HSN Exchange Fic: Drive Faster, Boy, for snoozin81
Title: Drive Faster, Boy
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Brittany/Santana
Warnings: N/A
Word count:~8,000
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: This takes place the summer before glee club starts. How Brittany, Puck, and Santana manage to fail summer school.
A/N: The title is from “Midnight Show” by The Killers. Many thanks to abluegirl , my awesome beta of awesomeness!
What Santana hates most about the summer is summer school.
What sucks about it besides the obvious, is the fact that you still have to wake up early. This is especially hard to do during this particular week in late June. It has been inexplicably over 100ºF for 5 days, and Santana’s clothes, her skirts, her low cut tops are sticking to her skin. Every morning she wakes up to feel droplets of sweat dripping down the back of her neck, between her breasts. And sweaty boobs? Totally uncomfortable and totally not a great way to start the morning.
It is sweltering and humid by 11am, aka Most Boring Remedial English Class Ever O’Clock.
"C'mon, Brit, we're already late," she barks, the heat driving her agitation. She picks up her pace and wraps her fingers around Brittany’s thin wrist, pulling her along.
"You think we'll get in trouble?" Britt asks, fluidly matching her stride.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Nah, it's summer school. Ellis'll be glad we showed up at all. Besides," she leans over to whisper conspiratorially in her friend's ear. "I bet he'll let you off for being so hot."
Brittany grins giddily at her as they make their way down the hall. "You think?"
"Hell yeah," she answers, linking her arm through Brittany’s.
When they enter the classroom, Santana immediately scans the seats for places to sit. Preferably not up front where she can be called on, and preferably not next to a burn-out loser. She spots a familiar mohawk in the back row, and smirks.
Puck.
Her on-again, off-again...whatever he is. Currently, off-again at any rate.
Mr. Ellis swivels around to glare at the latecomers. "You're both tardy," Mr. Ellis accuses over his bifocals.
"Yeah, we were--" Brittany scrunches up her brows as she tries to come up with an excuse, "--we didn't really feel like coming to class."
A few quiet snickers sound throughout the classroom.
Mr. Ellis sighs. "Just have a seat, please."
Santana slides into the seat in front of Puck, being sure to give him quick view down her shirt while she does it. She plays with the strap of her tank top, her hand slipping under the cotton band.
She feels his index finger trace a line on the bare skin of her back and she smiles to herself, sitting up a little straighter.
"Who's your new friend?" Puck whispers into her ear from behind. They both look over at Brittany who is bending over to get something out of her backpack. The tops of her thighs, pale and muscular, peek out from under her denim shorts.
"That's Brittany. I met her at cheer camp. She just moved here."
"Yeah? I bet she--"
"She's off limits,” Santana says firmly. She turns around just in time to catch him staring Brittany's chest. “You’re such a disgusting pig, Puck."
"Whatever," he drawls, going back to pretending to read.
"This is quiet reading time," Mr. Ellis interrupts in a warning tone.
Santana is only 2 pages into their assigned book when the screen of her cell phone lights up.
'so y is she off limits?' Puck texts her.
'because I’m gonna talk to coach sue about letting her join cheerios. Don’t want her to tarnish her rep'
'i'll tarnish ur rep baby'
'again. gross.'
'u love it'
Santana rolls her eyes. She stares out the window at the school parking lot and feels an entire dull summer stretch ominously ahead of her. She lets out a huff and begins texting as inconspicuously as she can.
'what r u doing 2morrow'
'I thought i'm gross and a pig'
'i'm bored, there's nothing to do'
'u could do me'
'i repeat, what r u doing 2morrow'
There's an audible sigh from Puck as he receives her text.
'cleaning the Mason's pool'
'yeah? is it nice?'
'it's all fuckin fancy and shit, yea'
'i'll meet you there'
'1pm, u better b there'
-
Santana arrives at the Mason's at 2 o'clock because she wanted to do a little shopping at the mall. And get her nails done. And drive her car through the car wash. Also because it’s always fun to keep boys waiting a little.
She's not all that surprised to find that only Puck's sad, beat-up car is in the driveway. She told her parents she was headed to the library to study but her textbook lies unopened in her backseat.
She pushes past the gate and walks into the backyard, the hot summer sun heating her skin, exposed since she’s only wearing her red string bikini, a skirt and flip flops.
She spies him by the pool, in a white tank and shorts. His arm muscles, glistening with sweat, flex as he scoops out leaves from the pool. Whatever Puck was to her before, he’s still a fine specimen, the hottest boy in school.
So she saunters up to him knowing she looks fucking amazing in her new suit.
Judging by his lecherous smile when he sees her, he thinks so, too.
“It’s about damn time,” he says, looking her up and down. His gaze settles somewhere in the vicinity of her tits.
Boys. So fucking predictable.
She shrugs. “I had things to do.”
“Yeah?” he asks, peeling his eyes away to scoop the last of the foliage out of the pool. He throws his net aside as he continues. “Like what?”
“Why? You sitting here all day missing me, Puckerman?" she teases, voice lilting.
To her disappointment, he ignores her jibe. “Now that you’re here what do you want to do?” he asks leaning on his arms against a deck chair.
“You’re smart-kind of. You figure it out.” Santana toes off her sandals and reaches behind her to undo the strings of her bikini top. She flings the tiny piece of fabric into a rose bush and delicately steps out of her skirt and her bottoms. Expertly, she dives into the pool, her body arching smoothly into the water.
The water is blissfully cool against her heated skin, flowing over her in the hidden places usually covered by her bathing suit. She relishes the muffled silence of being underwater and glides up towards the surface.
When she comes up for air, Puck is gawking her and she can see that he’s already half-hard against his shorts.
She turns onto her back, floating while the water laps against her sides. The air ripples coolly across her hardened nipples, and her whole body feels like it’s at attention, positively humming under his gaze.
Suddenly, she feels something grab her waist. For a second she panics and flails and splashes while trying to right herself again. Her head goes under water and the water goes up her nose. When she finally regains her bearings, gasping for air and sputtering, she hits the nearest part of his body she can reach.
Luckily for her, it’s the side of his head.
“What the fuck!”
He laughs while treading water and she sneaks a glance at him. He’s wearing his shorts.
“You’re supposed to be naked,” she points out, a little breathless.
He shrugs, and swims closer to her fitting his sun-warmed body against hers and reaching out to cup her breast. He is so unsubtle, but she likes the way his thumb feels sliding smoothly across her nipple so she lets him. When his hand moves to caress the curve of her waist, she licks at the corner her mouth. His eyes, a dark hazel, follow the movement of her tongue.
Sex in a pool is something she’s never tried before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything. And she can think of worse partners than Puck who, if she remembers correctly, actually knows what he’s doing.
She places her arms around his neck and wraps her legs around his hips, clinging like a vine, her weight supported by his hands and the buoyancy of the water. His slightly rough tongue swipes against hers teasingly as he kisses her.
He tastes a little bit like chlorine.
One of his hands wanders into the damp tangles of her hair, pulling her closer to him.
They move to the edge of the pool, and Santana’s back is pressed up against the smooth tile. His hands grab at her insistently to press her against him, and he moves her up a little higher against the edge. She rubs against him impatiently, and he gives in by slipping his fingers inside her. He languidly pumps in and out of her and she rocks greedily on his hand. He leans down to kiss her deeply again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers. She’s about to reach for his swim shorts when she hears the loud rumble of a car engine nearby.
She pulls away from him like she’s been burned.
“What the hell, Puck,” she hisses. “I thought you said they wouldn’t be here!”
“They’re not! They’re out of town for the weekend-“ His statement is interrupted by the thwump of a car door closing and Santana lifts herself out of the pool as quickly as she can, running over to the other side to grab her sandals and bikini bottoms. She’s frantically looking for a place to hide when Puck grabs her wrist and yanks her toward the back of the yard. Before she knows it she’s being shoved into a garden shed.
An old garden shed. That’s dusty. And stifling hot. Ugh.
She blinks rapidly, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She’s all too aware that she’s standing in this shed amid what is probably rusty equipment and old weed killer. Not sexy at all. She cups her hands over her eyes as she leans over to peer through the tiny window. An old man in a plaid shirt untangles the garden hose and begins to water the rose bushes.
“Who the fuck is that?” Santana asks.
Puck copies her pose. “Oh, shit.”
“What do you mean ‘oh, shit’?”
“They hired some old dude to come by to water their plants while they were gone. I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say, Lopez?”
“I’m fucking going to go home after this, is what I’m going to do. Hiding out in a grody shed? Not my idea of fun,” she snaps.
He snakes his arms around her bare waist, pulling her back towards him. Her sandals and clothes flutter to the dirt floor.
“I bet we could make it fun.”
“Jesus, Puck. We’re stuck in a here with a lawnmower,” she protests even as she pushes back against his cock and leans into his firm chest.
“Don’t worry. I’d still do you.”
“Asshole,” she hisses, as his fingers dip down into her pussy.
“Jesus,” he groans his breath hot in her ear. “You’re so fucking wet.” He slides his fingers along her, and she tenses as she feels the slow-burn of arousal pooling in her abdomen once again. Her body, trapped in the heat of the shed, drips with sweat. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath in the hot, heavy air that smells like freshly cut grass and the warm earthiness of the dirt floor.
“Just shut up and get on with it,” she gasps, before turning around in his arms. His mouth immediately covers her right breast, his tongue flicking across her nipple as his thumb swirls around her clit. She feels slick, and swollen, and she aches so good. He presses her up against the slightly rough wooden walls, and kisses his way up to her throat. She groans when he bites at the skin below her ear.
“Shhh,” he says, and even in the dark she knows his eyes are sparkling with mischief. “You don’t want that dirty old man to find us out, do you?”
“Mmm,” she moans. Through her haze of lust, she manages to undo his fly and his damp shorts fall to his feet. He chuckles as he steps out of them, and leans towards her again, his hand finding its way back between her legs.
She reaches down to caress his cock rhythmically; pumping him the way she knows he likes. He squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth falls open just a little. Yep, she’s still got it. He’s like putty in her hands. She continues stroking him until she can’t stand it anymore. She bends her legs and the head of his cock brushes against her opening.
He enters her suddenly, roughly even, and she finds herself impaled on him--her feet dangling inches off the ground as he holds her up, his hands gripping her buttocks.
He feels so good stretching her, hot and huge. God, it’s been much too long. His dark, heated eyes are focused on her as he moves slowly in and out of her. He is biting down on his lip and she recognizes that he’s trying not to come.
“Hurry or we’ll get caught,” she whispers into his neck.
“Or maybe you want to be found out?” he pants, once he regains his composure. She clenches around him, his words pushing her to new heights of desire. “Fuck,” he gasps. “You love this don’t you?” he asks, as he thrusts into her.
She finds that she can’t respond coherently, so settles for more moaning instead.
“Tell me,” he whispers into her ear, his breath searing hot against her skin. “You like this, right? Knowing that all someone has to do is open this door to see you like this?”
She bites her lip to keep from screaming while he fucks her more roughly. He’s slamming into her wetly, filling her over and over again while he murmurs filthy words into her ear. She’s too far gone to reciprocate so she’s not mad when he takes over, his hands lifting her higher, so she is pressed more firmly between his body and the shed.
“Anyone could open that door and see you. See you getting fucked. Are you gonna come, baby? Are you gonna let everyone see when you come?” he rasps, his voice low and demanding.
She looks into his eyes and manages a small nod.
“Good. I wanna see you come. Maybe he does too,” Puck suggests, reaching between them to curl his fingers over her clit. His thumb is swipes over her clit rapidly and she’s sandwiched in between his body and the wall, and it’s so hot inside the damn shed, their skin sliding against each other’s but she wants, needs him closer still. “He’ll see you here with my hand between your legs and my dick inside you, and you’ll be begging for it…are you begging for it, Santana?”
“God, Puck--yes, yes--”
“You’re such a little exhibitionist,” he answers, fingers digging into her hips, slamming into her.
That’s gonna leave a mark, she thinks dazedly.
“He’ll see your pretty tits, your bare skin. Would you like that?”
“Mm-hmmm,” she moans her voice breathy and high, unfamiliar even to herself.
“I’d like it too. I think about fucking you all day in class,” he grunts, ever other word punctuated by a sharp plunge into her. He’s fucking her, driving into her so hard it almost hurts. “You’re bent over the desk,” he says. “Your little ass in the air and I’m fucking you hard from behind, because you’ve been so bad. God, you’re tight, you feel so good…”
Santana groans as his words swirl around her. The images inflame her desire pushing her closer to her release. She is so fucking close, and she doesn’t know if she can stand it. She wants only more, more, more.
When she pries open her eyes to look at him, he’s wearing this devious little smirk, the corner of his mouth turned up a bit, like he thinks he’s a freaking sex god or something. If she wasn’t so focused on her impending orgasm she’d slap that smirk right off his face.
Instead, she slants her lips across his, frustrated. Another thrust from him is all it takes to push her over the edge. She digs her nails into his upper arms as she is taken over, shuddering violently as the spring inside of her uncoils and she comes--finally, finally falling apart.
She muffles her cries by biting down on his neck, not giving a damn about whether it’s hurting him, because she is having the best orgasm she’s had in a really long time.
She’s still twitching around his cock when he lets out a loud gasp and begins thrusting erratically. Quickly, he slides out of her and comes hard on her thigh.
They lean against each other in the aftermath, both of them trying to catch their breaths.
Instead of smacking him and biting his head off about the mess on her thigh like she knows she usually would she just lets out a breathy laugh into his shoulder.
“That was fun,” she giggles, nipping him playfully on the chest. He sets her down gently and she shifts as she regains her footing.
“Yeah,” he smirks, running one of hands through her tussled hair. “You sure did give that dude a show, though,” he adds, waving at someone beyond them.
Her eyes widen and she turns her head to the window. No one is there. Dammit. She can’t believe she fell for it. She turns around to smack Puck on the chest, but he’s laughing at her so hard he doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re a douche,” she mutters, even as her lips curve up into a smile.
He leans over to murmur into her ear, “You love it.”
-
“Psst!”
“What?”
“So Saturday was pretty awesome, huh?”
“Yeah, it was okay.”
“Okay?!”
“Uh-huh…”
“Okay?! I seem to remember a certain someone moaning, ‘oooh, Puck! Yes! Yes! Yes!’”
“Who?”
“What the fuck ever, Lopez.”
“Sounds like you’re getting really good with your right hand…”
-
What Puck hates most about summer is that there’s nothing to do. Sure there’s an English quiz he should be studying for but still. There’s just nothing going on in this town. He’ll never admit it but at least during the school year, there are ways to kill time. There are people to be slushied, losers to toss into dumpsters, and sometimes, when he isn’t busy being a pussy, Finn helps him set off cherry bombs in the bathrooms.
Unfortunately, Lima is really fucking small and all it has going for it during the summer is the stupid carnival. He promised his mom he’d take his sister which loosely translated means that he drops her off with her dorky friends, hands her a cell phone and tells her to call him when she’s ready to go home. This is usually an awesome plan because it gets her away from him leaving him free to do whatever he wants.
Problem is there’s nothing to do. He’s too much of a badass to be conned by carnival games and even he admits that using his fake ID to buy some liquor to drink alone is fucking sad.
So he keeps an eye out for chicks just in case.
Even after their little backyard romp, Santana was still treating him like shit. Sure he didn’t expect her to come crawling back demanding why he never calls anymore like any other girl, but he was hoping for at least a repeat performance.
Fucking Santana-all she does in class is scowl, hang out with the air-headed blonde girl, and take cheap shots at his manhood. In other words, no change. And all he has to show for it is a serious case of blue balls.
He’s walking past yet another stand advertising fried Oreos, fried Milky Ways, and fried pickles, when he spots her: The familiar blonde hair, the long legs, the incredibly short skirt.
Fuck yeah.
She’s standing in the middle of the walkway, the glares of the people who have to go around her going completely unnoticed. She is rummaging through her purse, looking confused. Well, he’ll help her out, because he’s just that nice a guy.
“Hey.”
“Hey!” her face lights up in recognition. “I’m Brittany, remember me?”
“Uh, yeah. We have class together, like, five times a week.”
“Oh. Right,” she says and goes back to looking through her purse.
“So--you having fun?” Puck asks, hoping that she’ll say ‘no’. Because if she says no, then he can work his magic and suggest she come with him to his place, a motel room, or hell, even a bathroom. Then she’ll get the Puckzilla’s whole enchilada. His raw deal. His whole shebang. His…penis.
Whatever, he just needs to get laid. And cheerleaders, as he’d found out, are flexible and completely willing to sleep with football players.
“Yeah,” Brittany sounds exasperated. “But I can’t find my tickets.”
“Your tickets?” Puck asks confused. He watches her as she fumbles around in her purse, head lowered in concentration. He can make out a set of keys, a cell phone and a neon green Happy Meal toy. Weird.
“Yeah, I-I had all these tickets so I could play some games and then win some stuffed animals, and I think I lost them in the Fun House.” Brittany frowns, her little pink lips pursing and Puck thinks about how they would look wrapped around his cock, maybe making some little moaning noises as she--
“--you do, don’t you?”
Oh, shit. She’s still talking.
“Um, I what?”
“Have some money for more tickets? I really want that purple rhino,” she says, glancing at him from under her long lashes, blue eyes sparkling.
“Yeah, babe. I’ll buy you more tickets. But don’t you wanna go some place nicer, more quiet--like, just the two of us?” he hints, giving her what he hopes is his most charming smile. He even casually rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show her his guns.
“No. I just really want that rhino. We can have sex later, though, if you want.”
So she makes him buy tickets-a huge fucking roll of them actually, and he panics when he thinks about how much time it’ll take to spend all of them. She holds his hand as they make their way through the fair, the hot night air smelling of spun sugar, popcorn, and the engine grease from the Tilt-A-Whirls.
“You know what would be awesome right now?” Brittany asks, completely not minding when he slips his hand over her ass as they walk together.
“You, me, making the beast with two backs?”
“No, silly. Cotton candy!” She pulls him towards the nearest cotton candy stand, asking him buy to the biggest size because it’s blue and pink spun together and oh my god, isn’t it soooo pretty, and Puck briefly wonders how Santana puts up with her all the time.
To her credit though, she doesn’t yell at him, or slap him or anything when he pulls her against him and shoves his tongue in her mouth while they’re waiting in line to go through The Tunnel of Love.
Inside, as their swan shaped boat floats lazily through the water, she even lets him put his hand up her shirt. He caresses her soft, smooth breast, and when he rolls a nipple experimentally, she climbs on top of him, not noticing that their boat is rocking precariously. She kisses him, glossy lips sliding over his and tasting of cotton candy. They make out while floating by scenes of animals frolicking, a cheesy Venetian canal, and a Hawaiian sunset.
Her moans are so load he can hear them over the tinny sounding music that is piped through the tunnel.
He’s getting hard and he estimates the amount of time they have left before the ride ends and realizes it is not fucking long enough. Brittany is practically humping him through his clothes now, her skirt riding up over her hips and-
Holy. Shit. She is not wearing underwear.
Her nimble fingers are working quickly to undo his zipper and she’s in the process of getting to second, when she peels her lips away from his to exclaim, “Oooh! Look! Flamingos!”
He looks in the direction that she is pointing to see a pair of animatronic flamingos kissing below a giant red plastic heart.
She lifts herself up off him to lean over the side and get a better look. He tries to get a better look at the bare skin under her skirt, but it’s too damn dark. The next thing he knows they’re floating around the next bend and emerge back outside, finding themselves bathed in the bright neon lights of the fair.
Brittany turns to smile at him before disembarking and he’s left to think about Coach Tanaka wearing tiny polyester shorts in an effort to calm down his raging hard on.
Brittany doesn’t seem to notice though and she exclaims, “Oh, you know what’ll be fun?”
“What?” Puck asks warily, as she clutches his arm.
“Shooting games! I think this is the one that has the rhino!”
Puck forks over a handful of bright orange tickets to the bored pimply-faced kid in the shooting booth and receives an air gun in return. He gets into position, making sure to look as badass and John McClane as possible, flexing his muscles for Brittany’s benefit. She smiles with delight and picks up her own gun.
“Hey, maybe that’s not such a great idea, Britt,” Puck warns. If what Santana says about this chick is true (and it sure looks like it is) then she’s more beauty than brains. She’ll likely shoot someone’s eye out before the night is over.
“But this way there’s a greater chance we’ll win something,” Brittany says completely oblivious about how her gun is now pointing at a family of four. He grips the barrel of her gun to steer it back towards the booth and away from a potential assault charge.
The booth boy is staring at her tits. Puck glares at him. He hopes that kid’s an entering freshman next year, ‘cause there’s a dumpster that’s totally calling his name.
“Okay, fine. Just remember to shoot the target and not anything else, okay?”
Brittany nods.
When the bell rings, Puck starts shooting. He’s feeling a little awesome and he’s ready to get Brittany that stupid fucking rhino so he can get her home and fuck her brains out. He rips his target to shreds, so it’s a likely scenario.
When the bell rings again, signaling the end of the round, Puck is surprised to find that he did not win.
Not at all. Shit. Now he won’t be getting any.
He hears Brittany squeal in joy, clapping and smiling as the boy hands over a really fucking ugly giant purple rhino.
Brittany, who gets lost on her way to class, out-shot him.
Fuck his life.
“This is awesome!” she cries.
This sucks.
She shoves the stuffed animal towards him. It’s almost as big as he is and he struggles to get a good grip on it, hoisting it up to his shoulder. He feels ridiculous. He doesn’t need to think of Tanaka now, because he can feel his dick shrinking by the minute.
The things he does to get laid. But hey, he’s never been with a natural blonde before, and certainly not a natural blonde cheerleader.
Brittany slips her soft hand in his again, like they’ve been dating since forever instead of just beginning to talk without the aid of Santana as translator.
She leans her head on his shoulder as they walk and he has to stop to readjust the rhino, which by the way weighs a fuck-ton, every few feet.
“Oh, do you know what will be fun?” Britt asks turning to him excitedly.
“No,” Puck replies darkly.
“Rollercoasters!” she exclaims happily.
Fucking-A, please no, Puck thinks.
“Fucking-A, please no,” Puck says.
“C’mon, Puck. I know you’re not scared of heights because Santana said you and her had sex in your sister’s tree house one time.”
The rollercoaster is called the Anaconda despite being a rickety old thing that’s comprised of three fairly tame drops. Naturally, Brittany thinks it is the best thing ever. Puck grudgingly climbs into the bucket seats and pulls the handlebars down over him and Brittany. She smiles at him cheerfully.
The ride starts with rumbles and a sharp jolt, and then they’re off. It is just the two of them in the front of the train and another couple way in the back making out.
The wind is rushing through their hair, the sky is dark and the neon brightness of the lights below them is whirring by. It ain’t half bad, really. He looks over at Brittany who has closed her eyes, a blissed-out expression on her face. Her lips are turned up into a smile and her arms are raised above her head, strands of blonde hair whipping around her face.
She turns to look at him and grins letting out a thrilled, “Whoooo!” even though they aren’t going all that fast.
“Puck!!” she shouts.
“What?” he yells back over the rumbling of the rollercoaster.
“You what’ll be fun?” she screeches into the night air.
“Jesus Christ, Brit, if you say funnel cake I am fucking jumping out right now!” Puck yells.
“No!” She grins at him and taking his hand that is gripping the safety bar, she shoves it underneath her skirt.
Well, okay then.
He looks at her like she’s grown two heads, but she looks so hot, with her golden hair all over the place, her shiny lips parted in happiness. So he inches his hand up her thigh, under her tiny skirt. Her skin is impossibly warm and soft like one of those really expensive sweaters Santana made him buy for her after she went down on him the first time. Puck actually feels a little dizzy. It’s like his blood doesn’t really know where to go, to his cock so he can fuck properly, or to his head so he won’t pass out.
His thrums his fingers against her skin as he moves towards her center, ‘cause ladies like to be teased-the thrill of anticipation or some shit. She’s biting down on her lip, locking her blue eyes with his and there’s absolutely no shame or shyness in her gaze at all. It’s actually quite brazen and this turns Puck on more than he thought it would.
She’s had enough finally, and takes his wrist and slips it further up her skirt. His lips part when he touches her skin, his fingers finding a shock of heat and slickness. Dazedly, he muses to himself that she’s shaved down there, skin completely smooth. He slides two fingers along her folds experimentally as she slumps down further in the seat to get a better angle.
He rubs his thumb in slow circles around her swollen clit, mesmerized as she leans back her head in satisfaction. His pants are getting tighter by the second and he prays that he doesn’t come because if the football team gets word that he jizzed on a fair ride like some kind of sick shit, his rep will never recover.
It is sensory overload: the feeling of her pussy on his fingers, the sight of her chest heaving as she pants. The sound of the rushing wind and the clatter of the rollercoaster combine to form a roaring din around him. He wants to throw her down on a bed, shove her panties aside and just start driving between her legs like a crazed animal. She looks like she’d like that.
He thinks about pumping into her as he slips two fingers into her slippery passage. She pokes her tongue out to lick the corner of her lips, a familiar gesture that he recognizes from the times in class when she’s attempting to write an essay on a book she hasn’t read.
She places her hand on his wrist, stills his movements, and starts pumping his hand nearly all the way out then back in again. She’s basically using him as a living, breathing dildo and you know what? Noah Fucking Puckerman is totally okay with that. In fact, to be a good friend he adds another finger, three now sliding in and out of her and it’s kind of a tight fit but she looks like she’s enjoying it so he doesn’t stop. He can’t hear her very clearly over the rumbling of the rollercoaster, but her mouth opens in ecstasy and he knows she’s moaning in pleasure. He moves his fingers quicker now, using sharper thrusts and Brittany presses back as best she can.
As they approach the incline, Puck is breathing hard as if he’s run the entire course and Brittany’s hand is holding his wrist in a death grip. Slowly, their car approaches the peak and if Puck had paid any attention at all in his summer English class he’d get a good laugh at the metaphor.
Instead, he curls his fingers inside her, pushing in and out with smooth movements. His arm is at an awkward angle and his fingers are actually starting to cramp a little, but he doesn’t care. She clenches around him, and the only thing he’s sure of right now is the need to see her come undone.
He watches his hand moving under her clothes and nearly ruins his pants right then. He screws his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. This girl is trying to kill him. When they reach the top of the hill, and the car stops for just one second he can actually hear her.
“Please, please, Puck, so good--” her voice is breathy and soft, and goddamn she is begging for it and it is so fucking sexy watching her moan his name, her long, pale legs splayed out obscenely and her skirt riding up. So he rewards her by brushing his thumb ever so softly over her clit, just the tiniest ghost of contact for her, his little thrill seeker.
It is enough.
As they hurtle towards the bottom at break-neck speed, wind in their faces and stomachs reeling from the momentary feeling of weightlessness, she comes. Spasming and shuddering around his fingers, she pushes her hips at his hand to achieve deeper contact, even as the safety bars dig into their abdomens to keep them in their seats.
He rides it out with her, only stopping when she’s gasping and pushing his hand away. He kisses her and her mouth is hot and eager on his, her lips tasting of the artificial strawberry of her lipgloss and popcorn.
When they separate, she takes his hand and begins sucking on the fingers that have been inside her one by one. Her tongue, warm and wet, licks his digits like a Popsicle. She takes his index finger into her mouth, down to the knuckle and looking him straight in the eyes, she sucks hard. Puck’s pretty sure his eyes are rolling to the back of his head at this point.
The coaster track curves their car around a bend and to a slow stop. Brittany gives his finger one last kiss, adjusts the hem of her skirt and climbs out casually. Puck is having more difficulty. He practically bolts to the cubbies to retrieve their belongings, specifically a very large stuffed rhino that he can conveniently hold in front of his pants. Puck and Brittany walk out, rather unsteadily, hand in hand.
In front of a stand selling freezer burned ice cream, Brittany has taken out her phone and is busy texting. She’s not even looking at him at all as her fingers fly over the buttons.
“So,” Puck starts. “Do you wanna-“
“Oh! Hey, Puck. I have to go home now.”
“But-“
“Sorry,” Brittany says, shrugging apologetically. “Curfew.” She stretches up on her tip toes to give him a hug that is made awkward by the stupid stuffed animal.
She kisses him on the cheek softly, and says quite loudly, “But thanks for the orgas-organi-thanks for making me come so hard!”
She gently takes the rhino from him and he’s left to stand in the middle of the fair alone, his hard on tenting his pants.
What the hell just happened?
-
“Brit.”
“Oh, hey Puck.”
“Hey. So that shit we did on my Anaconda ride-“
“-Do you have the answer for number three? I think it’s D, all of the above.”
“……”
“You don’t get it either, huh?”
“It’s an essay test, not multiple choice, Britt.”
“Oh.”
“--yeah.”
“So D, then?”
-
Brittany doesn’t hate summer. She loves summer. There’s pool parties, beaches, hooking up with boys (or girls) and no school. She thought she’d hate summer school, but aside from her History class (they’re reading 1984) she is blissfully free.
It's August, and Santana, Puck and Brittany are holed up in Santana’s bedroom trying to cram for the final. At least, they are supposed to be cramming for the exam, but somehow, it’s not working out. Puck is going through the textbook coming up with dirty word searches for the next person who uses it (Turn to pg. 13. Page 13: Turn to pg 35. Page 35: Dick), Santana is reapplying her eyeliner and Brittany is flipping through a fashion magazine.
So she’s doing a quiz in Santana’s Cosmo called “How to Satisfy Your Man”, when she comes across a question she doesn’t quite get. Santana always knows the answers even if sometimes she accompanies them with an eyeroll and a, “Seriously, Brit?” so she asks her.
“Santana?”
“Hmm?” Santana answers, her face contorted as she runs the brush across her eyelid.
“Which one is third base?”
“Oral sex,” Santana answers succinctly.
“Oh,” Brittany says and fills in her answer thoughtfully. “Is that the one we did last night?”
Santana whips around to glare at her, eyeliner pencil dropped to the desk, and Puck puts his book down to stare at the both of them.
It feels like a long time goes by before anyone says something.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” Puck eventually says, breathing hard and shifting in his seat. His eyes widen and he’s looking between the two of them so fast that Brittany thinks he might get whiplash. His mouth opens and closes several times, but no sound comes out. He actually looks a lot like Mr. Fuzzy, Brittany’s fish from when she was eight.
Slowly, a wide smile spreads over his face. Brittany smiles back in recognition because she makes that face too after she fools around with Santana or when she’s allowed to eat carbs.
“Well. What do we have here?” Puck drawls, leering at the girls.
“Whatever,” Santana says, turning her attention back to her makeup. “So we’ve made out once when we were drunk. Blame it on the Corona.”
“Going to third is not making out.”
“Oh, we’ve totally done lots of other stuff, too!” Brittany explains helpfully.
“Brittany, shut up!” Santana hisses.
“No, wait, tell me more,” Puck says, eyes alight in rapt attention. He leans forward expectantly.
“We-“ Brittany starts.
“Brittany!” Santana yells, glowering.
Brittany frowns. She hates it when people get like this. They yell and get mad and how are you supposed to have sex when you’re yelling and mad.
“We could have a threesome,” Puck suggests, ignoring Santana’s attempt to change subjects.
“Oooh!” Brittany exclaims. “That would be awesome.”
“Absolutely not,” Santana warns.
“Why the hell not? We’ve had sex, Brit and I sort of had sex. We can all have sex together.”
“Wait, you and Brit did what?!” Santana exclaims looking at her two friends. She looks sort of offended.
“We were on this rollercoaster and I was kind of horny and I remember you saying one time that Puck is good with his hands so…Anyways, it was fun and I got a purple rhino.”
“…I don’t even want to know.”
“You can stroke my purple rhino if you want,” Puck says to Santana, waggling his eyebrows.
“Get over yourself,” Santana sniffs disdainfully.
They’re clearly not getting anywhere. Brittany looks across the room at Puck who gives her an encouraging look. Brittany immediately gets it because she has like, sex telepathy or something. Like this one time, a boy in her homeroom was staring at her so after class she had sex with him in a supply closet and they both had a lot of fun and it turns out that he’d been thinking of doing it with her for awhile. So sex telepathy is totally her sixth sense.
She puts down her magazine and walks over to Santana, who is seated in front of the mirror. She even adds a little sway to her hips as she walks. Santana is still staring at her own reflection in the mirror even though Brittany knows she knows she’s there. She can see how Santana is sitting up straighter and breathing a little heavier, shifting in her seat.
“Santana,” Brittany whispers right into her ear. “Please?” she asks in her smallest voice. To sweeten the deal, she reaches around her to skim her fingers lightly over Santana’s dark tanned arms.
“No.”
“C’mon, please?” she presses a kiss to the back of her neck.
“…no,” Santana answers, her voice catching.
Almost there, Brittany thinks.
“We can make out in front of Puck. It’ll be fun…” Brittany kisses her way up Santana’s neck while Santana is gripping the dark oak table and watching their reflections hungrily. She kisses Santana’s soft neck, her smooth cheek and finally her slightly wet lips. Santana’s tongue ventures out to sweep across Brittany’s lower lip for the briefest of seconds, but for Brittany it is enough. She slants her mouth across the other girl’s, and sighs when Santana slips her hands into her hair. Brittany is kind of bending at the waist at a weird angle to kiss her, but it’s okay because Santana’s tongue is dancing in her mouth and her hand is scraping along her scalp and it is so nice.
When they break apart, they remember that somebody else is in the room, and turn to see Puck staring at the both of them as his hand shamelessly moves under the waist of his jeans.
“Fuck, that was hot,” he says, his voice rough.
Santana grins conspiratorially at Brittany.
“Do you think so?” Santana asks evilly.
“Hell yeah.”
“Wanna see more?”
Puck nods.
“Take off your pants,” Brittany commands.
Puck complies, making quick work of his jeans and t-shirt, so that he is standing in only his boxers. He takes a step towards the girls.
“Uh-uh. I’m in control here,” Santana warns, her hands resting lightly on Brittany’s hips.
“No way. It was my idea-“
“Do you wanna have a threesome or not? ‘Cause you can leave at any time while we continue this little party ourselves,” Santana snaps, placing a hand on her own hip defiantly.
A pause from Puck. “Fine.”
“Yay! Cool, I’ve never had a threesome before!” Brittany exclaims happily.
Santana smiles at her and hooks her thumbs along the edge of Brittany’s skirt. She pushes it down, and Brittany shimmies out of it. Brittany then unbuttons Santana out of her shorts, caressing the soft skin of her lower stomach until she feels her become tense with anticipation.
When they are both clad only in their underwear they move towards the bed. Puck sits next to them awkwardly, watching the show. Santana cups Brittany’s breast, fingers slipping under the lacey cup to rub her nipple. Brittany moans and quickly removes her top, gasping when Santana’s hot, wet mouth finds her breast again.
It’s pretty much always this awesome with Santana, who is about as demanding and needy in bed as anyone would think. That’s okay though, because Brittany likes being told what to do, or that she’s good or even just yes, yes, right there. It’s even more amazing this time, because they have an audience. An audience of one, but still.
Brittany can feel his eyes on them, and since she likes dancing and performing she decides to give him a little show. Slowly she slides her hands under Santana’s panties and is surprised when Santana does the same for her. The show she wishes to stage is completely forgotten as her underwear falls around her feet and Santana’s fingers finds the apex of her thighs. She holds onto Santana’s shoulders for support as she hums in pleasure. Santana’s fingers are sliding along her wetness when she suddenly stops.
“Aw. Poor Puck,” Santana purrs turning to look at the boy on her bed.
“Poor Puck is right,” he growls before lunging at Santana, grabbing her face and kissing her hard. Santana is smiling into the kiss, arching into his embrace while Brittany saunters up behind her to run her hands up and down her sides. When they come apart for air, they’re both breathing heavily and Brittany and Puck cooperate to divest Santana of her clothing.
Brittany perches her head on Santana’s shoulder as she heatedly gazes at Puck.
“My turn?” Brittany asks playfully.
Puck smiles, “C’mere.”
She moves to Puck and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck, where she can feel her own pulse thrum through her body. Brittany trails her hand over his firmly muscled abdomen then beneath his boxers. She grips him firmly, fingers curling over the length of him, then helps him remove boxers. His hard cock is silky and warm. She runs her hand over his length repeatedly, building up to a rhythm while he groans into her skin.
She pushes him back onto the pillows behind him, her mouth never leaving his. Puck’s hand wanders into her hair and grips her hard, keeping her head in place while his tongue snakes out to claim her mouth. She is rubbing her sex over the length of his erection, and her hips push against his eagerly.
She’s had enough, finally and looks to Santana. Santana’s dark, feverish eyes meet her bright ones and without saying anything, Santana rummages around in her nightstand.
Brittany rolls the condom down over Puck’s cock, while his hands continue to caress, stroke, and touch her skin until it feels like every single nerve in her body is at attention. She lets out a moan when she lowers herself onto him slowly taking him inside her inch by inch. He feels gloriously big inside her, stretching her to her limit. He is watching her with a rakish smile and his hands clutch at her sides. Brittany unhurriedly rises and falls on him, head thrown back in pleasure, filling herself over and over again.
She feels the bed dip beside her and watches as Santana straddles Puck’s face. From her position she admires the smooth tanned skin of Santana’s back, and how her shoulder muscles flex as she holds onto the headboard in front of her.
Soon Santana’s body is covered by a light sheen of sweat, her back glistening in the dimming sunlight still streaming through the window. Brittany reaches forward to run her fingers over Santana’s back, her fingers tracing a filigree path along the other girl’s spine. Brittany can’t see exactly what Puck is doing to her but she can gauge it by the little noises her friend makes.
A moan, and Brittany imagines that Puck is teasing Santana’s clit; never giving her direct contact, and instead licking at the sensitive skin around it.
When Santana whimpers, Brittany knows Puck is finally giving her that contact she craves, swiping his tongue on her over and over.
A high-pitched gasp wrings its way from Santana’s mouth and Britt is sure Puck is pushing his tongue up inside her as deep as he can go.
Brittany clenches around Puck’s cock as she watches his fingers curl around Santana’s ass, pressing her closer to him.
Then Santana comes, back curved into a beautiful arch and moaning low, her dark hair falling in a cascade down her back. Spent, she flops forward and sighs. She lifts herself off of Puck, kissing him deeply for a minute. When Santana turns Brittany, her eyes are dark and playful. A smirk curls on her lips as she moves towards Brittany.
“Looks like you need a little help, B,” Santana purrs into her ear as she slinks up behind her. Santana takes Brittany’s hands, laces them together with hers briefly and gently moves them away. Santana’s hands travel down to her clit, slick with pleasure. Now Brittany has Puck’s cock inside her as Santana expertly rubs her clit in circles, her friend’s hot breath on her neck. The sensation is almost too much, and Brittany has to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
She rocks her hips on Puck, and Santana keeps up with her motions like she’s following a choreographed dance . Brittany moves her hands to reach behind her and grips Santana’s head, fingers sliding through silky strands of hair. They lean towards each other and kiss slowly as Brittany rides Puck with renewed fervor. She feels Puck’s strong hands rubbing up her thighs, and then her hips. He lifts and pulls her to him hard. The friction is amazing, and she tenses as the two sets of hands roam everywhere on her body. She rocks onto Puck’s cock harder than ever before, thrusting wildly on his length, her body overcome with need.
Brittany finally comes, shuddering and gasping, when Santana bites down gently on her shoulder and Puck pushes Santana’s perfectly manicured fingers away to replace them with his own, sliding roughly over Brittany’s clit. Puck follows soon after with a groan, bucking up into Brittany so hard she nearly loses her balance on him.
They lie together in the afterglow. Santana is in the middle languidly stretching, Puck on one side of her with a stupid grin on his face and Brittany on her other side nuzzling Santana’s shoulder. She presses a kiss to that shoulder, and then moves to put her skirt back on because she’s kind of sticky now, and a little bit cold.
Soon they’re all dressed and as presentable as they can be with sex-hair and satisfied smirks on their faces.
“That was awesome!” Brittany says, shaking out her tangled blond hair.
“It was,” Santana smiles. “But now I’m hungry.”
“I’ll take my girls out for burgers,” offers Puck, pulling his jeans back on.
“Your girls?” Santana asks, smirking, arms folded over her chest.
Brittany looks around the room for her underwear.
“We just had a threesome. You’re my girls,” Puck replies simply.
“Sex isn’t dating, Puck” Santana answers as she hands Brittany her underwear.
“Can we still have more threesomes, though?” Brittany asks hopefully.
“Hell yes,” Puck says at the same time Santana shrugs noncommitally.
“Oh come the fuck on, babe,” Puck exclaims turning to Santana.
Her two friends begin to argue loudly, voices battling over each others’, and Brittany can only make out a “you suck”, “you never share, Santana” and a “tell anyone on the football team and I’ll make Lorena Bobbitt look like Hello Kitty” from the conversation.
As they squabble, Brittany brings out her secret diary from under her bed. It’s pink and ruffly and is super cool because the purple pen is attached to the book so she doesn’t lose it. Brittany tends to lose a lot of things, so the pen on a string is pretty perfect.
She turns to the monthly calendar printed on the last page and proceeds to circle every Saturday and Sunday in sparkly gel ink. Whether they want to or not, Brittany just made up Puck’s and Santana’s mind for them regarding threesomes.
Because beaches and friends and sunshine and hooking up? That’s totally what summers are about.
-
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): Puck/Brittany, Puck/Santana, Puck/Rachel, Puck/Brittany/Santana any other characters can appear as minor characters or pairings but I'd prefer one of the above being the focus ship.
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: NC-17, the smuttier the better.
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1. Skinny Dipping in a stranger's pool bonus points for getting caught or almost getting caught.
2. Amusement Park or Fair (I'm a huge fan of the scene in Fear with Marky Mark and Reece Witherspoon on the roller coaster something like that would be lovely)
3. Road Trip
4. Summer School
5. Heat Wave
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Brittany/Santana
Warnings: N/A
Word count:~8,000
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: This takes place the summer before glee club starts. How Brittany, Puck, and Santana manage to fail summer school.
A/N: The title is from “Midnight Show” by The Killers. Many thanks to abluegirl , my awesome beta of awesomeness!
What Santana hates most about the summer is summer school.
What sucks about it besides the obvious, is the fact that you still have to wake up early. This is especially hard to do during this particular week in late June. It has been inexplicably over 100ºF for 5 days, and Santana’s clothes, her skirts, her low cut tops are sticking to her skin. Every morning she wakes up to feel droplets of sweat dripping down the back of her neck, between her breasts. And sweaty boobs? Totally uncomfortable and totally not a great way to start the morning.
It is sweltering and humid by 11am, aka Most Boring Remedial English Class Ever O’Clock.
"C'mon, Brit, we're already late," she barks, the heat driving her agitation. She picks up her pace and wraps her fingers around Brittany’s thin wrist, pulling her along.
"You think we'll get in trouble?" Britt asks, fluidly matching her stride.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Nah, it's summer school. Ellis'll be glad we showed up at all. Besides," she leans over to whisper conspiratorially in her friend's ear. "I bet he'll let you off for being so hot."
Brittany grins giddily at her as they make their way down the hall. "You think?"
"Hell yeah," she answers, linking her arm through Brittany’s.
When they enter the classroom, Santana immediately scans the seats for places to sit. Preferably not up front where she can be called on, and preferably not next to a burn-out loser. She spots a familiar mohawk in the back row, and smirks.
Puck.
Her on-again, off-again...whatever he is. Currently, off-again at any rate.
Mr. Ellis swivels around to glare at the latecomers. "You're both tardy," Mr. Ellis accuses over his bifocals.
"Yeah, we were--" Brittany scrunches up her brows as she tries to come up with an excuse, "--we didn't really feel like coming to class."
A few quiet snickers sound throughout the classroom.
Mr. Ellis sighs. "Just have a seat, please."
Santana slides into the seat in front of Puck, being sure to give him quick view down her shirt while she does it. She plays with the strap of her tank top, her hand slipping under the cotton band.
She feels his index finger trace a line on the bare skin of her back and she smiles to herself, sitting up a little straighter.
"Who's your new friend?" Puck whispers into her ear from behind. They both look over at Brittany who is bending over to get something out of her backpack. The tops of her thighs, pale and muscular, peek out from under her denim shorts.
"That's Brittany. I met her at cheer camp. She just moved here."
"Yeah? I bet she--"
"She's off limits,” Santana says firmly. She turns around just in time to catch him staring Brittany's chest. “You’re such a disgusting pig, Puck."
"Whatever," he drawls, going back to pretending to read.
"This is quiet reading time," Mr. Ellis interrupts in a warning tone.
Santana is only 2 pages into their assigned book when the screen of her cell phone lights up.
'so y is she off limits?' Puck texts her.
'because I’m gonna talk to coach sue about letting her join cheerios. Don’t want her to tarnish her rep'
'i'll tarnish ur rep baby'
'again. gross.'
'u love it'
Santana rolls her eyes. She stares out the window at the school parking lot and feels an entire dull summer stretch ominously ahead of her. She lets out a huff and begins texting as inconspicuously as she can.
'what r u doing 2morrow'
'I thought i'm gross and a pig'
'i'm bored, there's nothing to do'
'u could do me'
'i repeat, what r u doing 2morrow'
There's an audible sigh from Puck as he receives her text.
'cleaning the Mason's pool'
'yeah? is it nice?'
'it's all fuckin fancy and shit, yea'
'i'll meet you there'
'1pm, u better b there'
-
Santana arrives at the Mason's at 2 o'clock because she wanted to do a little shopping at the mall. And get her nails done. And drive her car through the car wash. Also because it’s always fun to keep boys waiting a little.
She's not all that surprised to find that only Puck's sad, beat-up car is in the driveway. She told her parents she was headed to the library to study but her textbook lies unopened in her backseat.
She pushes past the gate and walks into the backyard, the hot summer sun heating her skin, exposed since she’s only wearing her red string bikini, a skirt and flip flops.
She spies him by the pool, in a white tank and shorts. His arm muscles, glistening with sweat, flex as he scoops out leaves from the pool. Whatever Puck was to her before, he’s still a fine specimen, the hottest boy in school.
So she saunters up to him knowing she looks fucking amazing in her new suit.
Judging by his lecherous smile when he sees her, he thinks so, too.
“It’s about damn time,” he says, looking her up and down. His gaze settles somewhere in the vicinity of her tits.
Boys. So fucking predictable.
She shrugs. “I had things to do.”
“Yeah?” he asks, peeling his eyes away to scoop the last of the foliage out of the pool. He throws his net aside as he continues. “Like what?”
“Why? You sitting here all day missing me, Puckerman?" she teases, voice lilting.
To her disappointment, he ignores her jibe. “Now that you’re here what do you want to do?” he asks leaning on his arms against a deck chair.
“You’re smart-kind of. You figure it out.” Santana toes off her sandals and reaches behind her to undo the strings of her bikini top. She flings the tiny piece of fabric into a rose bush and delicately steps out of her skirt and her bottoms. Expertly, she dives into the pool, her body arching smoothly into the water.
The water is blissfully cool against her heated skin, flowing over her in the hidden places usually covered by her bathing suit. She relishes the muffled silence of being underwater and glides up towards the surface.
When she comes up for air, Puck is gawking her and she can see that he’s already half-hard against his shorts.
She turns onto her back, floating while the water laps against her sides. The air ripples coolly across her hardened nipples, and her whole body feels like it’s at attention, positively humming under his gaze.
Suddenly, she feels something grab her waist. For a second she panics and flails and splashes while trying to right herself again. Her head goes under water and the water goes up her nose. When she finally regains her bearings, gasping for air and sputtering, she hits the nearest part of his body she can reach.
Luckily for her, it’s the side of his head.
“What the fuck!”
He laughs while treading water and she sneaks a glance at him. He’s wearing his shorts.
“You’re supposed to be naked,” she points out, a little breathless.
He shrugs, and swims closer to her fitting his sun-warmed body against hers and reaching out to cup her breast. He is so unsubtle, but she likes the way his thumb feels sliding smoothly across her nipple so she lets him. When his hand moves to caress the curve of her waist, she licks at the corner her mouth. His eyes, a dark hazel, follow the movement of her tongue.
Sex in a pool is something she’s never tried before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything. And she can think of worse partners than Puck who, if she remembers correctly, actually knows what he’s doing.
She places her arms around his neck and wraps her legs around his hips, clinging like a vine, her weight supported by his hands and the buoyancy of the water. His slightly rough tongue swipes against hers teasingly as he kisses her.
He tastes a little bit like chlorine.
One of his hands wanders into the damp tangles of her hair, pulling her closer to him.
They move to the edge of the pool, and Santana’s back is pressed up against the smooth tile. His hands grab at her insistently to press her against him, and he moves her up a little higher against the edge. She rubs against him impatiently, and he gives in by slipping his fingers inside her. He languidly pumps in and out of her and she rocks greedily on his hand. He leans down to kiss her deeply again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers. She’s about to reach for his swim shorts when she hears the loud rumble of a car engine nearby.
She pulls away from him like she’s been burned.
“What the hell, Puck,” she hisses. “I thought you said they wouldn’t be here!”
“They’re not! They’re out of town for the weekend-“ His statement is interrupted by the thwump of a car door closing and Santana lifts herself out of the pool as quickly as she can, running over to the other side to grab her sandals and bikini bottoms. She’s frantically looking for a place to hide when Puck grabs her wrist and yanks her toward the back of the yard. Before she knows it she’s being shoved into a garden shed.
An old garden shed. That’s dusty. And stifling hot. Ugh.
She blinks rapidly, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She’s all too aware that she’s standing in this shed amid what is probably rusty equipment and old weed killer. Not sexy at all. She cups her hands over her eyes as she leans over to peer through the tiny window. An old man in a plaid shirt untangles the garden hose and begins to water the rose bushes.
“Who the fuck is that?” Santana asks.
Puck copies her pose. “Oh, shit.”
“What do you mean ‘oh, shit’?”
“They hired some old dude to come by to water their plants while they were gone. I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say, Lopez?”
“I’m fucking going to go home after this, is what I’m going to do. Hiding out in a grody shed? Not my idea of fun,” she snaps.
He snakes his arms around her bare waist, pulling her back towards him. Her sandals and clothes flutter to the dirt floor.
“I bet we could make it fun.”
“Jesus, Puck. We’re stuck in a here with a lawnmower,” she protests even as she pushes back against his cock and leans into his firm chest.
“Don’t worry. I’d still do you.”
“Asshole,” she hisses, as his fingers dip down into her pussy.
“Jesus,” he groans his breath hot in her ear. “You’re so fucking wet.” He slides his fingers along her, and she tenses as she feels the slow-burn of arousal pooling in her abdomen once again. Her body, trapped in the heat of the shed, drips with sweat. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath in the hot, heavy air that smells like freshly cut grass and the warm earthiness of the dirt floor.
“Just shut up and get on with it,” she gasps, before turning around in his arms. His mouth immediately covers her right breast, his tongue flicking across her nipple as his thumb swirls around her clit. She feels slick, and swollen, and she aches so good. He presses her up against the slightly rough wooden walls, and kisses his way up to her throat. She groans when he bites at the skin below her ear.
“Shhh,” he says, and even in the dark she knows his eyes are sparkling with mischief. “You don’t want that dirty old man to find us out, do you?”
“Mmm,” she moans. Through her haze of lust, she manages to undo his fly and his damp shorts fall to his feet. He chuckles as he steps out of them, and leans towards her again, his hand finding its way back between her legs.
She reaches down to caress his cock rhythmically; pumping him the way she knows he likes. He squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth falls open just a little. Yep, she’s still got it. He’s like putty in her hands. She continues stroking him until she can’t stand it anymore. She bends her legs and the head of his cock brushes against her opening.
He enters her suddenly, roughly even, and she finds herself impaled on him--her feet dangling inches off the ground as he holds her up, his hands gripping her buttocks.
He feels so good stretching her, hot and huge. God, it’s been much too long. His dark, heated eyes are focused on her as he moves slowly in and out of her. He is biting down on his lip and she recognizes that he’s trying not to come.
“Hurry or we’ll get caught,” she whispers into his neck.
“Or maybe you want to be found out?” he pants, once he regains his composure. She clenches around him, his words pushing her to new heights of desire. “Fuck,” he gasps. “You love this don’t you?” he asks, as he thrusts into her.
She finds that she can’t respond coherently, so settles for more moaning instead.
“Tell me,” he whispers into her ear, his breath searing hot against her skin. “You like this, right? Knowing that all someone has to do is open this door to see you like this?”
She bites her lip to keep from screaming while he fucks her more roughly. He’s slamming into her wetly, filling her over and over again while he murmurs filthy words into her ear. She’s too far gone to reciprocate so she’s not mad when he takes over, his hands lifting her higher, so she is pressed more firmly between his body and the shed.
“Anyone could open that door and see you. See you getting fucked. Are you gonna come, baby? Are you gonna let everyone see when you come?” he rasps, his voice low and demanding.
She looks into his eyes and manages a small nod.
“Good. I wanna see you come. Maybe he does too,” Puck suggests, reaching between them to curl his fingers over her clit. His thumb is swipes over her clit rapidly and she’s sandwiched in between his body and the wall, and it’s so hot inside the damn shed, their skin sliding against each other’s but she wants, needs him closer still. “He’ll see you here with my hand between your legs and my dick inside you, and you’ll be begging for it…are you begging for it, Santana?”
“God, Puck--yes, yes--”
“You’re such a little exhibitionist,” he answers, fingers digging into her hips, slamming into her.
That’s gonna leave a mark, she thinks dazedly.
“He’ll see your pretty tits, your bare skin. Would you like that?”
“Mm-hmmm,” she moans her voice breathy and high, unfamiliar even to herself.
“I’d like it too. I think about fucking you all day in class,” he grunts, ever other word punctuated by a sharp plunge into her. He’s fucking her, driving into her so hard it almost hurts. “You’re bent over the desk,” he says. “Your little ass in the air and I’m fucking you hard from behind, because you’ve been so bad. God, you’re tight, you feel so good…”
Santana groans as his words swirl around her. The images inflame her desire pushing her closer to her release. She is so fucking close, and she doesn’t know if she can stand it. She wants only more, more, more.
When she pries open her eyes to look at him, he’s wearing this devious little smirk, the corner of his mouth turned up a bit, like he thinks he’s a freaking sex god or something. If she wasn’t so focused on her impending orgasm she’d slap that smirk right off his face.
Instead, she slants her lips across his, frustrated. Another thrust from him is all it takes to push her over the edge. She digs her nails into his upper arms as she is taken over, shuddering violently as the spring inside of her uncoils and she comes--finally, finally falling apart.
She muffles her cries by biting down on his neck, not giving a damn about whether it’s hurting him, because she is having the best orgasm she’s had in a really long time.
She’s still twitching around his cock when he lets out a loud gasp and begins thrusting erratically. Quickly, he slides out of her and comes hard on her thigh.
They lean against each other in the aftermath, both of them trying to catch their breaths.
Instead of smacking him and biting his head off about the mess on her thigh like she knows she usually would she just lets out a breathy laugh into his shoulder.
“That was fun,” she giggles, nipping him playfully on the chest. He sets her down gently and she shifts as she regains her footing.
“Yeah,” he smirks, running one of hands through her tussled hair. “You sure did give that dude a show, though,” he adds, waving at someone beyond them.
Her eyes widen and she turns her head to the window. No one is there. Dammit. She can’t believe she fell for it. She turns around to smack Puck on the chest, but he’s laughing at her so hard he doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re a douche,” she mutters, even as her lips curve up into a smile.
He leans over to murmur into her ear, “You love it.”
-
“Psst!”
“What?”
“So Saturday was pretty awesome, huh?”
“Yeah, it was okay.”
“Okay?!”
“Uh-huh…”
“Okay?! I seem to remember a certain someone moaning, ‘oooh, Puck! Yes! Yes! Yes!’”
“Who?”
“What the fuck ever, Lopez.”
“Sounds like you’re getting really good with your right hand…”
-
What Puck hates most about summer is that there’s nothing to do. Sure there’s an English quiz he should be studying for but still. There’s just nothing going on in this town. He’ll never admit it but at least during the school year, there are ways to kill time. There are people to be slushied, losers to toss into dumpsters, and sometimes, when he isn’t busy being a pussy, Finn helps him set off cherry bombs in the bathrooms.
Unfortunately, Lima is really fucking small and all it has going for it during the summer is the stupid carnival. He promised his mom he’d take his sister which loosely translated means that he drops her off with her dorky friends, hands her a cell phone and tells her to call him when she’s ready to go home. This is usually an awesome plan because it gets her away from him leaving him free to do whatever he wants.
Problem is there’s nothing to do. He’s too much of a badass to be conned by carnival games and even he admits that using his fake ID to buy some liquor to drink alone is fucking sad.
So he keeps an eye out for chicks just in case.
Even after their little backyard romp, Santana was still treating him like shit. Sure he didn’t expect her to come crawling back demanding why he never calls anymore like any other girl, but he was hoping for at least a repeat performance.
Fucking Santana-all she does in class is scowl, hang out with the air-headed blonde girl, and take cheap shots at his manhood. In other words, no change. And all he has to show for it is a serious case of blue balls.
He’s walking past yet another stand advertising fried Oreos, fried Milky Ways, and fried pickles, when he spots her: The familiar blonde hair, the long legs, the incredibly short skirt.
Fuck yeah.
She’s standing in the middle of the walkway, the glares of the people who have to go around her going completely unnoticed. She is rummaging through her purse, looking confused. Well, he’ll help her out, because he’s just that nice a guy.
“Hey.”
“Hey!” her face lights up in recognition. “I’m Brittany, remember me?”
“Uh, yeah. We have class together, like, five times a week.”
“Oh. Right,” she says and goes back to looking through her purse.
“So--you having fun?” Puck asks, hoping that she’ll say ‘no’. Because if she says no, then he can work his magic and suggest she come with him to his place, a motel room, or hell, even a bathroom. Then she’ll get the Puckzilla’s whole enchilada. His raw deal. His whole shebang. His…penis.
Whatever, he just needs to get laid. And cheerleaders, as he’d found out, are flexible and completely willing to sleep with football players.
“Yeah,” Brittany sounds exasperated. “But I can’t find my tickets.”
“Your tickets?” Puck asks confused. He watches her as she fumbles around in her purse, head lowered in concentration. He can make out a set of keys, a cell phone and a neon green Happy Meal toy. Weird.
“Yeah, I-I had all these tickets so I could play some games and then win some stuffed animals, and I think I lost them in the Fun House.” Brittany frowns, her little pink lips pursing and Puck thinks about how they would look wrapped around his cock, maybe making some little moaning noises as she--
“--you do, don’t you?”
Oh, shit. She’s still talking.
“Um, I what?”
“Have some money for more tickets? I really want that purple rhino,” she says, glancing at him from under her long lashes, blue eyes sparkling.
“Yeah, babe. I’ll buy you more tickets. But don’t you wanna go some place nicer, more quiet--like, just the two of us?” he hints, giving her what he hopes is his most charming smile. He even casually rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show her his guns.
“No. I just really want that rhino. We can have sex later, though, if you want.”
So she makes him buy tickets-a huge fucking roll of them actually, and he panics when he thinks about how much time it’ll take to spend all of them. She holds his hand as they make their way through the fair, the hot night air smelling of spun sugar, popcorn, and the engine grease from the Tilt-A-Whirls.
“You know what would be awesome right now?” Brittany asks, completely not minding when he slips his hand over her ass as they walk together.
“You, me, making the beast with two backs?”
“No, silly. Cotton candy!” She pulls him towards the nearest cotton candy stand, asking him buy to the biggest size because it’s blue and pink spun together and oh my god, isn’t it soooo pretty, and Puck briefly wonders how Santana puts up with her all the time.
To her credit though, she doesn’t yell at him, or slap him or anything when he pulls her against him and shoves his tongue in her mouth while they’re waiting in line to go through The Tunnel of Love.
Inside, as their swan shaped boat floats lazily through the water, she even lets him put his hand up her shirt. He caresses her soft, smooth breast, and when he rolls a nipple experimentally, she climbs on top of him, not noticing that their boat is rocking precariously. She kisses him, glossy lips sliding over his and tasting of cotton candy. They make out while floating by scenes of animals frolicking, a cheesy Venetian canal, and a Hawaiian sunset.
Her moans are so load he can hear them over the tinny sounding music that is piped through the tunnel.
He’s getting hard and he estimates the amount of time they have left before the ride ends and realizes it is not fucking long enough. Brittany is practically humping him through his clothes now, her skirt riding up over her hips and-
Holy. Shit. She is not wearing underwear.
Her nimble fingers are working quickly to undo his zipper and she’s in the process of getting to second, when she peels her lips away from his to exclaim, “Oooh! Look! Flamingos!”
He looks in the direction that she is pointing to see a pair of animatronic flamingos kissing below a giant red plastic heart.
She lifts herself up off him to lean over the side and get a better look. He tries to get a better look at the bare skin under her skirt, but it’s too damn dark. The next thing he knows they’re floating around the next bend and emerge back outside, finding themselves bathed in the bright neon lights of the fair.
Brittany turns to smile at him before disembarking and he’s left to think about Coach Tanaka wearing tiny polyester shorts in an effort to calm down his raging hard on.
Brittany doesn’t seem to notice though and she exclaims, “Oh, you know what’ll be fun?”
“What?” Puck asks warily, as she clutches his arm.
“Shooting games! I think this is the one that has the rhino!”
Puck forks over a handful of bright orange tickets to the bored pimply-faced kid in the shooting booth and receives an air gun in return. He gets into position, making sure to look as badass and John McClane as possible, flexing his muscles for Brittany’s benefit. She smiles with delight and picks up her own gun.
“Hey, maybe that’s not such a great idea, Britt,” Puck warns. If what Santana says about this chick is true (and it sure looks like it is) then she’s more beauty than brains. She’ll likely shoot someone’s eye out before the night is over.
“But this way there’s a greater chance we’ll win something,” Brittany says completely oblivious about how her gun is now pointing at a family of four. He grips the barrel of her gun to steer it back towards the booth and away from a potential assault charge.
The booth boy is staring at her tits. Puck glares at him. He hopes that kid’s an entering freshman next year, ‘cause there’s a dumpster that’s totally calling his name.
“Okay, fine. Just remember to shoot the target and not anything else, okay?”
Brittany nods.
When the bell rings, Puck starts shooting. He’s feeling a little awesome and he’s ready to get Brittany that stupid fucking rhino so he can get her home and fuck her brains out. He rips his target to shreds, so it’s a likely scenario.
When the bell rings again, signaling the end of the round, Puck is surprised to find that he did not win.
Not at all. Shit. Now he won’t be getting any.
He hears Brittany squeal in joy, clapping and smiling as the boy hands over a really fucking ugly giant purple rhino.
Brittany, who gets lost on her way to class, out-shot him.
Fuck his life.
“This is awesome!” she cries.
This sucks.
She shoves the stuffed animal towards him. It’s almost as big as he is and he struggles to get a good grip on it, hoisting it up to his shoulder. He feels ridiculous. He doesn’t need to think of Tanaka now, because he can feel his dick shrinking by the minute.
The things he does to get laid. But hey, he’s never been with a natural blonde before, and certainly not a natural blonde cheerleader.
Brittany slips her soft hand in his again, like they’ve been dating since forever instead of just beginning to talk without the aid of Santana as translator.
She leans her head on his shoulder as they walk and he has to stop to readjust the rhino, which by the way weighs a fuck-ton, every few feet.
“Oh, do you know what will be fun?” Britt asks turning to him excitedly.
“No,” Puck replies darkly.
“Rollercoasters!” she exclaims happily.
Fucking-A, please no, Puck thinks.
“Fucking-A, please no,” Puck says.
“C’mon, Puck. I know you’re not scared of heights because Santana said you and her had sex in your sister’s tree house one time.”
The rollercoaster is called the Anaconda despite being a rickety old thing that’s comprised of three fairly tame drops. Naturally, Brittany thinks it is the best thing ever. Puck grudgingly climbs into the bucket seats and pulls the handlebars down over him and Brittany. She smiles at him cheerfully.
The ride starts with rumbles and a sharp jolt, and then they’re off. It is just the two of them in the front of the train and another couple way in the back making out.
The wind is rushing through their hair, the sky is dark and the neon brightness of the lights below them is whirring by. It ain’t half bad, really. He looks over at Brittany who has closed her eyes, a blissed-out expression on her face. Her lips are turned up into a smile and her arms are raised above her head, strands of blonde hair whipping around her face.
She turns to look at him and grins letting out a thrilled, “Whoooo!” even though they aren’t going all that fast.
“Puck!!” she shouts.
“What?” he yells back over the rumbling of the rollercoaster.
“You what’ll be fun?” she screeches into the night air.
“Jesus Christ, Brit, if you say funnel cake I am fucking jumping out right now!” Puck yells.
“No!” She grins at him and taking his hand that is gripping the safety bar, she shoves it underneath her skirt.
Well, okay then.
He looks at her like she’s grown two heads, but she looks so hot, with her golden hair all over the place, her shiny lips parted in happiness. So he inches his hand up her thigh, under her tiny skirt. Her skin is impossibly warm and soft like one of those really expensive sweaters Santana made him buy for her after she went down on him the first time. Puck actually feels a little dizzy. It’s like his blood doesn’t really know where to go, to his cock so he can fuck properly, or to his head so he won’t pass out.
His thrums his fingers against her skin as he moves towards her center, ‘cause ladies like to be teased-the thrill of anticipation or some shit. She’s biting down on her lip, locking her blue eyes with his and there’s absolutely no shame or shyness in her gaze at all. It’s actually quite brazen and this turns Puck on more than he thought it would.
She’s had enough finally, and takes his wrist and slips it further up her skirt. His lips part when he touches her skin, his fingers finding a shock of heat and slickness. Dazedly, he muses to himself that she’s shaved down there, skin completely smooth. He slides two fingers along her folds experimentally as she slumps down further in the seat to get a better angle.
He rubs his thumb in slow circles around her swollen clit, mesmerized as she leans back her head in satisfaction. His pants are getting tighter by the second and he prays that he doesn’t come because if the football team gets word that he jizzed on a fair ride like some kind of sick shit, his rep will never recover.
It is sensory overload: the feeling of her pussy on his fingers, the sight of her chest heaving as she pants. The sound of the rushing wind and the clatter of the rollercoaster combine to form a roaring din around him. He wants to throw her down on a bed, shove her panties aside and just start driving between her legs like a crazed animal. She looks like she’d like that.
He thinks about pumping into her as he slips two fingers into her slippery passage. She pokes her tongue out to lick the corner of her lips, a familiar gesture that he recognizes from the times in class when she’s attempting to write an essay on a book she hasn’t read.
She places her hand on his wrist, stills his movements, and starts pumping his hand nearly all the way out then back in again. She’s basically using him as a living, breathing dildo and you know what? Noah Fucking Puckerman is totally okay with that. In fact, to be a good friend he adds another finger, three now sliding in and out of her and it’s kind of a tight fit but she looks like she’s enjoying it so he doesn’t stop. He can’t hear her very clearly over the rumbling of the rollercoaster, but her mouth opens in ecstasy and he knows she’s moaning in pleasure. He moves his fingers quicker now, using sharper thrusts and Brittany presses back as best she can.
As they approach the incline, Puck is breathing hard as if he’s run the entire course and Brittany’s hand is holding his wrist in a death grip. Slowly, their car approaches the peak and if Puck had paid any attention at all in his summer English class he’d get a good laugh at the metaphor.
Instead, he curls his fingers inside her, pushing in and out with smooth movements. His arm is at an awkward angle and his fingers are actually starting to cramp a little, but he doesn’t care. She clenches around him, and the only thing he’s sure of right now is the need to see her come undone.
He watches his hand moving under her clothes and nearly ruins his pants right then. He screws his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. This girl is trying to kill him. When they reach the top of the hill, and the car stops for just one second he can actually hear her.
“Please, please, Puck, so good--” her voice is breathy and soft, and goddamn she is begging for it and it is so fucking sexy watching her moan his name, her long, pale legs splayed out obscenely and her skirt riding up. So he rewards her by brushing his thumb ever so softly over her clit, just the tiniest ghost of contact for her, his little thrill seeker.
It is enough.
As they hurtle towards the bottom at break-neck speed, wind in their faces and stomachs reeling from the momentary feeling of weightlessness, she comes. Spasming and shuddering around his fingers, she pushes her hips at his hand to achieve deeper contact, even as the safety bars dig into their abdomens to keep them in their seats.
He rides it out with her, only stopping when she’s gasping and pushing his hand away. He kisses her and her mouth is hot and eager on his, her lips tasting of the artificial strawberry of her lipgloss and popcorn.
When they separate, she takes his hand and begins sucking on the fingers that have been inside her one by one. Her tongue, warm and wet, licks his digits like a Popsicle. She takes his index finger into her mouth, down to the knuckle and looking him straight in the eyes, she sucks hard. Puck’s pretty sure his eyes are rolling to the back of his head at this point.
The coaster track curves their car around a bend and to a slow stop. Brittany gives his finger one last kiss, adjusts the hem of her skirt and climbs out casually. Puck is having more difficulty. He practically bolts to the cubbies to retrieve their belongings, specifically a very large stuffed rhino that he can conveniently hold in front of his pants. Puck and Brittany walk out, rather unsteadily, hand in hand.
In front of a stand selling freezer burned ice cream, Brittany has taken out her phone and is busy texting. She’s not even looking at him at all as her fingers fly over the buttons.
“So,” Puck starts. “Do you wanna-“
“Oh! Hey, Puck. I have to go home now.”
“But-“
“Sorry,” Brittany says, shrugging apologetically. “Curfew.” She stretches up on her tip toes to give him a hug that is made awkward by the stupid stuffed animal.
She kisses him on the cheek softly, and says quite loudly, “But thanks for the orgas-organi-thanks for making me come so hard!”
She gently takes the rhino from him and he’s left to stand in the middle of the fair alone, his hard on tenting his pants.
What the hell just happened?
-
“Brit.”
“Oh, hey Puck.”
“Hey. So that shit we did on my Anaconda ride-“
“-Do you have the answer for number three? I think it’s D, all of the above.”
“……”
“You don’t get it either, huh?”
“It’s an essay test, not multiple choice, Britt.”
“Oh.”
“--yeah.”
“So D, then?”
-
Brittany doesn’t hate summer. She loves summer. There’s pool parties, beaches, hooking up with boys (or girls) and no school. She thought she’d hate summer school, but aside from her History class (they’re reading 1984) she is blissfully free.
It's August, and Santana, Puck and Brittany are holed up in Santana’s bedroom trying to cram for the final. At least, they are supposed to be cramming for the exam, but somehow, it’s not working out. Puck is going through the textbook coming up with dirty word searches for the next person who uses it (Turn to pg. 13. Page 13: Turn to pg 35. Page 35: Dick), Santana is reapplying her eyeliner and Brittany is flipping through a fashion magazine.
So she’s doing a quiz in Santana’s Cosmo called “How to Satisfy Your Man”, when she comes across a question she doesn’t quite get. Santana always knows the answers even if sometimes she accompanies them with an eyeroll and a, “Seriously, Brit?” so she asks her.
“Santana?”
“Hmm?” Santana answers, her face contorted as she runs the brush across her eyelid.
“Which one is third base?”
“Oral sex,” Santana answers succinctly.
“Oh,” Brittany says and fills in her answer thoughtfully. “Is that the one we did last night?”
Santana whips around to glare at her, eyeliner pencil dropped to the desk, and Puck puts his book down to stare at the both of them.
It feels like a long time goes by before anyone says something.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” Puck eventually says, breathing hard and shifting in his seat. His eyes widen and he’s looking between the two of them so fast that Brittany thinks he might get whiplash. His mouth opens and closes several times, but no sound comes out. He actually looks a lot like Mr. Fuzzy, Brittany’s fish from when she was eight.
Slowly, a wide smile spreads over his face. Brittany smiles back in recognition because she makes that face too after she fools around with Santana or when she’s allowed to eat carbs.
“Well. What do we have here?” Puck drawls, leering at the girls.
“Whatever,” Santana says, turning her attention back to her makeup. “So we’ve made out once when we were drunk. Blame it on the Corona.”
“Going to third is not making out.”
“Oh, we’ve totally done lots of other stuff, too!” Brittany explains helpfully.
“Brittany, shut up!” Santana hisses.
“No, wait, tell me more,” Puck says, eyes alight in rapt attention. He leans forward expectantly.
“We-“ Brittany starts.
“Brittany!” Santana yells, glowering.
Brittany frowns. She hates it when people get like this. They yell and get mad and how are you supposed to have sex when you’re yelling and mad.
“We could have a threesome,” Puck suggests, ignoring Santana’s attempt to change subjects.
“Oooh!” Brittany exclaims. “That would be awesome.”
“Absolutely not,” Santana warns.
“Why the hell not? We’ve had sex, Brit and I sort of had sex. We can all have sex together.”
“Wait, you and Brit did what?!” Santana exclaims looking at her two friends. She looks sort of offended.
“We were on this rollercoaster and I was kind of horny and I remember you saying one time that Puck is good with his hands so…Anyways, it was fun and I got a purple rhino.”
“…I don’t even want to know.”
“You can stroke my purple rhino if you want,” Puck says to Santana, waggling his eyebrows.
“Get over yourself,” Santana sniffs disdainfully.
They’re clearly not getting anywhere. Brittany looks across the room at Puck who gives her an encouraging look. Brittany immediately gets it because she has like, sex telepathy or something. Like this one time, a boy in her homeroom was staring at her so after class she had sex with him in a supply closet and they both had a lot of fun and it turns out that he’d been thinking of doing it with her for awhile. So sex telepathy is totally her sixth sense.
She puts down her magazine and walks over to Santana, who is seated in front of the mirror. She even adds a little sway to her hips as she walks. Santana is still staring at her own reflection in the mirror even though Brittany knows she knows she’s there. She can see how Santana is sitting up straighter and breathing a little heavier, shifting in her seat.
“Santana,” Brittany whispers right into her ear. “Please?” she asks in her smallest voice. To sweeten the deal, she reaches around her to skim her fingers lightly over Santana’s dark tanned arms.
“No.”
“C’mon, please?” she presses a kiss to the back of her neck.
“…no,” Santana answers, her voice catching.
Almost there, Brittany thinks.
“We can make out in front of Puck. It’ll be fun…” Brittany kisses her way up Santana’s neck while Santana is gripping the dark oak table and watching their reflections hungrily. She kisses Santana’s soft neck, her smooth cheek and finally her slightly wet lips. Santana’s tongue ventures out to sweep across Brittany’s lower lip for the briefest of seconds, but for Brittany it is enough. She slants her mouth across the other girl’s, and sighs when Santana slips her hands into her hair. Brittany is kind of bending at the waist at a weird angle to kiss her, but it’s okay because Santana’s tongue is dancing in her mouth and her hand is scraping along her scalp and it is so nice.
When they break apart, they remember that somebody else is in the room, and turn to see Puck staring at the both of them as his hand shamelessly moves under the waist of his jeans.
“Fuck, that was hot,” he says, his voice rough.
Santana grins conspiratorially at Brittany.
“Do you think so?” Santana asks evilly.
“Hell yeah.”
“Wanna see more?”
Puck nods.
“Take off your pants,” Brittany commands.
Puck complies, making quick work of his jeans and t-shirt, so that he is standing in only his boxers. He takes a step towards the girls.
“Uh-uh. I’m in control here,” Santana warns, her hands resting lightly on Brittany’s hips.
“No way. It was my idea-“
“Do you wanna have a threesome or not? ‘Cause you can leave at any time while we continue this little party ourselves,” Santana snaps, placing a hand on her own hip defiantly.
A pause from Puck. “Fine.”
“Yay! Cool, I’ve never had a threesome before!” Brittany exclaims happily.
Santana smiles at her and hooks her thumbs along the edge of Brittany’s skirt. She pushes it down, and Brittany shimmies out of it. Brittany then unbuttons Santana out of her shorts, caressing the soft skin of her lower stomach until she feels her become tense with anticipation.
When they are both clad only in their underwear they move towards the bed. Puck sits next to them awkwardly, watching the show. Santana cups Brittany’s breast, fingers slipping under the lacey cup to rub her nipple. Brittany moans and quickly removes her top, gasping when Santana’s hot, wet mouth finds her breast again.
It’s pretty much always this awesome with Santana, who is about as demanding and needy in bed as anyone would think. That’s okay though, because Brittany likes being told what to do, or that she’s good or even just yes, yes, right there. It’s even more amazing this time, because they have an audience. An audience of one, but still.
Brittany can feel his eyes on them, and since she likes dancing and performing she decides to give him a little show. Slowly she slides her hands under Santana’s panties and is surprised when Santana does the same for her. The show she wishes to stage is completely forgotten as her underwear falls around her feet and Santana’s fingers finds the apex of her thighs. She holds onto Santana’s shoulders for support as she hums in pleasure. Santana’s fingers are sliding along her wetness when she suddenly stops.
“Aw. Poor Puck,” Santana purrs turning to look at the boy on her bed.
“Poor Puck is right,” he growls before lunging at Santana, grabbing her face and kissing her hard. Santana is smiling into the kiss, arching into his embrace while Brittany saunters up behind her to run her hands up and down her sides. When they come apart for air, they’re both breathing heavily and Brittany and Puck cooperate to divest Santana of her clothing.
Brittany perches her head on Santana’s shoulder as she heatedly gazes at Puck.
“My turn?” Brittany asks playfully.
Puck smiles, “C’mere.”
She moves to Puck and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck, where she can feel her own pulse thrum through her body. Brittany trails her hand over his firmly muscled abdomen then beneath his boxers. She grips him firmly, fingers curling over the length of him, then helps him remove boxers. His hard cock is silky and warm. She runs her hand over his length repeatedly, building up to a rhythm while he groans into her skin.
She pushes him back onto the pillows behind him, her mouth never leaving his. Puck’s hand wanders into her hair and grips her hard, keeping her head in place while his tongue snakes out to claim her mouth. She is rubbing her sex over the length of his erection, and her hips push against his eagerly.
She’s had enough, finally and looks to Santana. Santana’s dark, feverish eyes meet her bright ones and without saying anything, Santana rummages around in her nightstand.
Brittany rolls the condom down over Puck’s cock, while his hands continue to caress, stroke, and touch her skin until it feels like every single nerve in her body is at attention. She lets out a moan when she lowers herself onto him slowly taking him inside her inch by inch. He feels gloriously big inside her, stretching her to her limit. He is watching her with a rakish smile and his hands clutch at her sides. Brittany unhurriedly rises and falls on him, head thrown back in pleasure, filling herself over and over again.
She feels the bed dip beside her and watches as Santana straddles Puck’s face. From her position she admires the smooth tanned skin of Santana’s back, and how her shoulder muscles flex as she holds onto the headboard in front of her.
Soon Santana’s body is covered by a light sheen of sweat, her back glistening in the dimming sunlight still streaming through the window. Brittany reaches forward to run her fingers over Santana’s back, her fingers tracing a filigree path along the other girl’s spine. Brittany can’t see exactly what Puck is doing to her but she can gauge it by the little noises her friend makes.
A moan, and Brittany imagines that Puck is teasing Santana’s clit; never giving her direct contact, and instead licking at the sensitive skin around it.
When Santana whimpers, Brittany knows Puck is finally giving her that contact she craves, swiping his tongue on her over and over.
A high-pitched gasp wrings its way from Santana’s mouth and Britt is sure Puck is pushing his tongue up inside her as deep as he can go.
Brittany clenches around Puck’s cock as she watches his fingers curl around Santana’s ass, pressing her closer to him.
Then Santana comes, back curved into a beautiful arch and moaning low, her dark hair falling in a cascade down her back. Spent, she flops forward and sighs. She lifts herself off of Puck, kissing him deeply for a minute. When Santana turns Brittany, her eyes are dark and playful. A smirk curls on her lips as she moves towards Brittany.
“Looks like you need a little help, B,” Santana purrs into her ear as she slinks up behind her. Santana takes Brittany’s hands, laces them together with hers briefly and gently moves them away. Santana’s hands travel down to her clit, slick with pleasure. Now Brittany has Puck’s cock inside her as Santana expertly rubs her clit in circles, her friend’s hot breath on her neck. The sensation is almost too much, and Brittany has to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
She rocks her hips on Puck, and Santana keeps up with her motions like she’s following a choreographed dance . Brittany moves her hands to reach behind her and grips Santana’s head, fingers sliding through silky strands of hair. They lean towards each other and kiss slowly as Brittany rides Puck with renewed fervor. She feels Puck’s strong hands rubbing up her thighs, and then her hips. He lifts and pulls her to him hard. The friction is amazing, and she tenses as the two sets of hands roam everywhere on her body. She rocks onto Puck’s cock harder than ever before, thrusting wildly on his length, her body overcome with need.
Brittany finally comes, shuddering and gasping, when Santana bites down gently on her shoulder and Puck pushes Santana’s perfectly manicured fingers away to replace them with his own, sliding roughly over Brittany’s clit. Puck follows soon after with a groan, bucking up into Brittany so hard she nearly loses her balance on him.
They lie together in the afterglow. Santana is in the middle languidly stretching, Puck on one side of her with a stupid grin on his face and Brittany on her other side nuzzling Santana’s shoulder. She presses a kiss to that shoulder, and then moves to put her skirt back on because she’s kind of sticky now, and a little bit cold.
Soon they’re all dressed and as presentable as they can be with sex-hair and satisfied smirks on their faces.
“That was awesome!” Brittany says, shaking out her tangled blond hair.
“It was,” Santana smiles. “But now I’m hungry.”
“I’ll take my girls out for burgers,” offers Puck, pulling his jeans back on.
“Your girls?” Santana asks, smirking, arms folded over her chest.
Brittany looks around the room for her underwear.
“We just had a threesome. You’re my girls,” Puck replies simply.
“Sex isn’t dating, Puck” Santana answers as she hands Brittany her underwear.
“Can we still have more threesomes, though?” Brittany asks hopefully.
“Hell yes,” Puck says at the same time Santana shrugs noncommitally.
“Oh come the fuck on, babe,” Puck exclaims turning to Santana.
Her two friends begin to argue loudly, voices battling over each others’, and Brittany can only make out a “you suck”, “you never share, Santana” and a “tell anyone on the football team and I’ll make Lorena Bobbitt look like Hello Kitty” from the conversation.
As they squabble, Brittany brings out her secret diary from under her bed. It’s pink and ruffly and is super cool because the purple pen is attached to the book so she doesn’t lose it. Brittany tends to lose a lot of things, so the pen on a string is pretty perfect.
She turns to the monthly calendar printed on the last page and proceeds to circle every Saturday and Sunday in sparkly gel ink. Whether they want to or not, Brittany just made up Puck’s and Santana’s mind for them regarding threesomes.
Because beaches and friends and sunshine and hooking up? That’s totally what summers are about.
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ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): Puck/Brittany, Puck/Santana, Puck/Rachel, Puck/Brittany/Santana any other characters can appear as minor characters or pairings but I'd prefer one of the above being the focus ship.
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: NC-17, the smuttier the better.
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1. Skinny Dipping in a stranger's pool bonus points for getting caught or almost getting caught.
2. Amusement Park or Fair (I'm a huge fan of the scene in Fear with Marky Mark and Reece Witherspoon on the roller coaster something like that would be lovely)
3. Road Trip
4. Summer School
5. Heat Wave