HSN Exchange Fic: don't you know the kingdom's under siege... for andbless_mybaby
Title: don't you know the kingdom’s under siege, and everybody needs you.
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Finn/Rachel
Warnings: Underage drinking
Word count: ~5500
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: It’s summer, and Puck tries to go back to the way things were while everyone else changes.
A/N: Title taken from The Killers’ song A Dustland Fairytale, which I listened to on repeat while writing this fic. Many thanks to my friends for reading this over, taking it apart, and helping me put it back together. This story was written for someone I admire and respect immensely, as a writer and a person. andbless_mybaby , I hope you like this.
-
Michael Benson’s father buys him a vintage Corvette for graduating.
It’s hours after the last bell of the school year, and Puck’s still sitting in the senior lot watching Benson burn figure eights into the cracked asphalt. What a fucking joke, he thinks to himself tiredly. He has two years left in this hell hole, if he can manage it, and no muscle car waiting for him at the end.
Tires screech and someone throws a beer bottle in the air. Puck tracks the hurtling glass with a weary gaze until the ground comes up to meet it and it explodes in a loud pop of broken shards.
“What are we still doing here?”
“I dunno, it’s tradition,” Finn says, shrugging his shoulders before taking a swig of the warm, cheap beer in his hand. A year ago Puck would have dragged Finn away from this lame shitfest and forced him to ride shotgun as he drove through the streets, looking for something or someone to do.
Their friendship doesn’t work like that anymore.
“What are you doing after this?”
“I dunno.” Finn toys with the label on his bottle, ripping it off in uneven strips. “Whatever you’re doing I guess.”
“Right, like I have nothing better to do than babysit your sorry ass all night,” Puck says and Finn only elbows him lightly in the side instead of agreeing.
“What about the little lady?” Puck jerks his chin toward the Navigator, where Rachel is fussing with Kurt’s hair as he tries to push her off. She notices Puck and Finn look in their direction and waves shyly. They’re sitting close enough together that Puck can pretend it’s directed at both of them.
“She’s got the girls and Kurt going over to her place tonight. Slumber party.”
“Sounds hot,” Puck says, sliding down off the hood of the truck and landing with a thud on the ground. “Bet you’re gonna be thinking about it all night, right?”
“Yeah, if I can forget about my step-brother being there.”
Puck snaps open a can of beer and leans back with his eyes closed. They both have early shifts at Sheets N’ Things in less than eight hours, but Finn insisted on celebrating the last day of school in style. A rager in the school parking lot that’s about as exciting as the fifty or so others they’ve been to. He spots Quinn on the other side, sitting on the hood of Kurt’s Navigator with Mercedes, foreheads bent together and arms hooked at the elbow. They’re giggling at something on Mercedes’ Blackberry. There’s a twist in his gut when he thinks about the medical bills piled neatly in his glove compartment, the ones Quinn assumes have been squared away already, and he pours the rest of his beer out into a puddle on the ground. He watches as Quinn and Mercedes hop down together and climb into the SUV hand in hand.
“Quinn’s smiling again,” Finn says suddenly.
“Yeah,” Puck mutters, tossing the empty can over his head at a group of scared freshmen.
“We need to get you smiling again, too.”
Puck snorts loudly, already missing the beer he just trashed. “Don’t be gay, okay?”
“Okay,” Finn says with a small smile before drowning the rest of the bottle and jumping to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
-
The air doesn’t move. Puck can barely make out the tops of the trees swaying in the dark but he can’t feel any wind in the bed of his truck. A heavy weight clings to his skin, broken only by the beads of sweat dropping down the side of his face. Smoke curls up over his prone body as he passes the joint blindly to his right. There’s the faint smell of something sweet under the acrid burning and the buzz of the cicadas, all of it pinning him down to the metal, slippery with sweat.
It all feels like too much. His hand presses down on his groin of its own volition and he grins into the darkness.
“You’re an animal, seriously,” Finn says, coughing harshly.
“Feels good,” Puck murmurs, his palm grinding down rhythmically on his erection. There’s a loud thunk near the side of Puck’s face as Finn’s head falls back next to his. He wants to make a comment about how that should have hurt a normal person, how Finn’s gigantor head is a freak of nature, but the words are too jumbled and he’s worried of what might come out instead.
His hand keeps its slow, even pace until he hears the clink of a belt being unbuckled. It speeds up as he peers over, eyes adjusting slowly in the darkness, to see Finn’s hand down his own pants, pumping away steadily.
“Doing good there, Cap’n?” Puck laughs, his chuckles turning to full-blown breathless chortles when Finn groans back.
Puck moves his hand along the seam of his jeans, crawling up slowly to the waistline and brushing against his bare torso lightly where his shirt has ridden up. Puck’s eyes are on his best friend’s hand, but when Finn looks up quickly their gazes meet. He can make out the bright red spots resting along the tops of Finn’s cheeks, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. It’s a smooth move from his stomach down to under the edge of his jeans.
“Remember our second summer at camp, when they put us in the lodge with broken bunk-“
“What did I tell you about talking while we do this?” Puck’s voice is strained and he hates (but kind of digs) the smug look of Finn’s face.
“You said no talking,” Finn say, bringing his heel up his leg to start working his pants lower, the last word muffled around the two fingers in his mouth. He pulls them out in a wet pop, slipping them down past the hand working his cock. When he pushes his fingers into himself slowly, Puck's eyes almost roll into the back of his head. “Even though I know you like it.”
“I hate you.” The sounds of the summer night, the buzzing and wind through the trees, do nothing to drown out the sound of their sliding hands and their desperate puffs of breath.
When they wake up the next morning, pants pushed down to their ankles and Finn’s Varsity sweatshirt acting as a pillow, they’re already fifteen minutes late for work.
-
“You’re late.”
“Sorry Mrs. Schuester,” Finn mumbles. “Wait, I mean, sorry, Ms. Ma’am?“
Terri huffs, brushing past the two boys before turning back, arms crossed in annoyance. “Your girlfriend was waiting with coffee and muffins at 6:00 am sharp. Maybe I should have hired her instead.”
Finn’s stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and Puck smiles crookedly.
“They’re in the back,” Terri snipes. “Don’t expect to find any blueberry ones. They’re Howard’s favourite.”
When she leaves, they trudge slowly to the back stockroom.
“So. Your woman’s taking good care of you, huh?” There’s a practiced casualness in Puck’s speech that he pretends his best friend can’t see through.
“She’s not my woman,” Finn starts, but he breaks off when he sees the spread of baked goods laid out on the table for him. “I mean, not yet anyway. I don’t know.” Finn punctuates his sentence with a large bite of a cranberry muffin, crumbs falling from the corner of his mouth, and Puck figures there’s nothing left to say, really.
Finn and Rachel are Finn and Rachel and he knows there’s going to be a time soon when nights out in his truck and day-long video game and blowjob marathons just won’t happen anymore. He’s okay with that.
They work in silence for a while, sorting through new deliveries for five minutes before giving up to toss a porcelain soap dispenser around like a football.
“So. Rachel.”
“What about her?” Finn asks, launching the makeshift ball back at Puck.
“You hitting it yet?” Puck throws it back harder than before, satisfied when Finn has to scramble to keep his hold on it.
“No,” Finn says, putting all his weight into it. The bottle lands in Puck’s hands with a loud smack. “Not yet.”
Finn is noticeably fidgety after, fumbling the bottle after every pass and it’s not long before they both stare solemnly at the broken pieces at his feet.
Puck tosses his head back, “Oh my god, dude, what the fuck crawled up your ass and died?”
There’s a long pause, and Puck drops his shoulders and sighs, grabbing a broom when Finn says, “Do you think we’re gay?”
“What.”
“You and me,” Finn elaborates, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, we do things. We’ve done ‘em for a while and I know we said it was cool and everything, and that it didn’t count. But what’s the difference between what we do and the stuff I see in the magazines Kurt keeps in his treasure chest?”
“Why are you looking at gay porn?” Puck says. They had, together. Once. Finn hadn’t trusted that what Puck wanted them to try was possible. They’d huddled in front of Puck’s computer wide-eyed and mostly hard, committing everything they saw to memory. “Do you look at that shit with him?”
“No,” Finn shakes his head, hands flailing in protest. “You’re missing my point.”
“Your point?”
“I don’t know, I was having dinner at Rachel's house two nights ago and one of her dads had surgery on his hand so the other dad was like, cutting his meat for him and I'm just saying if you didn’t have your hands I’d totally handle your meat for you, no questions asked.”
Puck doesn’t answer, not out loud, but his raised eyebrow is all Finn needs to continue.
“I’m just asking if this makes you my boyfriend. Or am I like, your boyfriend? What would that make you, though?”
“God,” Puck groans, dropping the broom and walking over to shove him roughly. “Just stop talking.”
“I can’t,” Finn whines. “Rachel’s been going on and on about labels and how important they are, especially when it comes to the people we love. I keep trying to put things into categories, ‘cause I can’t get it out of my head. Food. Air. Things I need. Videogames. Music. Things I love. Puck. Rachel. I don’t know, both.”
Puck ignores the whole last part of that sentence, forces himself not to react to it. “I’m not your boyfriend, dude.”
“Right, right,” Finn nods. “Yeah. I’m just gonna finish this-“ He shuffles toward Puck, and bends down to grab the broom at his feet.
“Hey,” Puck puts a hand on Finn’s shoulder, stopping him. The stale air of the stockroom makes it hard to breathe, but he inhales deeply anyway. He clenches his jaw and watches Finn’s face mirror the action. “You mad?”
“No,” Finn says, staring off to the side of Puck’s face. “No, I’m not mad,” he says softly.
-
It takes three weeks of picking up every shift he can at the store before Puck makes a dent in Quinn’s medical bills.
He stops trying to wake up early after the first one, opting to stay up all night instead and roll in every morning, smelling like weed, beer and on the nights that Rachel stays home with her fathers, Finn.
Finn works every last shift with him, even though he doesn’t have to.
-
A month later, Finn walks into work grinning like an idiot and Puck knows he’s punched Berry’s v-card.
Then he has to hear about it for five hours straight.
When Rachel stops by later that day, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, it takes everything he has not to launch into his own story. Freshman year, Finn’s basement and his mom’s Peppermint Schnapps.
-
She takes to bringing them lunch every day. Two paper bags with Finn and Noah in flowery writing across them.
Rachel walks up to them briskly, her skirt swaying to each side with every step as they wait for her on the picnic table set up for employees in the back lot, safe from Terri’s insistence that Rachel visits them far too frequently.
She hand’s Puck his bag and stares down at him innocently as he peers inside it.
“What the fuck is this?”
“It’s a garden salad. With a light vinaigrette sauce.”
“No seriously, what the fuck is this?”
“Noah,” she starts, looking to Finn as though to galvanize herself before continuing, “Finn and I have noticed your lifestyle habits have been taking a turn for worse. Granted, I understand you’ve been through emotionally turbulent life events and I’m sure your health is the least of your worries, but... We’re your friends, Noah. We’re here to help.”
“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” Finn adds, his mouth full of meatball sub. A drip of sauce lands right of the corner of his mouth and Rachel tut-tuts, reaching up with her hand to wipe at it with her thumb. Puck’s frown deepens.
“What?” he asks.
Rachel presses the salad into Puck’s hands, and her gaze drops to his torso. He’s about to repeat his question when she reaches up, and points her index finger toward him. He watches as she pokes him lightly in the gut and frowns at him in disapproval. “When is the last time you calculated your body mass index?”
“Did you... did she just call me fat?” Puck shouts, whirling toward Finn who watches them both wide-eyed, chewing his sub slowly.
Puck turns back to Rachel, stalking toward her menacingly as she backs away, hands up to protect herself. He rips his t-shirt off and tosses it at her, “Whatever, Berry. I’m a god. And you know it.”
She muffles her giggle with the rumpled shirt, her bright eyes peeking over the top of it to see him flex his arms proudly. At the sound of her laughter, he pounces, chasing her around the back lot. She’s quick, but not quick enough, and it’s not long before he has her hoisted over the large recycling bin, shrieking in mock fear. His hold on the waist of her denim skirt is strong enough that they both know she won’t fall in, but still she makes a big production of holding her wrist to her forehead and calling for help.
By the time Finn walks up to them to save her, Rachel’s a giggling mess in Puck’s arms. “Come on, Mario. Save Peach,” he laughs, holding the girl out to Finn.
Rachel’s soft “Who?” goes unanswered, and Finn clasps an arm around Puck’s shoulders, rubbing her cheek with his finger.
-
Things between them don’t change; even though stuff between Finn and Rachel gets more serious.
He helps his bro out how he can: lends him his truck to pick her up, stands guard when Finn takes his break in the stockroom with Rachel, slips stick figure diagrams into Finn’s wallet to pull out while Rachel waits topless on the bed.
Puck wonders what Finn tells Rachel when he spends the night over; if it’s a partial truth or a whole one. Finn’s always upfront about date nights with her. They’ve got nothing to hide.
-
They get a new shipment of iron towel racks a week later. Terri handpicks Finn to bring them in from the loading dock in the back while she stands around to supervise. Puck thinks she got weak game for a woman as hot as she is.
Rachel comes into the store, face hidden behind a big floppy hat and huge shades. Puck trails her to the linen aisle, watches her run her fingers along the duvets with practiced casualness.
Her yelp when he lunges and grabs her from behind makes him grin. “Relax,” he says, letting go of her waist. “It’s me.”
“Is she around?” Rachel says urgently. She takes her sunglasses off and her eyes dart from side to side. “Is Terri nearby?”
“She’s in the back, don’t worry.”
Rachel lets out a small sigh of relief before thumping her small fist against his chest. “Don’t accost me.”
He rubs the area where she hit him, laughing lighty. “Ow.”
“Where’s Finn?”
“With the other nutjob,” he says, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Oh.” Her disappointment cuts to the bone. Moreso when she shakes her head and plasters on a big smile.
“Hoping to score a little afternoon delight with Finnbo, weren’t you?”
The blush that blooms across the top of Rachel’s cheeks tells him everything.
Her eyes are blown wide in excitement and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet as he leads her to staff room, his hand at the small of her back.
“So what? Are you guys like married now or something?” Puck says, slouching down onto cushioned bench against the wall.
Rachel wipes the spot next to Puck on the bench before turning to sit, her fluttering skirt betraying a flash of her white panties. When she is finally seated, legs crossed primly at the knees, she turns to him. “Our relationship is as of yet undefined.”
“The labels shit didn’t work like you hoped it would, huh?” Puck laughs, tugging on a strand of her brown hair before she bats his hand away.
“I’m starting to wonder if Finn and I even have something that can be labelled,” she whispers. “Sometimes I even wonder if there is a Finn and I.”
“Nah, he’s retarded about you.” Puck leans back and tilts his face up, closing his eyes in the glare of the sun. “Trust me.”
“Finn loves a lot of things.” There’s something imploring in her voice. She’s asking Puck to understand her but it won’t be the first time he refuses to. “I don’t think I can keep asking him to pick me over them.”
He cracks on eye open and gives her a half-hearted grunt. “Whatever you say, Crazyface.”
“He hates it when you call me that,” she says softly, hands toying with the hem of her skirt.
That night he’s rougher with Finn than he’s ever let himself be. Finn’s quiet through most of it, strangled moans and sharp gasps but when it’s over he rolls away and Puck reaches across the mattress toward him. His hand almost makes it to Finn’s broad back but it drops back down before making contact. That’s how they end up falling asleep, Puck’s arm stretched out toward him and Finn curled away.
-
“Ass to mouth.”
“That can’t be healthy,” Finn answers, his face twisted in vague disgust.
Puck rolls his eyes, slipping the DVD into the slot of Finn’s laptop. “Who cares, I’m sure she’s fine. Trust me, this is a good one.”
Getting fired had been unsurprisingly easy.
Finn had had told him it would be the half-hour cigarette breaks in the stock room or the fact that the cash registers never balanced on the mornings after Puck locked up for the night that would do it, but after shoving the last of the money Quinn needed in an envelope and stuffing it under the front door to her mom’s place, he walked into work and insulted the first customer he came across. And her six-year-old kid.
Terri had simply pointed to the door and rolled her eyes when Finn followed him out.
“Now what?” Finn had asked, standing out in the parking lot with him.
They spend a solid three days watching porn in their boxers.
There’s a scuffle on the bed for space (a slap to the gut and knees locked tight at the waist) and then a loud knock at the front door.
“Rachel,” Finn explains breathlessly against the damp cotton of Puck’s collar. “That’s Rachel.”
“Ignore her.”
“No.” Finn pulls back, his brow furrowed. “I don’t want to.”
Puck makes his body go slack, a dead weight strewn across Finn’s body. Still, it isn’t that hard for Finn to move out from under him. He walks toward the door of his room, smoothing the wrinkles out of his polo. It only takes two long strides but Finn still pauses before reaching for the doorknob.
“Maybe,” Finn says nervously, and Puck scowls in anticipation of what he’ll say next. “Maybe it’s best you aren’t here when she comes in. She’s been talking a lot about deepening our bond lately and I don’t think she’d want you around for that.” He rubs the back of his neck and Puck punches the headboard in frustration.
“No,” he says plainly, settling his fist comfortably under his head and turning his attention the previously forgotten laptop.
“I wasn’t asking.” Finn marches over and tugs on Puck’s arm insistently, trying to drag him off the bed. Puck swings his fist and it connects with the side of Finn’s face.
The fight isn’t much different than their usual scuffles, at the beginning. Puck fights dirty, grappling at Finn’s knees and trying to land blows under the belt. Finn holds back, scared to hurt him with his size and strength. But eventually Finn lashes out with a desperation that surprises his best friend.
Finn hauls him up by his shirt, shoves him in the closet (Jesus) and slams the door closed, leaving Puck fuming, nostrils flared in the dark.
They don’t talk for long after Rachel waltzes into the room. There’s a moment of fumbling when she asks him about the movie playing on the laptop but it’s not long before Puck can hear them, panting. Rachel in particular starts making noises that make his fists clench and his dick stir in his pants.
Well, fuck that.
He makes as much noise as he can, waltzing out the door and sauntering past the bed. He ignores the way Rachel scrambles off Finn (they’re both fully dressed, he doesn’t know what she’s trying to hide) and only stops when she stands in his way.
“Were you watching us?”
“Chill, princess. I was here long before you were.” He hopes the underlying message is clear.
“I’m sleeping with him.” She actually stomps her right foot as she says it, her hands curled up in little fists by her side.
“Yeah, well, so am I,” he throws back.
He expects her to yell, or hit him. Instead, she pauses for a beat and then laughs, long and hard. She throws her head back and when she looks back at him, her face is wet and she throws herself into his arms.
He’s thrown by it. She should be angry, disgusted or at the very least offended. Instead she heaves a sigh against his chest; he can’t tell if it's resignation or relief.
The rough pats he gives to her back must hurt her but the death grip she has on his neck probably makes up for it.
The hug lasts longer than it should. He can feel the tears from where her face is burrowed in his neck and his pats turn to long, slow caresses up and down her back. He pulls her small frame tighter against him and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. It’s been months since he’s touched her in any way, since he’s had to smell her on Finn’s clothes and pillows. Now all he can think about is the presence of Finn on her skin as he touches her. When his hand wanders down to her ass, she takes a shaky step back.
“Noah, maybe you should leave.” She says his name but she stares at Finn, still on the bed with his face pinched in confusion.
Puck can’t bring himself to meet his eyes.
When he grabs her face with his two hands he feels a moment of panic, a sudden chill on his skin because he’s actually scaring himself, now. He doesn’t know what he plans to do and hardly registers it when his teeth clack against hers. She whimpers into his mouth and he snarls back into hers.
He waits for any kind of resistance from her to stop. He waits for Finn to come charging in between them and kick his ass. She bites his lip, hard, but has his t-shirt clamped tightly in her fist so he licks her top lip before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek and whispering harshly in her ear, “He kiss you dirty like that?”
He raises his arms, ready to use the wall behind her to push himself off and walk away, now that he’s made his point. His hands meet empty air and he doesn’t question it; they fall into her hair, tangling it as the hard wood of Finn’s bed frame bites sharply into his calves. “How the fuck?” he mumbles around her bottom lip before the air is knocked out of him as she pushes him back onto the bed.
“Kiss him,” Rachel whispers.
Puck’s about to ask her if she’s serious, ask her what she’ll be willing to do in payment but his mouth’s full of Finn’s tongue before he can.
“Is this okay?” Finn asks into Puck’s mouth. “Rachel, is this okay?”
Her finger traces down Puck’s jawline, until she reaches their mouths and Finn bites it lightly.
She laughs but gets right back to business. “Keep going.”
Their shirts are the first to go, and she takes her time with them. She rubs her cheek against their chests, one at a time, nuzzling Puck’s piercing when Finn gets up to make sure the door is locked. The musty air of the room, trapped between piles of re-worn clothes, half-eaten bags of junk food and used football equipment, is heady and yet so familiar to Puck.
She places wet kisses all the way down Puck’s torso to his jeans, her nimble fingers making short work of his belt. The bed dips when Finn falls back next to them.
Puck waits for it to get weird. For one of them to kick him out.
Finn runs his fingers through Rachel’s hair as she pulls his jeans down Puck’s legs.
“You guys,” Finn says, silenced by Rachel getting up to rummage through the drawer Puck stocked himself with fours boxes of rubbers he lifted from the drugstore.
It’s not Puck’s first threesome but he can’t think of what to do with his hands.
Who to touch first?
Instead, he stares dumbly while Rachel positions herself atop Finn, looking ridiculously dwarfed next to his hulking frame. For a moment he doesn’t believe she’ll be able to take Finn, but she has zero problem guiding him to her; Puck watches in fascination as she easily slides down the length of him, gasping only slightly as Finn bottoms out inside of her. There's a moment where nobody makes a sound, save for Rachel breathing heavily as she adjusts to the size of the boy inside of her. Finally, slowly, she starts to move, twisting her hips in a half-circle, half-thrust movement that Finn matches easily.
The revelation that they're well-practiced causes a burning resentment deep in Puck's belly until he catches Rachel's gaze. It’s a look she’s given him before during their short history together. The understanding, the invitation.
He kneels down between their open legs and gets distracted for a second, watching Finn go in and out in and out, like the moneyshot of a porno he can reach out and touch (which he does, when Finn slips completely out of her and he helps him back in). That’s when he sees Rachel’s feet slipping along the sheets, the socks she still has on giving her no purchase to plant them and go to town like he can tell she wants to. He runs his hands down he calves and picks her feet up at the ankles. Her body shifts to the side a little, unbalanced, but Finn holds onto her waist tightly and he doesn’t let her fall.
He tugs at the end of her socks, pulling them off slowly. She smiles up at him, her huge mega-watt “I’m Rachel Berry” smile and he can see Finn, his blotchy scrunched-up sexface right next to hers and it looks ridiculous but it feels like this bottom of his gut drops out at the sight of it.
It feels dirty, watching them. It’s a good kind of dirty, though.
The best kind.
His thumbs are rubbing slow, smooth circles on her ankles and he watches her toes curl. He runs one back up her leg, up her torso. He palms her left breast, grinning. “Gotcha, Berry,” Puck smirks, and she moans in response to his thumb tracing a lazy path around her nipple, louder when Finn’s hand creeps up to tease her other one.
Puck abandons her boob to drop his hand down between her legs. She’s loving it, he can tell by how hot and slick she is, having the two of them work on her. When he catches Finn’s eye, sees the grin on his face, he knows Finn can tell it, too.
It’s like one of their games. The two of them, Puck and Finn, working together to get there. Sweat and focus.
“I’m... I’m”, Rachel stutters. Finn hushes her, runs a calming hand down her side. Puck slaps it away impatiently.
“No, let her say it,” he says huskily. His fingers press against her harder, more insistently. “You gonna come, Rachel?”
She nods jerkily, her body bowed back and thrusting feverishly down on Finn. Puck grabs himself, rubbing his cock against her clit, matching the rhythm she has with Finn. She’s loud when she comes, Finn close behind. Puck stares down at them, laying spread out and completely spent on the bed. Rachel is still trembling when she climbs off Finn, her hands on Puck’s shoulders for support.
Puck flops down between them, hands behind his head imperiously, his cock jutting up.
“Yeah, don’t fight over it or anything,” he says. “You two are such cockte-“
The familiar drag of teeth along the length of him makes him stop. “Fuck,” he groans, hand clasped around the back of Finn’s neck. This isn’t anything new, it’s an act they’ve got down. Body memory. Finn’s never shy or timid about it, not scared to be sloppy and rough.
Rachel curls up to his side, playing delicately with his piercing, slowly rubbing herself against his hip.
She seems to be getting off on it almost as much as he is.
They sleep through the rest of the porno, Kurt banging on the door and asking about his red scarf, and supper. Puck only wakes up when Finn pokes him in the stomach with chopsticks, with yesterday’s Chinese take-out spread out around them, and Rachel stretched across the foot bed sleeping softly.
“So.”
“Yeah,” Puck says, reaching over to grab a carton of General Tao. “So.”
Finn waits a beat, obviously mulling over what is on his mind as he chews on a piece of sweet ‘n sour pork. “Do you think this means...”
“Oh god,” Puck says, flopping back onto the bed and smothering his face with a pillow.
Rachel wakes up only when Puck tackles Finn down next to her.
-
The grass is tickling the back of his neck something awful so he throws his hand out blindly and grabs onto this first thing he can. It’s Rachel’s thigh and he pulls, until he can settle it under his head and use it as a pillow. She shrieks at him about grass stains and he smirks, fondly.
“So, wait. Tina’s the only one?” Finn asks.
“The one that got away,” Puck sighs jokingly and Rachel sits up to slap him lightly on the chest.
“Of all of them, which one was the best?”
“Mercedes,” he answers after a beat.
He can feel Rachel tense under him and he sees Finn reach out to grab her hand and kiss her palm. “He doesn’t mean it, baby.”
“I fucking do,” Puck says, sitting up and he gestures with his hands in front of his chest, waggling his eyebrows.
“You motorboating son of a bitch,” Finn laughs, sighing when Rachel gets up to stomp toward the truck.
It takes ten solid minutes of blowing raspberries on her stomach and Finn tickling her neck before she agrees to stay.
When Puck wakes up in the morning, watermelon rinds littering their blanket and grass in Finn’s hair, the sun’s still not completely up and he carries Rachel to the truck, Finn cleaning up carelessly.
-
LJ name: andbless_mybaby
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): see below
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: I like the dirty stuff, baby!
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1.) Rachel/Jesse - "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." (Maya Angelou) ANGST! I love my darling manipulative/aggressively arrogant Jesse.
2.) Puck/Rachel - Her first time. Puck can give her plenty, but he can’t become someone else. ANGST! JEALOUSY! I go crazy for a in-character, non-wooby Puck who really likes Rachel but can't show it
3.) Finn/Rachel/Puck - The summer after Regionals. Finn and Rachel have hooked up; Finn and Puck are back to being best friends. They all hang out together a lot. IT GETS SEXY. (I’d *adore* it if two sides of the triangle developed first, separately, and the resulting drama lead to a cataclysmic threesome. FUCK YEAH.)
Things you DON’T want in your story (kinks or sex acts that gross you out, characters you despise, etc.): All my kinks/turns-ons are psychological - it sounds fucked up, but I'm really into angst (confusion, lies, pain, manipulation). My last prompt calls for a little less of that than the first two, I know! I'm not really into actual kink - I like the actual sex to be fairly vanilla, albeit hot. ;)
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Finn/Rachel
Warnings: Underage drinking
Word count: ~5500
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: It’s summer, and Puck tries to go back to the way things were while everyone else changes.
A/N: Title taken from The Killers’ song A Dustland Fairytale, which I listened to on repeat while writing this fic. Many thanks to my friends for reading this over, taking it apart, and helping me put it back together. This story was written for someone I admire and respect immensely, as a writer and a person. andbless_mybaby , I hope you like this.
-
Michael Benson’s father buys him a vintage Corvette for graduating.
It’s hours after the last bell of the school year, and Puck’s still sitting in the senior lot watching Benson burn figure eights into the cracked asphalt. What a fucking joke, he thinks to himself tiredly. He has two years left in this hell hole, if he can manage it, and no muscle car waiting for him at the end.
Tires screech and someone throws a beer bottle in the air. Puck tracks the hurtling glass with a weary gaze until the ground comes up to meet it and it explodes in a loud pop of broken shards.
“What are we still doing here?”
“I dunno, it’s tradition,” Finn says, shrugging his shoulders before taking a swig of the warm, cheap beer in his hand. A year ago Puck would have dragged Finn away from this lame shitfest and forced him to ride shotgun as he drove through the streets, looking for something or someone to do.
Their friendship doesn’t work like that anymore.
“What are you doing after this?”
“I dunno.” Finn toys with the label on his bottle, ripping it off in uneven strips. “Whatever you’re doing I guess.”
“Right, like I have nothing better to do than babysit your sorry ass all night,” Puck says and Finn only elbows him lightly in the side instead of agreeing.
“What about the little lady?” Puck jerks his chin toward the Navigator, where Rachel is fussing with Kurt’s hair as he tries to push her off. She notices Puck and Finn look in their direction and waves shyly. They’re sitting close enough together that Puck can pretend it’s directed at both of them.
“She’s got the girls and Kurt going over to her place tonight. Slumber party.”
“Sounds hot,” Puck says, sliding down off the hood of the truck and landing with a thud on the ground. “Bet you’re gonna be thinking about it all night, right?”
“Yeah, if I can forget about my step-brother being there.”
Puck snaps open a can of beer and leans back with his eyes closed. They both have early shifts at Sheets N’ Things in less than eight hours, but Finn insisted on celebrating the last day of school in style. A rager in the school parking lot that’s about as exciting as the fifty or so others they’ve been to. He spots Quinn on the other side, sitting on the hood of Kurt’s Navigator with Mercedes, foreheads bent together and arms hooked at the elbow. They’re giggling at something on Mercedes’ Blackberry. There’s a twist in his gut when he thinks about the medical bills piled neatly in his glove compartment, the ones Quinn assumes have been squared away already, and he pours the rest of his beer out into a puddle on the ground. He watches as Quinn and Mercedes hop down together and climb into the SUV hand in hand.
“Quinn’s smiling again,” Finn says suddenly.
“Yeah,” Puck mutters, tossing the empty can over his head at a group of scared freshmen.
“We need to get you smiling again, too.”
Puck snorts loudly, already missing the beer he just trashed. “Don’t be gay, okay?”
“Okay,” Finn says with a small smile before drowning the rest of the bottle and jumping to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
-
The air doesn’t move. Puck can barely make out the tops of the trees swaying in the dark but he can’t feel any wind in the bed of his truck. A heavy weight clings to his skin, broken only by the beads of sweat dropping down the side of his face. Smoke curls up over his prone body as he passes the joint blindly to his right. There’s the faint smell of something sweet under the acrid burning and the buzz of the cicadas, all of it pinning him down to the metal, slippery with sweat.
It all feels like too much. His hand presses down on his groin of its own volition and he grins into the darkness.
“You’re an animal, seriously,” Finn says, coughing harshly.
“Feels good,” Puck murmurs, his palm grinding down rhythmically on his erection. There’s a loud thunk near the side of Puck’s face as Finn’s head falls back next to his. He wants to make a comment about how that should have hurt a normal person, how Finn’s gigantor head is a freak of nature, but the words are too jumbled and he’s worried of what might come out instead.
His hand keeps its slow, even pace until he hears the clink of a belt being unbuckled. It speeds up as he peers over, eyes adjusting slowly in the darkness, to see Finn’s hand down his own pants, pumping away steadily.
“Doing good there, Cap’n?” Puck laughs, his chuckles turning to full-blown breathless chortles when Finn groans back.
Puck moves his hand along the seam of his jeans, crawling up slowly to the waistline and brushing against his bare torso lightly where his shirt has ridden up. Puck’s eyes are on his best friend’s hand, but when Finn looks up quickly their gazes meet. He can make out the bright red spots resting along the tops of Finn’s cheeks, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. It’s a smooth move from his stomach down to under the edge of his jeans.
“Remember our second summer at camp, when they put us in the lodge with broken bunk-“
“What did I tell you about talking while we do this?” Puck’s voice is strained and he hates (but kind of digs) the smug look of Finn’s face.
“You said no talking,” Finn say, bringing his heel up his leg to start working his pants lower, the last word muffled around the two fingers in his mouth. He pulls them out in a wet pop, slipping them down past the hand working his cock. When he pushes his fingers into himself slowly, Puck's eyes almost roll into the back of his head. “Even though I know you like it.”
“I hate you.” The sounds of the summer night, the buzzing and wind through the trees, do nothing to drown out the sound of their sliding hands and their desperate puffs of breath.
When they wake up the next morning, pants pushed down to their ankles and Finn’s Varsity sweatshirt acting as a pillow, they’re already fifteen minutes late for work.
-
“You’re late.”
“Sorry Mrs. Schuester,” Finn mumbles. “Wait, I mean, sorry, Ms. Ma’am?“
Terri huffs, brushing past the two boys before turning back, arms crossed in annoyance. “Your girlfriend was waiting with coffee and muffins at 6:00 am sharp. Maybe I should have hired her instead.”
Finn’s stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and Puck smiles crookedly.
“They’re in the back,” Terri snipes. “Don’t expect to find any blueberry ones. They’re Howard’s favourite.”
When she leaves, they trudge slowly to the back stockroom.
“So. Your woman’s taking good care of you, huh?” There’s a practiced casualness in Puck’s speech that he pretends his best friend can’t see through.
“She’s not my woman,” Finn starts, but he breaks off when he sees the spread of baked goods laid out on the table for him. “I mean, not yet anyway. I don’t know.” Finn punctuates his sentence with a large bite of a cranberry muffin, crumbs falling from the corner of his mouth, and Puck figures there’s nothing left to say, really.
Finn and Rachel are Finn and Rachel and he knows there’s going to be a time soon when nights out in his truck and day-long video game and blowjob marathons just won’t happen anymore. He’s okay with that.
They work in silence for a while, sorting through new deliveries for five minutes before giving up to toss a porcelain soap dispenser around like a football.
“So. Rachel.”
“What about her?” Finn asks, launching the makeshift ball back at Puck.
“You hitting it yet?” Puck throws it back harder than before, satisfied when Finn has to scramble to keep his hold on it.
“No,” Finn says, putting all his weight into it. The bottle lands in Puck’s hands with a loud smack. “Not yet.”
Finn is noticeably fidgety after, fumbling the bottle after every pass and it’s not long before they both stare solemnly at the broken pieces at his feet.
Puck tosses his head back, “Oh my god, dude, what the fuck crawled up your ass and died?”
There’s a long pause, and Puck drops his shoulders and sighs, grabbing a broom when Finn says, “Do you think we’re gay?”
“What.”
“You and me,” Finn elaborates, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, we do things. We’ve done ‘em for a while and I know we said it was cool and everything, and that it didn’t count. But what’s the difference between what we do and the stuff I see in the magazines Kurt keeps in his treasure chest?”
“Why are you looking at gay porn?” Puck says. They had, together. Once. Finn hadn’t trusted that what Puck wanted them to try was possible. They’d huddled in front of Puck’s computer wide-eyed and mostly hard, committing everything they saw to memory. “Do you look at that shit with him?”
“No,” Finn shakes his head, hands flailing in protest. “You’re missing my point.”
“Your point?”
“I don’t know, I was having dinner at Rachel's house two nights ago and one of her dads had surgery on his hand so the other dad was like, cutting his meat for him and I'm just saying if you didn’t have your hands I’d totally handle your meat for you, no questions asked.”
Puck doesn’t answer, not out loud, but his raised eyebrow is all Finn needs to continue.
“I’m just asking if this makes you my boyfriend. Or am I like, your boyfriend? What would that make you, though?”
“God,” Puck groans, dropping the broom and walking over to shove him roughly. “Just stop talking.”
“I can’t,” Finn whines. “Rachel’s been going on and on about labels and how important they are, especially when it comes to the people we love. I keep trying to put things into categories, ‘cause I can’t get it out of my head. Food. Air. Things I need. Videogames. Music. Things I love. Puck. Rachel. I don’t know, both.”
Puck ignores the whole last part of that sentence, forces himself not to react to it. “I’m not your boyfriend, dude.”
“Right, right,” Finn nods. “Yeah. I’m just gonna finish this-“ He shuffles toward Puck, and bends down to grab the broom at his feet.
“Hey,” Puck puts a hand on Finn’s shoulder, stopping him. The stale air of the stockroom makes it hard to breathe, but he inhales deeply anyway. He clenches his jaw and watches Finn’s face mirror the action. “You mad?”
“No,” Finn says, staring off to the side of Puck’s face. “No, I’m not mad,” he says softly.
-
It takes three weeks of picking up every shift he can at the store before Puck makes a dent in Quinn’s medical bills.
He stops trying to wake up early after the first one, opting to stay up all night instead and roll in every morning, smelling like weed, beer and on the nights that Rachel stays home with her fathers, Finn.
Finn works every last shift with him, even though he doesn’t have to.
-
A month later, Finn walks into work grinning like an idiot and Puck knows he’s punched Berry’s v-card.
Then he has to hear about it for five hours straight.
When Rachel stops by later that day, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, it takes everything he has not to launch into his own story. Freshman year, Finn’s basement and his mom’s Peppermint Schnapps.
-
She takes to bringing them lunch every day. Two paper bags with Finn and Noah in flowery writing across them.
Rachel walks up to them briskly, her skirt swaying to each side with every step as they wait for her on the picnic table set up for employees in the back lot, safe from Terri’s insistence that Rachel visits them far too frequently.
She hand’s Puck his bag and stares down at him innocently as he peers inside it.
“What the fuck is this?”
“It’s a garden salad. With a light vinaigrette sauce.”
“No seriously, what the fuck is this?”
“Noah,” she starts, looking to Finn as though to galvanize herself before continuing, “Finn and I have noticed your lifestyle habits have been taking a turn for worse. Granted, I understand you’ve been through emotionally turbulent life events and I’m sure your health is the least of your worries, but... We’re your friends, Noah. We’re here to help.”
“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” Finn adds, his mouth full of meatball sub. A drip of sauce lands right of the corner of his mouth and Rachel tut-tuts, reaching up with her hand to wipe at it with her thumb. Puck’s frown deepens.
“What?” he asks.
Rachel presses the salad into Puck’s hands, and her gaze drops to his torso. He’s about to repeat his question when she reaches up, and points her index finger toward him. He watches as she pokes him lightly in the gut and frowns at him in disapproval. “When is the last time you calculated your body mass index?”
“Did you... did she just call me fat?” Puck shouts, whirling toward Finn who watches them both wide-eyed, chewing his sub slowly.
Puck turns back to Rachel, stalking toward her menacingly as she backs away, hands up to protect herself. He rips his t-shirt off and tosses it at her, “Whatever, Berry. I’m a god. And you know it.”
She muffles her giggle with the rumpled shirt, her bright eyes peeking over the top of it to see him flex his arms proudly. At the sound of her laughter, he pounces, chasing her around the back lot. She’s quick, but not quick enough, and it’s not long before he has her hoisted over the large recycling bin, shrieking in mock fear. His hold on the waist of her denim skirt is strong enough that they both know she won’t fall in, but still she makes a big production of holding her wrist to her forehead and calling for help.
By the time Finn walks up to them to save her, Rachel’s a giggling mess in Puck’s arms. “Come on, Mario. Save Peach,” he laughs, holding the girl out to Finn.
Rachel’s soft “Who?” goes unanswered, and Finn clasps an arm around Puck’s shoulders, rubbing her cheek with his finger.
-
Things between them don’t change; even though stuff between Finn and Rachel gets more serious.
He helps his bro out how he can: lends him his truck to pick her up, stands guard when Finn takes his break in the stockroom with Rachel, slips stick figure diagrams into Finn’s wallet to pull out while Rachel waits topless on the bed.
Puck wonders what Finn tells Rachel when he spends the night over; if it’s a partial truth or a whole one. Finn’s always upfront about date nights with her. They’ve got nothing to hide.
-
They get a new shipment of iron towel racks a week later. Terri handpicks Finn to bring them in from the loading dock in the back while she stands around to supervise. Puck thinks she got weak game for a woman as hot as she is.
Rachel comes into the store, face hidden behind a big floppy hat and huge shades. Puck trails her to the linen aisle, watches her run her fingers along the duvets with practiced casualness.
Her yelp when he lunges and grabs her from behind makes him grin. “Relax,” he says, letting go of her waist. “It’s me.”
“Is she around?” Rachel says urgently. She takes her sunglasses off and her eyes dart from side to side. “Is Terri nearby?”
“She’s in the back, don’t worry.”
Rachel lets out a small sigh of relief before thumping her small fist against his chest. “Don’t accost me.”
He rubs the area where she hit him, laughing lighty. “Ow.”
“Where’s Finn?”
“With the other nutjob,” he says, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Oh.” Her disappointment cuts to the bone. Moreso when she shakes her head and plasters on a big smile.
“Hoping to score a little afternoon delight with Finnbo, weren’t you?”
The blush that blooms across the top of Rachel’s cheeks tells him everything.
Her eyes are blown wide in excitement and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet as he leads her to staff room, his hand at the small of her back.
“So what? Are you guys like married now or something?” Puck says, slouching down onto cushioned bench against the wall.
Rachel wipes the spot next to Puck on the bench before turning to sit, her fluttering skirt betraying a flash of her white panties. When she is finally seated, legs crossed primly at the knees, she turns to him. “Our relationship is as of yet undefined.”
“The labels shit didn’t work like you hoped it would, huh?” Puck laughs, tugging on a strand of her brown hair before she bats his hand away.
“I’m starting to wonder if Finn and I even have something that can be labelled,” she whispers. “Sometimes I even wonder if there is a Finn and I.”
“Nah, he’s retarded about you.” Puck leans back and tilts his face up, closing his eyes in the glare of the sun. “Trust me.”
“Finn loves a lot of things.” There’s something imploring in her voice. She’s asking Puck to understand her but it won’t be the first time he refuses to. “I don’t think I can keep asking him to pick me over them.”
He cracks on eye open and gives her a half-hearted grunt. “Whatever you say, Crazyface.”
“He hates it when you call me that,” she says softly, hands toying with the hem of her skirt.
That night he’s rougher with Finn than he’s ever let himself be. Finn’s quiet through most of it, strangled moans and sharp gasps but when it’s over he rolls away and Puck reaches across the mattress toward him. His hand almost makes it to Finn’s broad back but it drops back down before making contact. That’s how they end up falling asleep, Puck’s arm stretched out toward him and Finn curled away.
-
“Ass to mouth.”
“That can’t be healthy,” Finn answers, his face twisted in vague disgust.
Puck rolls his eyes, slipping the DVD into the slot of Finn’s laptop. “Who cares, I’m sure she’s fine. Trust me, this is a good one.”
Getting fired had been unsurprisingly easy.
Finn had had told him it would be the half-hour cigarette breaks in the stock room or the fact that the cash registers never balanced on the mornings after Puck locked up for the night that would do it, but after shoving the last of the money Quinn needed in an envelope and stuffing it under the front door to her mom’s place, he walked into work and insulted the first customer he came across. And her six-year-old kid.
Terri had simply pointed to the door and rolled her eyes when Finn followed him out.
“Now what?” Finn had asked, standing out in the parking lot with him.
They spend a solid three days watching porn in their boxers.
There’s a scuffle on the bed for space (a slap to the gut and knees locked tight at the waist) and then a loud knock at the front door.
“Rachel,” Finn explains breathlessly against the damp cotton of Puck’s collar. “That’s Rachel.”
“Ignore her.”
“No.” Finn pulls back, his brow furrowed. “I don’t want to.”
Puck makes his body go slack, a dead weight strewn across Finn’s body. Still, it isn’t that hard for Finn to move out from under him. He walks toward the door of his room, smoothing the wrinkles out of his polo. It only takes two long strides but Finn still pauses before reaching for the doorknob.
“Maybe,” Finn says nervously, and Puck scowls in anticipation of what he’ll say next. “Maybe it’s best you aren’t here when she comes in. She’s been talking a lot about deepening our bond lately and I don’t think she’d want you around for that.” He rubs the back of his neck and Puck punches the headboard in frustration.
“No,” he says plainly, settling his fist comfortably under his head and turning his attention the previously forgotten laptop.
“I wasn’t asking.” Finn marches over and tugs on Puck’s arm insistently, trying to drag him off the bed. Puck swings his fist and it connects with the side of Finn’s face.
The fight isn’t much different than their usual scuffles, at the beginning. Puck fights dirty, grappling at Finn’s knees and trying to land blows under the belt. Finn holds back, scared to hurt him with his size and strength. But eventually Finn lashes out with a desperation that surprises his best friend.
Finn hauls him up by his shirt, shoves him in the closet (Jesus) and slams the door closed, leaving Puck fuming, nostrils flared in the dark.
They don’t talk for long after Rachel waltzes into the room. There’s a moment of fumbling when she asks him about the movie playing on the laptop but it’s not long before Puck can hear them, panting. Rachel in particular starts making noises that make his fists clench and his dick stir in his pants.
Well, fuck that.
He makes as much noise as he can, waltzing out the door and sauntering past the bed. He ignores the way Rachel scrambles off Finn (they’re both fully dressed, he doesn’t know what she’s trying to hide) and only stops when she stands in his way.
“Were you watching us?”
“Chill, princess. I was here long before you were.” He hopes the underlying message is clear.
“I’m sleeping with him.” She actually stomps her right foot as she says it, her hands curled up in little fists by her side.
“Yeah, well, so am I,” he throws back.
He expects her to yell, or hit him. Instead, she pauses for a beat and then laughs, long and hard. She throws her head back and when she looks back at him, her face is wet and she throws herself into his arms.
He’s thrown by it. She should be angry, disgusted or at the very least offended. Instead she heaves a sigh against his chest; he can’t tell if it's resignation or relief.
The rough pats he gives to her back must hurt her but the death grip she has on his neck probably makes up for it.
The hug lasts longer than it should. He can feel the tears from where her face is burrowed in his neck and his pats turn to long, slow caresses up and down her back. He pulls her small frame tighter against him and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. It’s been months since he’s touched her in any way, since he’s had to smell her on Finn’s clothes and pillows. Now all he can think about is the presence of Finn on her skin as he touches her. When his hand wanders down to her ass, she takes a shaky step back.
“Noah, maybe you should leave.” She says his name but she stares at Finn, still on the bed with his face pinched in confusion.
Puck can’t bring himself to meet his eyes.
When he grabs her face with his two hands he feels a moment of panic, a sudden chill on his skin because he’s actually scaring himself, now. He doesn’t know what he plans to do and hardly registers it when his teeth clack against hers. She whimpers into his mouth and he snarls back into hers.
He waits for any kind of resistance from her to stop. He waits for Finn to come charging in between them and kick his ass. She bites his lip, hard, but has his t-shirt clamped tightly in her fist so he licks her top lip before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek and whispering harshly in her ear, “He kiss you dirty like that?”
He raises his arms, ready to use the wall behind her to push himself off and walk away, now that he’s made his point. His hands meet empty air and he doesn’t question it; they fall into her hair, tangling it as the hard wood of Finn’s bed frame bites sharply into his calves. “How the fuck?” he mumbles around her bottom lip before the air is knocked out of him as she pushes him back onto the bed.
“Kiss him,” Rachel whispers.
Puck’s about to ask her if she’s serious, ask her what she’ll be willing to do in payment but his mouth’s full of Finn’s tongue before he can.
“Is this okay?” Finn asks into Puck’s mouth. “Rachel, is this okay?”
Her finger traces down Puck’s jawline, until she reaches their mouths and Finn bites it lightly.
She laughs but gets right back to business. “Keep going.”
Their shirts are the first to go, and she takes her time with them. She rubs her cheek against their chests, one at a time, nuzzling Puck’s piercing when Finn gets up to make sure the door is locked. The musty air of the room, trapped between piles of re-worn clothes, half-eaten bags of junk food and used football equipment, is heady and yet so familiar to Puck.
She places wet kisses all the way down Puck’s torso to his jeans, her nimble fingers making short work of his belt. The bed dips when Finn falls back next to them.
Puck waits for it to get weird. For one of them to kick him out.
Finn runs his fingers through Rachel’s hair as she pulls his jeans down Puck’s legs.
“You guys,” Finn says, silenced by Rachel getting up to rummage through the drawer Puck stocked himself with fours boxes of rubbers he lifted from the drugstore.
It’s not Puck’s first threesome but he can’t think of what to do with his hands.
Who to touch first?
Instead, he stares dumbly while Rachel positions herself atop Finn, looking ridiculously dwarfed next to his hulking frame. For a moment he doesn’t believe she’ll be able to take Finn, but she has zero problem guiding him to her; Puck watches in fascination as she easily slides down the length of him, gasping only slightly as Finn bottoms out inside of her. There's a moment where nobody makes a sound, save for Rachel breathing heavily as she adjusts to the size of the boy inside of her. Finally, slowly, she starts to move, twisting her hips in a half-circle, half-thrust movement that Finn matches easily.
The revelation that they're well-practiced causes a burning resentment deep in Puck's belly until he catches Rachel's gaze. It’s a look she’s given him before during their short history together. The understanding, the invitation.
He kneels down between their open legs and gets distracted for a second, watching Finn go in and out in and out, like the moneyshot of a porno he can reach out and touch (which he does, when Finn slips completely out of her and he helps him back in). That’s when he sees Rachel’s feet slipping along the sheets, the socks she still has on giving her no purchase to plant them and go to town like he can tell she wants to. He runs his hands down he calves and picks her feet up at the ankles. Her body shifts to the side a little, unbalanced, but Finn holds onto her waist tightly and he doesn’t let her fall.
He tugs at the end of her socks, pulling them off slowly. She smiles up at him, her huge mega-watt “I’m Rachel Berry” smile and he can see Finn, his blotchy scrunched-up sexface right next to hers and it looks ridiculous but it feels like this bottom of his gut drops out at the sight of it.
It feels dirty, watching them. It’s a good kind of dirty, though.
The best kind.
His thumbs are rubbing slow, smooth circles on her ankles and he watches her toes curl. He runs one back up her leg, up her torso. He palms her left breast, grinning. “Gotcha, Berry,” Puck smirks, and she moans in response to his thumb tracing a lazy path around her nipple, louder when Finn’s hand creeps up to tease her other one.
Puck abandons her boob to drop his hand down between her legs. She’s loving it, he can tell by how hot and slick she is, having the two of them work on her. When he catches Finn’s eye, sees the grin on his face, he knows Finn can tell it, too.
It’s like one of their games. The two of them, Puck and Finn, working together to get there. Sweat and focus.
“I’m... I’m”, Rachel stutters. Finn hushes her, runs a calming hand down her side. Puck slaps it away impatiently.
“No, let her say it,” he says huskily. His fingers press against her harder, more insistently. “You gonna come, Rachel?”
She nods jerkily, her body bowed back and thrusting feverishly down on Finn. Puck grabs himself, rubbing his cock against her clit, matching the rhythm she has with Finn. She’s loud when she comes, Finn close behind. Puck stares down at them, laying spread out and completely spent on the bed. Rachel is still trembling when she climbs off Finn, her hands on Puck’s shoulders for support.
Puck flops down between them, hands behind his head imperiously, his cock jutting up.
“Yeah, don’t fight over it or anything,” he says. “You two are such cockte-“
The familiar drag of teeth along the length of him makes him stop. “Fuck,” he groans, hand clasped around the back of Finn’s neck. This isn’t anything new, it’s an act they’ve got down. Body memory. Finn’s never shy or timid about it, not scared to be sloppy and rough.
Rachel curls up to his side, playing delicately with his piercing, slowly rubbing herself against his hip.
She seems to be getting off on it almost as much as he is.
They sleep through the rest of the porno, Kurt banging on the door and asking about his red scarf, and supper. Puck only wakes up when Finn pokes him in the stomach with chopsticks, with yesterday’s Chinese take-out spread out around them, and Rachel stretched across the foot bed sleeping softly.
“So.”
“Yeah,” Puck says, reaching over to grab a carton of General Tao. “So.”
Finn waits a beat, obviously mulling over what is on his mind as he chews on a piece of sweet ‘n sour pork. “Do you think this means...”
“Oh god,” Puck says, flopping back onto the bed and smothering his face with a pillow.
Rachel wakes up only when Puck tackles Finn down next to her.
-
The grass is tickling the back of his neck something awful so he throws his hand out blindly and grabs onto this first thing he can. It’s Rachel’s thigh and he pulls, until he can settle it under his head and use it as a pillow. She shrieks at him about grass stains and he smirks, fondly.
“So, wait. Tina’s the only one?” Finn asks.
“The one that got away,” Puck sighs jokingly and Rachel sits up to slap him lightly on the chest.
“Of all of them, which one was the best?”
“Mercedes,” he answers after a beat.
He can feel Rachel tense under him and he sees Finn reach out to grab her hand and kiss her palm. “He doesn’t mean it, baby.”
“I fucking do,” Puck says, sitting up and he gestures with his hands in front of his chest, waggling his eyebrows.
“You motorboating son of a bitch,” Finn laughs, sighing when Rachel gets up to stomp toward the truck.
It takes ten solid minutes of blowing raspberries on her stomach and Finn tickling her neck before she agrees to stay.
When Puck wakes up in the morning, watermelon rinds littering their blanket and grass in Finn’s hair, the sun’s still not completely up and he carries Rachel to the truck, Finn cleaning up carelessly.
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LJ name: andbless_mybaby
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): see below
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: I like the dirty stuff, baby!
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1.) Rachel/Jesse - "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." (Maya Angelou) ANGST! I love my darling manipulative/aggressively arrogant Jesse.
2.) Puck/Rachel - Her first time. Puck can give her plenty, but he can’t become someone else. ANGST! JEALOUSY! I go crazy for a in-character, non-wooby Puck who really likes Rachel but can't show it
3.) Finn/Rachel/Puck - The summer after Regionals. Finn and Rachel have hooked up; Finn and Puck are back to being best friends. They all hang out together a lot. IT GETS SEXY. (I’d *adore* it if two sides of the triangle developed first, separately, and the resulting drama lead to a cataclysmic threesome. FUCK YEAH.)
Things you DON’T want in your story (kinks or sex acts that gross you out, characters you despise, etc.): All my kinks/turns-ons are psychological - it sounds fucked up, but I'm really into angst (confusion, lies, pain, manipulation). My last prompt calls for a little less of that than the first two, I know! I'm not really into actual kink - I like the actual sex to be fairly vanilla, albeit hot. ;)