Catch You If I Can
Title: Catch You If I Can
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 7,600
Summary: She's over there, and she hasn't made any moves toward him since he got here, and ending things "clean and simple" was her idea, not his. She shouldn't be allowed to look at him like this right now.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: sneaker328 mentioned strip dreidel (and assured me that it isn't a hideously offensive concept), and this happened.
Rachel making those eyes at Puck over the rim of her cup while she talks to Blaine across the room from where Puck is standing is making it really hard for him to ignore her.
(It's also hard to ignore her because he doesn't want to ignore her at all, but whatever.)
He didn't even know that she'd come home for winter break, and Sam didn't mention it when he texted him about this party at the Berrys' house, where the guy is living until he graduates. It's basically everyone who was ever in glee club, and as much as they all fought with each other, these kids are his extended family. Mercedes left early, Artie's out of town, Kurt didn't come home for break, and Brittany is MIA, but everyone else is hanging out.
And Rachel is standing over in front of that crazy ass stage making him remember all sorts of shit.
He thinks that being in Rachel Berry's basement is always going to make him nostalgic. There were more than a couple of parties down here, and after Sam started staying with the Berrys last year, Puck and the rest of the guys definitely took advantage of that plasma screen in the cabinet. There were some epic game marathons, and this was where everyone from glee club all gathered to watch the video of their winning Nationals performance. They figured they deserved to relive that shit.
It's also pretty much impossible to look anywhere in this room without seeing Rachel, naked and moaning his name, in his mind's eye.
Whatever. She's over there, and she hasn't made any moves toward him since he got here, and ending things "clean and simple" was her idea, not his. He tried to keep in touch, sending a few text messages back at the beginning of the semester, and she ignored him. She shouldn't be allowed to look at him like this right now. It makes him think thoughts, and he doesn't know if she'd be down. It's kind of killing his buzz, to be honest.
"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Santana asks, sliding up beside where Puck is standing at the bar (part of the reason he loves this room), sort of surveying the room.
He rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores the question. He'd actually been watching Rory and Tina talking and trying to figure out why the guy is still around. Shouldn't that kid be in Ireland? "Shouldn't you be stealing presents from Tiny Tim?"
"That's weak, Puck," she says condescendingly. He's missed Santana's bitchy ass, almost in spite of himself. She takes a step closer to him and snags his beer so she can take a sip. "It's Rachel, right?" She smirks when he doesn't say anything. "I knew some shit went down with you two."
He and Rachel kept things pretty quiet this summer, mostly because they didn't want to deal with everyone making it a big thing, but he's not surprised that Santana suspected something. She's always been able to ferret out that sort of thing. He knows she won't let this go either; chick is like a bulldog when she gets a hold of information like this. "We fucked around. That's it," he lies. (It was more than that.) He snags his beer back from her and takes a swig. "It's not a big deal."
So, yeah, he sort of fell for Rachel this summer, but they always knew it had an expiration date. It was an accident (and a mistake) to start feeling like he wanted more from her than hot, dirty sex. When they ended things before she moved to New York, Puck knew that meant that they ended things. Thinking that he could maybe have her again - which is what her eyes are saying over there across the room - is fucking his shit up. But he isn't going to tell Santana any of that.
Santana glares when she tries to take the beer from him again and he doesn't let her. "It's just super cute, Noah, how you're pining over Rachel Berry." He fucking hates Santana's faux-sweet voice. "I get it though," she says, her voice reverting back to normal. She's gazing across the room at Rachel, who is now having an intense conversation with Mike Chang. She's wearing this short as fuck blue dress, and basically all Puck can see right now is her legs. "I'd tap that. She's like, a secret freak, right?"
"Would you please fuck off?" Puck says, glaring down at Santana. He doesn't want to talk about Rachel like that (even though Santana's a little bit right). She's such a goddamn shit disturber. He shouldn't be surprised that she wants to have this conversation with him when they haven't seen each other in months; if they were talking about anything else, he'd think it's awesome that she can pick up like they were just hanging out last week, but this kind of sucks.
"Ugh, whatever. You're such a fucking girl."
She snatches his beer away quick enough that he can't stop her and takes a long drink. "Bitch."
She drains the bottle before handing it back to him (because she's a bitch; he misses her), then walks around behind the bar to get into the fridge beneath the counter to get them each new beers. "Hey, look," she says, pulling a silver bowl of chocolate gelt from behind a package of Solo cups. "I thought Hanukkah was over."
"A couple of days ago," he confirms, taking the beer that she hands him. "They're probably just leftovers."
Santana plucks out the dreidel that's sitting among the chocolates. "Remember that time we played strip dreidel?" she asks, a dirty grin on her lips when she spins the little toy on the countertop.
He smirks. "Yeah, I do." It was him and Mike and Brittany and Santana, back when Santana was more straight than not, hanging out in Puck's basement during winter break one year. That was a good night.
It's already too late to try to stop her when he recognizes the gleam in her eyes. "Strip dreidel, bitches!" she calls out, coming from behind the bar and holding the toy above her head. Saying the word 'strip' in a room full of half-drunk people gets attention, and all eyes are on Santana as she struts across the room.
"Strip dreidel?" Finn repeats. He looks at Puck. "Isn't that like, sacrilegious or something?"
"Nah. Dreidel's about gambling." Puck could elaborate, but he knows Finn just wants to be sure that they aren't doing something that going to get them struck down by God or whatever. The people who would care about the particulars - Rachel and Quinn, Mike, and maybe a couple of others - probably already know.
"Strip dreidel doesn't even make sense," Quinn says, earning a glare from Santana, who is settling herself on the couch between Sam and Blaine. "What are the rules?"
"Puck remembers," Santana says dismissively. "Circle up bitches, or get out."
"This is offensive," Rachel insists from next to the little stage, watching as everyone else follows Santana's order and starts pulling up chairs and pillows around the coffee table.
Puck just shrugs when she looks at him expectantly, like she wants him to agree. "I'm not offended." He's the one who made up the rules to this game in the first place. Also, he's Puck. Of course he isn't offended.
"Me either," Tina offers, reminding Puck that she's half-Jewish, too.
"Sit down, Rachel," Santana orders. "Rules, Puckerman."
She's fucking demanding, but Puck is just a little drunk, and he doesn't hate the idea of playing. It's fun to watch people squirm, and people always squirm during stripping games. They all did this once before, this summer, except that time it was strip poker. Puck catches Rachel's eye for just a second when he remembers that. She spent that entire game sitting across from him and shooting him these looks that made him crazy. Afterwards, he drove her car out to the bluffs so they could fuck in the backseat, and she'd been so loud when she came that she nearly deafened him in the closed-up car.
Fuck, that was a god night.
"You pass clockwise, and you spin once," he starts, shaking off the memory and snagging the nearly-full bottle of peppermint schnapps from the bar, carrying it with him when he goes to sit on a chair that's been moved so that he's across from Santana, Sam, and Blaine on the couch. He grabs the dreidel from her when he gets close enough, setting the bottle on the coffee table. He holds up the toy to show everyone the correct side while he talks. "If you spin Nun, you lose one article of clothing. If you spin Gimel, you pick someone else to lose an article of clothing. If you spin Hei, the person on your left loses one, and if you spin Shin, the person on your right loses one."
"I can't tell them apart," Sugar complains, peering at the toy in Puck's hand. "What if Puck lies? He could you know," she says before anyone has a chance to answer. "I'm sitting beside him, and you all know he's always wanted to get on this."
"I know which one's which," Quinn says before Puck can open his mouth. She shoots him a warning glance because she knows him too well, and yeah, he was going to say something that would have pissed hr off. But maybe he doesn't know her as well as he thought, because he can't believe she's sitting here with them, planning to play along. Quinn isn't a total prude, but college must have changed her if she's willing to play this. She definitely wasn't playing strip poker with them this summer.
"I'll start!"
"Why do you get to start?" Rory asks Santana.
"Because I say so, Blarney Stone." Sam nudges her with his elbow, but she ignores him. "Don't you know by now not to question me?"
The first round is pretty boring. Santana makes Tina take off her tights, Blaine gets Quinn's scarf, Quinn loses her own shoes, Rory takes Santana's boot, Mike takes Rory's button-down, Tina gets Puck's shoes, Puck gets Sugar's headband (she glares at him, but it's just chance that he spun Hei), Sugar makes Finn lose his socks, Finn takes Santana's bracelet, Rachel takes off her own ballet flats, and Sam loses his shirt (which surprises exactly no one).
It takes a long time, and Puck, Quinn, and Tina keep having to tell everyone what letter they've spun (Rachel refuses to help, but if she hates the idea so much, Puck doesn't know why she's playing at all). Finn decides that everyone should take a shot whenever someone spins Gimel, which promises to make things more interesting, and in the third round, Quinn has terrible luck (and a bitchy Santana) to thank for losing everything but her necklace, her panties, and the camisole she's wearing over her bra.
"I don't want to be naked," she whines when Blaine rolls his fourth Hei in a row.
"Oh, fuck off, Fabray," Santana says, rolling her eyes. "If you're too pussy to play, go home."
Quinn glares, but Rachel starts talking before Quinn can start a fight. "What if we modify the rules?" she offers. "Each person can barter for their clothing by offering something else."
"Like what?" Finn asks.
"Something mildly embarrassing." She sighs when Sugar makes an annoying buzzer noise, like she's vetoing Rachel's suggestion. "Or maybe just a kiss."
"I thought this was offensive," Puck says before he can stop himself. He kind of wanted to make her talk to him first, since she's the one who started with the looks earlier, but he's not exactly sober; his filter is gone. Plus, she's still glancing at him with this look in her eyes every now and then, the sort that makes him want to grab her and start doing dirty shit to her regardless of who's in the room at the time.
"It is," she says simply, "but now I'm a little drunk, and it's also fun."
He snickers, then tips his beer bottle towards her in something like a salute.
Santana is the first one to show something good because she was wearing a dress when they started and declined to sniff peppermint schnapps up her nose on the grounds that 'Sugar is fucking stupid,' for being the one to suggest it. Thing is, Santana's like, way proud of her tits, and Puck's seen 'em before. Boobs are boobs, and hers are great, but it isn't like, exciting. That's when he realizes that the only person here that he hasn't already seen naked at one point or another is Tina. She and Mike aren't together any more, because he's off at school and she's still here in Lima, but that's still Chang's girl to Puck. It feels weird to be trying to get her out of her clothes. The game is less interesting when you aren't getting to see anything new, he decides.
Puck is busy taking an extra shot of schnapps and wishing that he was drinking something stronger after Rachel's Gimel when Sam spins a Shin. Rachel is already down to her bra and panties (which are deep blue and lacy and look phenomenal against her skin), so she's pouting about being told to take off something else.
"I want to make a deal," she insists, looking at Sam.
Beside Puck, Sugar starts giggling, mumbling something about playing the wrong game, which sets off Finn along with her. Everyone is completely drunk now. Puck wishes he was drunker.
"Fine." Sam looks thoughtful for a moment, and Puck knows why; Rachel is pretty much impossible to embarrass in front of this group of people. Something like making her perform the entirety of the "Single Ladies" dance by herself isn't going to have the same effect on her that it did on Finn when Mike made him do it. All at once, Sam's face takes on this smug expression. "Kiss Puck," he says simply.
"With tongue!" Santana interjects gleefully, grinning at Puck. Bitch.
Rachel glares at each of them in turn before turning to Puck. "Fine."
Puck has been down for kissing on Rachel since he was sixteen and she let him pin her against her mattress for the first time, but this has bad idea written all over it. Yeah, he wants to kiss her, but if he kisses her, he's going to want to do more, and she made it really clear that they were done with that back in August. Just because she's drunk and looking at him with her fuck me eyes doesn't mean that she's actually going to let him fuck her. This could just be a huge fucking tease, and he hates being teased.
But Santana is watching him from across the coffee table with a shit-eating grin on her face, and Sam doesn't look totally innocent either, which makes Puck wonder what the fuck Rachel has been telling the guy. They got close last year, living together, but Puck didn't realize that they were gossiping about their sex lives with each other and shit. Sam never let on that he knew anything was going on with Puck and Rachel. Anyhow, he can't pussy out when there are other people looking at him like this, for one thing, and for another, he doesn't want Rachel to think there's anything weird going on with him or whatever.
So that's why he moves toward her when she leans across the end of the coffee table, putting his hand on her upper arm to keep her steady when it looks like she might accidentally dive into his lap.
In the couple of seconds he had to think about what this was going to be like before it started, he figured that it would be a quick, impersonal kiss with a little tongue. Puck has kissed enough people that he didn't even know that well, so he knows what that could be like. Rachel kissing him all gently like this, her fingers sliding along his jaw until the tips are brushing at his ear like she knows makes him crazy?
He wishes he could lay her out on this coffee table and have his way with her.
(Again.)
It's not just that though. She's kissing him the way she did when they would just hang out in her bedroom this summer, lying on her bed and talking about nothing until one of them kissed the other and one thing would lead to another. Her lips are soft against his, and her tongue just grazes against his lower lip, like she's requesting that he open his mouth for her instead of demanding like he knows she sometimes does. The kiss isn't dirty, even when Rachel's tongue slides against his, but it makes him think dirty things, which is not at all okay right now, when he's sitting in a room with like, ten other people in nothing but his boxers and his left sock.
He pulls away just a tiny bit after a moment. Rachel is still right there when he opens his eyes, blinking at him with an expression in her eyes that he can't read at all. And he got pretty good at reading her expressions.
"Are you satisfied?" she asks Sam after a long beat, pulling away from Puck entirely so she can sit back in her chair.
Sam makes a noise that isn't a word, and Puck forces himself to watch Santana spin the dreidel instead of trying to figure out what he saw in Rachel's eyes after she kissed him. Yeah, things got a little more serious than either of them intended this summer, but that's over. If they were going to be anything more than a summer fling, they would have been, and it's clear that that isn't what she wanted.
It wasn't what Puck wanted either, honestly, but now that she's in front of him, he's remembering all this stuff and thinking all these thoughts, and it's all really fucking confusing.
Everybody takes a shot when Santana takes Sam's boxers, making him the most naked person in the room instead of her, and then Blaine makes Sugar give Finn a lap dance to keep her bra. (The look on Finn's face is seriously hilarious.) Quinn rolls her eyes when she spins a Nun, and no one argues when she says that taking another shot of schnapps is an adequate substitution for taking off her bra. Puck kind of can't believe that she let it get this far, where she's sitting there in her matching skin-toned, lace-edged bra and panties instead of saying something bitchy and walking away a while ago, but she also has this weird pride thing that keeps her from being the first one to bow out. He doesn't think he'll be seeing Quinn get any more naked tonight, but he doesn't think she'll be the one to end the game either.
Rory spins a Shin on his next turn. Quinn is sitting to his right, and Puck thinks she might actually cry when she realizes which letter is facing upwards. She's drunk, so instead of threatening the guy or trying to flirt her way out of it or whatever, she just looks at him and says his name quietly, asking him not to make her take off any more clothes without saying the words.
"Kiss me," Rory says after a second.
Quinn blinks. "What?"
"Kiss me," Rory repeats. "And you'll keep your clothes."
The conversation would be hilarious if the kid didn't sound so sincere. They're both drunk, for one thing, and Rory's sitting there in a plain white tee shirt and a pair of red plaid boxers. Quinn's eyes are wide, her knees pressed together tightly and one arm draped across her midsection in a way Puck knows she thinks is discreet. (He remembers seeing her do it before, especially when she was pregnant and still small enough to hide it a little.) Puck figures that this is going to be when Quinn finally gives up on the game; she's already kissed Sam to keep her clothes (not that she hadn't kissed him before) and recited the Cheerios honor code from memory.
So, yeah. Puck is surprised when Quinn sets her hand on the side of Rory's neck and leans forward to press her lips to his gently, and even more surprised by the way that she lingers there, her fingers slipping up to tease at his hairline.
"I quit," she says quietly after she pulls away from Rory, though she's still watching his face. She blinks a few times and sits up straighter, reaching for her necklace on the table and turning to face Santana as she clasps it behind her neck. "I quit."
"I quit, too," Rory says quickly, and Puck is weirdly proud of the kid when he pushes his button-down shirt onto Quinn's lap. She manages to pull it over her shoulders at the same time as she gathers her own clothes (Rory is doing the same), and then they're moving away from the table together.
"If they're quitting, I'm quitting," Sugar announces. Puck can see her pouting out of the corner of his eye when no one acknowledges her, which makes her huff out something when she stands up and walks away.
Mike and Tina stand up together, and just like that, the game is over.
Santana looks disappointed when she finishes zipping up her dress. "I didn't even get to see anyone new naked," she says to Puck, tugging her fingers through the ends of her hair.
Puck glances around the room, where everyone has dispersed again, except for Quinn and Rory, who have gone upstairs. "Who here haven't you seen naked?"
"Rachel and Tina," she answers. She rolls her eyes after a second. "And Blaine, but whatever."
"So, who lost?" Finn asks. The three of them are the only ones still sitting around the table, Santana zipping her boots while the guys tie their shoes.
"Sam got naked first," Santana answers, "but Quinn quit. So Quinn loses." Puck rolls his eyes at how predictable she is. Even after all these years and the fact that they don't hate one another at all any more (if they ever really did), she just likes to see Quinn lose things. Now though, it's trivial shit like this, which he supposes is better, but still.
Mike turns on a playlist of stuff, and Tina declares it a dance party when he and Finn start dancing. Well, Mike is dancing. Finn is moving his body in an imitation of dancing like he always does. It's funny to watch, and Puck doesn't really argue when Tina grabs his hands and pulls him away from where he's sitting by the bar, spinning her around even though the music is wrong for it just because it makes her laugh. Mike starts trying to teach Sugar how to pop and lock, and Rachel and Blaine are laughing as much as they're dancing, and all of it just reminds Puck of how much he loves these crazy people. He misses them.
He misses some of them more than others. That's sort of the problem, come down to it.
A little while later, Puck goes up to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Now that the party is winding down, he's hoping to sober up enough that he can drive himself the twelve blocks home instead of having to walk. He'd rather not have to come back over here to tomorrow to get his truck. He knows from experience that sucking back a bunch of water is the second-best way to get sober quick. (The best is to eat a bunch of bread or crackers, but he isn't going to raid the Berrys' pantry to get sober enough to drive himself home.) He could hang out and see if he could make something happen with Rachel tonight, but that hasn't ever been his style with her. If she wants him, she can just tell him. She's done it enough times before, in that breathless little voice that goes straight to his cock whenever she uses it.
He's sipping water and looking out the window above the sink, noticing the way the neighbor's Christmas lights reflect off the snow covering the Berrys' back yard, when he hears someone come up the basement stairs.
"I thought you'd left," Rachel says quietly. Of course it's Rachel.
"Not yet," he answers because he knows that she expects him to say something. He doesn't really want to talk to her though. If he talks to her, he's going to remember how much he likes talking to her. Then she'll start talking about New York, which he's already heard about from being in the same room with her and everyone else. Then he'll end up saying something that makes him sound like a jackass, and instead of maybe having some fun together while they're both home, it'll turn into exactly the kind of thing that they both avoided.
"Did Rory and Quinn leave?"
Puck smirks. "They're on the couch in the living room."
He isn't looking at her, but he can hear the pained expression on her face when she asks, "Should I be worried abut what they're doing in there?" Puck shakes his head and, finally feeling like a jerk for standing with his back to her, turns around, leaning back against the sink. "They're a bit of an odd couple," Rachel comments.
Puck doesn't think so, but if he says that, he's going to have to justify his reasoning, so he doesn't say anything, taking another sip of water instead. He doesn't want to talk to her about their friends.
After a minute, Rachel tilts her head at him. "Are you mad at me?"
He scoffs. "Don't be stupid, Rachel."
She frowns for just a second, then bites the corner of her bottom lip. "I've been thinking about this summer all night," she tells him, looking at his lips for just a second before meeting his eyes again.
"Rachel." There are still people downstairs, and he's not so sure it's a good idea for her to start this shit right now.
She pushes her hand through her hair. It was already messy, the way it always gets when she has more than a drink or two, but the action makes part of her bangs stick out at an odd angle. "I miss you, Noah," she admits quietly, twisting the ring on her finger nervously.
Puck shakes his head. "Rachel, you can't start this shit right--"
"Noah," she interrupts, stepping closer to him. "I want you."
Fuck. It's that voice, the one that he's basically never been able to resist. It's her eyes that do it though, all wide and dark, and before Puck can even pause to think about what he's doing, he's stepping toward her, putting his hands on her cheeks and slanting his mouth over hers, kissing her the way he really wanted to to earlier, when they were mostly naked and being watched by a group of their mostly-naked friends.
"Noah," she breathes against his lips, pulling away the tiniest bit, her fingers curling into his button-down shirt at his sides.
"I want you, too," he says, one hand falling to rest on her hip over her dress. He says it because he knows that she likes to hear the words. He turns them so she's pinned between his body and the counter, his other hand slipping into her hair, fixing the wayward strand when he kisses her again. This is part of the problem with kissing Rachel; he can't do it just once.
(It's like those potato chip commercials from when he was a kid, which is a fucking stupid way to think about it, but he can't help that that's where his mind goes.)
She pulls away and bows her head a little. "I wish I hadn't ignored your messages," she whispers. His grip on her hip tightens. "I wanted to be done with Lima, and I thought I was, but..." She shakes her head a tiny bit and looks up at him. "But I miss you," she repeats, like that explains everything.
And maybe it does.
This conversation is suddenly about something besides just sex, but Puck doesn't really know what to do with that. "You're drunk," he says instead of kissing her again like he wants to.
She smiles like she knows something that he doesn't. "You say what you're afraid to say sober when you're drunk."
"Rach--"
"We don't have to talk about it," she says, bringing one hand up and slipping her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. "Maybe we should, but..." She looks up at him from under her eyelashes. "I just want you. Please, Noah."
"Yeah." Fuck, he wants her, too. He doesn't even care right now what all of this is about. She stands on her toes and presses herself against him. She doesn't have to do much at all to make him crazy. "Yeah."
Rachel takes his hand and pulls away (that part sucks) so she can lead them out of the kitchen. There are still people downstairs, but Sam has that shit under control. And yeah, now they'll all know for sure about the shit between Puck and Rachel (if Sam and Santana haven't already filled everyone in, they will now), but fuck it. It's really hard to care right now, because he's a little bit drunk, and Rachel glances over her shoulder at him when they step through the living room doorway, her eyes dark and her cheeks pink, a look that he saw quite a bit this summer. That look means good things.
She lets out a squeak when she turns forward again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Puck nearly walks into her when her feet stop moving. He follows her gaze to the loveseat, where Quinn's back is to them as she straddles Rory's lap, the guy's hand resting against the skin between her shoulder blades left bare by her dress. He hears her let out a breathless little laugh, and it's time to go. Puck knows that Quinn isn't going to be taking off her clothes or anything - not in Rachel's living room and probably not with a guy who isn't her boyfriend ever again - but that doesn't mean that it's okay for him and Rachel to be here, seeing this.
He puts his hand on the small of Rachel's back to lead her toward the stairs, trying to keep his footfalls quiet on the hardwood. He glances back into the living room when they get to the landing, but neither Quinn nor Rory seems to have realized that anyone was just in the room with them. It's better that way, he's sure.
He forgets about Quinn and Rory completely when Rachel pushes her bedroom door closed and walks over to her bed, sitting on the white duvet and whispering his name when she lays back against the pillows. "Come here," she murmurs.
She parts her legs when he walks to the bed, giving him another glimpse of her panties before he settles himself between her thighs. She lets out a little hum and brings her hand up to the back of his neck. "You feel so good here."
He kisses her instead of saying anything, because nothing going on in his head needs to be said aloud right this second. It's all either filthy (which he'll save for a little later, when it'll really make her crazy) or makes it sound like he's half in love with her or something.
He might be, but he doesn't need her to know that now. Maybe not ever.
"I was trying to get your attention all night," she says when he kisses her neck. She whimpers when he sucks gently at the spot on the underside of her jaw that she loves. "You ignored me."
"I didn't know you wanted this," he mumbles against her skin. It's mostly a lie. Rachel isn't exactly subtle. He just didn't want to give in to her. Not until she said that stuff about missing him.
She presses her hips up against his when he kisses down across the part of her chest exposed by her dress. "I want you."
He worries, just a tiny bit, that he's going to rip her dress in his rush to get it off her, but it'd be worth it if he did. She's fumbling with his belt while he's fumbling with her zipper. She glares when he chuckles at her for getting frustrated with his clothes, but then she's pushing his boxers down off his hips and wrapping her soft little hand around his cock, and it stops being so funny.
He goes with it when she pushes him onto his back, kissing him all slow and dirty, the lace of her bra rubbing against his chest as she slides down his body, not stopping until she's kneeling between his legs and stroking his dick again. "Tell me what you want," she requests, scratching her fingernails over his thigh gently with her free hand.
He reaches down to slip a hand into her hair. "Suck my cock, baby."
Not the most romantic thing to say to a girl that you haven't seen in months, but she did ask, and this thing between them wasn't about romance.
His head falls back against the pillows when she wraps her lips around him, her tongue moving against his dick the way that only she's ever done, pulling a groan from the back of his throat. He puts his other hand in her hair and looks down at her, his hips twitching upward a tiny bit when he he catches the glint in her eye. She makes him fucking crazy when she does this, and not just because, you know, she's got her mouth on his cock. It gets her all hot, he knows, the power trip of it, so she gives him these sexy as hell looks and makes these little noises that go all through him.
He grinds out a curse when she takes him into her throat and swallows around him, his fingers tightening in her hair so he can pull her off him. She looks smug when he pushes her onto her back, slipping one hand behind her to unclasp her bra. "So impatient," she teases breathlessly when he plucks at her right nipple.
He scoffs, bending his head to nip at the swell of her tit, biting at her nipple and then laving it with his tongue when she arches up against his mouth. She's so wet when he presses his fingers between her legs that the moisture is seeping through the lace of her panties, and she makes these crazy whimpering sounds against his lips when she pulls his head up so she can kiss him.
"Noah," she whines, rolling her hips against his hand. "Take them off."
He does what she says because she's right: He is impatient. He wants to be inside of her again, to feel her all hot and tight wrapped around him, to hear her let out those little whines when she gets close to the edge.
Okay, so maybe he's thought about her a time or two when he was jerking off, so maybe all of those little details are still pretty vivid in his mind. Whatever.
She moans when he flits the pads of his fingers over her clit, dipping down to tease at her entrance. "Jesus, baby. You're fucking soaked."
"I want you," she says needlessly. Her breath catches when he slips two fingers into her. "Please don't tease me."
He ignores her, just brushing his thumb against her clit as he moves his fingers. He knows how she works. She acts all impatient and shit, but the more he teases, the more worked up she gets and the harder she comes. It's like a challenge, too, seeing just how far he can push it before he starts to lose it himself.
He kisses her while he works his hand, swallowing all of the little sounds she's making while he pushes her toward the edge, groaning when she nips at his bottom lip with her teeth and tugs at the hair at the back of his head. He wants to fuck her so badly, but he wants her to come once first. He wants to watch her face when she lets go once without being distracted by what he's feeling.
It's fucking beautiful when it happens. He feels like a pussy for thinking it - he always has - but it's the truth. Her hand comes down to grasp his wrist, keeping him where she wants him as she clenches around his fingers. Her lips part and she lets out this little keening sound, her back arching up when her body goes all tense, jerking just a little when he moves his thumb over her nerves again.
Puck leans over to reach into the drawer of her bedside table, ignoring the way that she whines when he pulls his finger from her and hoping that there are still condoms in here. He lets out a sigh of relief when his fingers close around what he's looking for, and he moves quickly, unwrapping the condom and smoothing it over his length. He doesn't waste time stroking himself when she's there underneath him. He lines himself up and pushes into her slowly, savoring the way that she clenches around him with the aftershocks that are still moving through her.
"Oh, my god," she breathes out, looking up at him with wide eyes, her hand threading into the back of his hair when he's stilled his hips.
Puck leans over her more, kissing her hard before leaning his forehead against hers. "You feel so fucking good, baby." She feels better than anyone else, though he might only think that because he's balls-deep inside of her right now. Whatever. She feels fucking incredible.
She moans from low in her throat when he pulls back, the sound catching when he cants his hips forward, and from there it's all about the push and pull between them, that thing that's always been so much easier with her than with anyone else. Sex is always about chasing that moment, but with Rachel, it's like they both know that it'll be better if they get there together.
Rachel shifts beneath him, bringing one leg up around his hip. It changes the angle, and the way that her fingernails dig into his shoulder blades lets him know that he's hitting her spot. She flutters around him when he thrusts forward again hard, a sharp, almost pained sound falling from her lips when he hits it again. "Please," she gasps, forcing her eyes open so she can look into his.
"Please what, Rachel?" he asks. He thrusts shallowly, bringing his hand up to push her bangs off her forehead when she knits her brow.
She pushes her hips up. "Touch me," she manages. "Make me come, Noah. Please."
He couldn't deny her right now even if he wanted to, so he slips his hand between their bodies, pressing his thumb to her clit at the same time as he thrusts hard. She cries out so loudly that it reminds him that there are still other people in the house, and as awesome as it is to make her scream like that, he knows she'll be embarrassed if anyone hears them. He kisses her to muffle some of the sound, digging the way it feels when she moans into his mouth, the way that she flutters around him again when he curls his tongue around hers.
She falls apart with his name on her lips, clenching around him and taking him with her. In some vague part of his mind, he thinks that the last time he came this hard was with her too, but he doesn't dwell on that for long enough for it to really sink in. Instead, he looks down at Rachel and watches her chest heave as she tries to catch her breath, dipping his head to swipe his tongue over her nipple because he likes her tits and he can.
"Noah," she laughs, skimming her hands up his back. She sweaty, her cheeks are all pink, and her eyes are bright. He grins. "That was... It's been a while."
Too long, he thinks. "Yeah." He pulls out carefully, making Rachel sigh like she always does, and slips off the bed and into her bathroom to take care of the condom. He doesn't pause to think about what this might mean for them, because if he does, he's going to say something to her about it and fuck it all up.
Rachel is under the covers on her bed when he comes back out, the only light on in the room the lamp on her bedside table. "Stay," she says when he leans over to grab his jeans off the floor.
"There are still people downstairs," Puck reminds her. And if history is any indication, someone's going to come looking for her at some point and he's going to have to hide in the bathroom so they don't figure out that he's in here.
Rachel shrugs one shoulder. "They aren't going to do anything. Sam's there, and I trust Santana to take care of things." She blinks at him. "Even after all this time, it's still weird that that's true. Anyhow," she goes on, shaking her head a little, "they all know we're up here. I don't care any more."
Puck chuckles, dropping his jeans so he can slip into bed beside her. If she's not worried about it, yeah, he's going to take advantage of the chance he has to spend time with her. And since they're both naked, he's definitely going to take advantage of her again a couple of times.
She's just turned off the light and leaned herself back against his chest when someone knocks on the bedroom door, hard and fast. "Hey, so, don't bother coming out after you get done fucking," Santana shouts through the door. "We're all leaving, and Sam's coming home with me so he doesn't have to listen to Rachel's squeals."
Puck hears Sam's muttered, "Geez, Santana."
"Good night, Santana," Rachel shouts at the door, her voice neutral even though she has her hands over her face. "I can't believe we ran Sam out of the house," she whispers once they can hear Sam and Santana heading down the stairs.
Puck doesn't say anything, shifting and tugging Rachel until she's straddling his hips. "Look at the bright side." She lifts an eyebrow, pushing her hair over one shoulder. "Now you can be as loud as you want."
He doesn't know what's going to happen between them, and right this second, with her all pressed up against him and kissing him like this, he can't be bothered to give a fuck.
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 7,600
Summary: She's over there, and she hasn't made any moves toward him since he got here, and ending things "clean and simple" was her idea, not his. She shouldn't be allowed to look at him like this right now.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: sneaker328 mentioned strip dreidel (and assured me that it isn't a hideously offensive concept), and this happened.
Rachel making those eyes at Puck over the rim of her cup while she talks to Blaine across the room from where Puck is standing is making it really hard for him to ignore her.
(It's also hard to ignore her because he doesn't want to ignore her at all, but whatever.)
He didn't even know that she'd come home for winter break, and Sam didn't mention it when he texted him about this party at the Berrys' house, where the guy is living until he graduates. It's basically everyone who was ever in glee club, and as much as they all fought with each other, these kids are his extended family. Mercedes left early, Artie's out of town, Kurt didn't come home for break, and Brittany is MIA, but everyone else is hanging out.
And Rachel is standing over in front of that crazy ass stage making him remember all sorts of shit.
He thinks that being in Rachel Berry's basement is always going to make him nostalgic. There were more than a couple of parties down here, and after Sam started staying with the Berrys last year, Puck and the rest of the guys definitely took advantage of that plasma screen in the cabinet. There were some epic game marathons, and this was where everyone from glee club all gathered to watch the video of their winning Nationals performance. They figured they deserved to relive that shit.
It's also pretty much impossible to look anywhere in this room without seeing Rachel, naked and moaning his name, in his mind's eye.
Whatever. She's over there, and she hasn't made any moves toward him since he got here, and ending things "clean and simple" was her idea, not his. He tried to keep in touch, sending a few text messages back at the beginning of the semester, and she ignored him. She shouldn't be allowed to look at him like this right now. It makes him think thoughts, and he doesn't know if she'd be down. It's kind of killing his buzz, to be honest.
"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Santana asks, sliding up beside where Puck is standing at the bar (part of the reason he loves this room), sort of surveying the room.
He rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores the question. He'd actually been watching Rory and Tina talking and trying to figure out why the guy is still around. Shouldn't that kid be in Ireland? "Shouldn't you be stealing presents from Tiny Tim?"
"That's weak, Puck," she says condescendingly. He's missed Santana's bitchy ass, almost in spite of himself. She takes a step closer to him and snags his beer so she can take a sip. "It's Rachel, right?" She smirks when he doesn't say anything. "I knew some shit went down with you two."
He and Rachel kept things pretty quiet this summer, mostly because they didn't want to deal with everyone making it a big thing, but he's not surprised that Santana suspected something. She's always been able to ferret out that sort of thing. He knows she won't let this go either; chick is like a bulldog when she gets a hold of information like this. "We fucked around. That's it," he lies. (It was more than that.) He snags his beer back from her and takes a swig. "It's not a big deal."
So, yeah, he sort of fell for Rachel this summer, but they always knew it had an expiration date. It was an accident (and a mistake) to start feeling like he wanted more from her than hot, dirty sex. When they ended things before she moved to New York, Puck knew that meant that they ended things. Thinking that he could maybe have her again - which is what her eyes are saying over there across the room - is fucking his shit up. But he isn't going to tell Santana any of that.
Santana glares when she tries to take the beer from him again and he doesn't let her. "It's just super cute, Noah, how you're pining over Rachel Berry." He fucking hates Santana's faux-sweet voice. "I get it though," she says, her voice reverting back to normal. She's gazing across the room at Rachel, who is now having an intense conversation with Mike Chang. She's wearing this short as fuck blue dress, and basically all Puck can see right now is her legs. "I'd tap that. She's like, a secret freak, right?"
"Would you please fuck off?" Puck says, glaring down at Santana. He doesn't want to talk about Rachel like that (even though Santana's a little bit right). She's such a goddamn shit disturber. He shouldn't be surprised that she wants to have this conversation with him when they haven't seen each other in months; if they were talking about anything else, he'd think it's awesome that she can pick up like they were just hanging out last week, but this kind of sucks.
"Ugh, whatever. You're such a fucking girl."
She snatches his beer away quick enough that he can't stop her and takes a long drink. "Bitch."
She drains the bottle before handing it back to him (because she's a bitch; he misses her), then walks around behind the bar to get into the fridge beneath the counter to get them each new beers. "Hey, look," she says, pulling a silver bowl of chocolate gelt from behind a package of Solo cups. "I thought Hanukkah was over."
"A couple of days ago," he confirms, taking the beer that she hands him. "They're probably just leftovers."
Santana plucks out the dreidel that's sitting among the chocolates. "Remember that time we played strip dreidel?" she asks, a dirty grin on her lips when she spins the little toy on the countertop.
He smirks. "Yeah, I do." It was him and Mike and Brittany and Santana, back when Santana was more straight than not, hanging out in Puck's basement during winter break one year. That was a good night.
It's already too late to try to stop her when he recognizes the gleam in her eyes. "Strip dreidel, bitches!" she calls out, coming from behind the bar and holding the toy above her head. Saying the word 'strip' in a room full of half-drunk people gets attention, and all eyes are on Santana as she struts across the room.
"Strip dreidel?" Finn repeats. He looks at Puck. "Isn't that like, sacrilegious or something?"
"Nah. Dreidel's about gambling." Puck could elaborate, but he knows Finn just wants to be sure that they aren't doing something that going to get them struck down by God or whatever. The people who would care about the particulars - Rachel and Quinn, Mike, and maybe a couple of others - probably already know.
"Strip dreidel doesn't even make sense," Quinn says, earning a glare from Santana, who is settling herself on the couch between Sam and Blaine. "What are the rules?"
"Puck remembers," Santana says dismissively. "Circle up bitches, or get out."
"This is offensive," Rachel insists from next to the little stage, watching as everyone else follows Santana's order and starts pulling up chairs and pillows around the coffee table.
Puck just shrugs when she looks at him expectantly, like she wants him to agree. "I'm not offended." He's the one who made up the rules to this game in the first place. Also, he's Puck. Of course he isn't offended.
"Me either," Tina offers, reminding Puck that she's half-Jewish, too.
"Sit down, Rachel," Santana orders. "Rules, Puckerman."
She's fucking demanding, but Puck is just a little drunk, and he doesn't hate the idea of playing. It's fun to watch people squirm, and people always squirm during stripping games. They all did this once before, this summer, except that time it was strip poker. Puck catches Rachel's eye for just a second when he remembers that. She spent that entire game sitting across from him and shooting him these looks that made him crazy. Afterwards, he drove her car out to the bluffs so they could fuck in the backseat, and she'd been so loud when she came that she nearly deafened him in the closed-up car.
Fuck, that was a god night.
"You pass clockwise, and you spin once," he starts, shaking off the memory and snagging the nearly-full bottle of peppermint schnapps from the bar, carrying it with him when he goes to sit on a chair that's been moved so that he's across from Santana, Sam, and Blaine on the couch. He grabs the dreidel from her when he gets close enough, setting the bottle on the coffee table. He holds up the toy to show everyone the correct side while he talks. "If you spin Nun, you lose one article of clothing. If you spin Gimel, you pick someone else to lose an article of clothing. If you spin Hei, the person on your left loses one, and if you spin Shin, the person on your right loses one."
"I can't tell them apart," Sugar complains, peering at the toy in Puck's hand. "What if Puck lies? He could you know," she says before anyone has a chance to answer. "I'm sitting beside him, and you all know he's always wanted to get on this."
"I know which one's which," Quinn says before Puck can open his mouth. She shoots him a warning glance because she knows him too well, and yeah, he was going to say something that would have pissed hr off. But maybe he doesn't know her as well as he thought, because he can't believe she's sitting here with them, planning to play along. Quinn isn't a total prude, but college must have changed her if she's willing to play this. She definitely wasn't playing strip poker with them this summer.
"I'll start!"
"Why do you get to start?" Rory asks Santana.
"Because I say so, Blarney Stone." Sam nudges her with his elbow, but she ignores him. "Don't you know by now not to question me?"
The first round is pretty boring. Santana makes Tina take off her tights, Blaine gets Quinn's scarf, Quinn loses her own shoes, Rory takes Santana's boot, Mike takes Rory's button-down, Tina gets Puck's shoes, Puck gets Sugar's headband (she glares at him, but it's just chance that he spun Hei), Sugar makes Finn lose his socks, Finn takes Santana's bracelet, Rachel takes off her own ballet flats, and Sam loses his shirt (which surprises exactly no one).
It takes a long time, and Puck, Quinn, and Tina keep having to tell everyone what letter they've spun (Rachel refuses to help, but if she hates the idea so much, Puck doesn't know why she's playing at all). Finn decides that everyone should take a shot whenever someone spins Gimel, which promises to make things more interesting, and in the third round, Quinn has terrible luck (and a bitchy Santana) to thank for losing everything but her necklace, her panties, and the camisole she's wearing over her bra.
"I don't want to be naked," she whines when Blaine rolls his fourth Hei in a row.
"Oh, fuck off, Fabray," Santana says, rolling her eyes. "If you're too pussy to play, go home."
Quinn glares, but Rachel starts talking before Quinn can start a fight. "What if we modify the rules?" she offers. "Each person can barter for their clothing by offering something else."
"Like what?" Finn asks.
"Something mildly embarrassing." She sighs when Sugar makes an annoying buzzer noise, like she's vetoing Rachel's suggestion. "Or maybe just a kiss."
"I thought this was offensive," Puck says before he can stop himself. He kind of wanted to make her talk to him first, since she's the one who started with the looks earlier, but he's not exactly sober; his filter is gone. Plus, she's still glancing at him with this look in her eyes every now and then, the sort that makes him want to grab her and start doing dirty shit to her regardless of who's in the room at the time.
"It is," she says simply, "but now I'm a little drunk, and it's also fun."
He snickers, then tips his beer bottle towards her in something like a salute.
Santana is the first one to show something good because she was wearing a dress when they started and declined to sniff peppermint schnapps up her nose on the grounds that 'Sugar is fucking stupid,' for being the one to suggest it. Thing is, Santana's like, way proud of her tits, and Puck's seen 'em before. Boobs are boobs, and hers are great, but it isn't like, exciting. That's when he realizes that the only person here that he hasn't already seen naked at one point or another is Tina. She and Mike aren't together any more, because he's off at school and she's still here in Lima, but that's still Chang's girl to Puck. It feels weird to be trying to get her out of her clothes. The game is less interesting when you aren't getting to see anything new, he decides.
Puck is busy taking an extra shot of schnapps and wishing that he was drinking something stronger after Rachel's Gimel when Sam spins a Shin. Rachel is already down to her bra and panties (which are deep blue and lacy and look phenomenal against her skin), so she's pouting about being told to take off something else.
"I want to make a deal," she insists, looking at Sam.
Beside Puck, Sugar starts giggling, mumbling something about playing the wrong game, which sets off Finn along with her. Everyone is completely drunk now. Puck wishes he was drunker.
"Fine." Sam looks thoughtful for a moment, and Puck knows why; Rachel is pretty much impossible to embarrass in front of this group of people. Something like making her perform the entirety of the "Single Ladies" dance by herself isn't going to have the same effect on her that it did on Finn when Mike made him do it. All at once, Sam's face takes on this smug expression. "Kiss Puck," he says simply.
"With tongue!" Santana interjects gleefully, grinning at Puck. Bitch.
Rachel glares at each of them in turn before turning to Puck. "Fine."
Puck has been down for kissing on Rachel since he was sixteen and she let him pin her against her mattress for the first time, but this has bad idea written all over it. Yeah, he wants to kiss her, but if he kisses her, he's going to want to do more, and she made it really clear that they were done with that back in August. Just because she's drunk and looking at him with her fuck me eyes doesn't mean that she's actually going to let him fuck her. This could just be a huge fucking tease, and he hates being teased.
But Santana is watching him from across the coffee table with a shit-eating grin on her face, and Sam doesn't look totally innocent either, which makes Puck wonder what the fuck Rachel has been telling the guy. They got close last year, living together, but Puck didn't realize that they were gossiping about their sex lives with each other and shit. Sam never let on that he knew anything was going on with Puck and Rachel. Anyhow, he can't pussy out when there are other people looking at him like this, for one thing, and for another, he doesn't want Rachel to think there's anything weird going on with him or whatever.
So that's why he moves toward her when she leans across the end of the coffee table, putting his hand on her upper arm to keep her steady when it looks like she might accidentally dive into his lap.
In the couple of seconds he had to think about what this was going to be like before it started, he figured that it would be a quick, impersonal kiss with a little tongue. Puck has kissed enough people that he didn't even know that well, so he knows what that could be like. Rachel kissing him all gently like this, her fingers sliding along his jaw until the tips are brushing at his ear like she knows makes him crazy?
He wishes he could lay her out on this coffee table and have his way with her.
(Again.)
It's not just that though. She's kissing him the way she did when they would just hang out in her bedroom this summer, lying on her bed and talking about nothing until one of them kissed the other and one thing would lead to another. Her lips are soft against his, and her tongue just grazes against his lower lip, like she's requesting that he open his mouth for her instead of demanding like he knows she sometimes does. The kiss isn't dirty, even when Rachel's tongue slides against his, but it makes him think dirty things, which is not at all okay right now, when he's sitting in a room with like, ten other people in nothing but his boxers and his left sock.
He pulls away just a tiny bit after a moment. Rachel is still right there when he opens his eyes, blinking at him with an expression in her eyes that he can't read at all. And he got pretty good at reading her expressions.
"Are you satisfied?" she asks Sam after a long beat, pulling away from Puck entirely so she can sit back in her chair.
Sam makes a noise that isn't a word, and Puck forces himself to watch Santana spin the dreidel instead of trying to figure out what he saw in Rachel's eyes after she kissed him. Yeah, things got a little more serious than either of them intended this summer, but that's over. If they were going to be anything more than a summer fling, they would have been, and it's clear that that isn't what she wanted.
It wasn't what Puck wanted either, honestly, but now that she's in front of him, he's remembering all this stuff and thinking all these thoughts, and it's all really fucking confusing.
Everybody takes a shot when Santana takes Sam's boxers, making him the most naked person in the room instead of her, and then Blaine makes Sugar give Finn a lap dance to keep her bra. (The look on Finn's face is seriously hilarious.) Quinn rolls her eyes when she spins a Nun, and no one argues when she says that taking another shot of schnapps is an adequate substitution for taking off her bra. Puck kind of can't believe that she let it get this far, where she's sitting there in her matching skin-toned, lace-edged bra and panties instead of saying something bitchy and walking away a while ago, but she also has this weird pride thing that keeps her from being the first one to bow out. He doesn't think he'll be seeing Quinn get any more naked tonight, but he doesn't think she'll be the one to end the game either.
Rory spins a Shin on his next turn. Quinn is sitting to his right, and Puck thinks she might actually cry when she realizes which letter is facing upwards. She's drunk, so instead of threatening the guy or trying to flirt her way out of it or whatever, she just looks at him and says his name quietly, asking him not to make her take off any more clothes without saying the words.
"Kiss me," Rory says after a second.
Quinn blinks. "What?"
"Kiss me," Rory repeats. "And you'll keep your clothes."
The conversation would be hilarious if the kid didn't sound so sincere. They're both drunk, for one thing, and Rory's sitting there in a plain white tee shirt and a pair of red plaid boxers. Quinn's eyes are wide, her knees pressed together tightly and one arm draped across her midsection in a way Puck knows she thinks is discreet. (He remembers seeing her do it before, especially when she was pregnant and still small enough to hide it a little.) Puck figures that this is going to be when Quinn finally gives up on the game; she's already kissed Sam to keep her clothes (not that she hadn't kissed him before) and recited the Cheerios honor code from memory.
So, yeah. Puck is surprised when Quinn sets her hand on the side of Rory's neck and leans forward to press her lips to his gently, and even more surprised by the way that she lingers there, her fingers slipping up to tease at his hairline.
"I quit," she says quietly after she pulls away from Rory, though she's still watching his face. She blinks a few times and sits up straighter, reaching for her necklace on the table and turning to face Santana as she clasps it behind her neck. "I quit."
"I quit, too," Rory says quickly, and Puck is weirdly proud of the kid when he pushes his button-down shirt onto Quinn's lap. She manages to pull it over her shoulders at the same time as she gathers her own clothes (Rory is doing the same), and then they're moving away from the table together.
"If they're quitting, I'm quitting," Sugar announces. Puck can see her pouting out of the corner of his eye when no one acknowledges her, which makes her huff out something when she stands up and walks away.
Mike and Tina stand up together, and just like that, the game is over.
Santana looks disappointed when she finishes zipping up her dress. "I didn't even get to see anyone new naked," she says to Puck, tugging her fingers through the ends of her hair.
Puck glances around the room, where everyone has dispersed again, except for Quinn and Rory, who have gone upstairs. "Who here haven't you seen naked?"
"Rachel and Tina," she answers. She rolls her eyes after a second. "And Blaine, but whatever."
"So, who lost?" Finn asks. The three of them are the only ones still sitting around the table, Santana zipping her boots while the guys tie their shoes.
"Sam got naked first," Santana answers, "but Quinn quit. So Quinn loses." Puck rolls his eyes at how predictable she is. Even after all these years and the fact that they don't hate one another at all any more (if they ever really did), she just likes to see Quinn lose things. Now though, it's trivial shit like this, which he supposes is better, but still.
Mike turns on a playlist of stuff, and Tina declares it a dance party when he and Finn start dancing. Well, Mike is dancing. Finn is moving his body in an imitation of dancing like he always does. It's funny to watch, and Puck doesn't really argue when Tina grabs his hands and pulls him away from where he's sitting by the bar, spinning her around even though the music is wrong for it just because it makes her laugh. Mike starts trying to teach Sugar how to pop and lock, and Rachel and Blaine are laughing as much as they're dancing, and all of it just reminds Puck of how much he loves these crazy people. He misses them.
He misses some of them more than others. That's sort of the problem, come down to it.
A little while later, Puck goes up to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Now that the party is winding down, he's hoping to sober up enough that he can drive himself the twelve blocks home instead of having to walk. He'd rather not have to come back over here to tomorrow to get his truck. He knows from experience that sucking back a bunch of water is the second-best way to get sober quick. (The best is to eat a bunch of bread or crackers, but he isn't going to raid the Berrys' pantry to get sober enough to drive himself home.) He could hang out and see if he could make something happen with Rachel tonight, but that hasn't ever been his style with her. If she wants him, she can just tell him. She's done it enough times before, in that breathless little voice that goes straight to his cock whenever she uses it.
He's sipping water and looking out the window above the sink, noticing the way the neighbor's Christmas lights reflect off the snow covering the Berrys' back yard, when he hears someone come up the basement stairs.
"I thought you'd left," Rachel says quietly. Of course it's Rachel.
"Not yet," he answers because he knows that she expects him to say something. He doesn't really want to talk to her though. If he talks to her, he's going to remember how much he likes talking to her. Then she'll start talking about New York, which he's already heard about from being in the same room with her and everyone else. Then he'll end up saying something that makes him sound like a jackass, and instead of maybe having some fun together while they're both home, it'll turn into exactly the kind of thing that they both avoided.
"Did Rory and Quinn leave?"
Puck smirks. "They're on the couch in the living room."
He isn't looking at her, but he can hear the pained expression on her face when she asks, "Should I be worried abut what they're doing in there?" Puck shakes his head and, finally feeling like a jerk for standing with his back to her, turns around, leaning back against the sink. "They're a bit of an odd couple," Rachel comments.
Puck doesn't think so, but if he says that, he's going to have to justify his reasoning, so he doesn't say anything, taking another sip of water instead. He doesn't want to talk to her about their friends.
After a minute, Rachel tilts her head at him. "Are you mad at me?"
He scoffs. "Don't be stupid, Rachel."
She frowns for just a second, then bites the corner of her bottom lip. "I've been thinking about this summer all night," she tells him, looking at his lips for just a second before meeting his eyes again.
"Rachel." There are still people downstairs, and he's not so sure it's a good idea for her to start this shit right now.
She pushes her hand through her hair. It was already messy, the way it always gets when she has more than a drink or two, but the action makes part of her bangs stick out at an odd angle. "I miss you, Noah," she admits quietly, twisting the ring on her finger nervously.
Puck shakes his head. "Rachel, you can't start this shit right--"
"Noah," she interrupts, stepping closer to him. "I want you."
Fuck. It's that voice, the one that he's basically never been able to resist. It's her eyes that do it though, all wide and dark, and before Puck can even pause to think about what he's doing, he's stepping toward her, putting his hands on her cheeks and slanting his mouth over hers, kissing her the way he really wanted to to earlier, when they were mostly naked and being watched by a group of their mostly-naked friends.
"Noah," she breathes against his lips, pulling away the tiniest bit, her fingers curling into his button-down shirt at his sides.
"I want you, too," he says, one hand falling to rest on her hip over her dress. He says it because he knows that she likes to hear the words. He turns them so she's pinned between his body and the counter, his other hand slipping into her hair, fixing the wayward strand when he kisses her again. This is part of the problem with kissing Rachel; he can't do it just once.
(It's like those potato chip commercials from when he was a kid, which is a fucking stupid way to think about it, but he can't help that that's where his mind goes.)
She pulls away and bows her head a little. "I wish I hadn't ignored your messages," she whispers. His grip on her hip tightens. "I wanted to be done with Lima, and I thought I was, but..." She shakes her head a tiny bit and looks up at him. "But I miss you," she repeats, like that explains everything.
And maybe it does.
This conversation is suddenly about something besides just sex, but Puck doesn't really know what to do with that. "You're drunk," he says instead of kissing her again like he wants to.
She smiles like she knows something that he doesn't. "You say what you're afraid to say sober when you're drunk."
"Rach--"
"We don't have to talk about it," she says, bringing one hand up and slipping her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. "Maybe we should, but..." She looks up at him from under her eyelashes. "I just want you. Please, Noah."
"Yeah." Fuck, he wants her, too. He doesn't even care right now what all of this is about. She stands on her toes and presses herself against him. She doesn't have to do much at all to make him crazy. "Yeah."
Rachel takes his hand and pulls away (that part sucks) so she can lead them out of the kitchen. There are still people downstairs, but Sam has that shit under control. And yeah, now they'll all know for sure about the shit between Puck and Rachel (if Sam and Santana haven't already filled everyone in, they will now), but fuck it. It's really hard to care right now, because he's a little bit drunk, and Rachel glances over her shoulder at him when they step through the living room doorway, her eyes dark and her cheeks pink, a look that he saw quite a bit this summer. That look means good things.
She lets out a squeak when she turns forward again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Puck nearly walks into her when her feet stop moving. He follows her gaze to the loveseat, where Quinn's back is to them as she straddles Rory's lap, the guy's hand resting against the skin between her shoulder blades left bare by her dress. He hears her let out a breathless little laugh, and it's time to go. Puck knows that Quinn isn't going to be taking off her clothes or anything - not in Rachel's living room and probably not with a guy who isn't her boyfriend ever again - but that doesn't mean that it's okay for him and Rachel to be here, seeing this.
He puts his hand on the small of Rachel's back to lead her toward the stairs, trying to keep his footfalls quiet on the hardwood. He glances back into the living room when they get to the landing, but neither Quinn nor Rory seems to have realized that anyone was just in the room with them. It's better that way, he's sure.
He forgets about Quinn and Rory completely when Rachel pushes her bedroom door closed and walks over to her bed, sitting on the white duvet and whispering his name when she lays back against the pillows. "Come here," she murmurs.
She parts her legs when he walks to the bed, giving him another glimpse of her panties before he settles himself between her thighs. She lets out a little hum and brings her hand up to the back of his neck. "You feel so good here."
He kisses her instead of saying anything, because nothing going on in his head needs to be said aloud right this second. It's all either filthy (which he'll save for a little later, when it'll really make her crazy) or makes it sound like he's half in love with her or something.
He might be, but he doesn't need her to know that now. Maybe not ever.
"I was trying to get your attention all night," she says when he kisses her neck. She whimpers when he sucks gently at the spot on the underside of her jaw that she loves. "You ignored me."
"I didn't know you wanted this," he mumbles against her skin. It's mostly a lie. Rachel isn't exactly subtle. He just didn't want to give in to her. Not until she said that stuff about missing him.
She presses her hips up against his when he kisses down across the part of her chest exposed by her dress. "I want you."
He worries, just a tiny bit, that he's going to rip her dress in his rush to get it off her, but it'd be worth it if he did. She's fumbling with his belt while he's fumbling with her zipper. She glares when he chuckles at her for getting frustrated with his clothes, but then she's pushing his boxers down off his hips and wrapping her soft little hand around his cock, and it stops being so funny.
He goes with it when she pushes him onto his back, kissing him all slow and dirty, the lace of her bra rubbing against his chest as she slides down his body, not stopping until she's kneeling between his legs and stroking his dick again. "Tell me what you want," she requests, scratching her fingernails over his thigh gently with her free hand.
He reaches down to slip a hand into her hair. "Suck my cock, baby."
Not the most romantic thing to say to a girl that you haven't seen in months, but she did ask, and this thing between them wasn't about romance.
His head falls back against the pillows when she wraps her lips around him, her tongue moving against his dick the way that only she's ever done, pulling a groan from the back of his throat. He puts his other hand in her hair and looks down at her, his hips twitching upward a tiny bit when he he catches the glint in her eye. She makes him fucking crazy when she does this, and not just because, you know, she's got her mouth on his cock. It gets her all hot, he knows, the power trip of it, so she gives him these sexy as hell looks and makes these little noises that go all through him.
He grinds out a curse when she takes him into her throat and swallows around him, his fingers tightening in her hair so he can pull her off him. She looks smug when he pushes her onto her back, slipping one hand behind her to unclasp her bra. "So impatient," she teases breathlessly when he plucks at her right nipple.
He scoffs, bending his head to nip at the swell of her tit, biting at her nipple and then laving it with his tongue when she arches up against his mouth. She's so wet when he presses his fingers between her legs that the moisture is seeping through the lace of her panties, and she makes these crazy whimpering sounds against his lips when she pulls his head up so she can kiss him.
"Noah," she whines, rolling her hips against his hand. "Take them off."
He does what she says because she's right: He is impatient. He wants to be inside of her again, to feel her all hot and tight wrapped around him, to hear her let out those little whines when she gets close to the edge.
Okay, so maybe he's thought about her a time or two when he was jerking off, so maybe all of those little details are still pretty vivid in his mind. Whatever.
She moans when he flits the pads of his fingers over her clit, dipping down to tease at her entrance. "Jesus, baby. You're fucking soaked."
"I want you," she says needlessly. Her breath catches when he slips two fingers into her. "Please don't tease me."
He ignores her, just brushing his thumb against her clit as he moves his fingers. He knows how she works. She acts all impatient and shit, but the more he teases, the more worked up she gets and the harder she comes. It's like a challenge, too, seeing just how far he can push it before he starts to lose it himself.
He kisses her while he works his hand, swallowing all of the little sounds she's making while he pushes her toward the edge, groaning when she nips at his bottom lip with her teeth and tugs at the hair at the back of his head. He wants to fuck her so badly, but he wants her to come once first. He wants to watch her face when she lets go once without being distracted by what he's feeling.
It's fucking beautiful when it happens. He feels like a pussy for thinking it - he always has - but it's the truth. Her hand comes down to grasp his wrist, keeping him where she wants him as she clenches around his fingers. Her lips part and she lets out this little keening sound, her back arching up when her body goes all tense, jerking just a little when he moves his thumb over her nerves again.
Puck leans over to reach into the drawer of her bedside table, ignoring the way that she whines when he pulls his finger from her and hoping that there are still condoms in here. He lets out a sigh of relief when his fingers close around what he's looking for, and he moves quickly, unwrapping the condom and smoothing it over his length. He doesn't waste time stroking himself when she's there underneath him. He lines himself up and pushes into her slowly, savoring the way that she clenches around him with the aftershocks that are still moving through her.
"Oh, my god," she breathes out, looking up at him with wide eyes, her hand threading into the back of his hair when he's stilled his hips.
Puck leans over her more, kissing her hard before leaning his forehead against hers. "You feel so fucking good, baby." She feels better than anyone else, though he might only think that because he's balls-deep inside of her right now. Whatever. She feels fucking incredible.
She moans from low in her throat when he pulls back, the sound catching when he cants his hips forward, and from there it's all about the push and pull between them, that thing that's always been so much easier with her than with anyone else. Sex is always about chasing that moment, but with Rachel, it's like they both know that it'll be better if they get there together.
Rachel shifts beneath him, bringing one leg up around his hip. It changes the angle, and the way that her fingernails dig into his shoulder blades lets him know that he's hitting her spot. She flutters around him when he thrusts forward again hard, a sharp, almost pained sound falling from her lips when he hits it again. "Please," she gasps, forcing her eyes open so she can look into his.
"Please what, Rachel?" he asks. He thrusts shallowly, bringing his hand up to push her bangs off her forehead when she knits her brow.
She pushes her hips up. "Touch me," she manages. "Make me come, Noah. Please."
He couldn't deny her right now even if he wanted to, so he slips his hand between their bodies, pressing his thumb to her clit at the same time as he thrusts hard. She cries out so loudly that it reminds him that there are still other people in the house, and as awesome as it is to make her scream like that, he knows she'll be embarrassed if anyone hears them. He kisses her to muffle some of the sound, digging the way it feels when she moans into his mouth, the way that she flutters around him again when he curls his tongue around hers.
She falls apart with his name on her lips, clenching around him and taking him with her. In some vague part of his mind, he thinks that the last time he came this hard was with her too, but he doesn't dwell on that for long enough for it to really sink in. Instead, he looks down at Rachel and watches her chest heave as she tries to catch her breath, dipping his head to swipe his tongue over her nipple because he likes her tits and he can.
"Noah," she laughs, skimming her hands up his back. She sweaty, her cheeks are all pink, and her eyes are bright. He grins. "That was... It's been a while."
Too long, he thinks. "Yeah." He pulls out carefully, making Rachel sigh like she always does, and slips off the bed and into her bathroom to take care of the condom. He doesn't pause to think about what this might mean for them, because if he does, he's going to say something to her about it and fuck it all up.
Rachel is under the covers on her bed when he comes back out, the only light on in the room the lamp on her bedside table. "Stay," she says when he leans over to grab his jeans off the floor.
"There are still people downstairs," Puck reminds her. And if history is any indication, someone's going to come looking for her at some point and he's going to have to hide in the bathroom so they don't figure out that he's in here.
Rachel shrugs one shoulder. "They aren't going to do anything. Sam's there, and I trust Santana to take care of things." She blinks at him. "Even after all this time, it's still weird that that's true. Anyhow," she goes on, shaking her head a little, "they all know we're up here. I don't care any more."
Puck chuckles, dropping his jeans so he can slip into bed beside her. If she's not worried about it, yeah, he's going to take advantage of the chance he has to spend time with her. And since they're both naked, he's definitely going to take advantage of her again a couple of times.
She's just turned off the light and leaned herself back against his chest when someone knocks on the bedroom door, hard and fast. "Hey, so, don't bother coming out after you get done fucking," Santana shouts through the door. "We're all leaving, and Sam's coming home with me so he doesn't have to listen to Rachel's squeals."
Puck hears Sam's muttered, "Geez, Santana."
"Good night, Santana," Rachel shouts at the door, her voice neutral even though she has her hands over her face. "I can't believe we ran Sam out of the house," she whispers once they can hear Sam and Santana heading down the stairs.
Puck doesn't say anything, shifting and tugging Rachel until she's straddling his hips. "Look at the bright side." She lifts an eyebrow, pushing her hair over one shoulder. "Now you can be as loud as you want."
He doesn't know what's going to happen between them, and right this second, with her all pressed up against him and kissing him like this, he can't be bothered to give a fuck.