had or made sure they didn’t have any to begin with.
Most of the time Puck didn’t seem to object. Not that she expected him to put up much of a fight when she offered him sex just because they didn’t have any condoms. It wasn’t really in his nature to just turn away sex. So it wasn’t difficult at all to get him to sleep with her without protection. She’s been doing it for months now and so far she hasn’t achieved her goal. She’s wanted to; she’s tried to. But it hasn’t happened so far. It doesn’t seem to matter how much she tries. It just doesn’t seem to be happening for her. And with each time she takes a pregnancy test and finds out she’s not, in fact, pregnant? She gets more and more discouraged. And the more discouraged she gets the more desperate she gets.
When Puck comes home that night Rachel is still in the shower. He strips off his shoes and tosses them into the corner of the room like he always does, takes his shirt off and tosses it into the laundry basket, strips off his pants and tosses them into the laundry basket as well and then sits down on the bed, rubs at the back of his neck to try to relieve some of the tension that’s mounting there. It’s a routine he’s quite use to by then.
Rachel comes out of the bathroom wrapped up in the pink cotton robe that her fathers had bought her for her last birthday, her hair still wet from the shower. She finger combs her fingers through her hair as she approaches the bed, watches him watching her. He always watches her when she comes back into the room that way with her hair still wet from the shower and wrapped up in nothing but her robe. She knows it makes him watch her. That’s part of the reason why she does it. She likes knowing that he watches her when she comes into the room that way. And like she does every single time she walks into the room and he looks at her like that she stands there for a few moments and contemplates her next move. And like always the answer comes without much contemplation.
She moves over and sits down on the bed in front of him, reaches out and takes his free hand in hers, threads their fingers together and sort of rubs her fingers against the back of his hand like she can relieve some of the stress there with that simple little gesture. She knows she probably can’t make him feel any better by doing that but in that moment there honestly isn’t anything else that she can do. He’s already rubbing the back of his neck, after all. And she would offer to do it for him but when he’s already doing it then she doesn’t see the need. She offers though when she’s in the room already when he gets there.
“Rough day?” It’s sort of an obvious question. She doesn’t really have to ask it but she’d rather ask it than sit there in silence with him. And if she doesn’t start the conversation there probably wont be one. He isn’t exactly always very talkative when he gets home from work, after all.
“You could say that.”
“Poor baby.” She’s sort of teasing him but at the same time she’s genuinely sympathetic. Without the small smile that spreads across her face she might have seemed like she was just teasing him, almost mocking him. But she reaches out with her free hand, brushes her fingers down his cheek almost like she’s petting him. “You never sleep well when you’re stressed. You toss and turn all night.” Sometimes when he tosses and turns he ends up accidentally hitting into her or kicking her or something of the sort.
He lets out a bit of a weary chuckle, drops his hand down and away from his neck. He can’t deny that he can get restless and that sometimes when he gets restless he can end up kicking her. He doesn’t kick her hard and he feels really bad about it afterwards but he isn’t exactly in control when he’s sleeping there and rolling over and over and over to try to get his body to relax enough for him to actually get to that deep stage of sleep.
“You should try relieving some stress,” she suggests in such a logical way that he almost laughs. She sounds so innocent, so logical that its really rather adorable.
“Yeah? And how should I do that?”
Rachel shrugs just a little bit like she doesn’t know what to suggest to him but she does it in the way where she cocks her head slightly to her side while she tries to look totally innocent. She always tries to look innocent. “I don’t know.” She brushes her fingers down his cheek again like she’s petting his face. And then she leans forward, presses her mouth against his in a kiss.
She does that every time he seems stresed out, kisses him like she can help to calm him down by doing so. But he knows her well enough to know that she sometimes has something up her sleeve. She brushes her tongue across his bottom lip and he nips at the tip of her tongue. She whimpers in the back of her throat, sits up on her knees to look so she can kiss him easier. His hands move to her waist and in that moment she reaches down and undoes the tie of her robe, lets it hang open around her.
He leans back from her just a little bit, his eyes skipping over her body for a moment and he almost laughs, almost smirks because he knows then that he’s right, that she was up to something. But she’s rather predictable in some ways. After getting to know her well enough it’s pretty easy to read her, to know when she’s up to something.
“You’re naked,” he notes unnecessarily, his eyes remaining on her body while she kneels there in front of him. He looks at her dusky nipples, hard in the cool air of the room; he looks at the patch of hair between her thighs, at her taut stomach.
“Technically my robe is still on,” she notes, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly so she’s sort of smiling a little bit. She’s splitting hairs and they both know it. For all technical purposes she’s kneeling there naked in front of him.
He doesn’t try to argue that she’s not really being totally honest. Instead he just sort of chuckles under his breath, cocks his head just a tiny bit to one side while he watches her, both of his eyebrows arched in question, an almost amused smile on his face. “Right. Of course.” He slides his hand into the robe, rests it against her waist, rubs his thumb over her skin. “Silly me for saying you’re naked.”
“Yes, silly you.” His fingers continue brushing against her skin but she keeps her gaze on his face, doesn’t look down for even a second. “You should try to relax, Noah. Or you won’t get much sleep tonight.”
Telling him to relax to get some sleep when she’s kneeling naked before him seems to be a contradiction. And he’s pretty sure she knows it’s a big contradiction. So he just smiles at her a little bit and then leans closer to her, slants his mouth over hers, kisses her and slips his arms around her waist, draws her closer to him.
Her arms go around his neck, her body pressing close to his, the robe hanging on her shoulders like it’s trying not to fall off. But in the end she shrugs it off so it pools behind her, his arms being inside of her robe so that they don’t hinder anything. For a few moments they just stay like that with his arms around her, their mouths together.
He rolls her over on her back, moves so he’s hovering over her, is settled between her legs, his hands still on her bare skin. Even after being with her for a long while he sometimes gets amazed by how soft her skin is, is amazed by the way she presses her body up against his as though she wanted to make them into one body rather than two separate beings.
And then, as though she has to clarify what she meant by saying he should find a way to relax- she doesn’t have to since he knows her so well- she presses herself more firmly against him, moves her hips against his as though she’s in the middle of a seductive dance, keeps doing so until he groans against her mouth and he has to lean back just a little bit. Its not that he hates it or feels like objecting. He just can’t keep his mouth pressed against hers with the friction she’s causing. He doesn’t really want her to stop though. “You’re tempting fate,” he whispers down to her, amusement in his voice.
She smiles though, this sort of cross between being amused and like she’s being a brat. There’s something about that smile that’s both adorable and undeniably hot. “You say that like you don’t like it.”
He narrows his eyes like he’s glaring at her even though the glare has absolutely no fire behind it. She knows he’s not really frustrated, not really mad or upset or anything of the sort. He just has to give her that withering look to save face. “Not the point, babe.”
“I could help you relax,” she offers, presses herself against him again. “If you relax you’ll sleep better. And we both know I can help you relax.”
“You’re killing me, babe,” he groans.
“Then just give in.”
He lets out sort of a laughing groan and looks down like he’s trying to catch his breath, watches her chest move as she presses herself against him again. Moving one hand he rests it against her chest, cups one breast in her hand and brushes his thumb over her nipple, enjoys the way her body shudders slightly against his palm. Back in high school he never imagined she would end up being so sexually confident, that she would be able to accept and control her desire the way she can. He sort of wondered if she would be but never expected her to. For as much as he liked her- and he did like her- she always seemed way too rigid, way too determined to be in control to turn herself over to something as base as sexual desire. But the Rachel Berry he knew in high school and this version are very far cries from each other in a lot of ways. And somehow, on most days, exactly the same.
“I don’t know…”
“Noah.” Her voice comes out in a sort of almost pathetic whine, her back arching a little bit, her hands grabbing at his waist like she could pull him closer to her. It’s both adorable and sexy and he has to bite his bottom lip against a laugh when she does that. Sometimes he can’t help himself, he really can’t. He just has to tease her that way, has to make her think that he isn’t even a little bit tempted to give into her when they both know that’s not true. Sometimes he just likes to hear her let out that tiny little whimper.
She opens her mouth to whimper at him again but he slants his mouth over hers, kisses her both to try to stop her from talking and with all of the affection that’s swirling around inside of him for her. There’s been affection there for a very, very long time but there was nothing he could do about it until they got together. But he doesn’t have to worry about not showing her any affection anymore. He can be with her in whatever way he really wants to and not worry about crossing a line or anything.
Her hands move around so they’re both brushing against his stomach, nails scratching slightly against his skin while she lies beneath him, her body still pressing up against his. She slips one hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, moves it so she can take him into her palm, wrap her fingers around him and down her palm up and down the length of him. He groans against her mouth, shudders just a little bit and she can’t help but smirk against his lips.
He moves his mouth away from hers and he rests his face against her neck, his breath warm on her skin, her body shivering a little bit at the feeling. “You’re killing mere, here…”
“You’re the one killing me,” she whispers back to him. “Because you wont just give in.”
Leaning back a bit he looks down at her, at her shiny, sort of hazy eyes, at her full lips and the way her hair is fanning out beneath her as she lay there on the bed. She looks undeniably sexy and it only takes him half a moment of thinking before he just mumbles, “Fuck it.” And then his hands move down and sort of shove hers away and push his boxers down over his hips. He kicks them away as she moves her fingers back to his stomach, fingertips brushing over the planes of his stomach.
She spreads her legs further apart and watches him as he leans over towards their bedside table so he can grab a condom but she stops him. She presses one hand against his chest, takes him in her hand with the other hand, arches her hips up to brush him against her body, her own silent way of telling him not to bother with a condom, to just get over it and have sex with her already. He takes a shuddering breath as he looks at her. She looks back up at him, this completely innocent look on her face and this sort of growl crawls up his throat.
He presses his mouth back against hers, all teeth and tongues. His hands go to her hips, squeeze down once, twice and then he moves inside of her, his hips pressing close up against hers. For a few moments they just stay like that, her hands sliding up so she can dig her nails into his shoulders. They’re short enough not to draw blood but long enough to leave a bit of a sting afterwards. But he scarcely notices it because she’s warm and wet and tight around him, so familiar and yet somehow so very new every single time.
There’s no desperation in the way his hips snap against hers, the way he draws out and thrust back in, leaving her almost entirely and moving back into her so he’s bottoming out in a slow, steady rhythm. And it isn’t just being tense or tired that makes him keep that slow, steady pace with her. It’s the way her face contorts both like she enjoys him teasing her in that way and like she wants to slap him repeatedly for it. Its because she looks so hot when she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and whimpers in the back of her throat, her nails digging deeper into his skin.
The muscles in his back move beneath her fingers, her thighs pressing tighter against his sides like she can trap him there with her, trap him against her body. She hikes her legs higher against his sides, sort of folds slightly into herself. It chances the angle he’s thrusting into her a little bit and she shudders and wines with each slow, deliberate thrusting of his hips, with each time their bodies meet and even more pathetically as his hips draw away from hers.
He knows her body so well by then that he knows when she’s getting close because her thighs clench tighter around him as though trying to trap him in place and her eyes always start to close a little bit as though looking up at him has become too great of an effort. And as soon as she does that, as soon as she’s looking up at him with her half-lidded eyes and her lips are slightly parted, her tongue darting out to wet the bottom one his hands tighten on her waist and he abandons that slow, steady rhythm he’s keeping up, more intent on reaching the end than making it last.
Her breath catches in her throat when he thrusts harder into her and she holds it for one, two, three seconds before she releases it in an almost pathetic little moan of need and desperation. Her hands slide down his back and sort of press against it to press him closer to her. She tilts her head back against the bed, the muscles in her neck becoming taunt and the skin looking even smoother than it normally does.
His hand slides between their bodies and he rubs his thumb against her clit while her body shakes beneath him, every muscle in her body tense like a rubber band about to snap. And then it does snap, in a matter of speaking. She shudders like a jolt of electricity has just shot through her, her mouth falling open for a few long seconds before she moans out his name in a way that’s halfway to a scream but too breathless to really be one. She clenches around him, her body squeezing down and relaxing and then repeating the cycle again and again while his hips meet hers again. Once, twice, three more times and then he comes as well, his hips stuttering against hers though not entirely stopping, her name falling past his lips in a sort of growl.
For a few seconds it feels like he cant even breathe, like oxygen no longer exists in his world and he thinks, like he always does, if that were true then it wouldn’t be such a bad way to die. But oxygen slowly starts to fill his lungs again and he sort of lays down on top of her careful not to crush her beneath his weight, presses a lazy kiss to her shoulder and turns his head so he can hear her heart beating in her chest in that frantic rhythm it seems to be so use to by now.
Rachel closes her eyes entirely then, lifts up one hand to lazily pet the back of his neck with the tips of her fingers, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. The sheen of sweat that covers their bodies slowly starts to cool in the evening air, their skin sticky from it but it’s the good kind of sticky, the kind that comes when you’ve been trying to meet a goal and have finally gotten there.
“Told you I could help you relax,” she whispers to him as her breathing starts to become normal again, her heartbeat starts to slow down again. He laughs under his breath, the sound making his chest shake and she can feel him smiling against her skin.
She knows, like she knows every time, there’s no guarantee that she got what she wanted. She may very well end up disappointed once again when she takes her next pregnancy test but she’s not going to give up. And she can try again and again and again. They’re still young and they still have time.
And besides- its not as though she cant get him right back into the same spot he’s in right in that moment. She can get him into that position any time she wants to.