Better Late Than Never
Title: Better Late Than Never
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: NC-17. PWP.
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Fictable prompt #38 - Gift. Rachel has to work on Puck's birthday. He comes up with a way for her to make it up to him.
Word Count: 4,390
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Written for katertots_78 because she filled one of my prompts and I promised to fill one of hers (it's at the bottom of the fic). Of course, the idea of a 'drabble' is mostly lost on me. Also, since my muse is a whore has a vivid imagination, this is way dirty. Like, I almost didn't post it. So enjoy beware of that.
She owes him from his birthday. He's not making that shit up, either. She actually said the words.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you."
She had to work. The theater scheduled another performance and she bailed on their plans.
So he thinks of the perfect way for her to make shit right again.
He sets it all up. All she has to do is come home, change, and do exactly what he asks. Easy. And she's got tomorrow off, too, so...yeah, bonus. Since they're both off, they can lay around naked all day and fuck until they can't breathe. Why would he waste that opportunity?
He's already half hard when he hears her key in the lock. He knows he's smiling like a bastard.
"Noah?" she calls out.
"Bedroom."
She walks in and he's sitting in the chair he pulled in from the living room. There are candles lit around the room. They're the ones you can buy at the dollar store down the street that have Jesus in robes on the red glass. Rachel doesn't look impressed. Or maybe she's just confused. He can't really blame her, since he really did go all out to set the scene. What? He's got a fantasy, okay? Do things right or not at all. That's his motto.
"What on earth is this?" she asks, dropping her bag on the floor.
"Got plans for us, baby," he says from his place. She tilts her head and looks at him, crosses her arms. "Clothes for you in the bathroom."
"I'm so tired, Noah, I really..."
"This is my birthday present."
"I got you a Rolex," she reminds him. He shrugs his shoulder. She laughs. "Why am I scared to walk in there and see what you're dressing me in?" He sends her a shit eating grin and sits back in his chair, waiting. She rolls her eyes and walks to the bathroom, basically immediately laughing. "Okay," she says, walking out, holding the tiny plaid skirt in her hand. "Explain, please."
"That is your costume," he says, smirking at her and pointing to the skirt in her hand. "You're gonna strip for me."
"I assume, because of the candles, that I'm some kind of Catholic school girl?"
"So smart, baby."
"What is with men and this strange fetish?" she asks.
"'S'isn't a psychology debate. Go change," he commands. She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling as she heads back into the bathroom, and he knows she's just teasing him when she throws her jeans out the door, followed by her shirt.
He thought that outfit out, too. Really slutty red lace bra and matching panties he bought for her and she's only worn once, and a white button down leftover from their high school days. He knows because it was in a little box on the top shelf of their closet with some of her other shit. The skirt's new. He bought it at a legit school uniform store, then took it to a tailor and had them take the hem up a good five inches.
He's been planning this for a week, okay?
"Noah, I look like such a whore," she calls out, laughing.
She really needs to stop laughing. It's kinda killing the mood.
"You're supposed to be a stripper, babe. Whore is kinda what I'm going for."
"This is completely degrading," he hears her mumble.
But then she walks out of the room and strikes this sexy little pose. He can see practically all of her thighs, and the push up bra makes her tits look fucking fantastic under that shirt. If she moves even an inch, he's gonna see her panties. She's wearing her black heels, the one thing he forgot, and he fucking loves her for thinking of it.
"Well?" she asks, arching her brow.
He can't really describe how fucking sexy she looks, so he just winks, smiles, and grabs the remote for the stereo. She laughs again. "Quit fucking laughing, Rachel. It's out of character."
"Don't school girls giggle?"
He thinks about it for a second. He supposes she's right. But he knows she's gonna lose her shit when he starts playing this song. Whatever, though, because he's had this fantasy of her dancing for him to this song since before they even got together. She can't take it away from him.
"You gotta dance for me," he says seriously. She bites her lip and nods. He thinks she's totally into it now, since he's been basically eye fucking her since she walked out of the bathroom. "Seriously."
"Okay," she says quietly. "I'll dance for you."
Hearing her say it is like the magic fucking words. He's about to turn on the music when he remembers one last thing that's kinda vital to all this.
"And you're calling me Daddy," he states. She pulls a face. "What?"
"I have two dads. Do you have any idea how strange it would be for me to call you that?" He rolls his eyes. "Can't I call you Father?"
"No fuckin' way!" he cries. "It'll sound like you're fucking a priest. That's gross."
"I am supposed to be a Catholic schoolgirl," she says, brow raised.
"Rachel," he whines, just to see what she'll do. She just shakes her head. "Just try it. Just see how it feels."
He knows he's in for something when she walks over, stands right in front of him, leans down with her hands on his shoulders and breathes out, "Daddy." His hands find her hips and his fingers dig in. Why the hell is that so fucking hot? She looks into his eyes when she pulls back. "Okay. Fine."
Puckerman: 1. Berry: 0.
He can see her trying not to laugh when she hears Cherry Pie by Warrant start to play. But she just looks at him, and he shifts in his chair. To be honest, the outfit alone has him straining against his zipper. When she starts moving, he's gonna have to unzip. But whatever. He's totally allowed to jerk off while she dances for him. It's his birthday.
He knows she doesn't really know what to do. What she usually does on stage is nothing like what he wants her to do now. The sexiest thing she does is, like, sway her hips a little bit. He wants a full on striptease. He wants her to drop to the floor and arch her back and be as hot as she knows how to be. And he knows she knows how to be hot.
She starts by running her hands through her hair, and he thinks that's pretty good. Then she turns around, gives him this fucking ridiculous look over her shoulder and runs her hand down her side, rolls her hips a little. Goddamn, her ass... When she turns around, she slides her hand under her shirt and runs it across her stomach, locks eyes with him and hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her skirt to show just the red lace of the top of her panties, then rolls her hips again in time with the music.
This was the best idea he's ever had.
When she bends her knees and drops down, legs parted and hands running over the inside of her thighs, that's when he decides his jeans need to be unzipped. He'd ask her to do it for him, but she's getting into her role now and you're crazy if you think he's gonna interrupt her flow. She bites her bottom lip and then her tongue darts out to wet her top one when she sees him take his length in his hand. She brings her body up slowly and her hand palms her breast, and she finally breaks eye contact, but only to close her eyes. He groans when she undoes one of the buttons of her top, and she grins at him like she's holding all the cards and has all the power, here. Fuck it. Maybe she does.
"I'm doing okay?" she asks. She's fucking teasing him, but he doesn't care.
"So good, Rach." Another button goes and her index finger sneaks between the fabric to trace the cup of her bra between her tits. "So fucking good."
She reaches for the next button and takes another step towards him. "Do you want to do it?" she asks coyly.
It takes him a few seconds to realize she's not talking about sex, that she's talking about him undressing her. He shakes his head. "'M'not allowed."
She stops dancing, puts her hands on her hips, rests her weight on one leg. It's sexy, for sure. "I'm not an actual stripper."
"Baby," he whines, shooting her a pathetic look. "C'mon. Don't ruin it."
She doesn't say anything else, just goes back to swaying her hips and unbuttoning her shirt. It's kinda fucked, the way they both follow the music, her with her body and him with his hand. It's totally hot, too, and he knows she notices, because she gives him this smile that makes him want to forget all this and just take her right now, pull that skirt off her and pull her into his lap.
When she drops the shirt on the floor and he can see the curve of her tits and her nipples through the lace, and he tightens his hold on his cock. She's fucking stunning. Seriously. Her stomach is flat and tanned, and her rack looks stellar in that bra. She should definitely wear it more often. Her hair is kind of messy and all over the place, like any good stripper's should be. And she's eye fucking him every time she looks at him, and licking her lips any time she lets her eyes fall to what he's doing with his hand.
"Take off the fucking skirt," he growls sometime around the third time she passes over the zipper with her fingers.
She breathes out a sigh of relief, like she wants to be naked as badly as he wants her naked. He watches as she pulls the zipper down way too fucking slowly, then the fabric falls to the floor and she's standing there in red lace and black heels. He palms his dick and swallows thickly. Hottest thing? She swallows thickly, too, with her eyes fixed on his cock.
The song ends, and he's almost relieved, because he needs to fuck her right now. But when she reaches for the remote, she legitimately pouts at him.
"I'm not done," she says seriously, hands on hips again.
"Sorry, baby," he says. He switches to another classic rock song with a killer groove. He should be calling the shots. He should also consider himself really fucking lucky that his girl is cool enough to agree to do this in the first place. If she wants to keep stripping, he's not stupid enough to tell her to stop.
"I love this song," she says, smiling at him. He knows. He nods. "I also love watching you."
"Holy fuck, Rach," he says quietly. "You're the fucking hottest thing." He nearly loses his shit when she runs her hand down her stomach, over the front of her panties, and brushes against herself over the fabric. "Baby, you gotta...I'll come. Seriously."
She smiles like she's won a prize and does that knee bending thing where she's practically on the floor again. This time, with her legs spread wide, he can see that her panties are totally wet, and when she cups her breast and rolls the nipple between her thumb and index finger, he thinks he might propose. No, seriously. Maybe it's the fact that he's about to come on his hand for the first time since...this morning...but he'd give her a ring right fucking now if he had one.
She puts her left hand on the floor behind her to steady herself, and the other ghosts over her stomach and into her panties. He watches the fabric move as she touches herself, then when he looks up, her chest is heaving, her eyes are closed, and her head is thrown back.
"Rachel," he barks. It comes out harsh and her eyes open to look at him. "Don't."
"Noah," she whines breathlessly. He arches his brow. She moans when she realizes what he wants. Her eyes close as she calls him daddy, and he needs his pants completely off immediately.
She's still on the floor when he stands to let his pants fall to the ground and he steps out of them. She licks her lips and he shoots her a look before he pulls his shirt off. She's still eyeing him like he's dinner, and he shakes his head.
"Don't even think about it." She pouts for all of two seconds, then smiles again and works her way back up to standing.
"Sit," she says. She pushes at his chest and he sits down again, lets his hands sit on the arm rests. She's a little closer to him, now, swaying her hips and watching him. "You can keep..."
Her voice trails. She's stripping for him and she just had her hand in her panties, but she can't say 'jerk off.'
"Say it."
"Use your hand," she says instead, and that's good enough for him. It's what he wants to do anyway.
He grabs his length again, watches as she reaches behind her and quickly undoes her bra. She pulls it down her arms and drops it on the floor carelessly. God, she's perfect. Literally, she's perfection.
"I might come," he admits seriously.
She grins and shakes her head, turns around and teases like she's going to take off her panties. She looks at him over her shoulder and says, "I know you can last," and really, she can't say shit like that and expect it to actually be true right now.
When she's still turned around and not looking at him, just rolling her body like a motherfucking miracle of some kind, he grabs his wallet from his pants and pulls out some bills.
What? She's a stripper.
"C'mere," he says, and she turns around quickly, hair flying around and tits bouncing. He's got the bills covered by his free hand on the arm of the chair. She walks over and stands with her legs on either side of one of his. Her hands are in her hair and she looks down as he pulls a $1 from the stack and tucks it into the waistband of her panties.
"A dollar?" she asks incredulously.
"You got attitude now?" She just raises her brow, steps even closer so his thigh is brushing the inside of her leg. When she rolls her hips, he's fucking itching to feel how wet he knows she is. He grabs a $20 and locks eyes with her, and he grazes her stomach just below her belly button as he slips the bill into the front of her panties. He smacks her ass and winks, and she steps away.
She pulls the bills from her panties and drops them on the floor, all $21. He actually feels kinda bad. She's worth so much more than that. Whatever. She knows. (Chick bought him a Rolex for his birthday. She gets paid.) Her fingers dip between her legs again and he groans and juts his hips up as he watches her. She looks right at him and tucks her fingers into the front of her panties, but before she can get far, he's barking an order.
"Don't make me come." He loosens his hand and she watches.
"What do you want me to do?"
She's asking for strict orders (good girl) and he's gonna give them to her. "Take off your panties and come sit on my lap."
She smiles all wide and pushes the lace off her hips, letting them fall to the ground before stepping out of them. She's in front of him quickly and he turns off the music, because as much as he loves her for dancing for him, he just wants to hear her now. His hands are on her ass as soon as she's close enough, and he squeezes a little, which he knows she loves.
All he wants to do right now is kiss her. Okay, that's a lie. All he wants to do first is kiss her, then fuck her senseless.
"Can I leave my heels on?" she asks, knees on either side of him. She's in total power position, raised up above him. He can't do anything but watch her and wait for her to sink down on him, really.
He needs to do something to get the control back.
"What's the magic word?" he asks, brow raised.
The grin she gives him is filthy, and she runs her nails none-too-lightly over the back of his neck. "Daddy?" she whispers, like she's pleading with him to let her do what she wants.
"Yeah, baby. Leave 'em on," he says, hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. "You're so sexy."
"So are you," she says, reaching down between them. He grabs her wrist before she can touch him. "Noah."
"Don't. Not yet." He kisses her and distracts her while he lets go of her hand and slips his hand between her legs. Her thigh twitches when his knuckle grazes it, and he knows she's seriously worked up. He's surprised she hasn't begged him yet. She usually does before she gets to this point. He finds the apex of her thighs and moans against her mouth when he feels just how wet she is. Dripping. Literally. "Shit, Rachel," he breathes out, lips nipping at hers.
"That was fun," she admits by way of explanation. She's half out of her head, he can tell. He looks into her eyes as he slips one finger into her easily, rubs her clit with his thumb a few times. She clenches around him, arches her back and grabs his shoulder. "Fuck. Noah. Don't. I'm gonna..."
He's not going to stop. He's barely touched her and she's about to fall apart, and he wants her to. He's got a reason. He wants to feel her still quivering when he's inside her for the first time tonight. He curls his finger and presses his thumb against her before rubbing hard, and she cries out, fingernails digging into his skin and back arched. She must be curling her toes, because one of her shoes falls off and onto the floor. He pulls his hand away before she's done coming, and her eyes fly open. (He never does that, always rides it out with her.)
"Now, baby," he says, cock in hand as he pushes her closer by the small of her back. It takes her all of a half a second to lower herself onto him. She's wet and tight and clenching around him, and the sound she lets out is so loud he swears the neighbours'll hear them. "Fuck." She's got one hand low on his stomach and the other other at the back of his neck. "Move, Rach."
All that talk about staying power? Whatever. He could get them both off and blow both their minds in about two minutes tonight.
"I can't," she whimpers. He grabs her hips and pushes her back, then forward just slightly. "Puck, I..." He presses his hips up into hers and she lets out a grunt, her forehead falling to his shoulder. She's kissing his neck, biting at the skin a little when she says, "I hate you."
"Liar," he barks, shifting under her again. "Rachel, fuck me. Now."
One of the things he loves most about her? It's like every time he says 'fuck' and 'me' together, she treats it like some kind of challenge. He can tell she's still kind of coming down from her orgasm, but that doesn't stop her from looking at him through her eyelashes, kissing him hard, and curling her tongue around his. She rolls her hips on her own for the first time, and his fingers curl into her skin at the small of her back. She leans back, steadies herself with a hand on his thigh, and pushes herself onto him. He doesn't even know what sounds he's making. His girl is fucking straight out of a porn right now, and he's about two seconds from blowing it. He looks down and sees her riding him. Her thighs are wet and he's sliding in and out of her, and he groans and grabs her arm, pulling her back to him.
He's not gonna last. Given the way she slows down her movements and kisses him, he's pretty sure she knows it. If she's taking pity on him, that's not gonna fly. He grabs her by the hips and lifts her up, and she's totally smiling at him when he pushes her back down.
"I thought you'd want..." she starts before he cuts her off.
"I wanna come," he insists, meeting her thrust with one of his own. Her forehead is against his, eyes snapped shut as she nods. "With you." He reaches up and palms her breast, and then she's kissing him again and he laughs when he hears her other shoe hit the floor. She's a fucking mess. It's amazing.
"Don't laugh," she says breathlessly.
He reaches back and tugs on her hair a little, just lightly, enough to get her attention, and she whimpers, rolling her hips in a slow figure eight that almost makes him let go. "Touch yourself," he tells her.
"You're..." She kisses him and slides her hand between them. He watches her work. She's using the same pattern he always does, the one that always works and makes her crazy. He thrusts up into her and she clenches a bit. "God, this is hot."
She's almost laughing, but he smacks her ass again and she pushes forward, lets out a squeal. He smiles as he's kissing her neck. Every time she moves her fingers, her hand brushes his pelvic bone and pulls him a little closer to finishing.
"Rachel."
"I'm..."
"Come with me," he says, nipping at her earlobe. He's holding back, waiting for her, and he can't do it much longer. "You gonna come for me?"
"Make me," she pleads. He thrusts into her hard, twice, and it actually forces her hand away. Her nails dig into his ribcage as she starts to flutter around him, then she's got her head thrown back. "Oh, god. Fuck. Noah!"
She takes her with him, and he comes hard. All he manages to do is ground out her name and a few vowels before his voice stops working. His lips are on her collarbone, sucking the skin there until her hand is in his hair and pulling his mouth away so she can kiss him. He keeps pushing his hips upward over and over again as he gives her everything he has, and he thinks maybe he's left a bruise on her hip from holding too tightly, but she doesn't seem too concerned.
She doesn't move, and he's glad. She's still clenching around him, and it feels fucking good, even if he's kind of bordering on death right now. She literally fucked him to the brink. They've had some really, really good sex, but this was a whole other story.
Her eyes blink open lazily to meet his. "Wow."
He nods in response and loosens his grip on her, brushes his thumb over the spot he's afraid to look at. He never wants to bruise her. He never means to. Hazard of the job, he supposes. He wraps her full into his arms, and she runs her hands softly over his shoulder blades.
"You know how much I fuckin' love you?" he asks, hand buried in her hair, lips against her cheek.
"Yes," she breathes out. She pulls away enough to look into his eyes. "I wouldn't have done all that for you if I didn't know." He smirks tiredly and brushes his lips against hers. "Happy birthday."
He laughs, lets his fingers dance down her spine. "Thanks." She lifts herself off him and sits back on his thighs. "You're a mess," he says, looking down between her legs, then back at her face. She shrugs her shoulder. "Wanna miss my birthday next year, too?"
She laughs and shakes her head. "Depends on what fantasies you want me to fulfill."
He raises his brow and grins at her. He knows she's not joking. "I'll have to think about it."
She buries her face against his neck and he twists a lock of hair around his finger. "You do that." She leans up and lets her lips brush the shell of his ear. "Daddy."
... ... ...
Prompt: Puck tells Rachel he wants her to strip for him. She's a school girl with daddy issues. The song is Cherry Pie.
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: NC-17. PWP.
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Fictable prompt #38 - Gift. Rachel has to work on Puck's birthday. He comes up with a way for her to make it up to him.
Word Count: 4,390
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Written for katertots_78 because she filled one of my prompts and I promised to fill one of hers (it's at the bottom of the fic). Of course, the idea of a 'drabble' is mostly lost on me. Also, since my muse is a whore has a vivid imagination, this is way dirty. Like, I almost didn't post it. So enjoy beware of that.
She owes him from his birthday. He's not making that shit up, either. She actually said the words.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you."
She had to work. The theater scheduled another performance and she bailed on their plans.
So he thinks of the perfect way for her to make shit right again.
He sets it all up. All she has to do is come home, change, and do exactly what he asks. Easy. And she's got tomorrow off, too, so...yeah, bonus. Since they're both off, they can lay around naked all day and fuck until they can't breathe. Why would he waste that opportunity?
He's already half hard when he hears her key in the lock. He knows he's smiling like a bastard.
"Noah?" she calls out.
"Bedroom."
She walks in and he's sitting in the chair he pulled in from the living room. There are candles lit around the room. They're the ones you can buy at the dollar store down the street that have Jesus in robes on the red glass. Rachel doesn't look impressed. Or maybe she's just confused. He can't really blame her, since he really did go all out to set the scene. What? He's got a fantasy, okay? Do things right or not at all. That's his motto.
"What on earth is this?" she asks, dropping her bag on the floor.
"Got plans for us, baby," he says from his place. She tilts her head and looks at him, crosses her arms. "Clothes for you in the bathroom."
"I'm so tired, Noah, I really..."
"This is my birthday present."
"I got you a Rolex," she reminds him. He shrugs his shoulder. She laughs. "Why am I scared to walk in there and see what you're dressing me in?" He sends her a shit eating grin and sits back in his chair, waiting. She rolls her eyes and walks to the bathroom, basically immediately laughing. "Okay," she says, walking out, holding the tiny plaid skirt in her hand. "Explain, please."
"That is your costume," he says, smirking at her and pointing to the skirt in her hand. "You're gonna strip for me."
"I assume, because of the candles, that I'm some kind of Catholic school girl?"
"So smart, baby."
"What is with men and this strange fetish?" she asks.
"'S'isn't a psychology debate. Go change," he commands. She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling as she heads back into the bathroom, and he knows she's just teasing him when she throws her jeans out the door, followed by her shirt.
He thought that outfit out, too. Really slutty red lace bra and matching panties he bought for her and she's only worn once, and a white button down leftover from their high school days. He knows because it was in a little box on the top shelf of their closet with some of her other shit. The skirt's new. He bought it at a legit school uniform store, then took it to a tailor and had them take the hem up a good five inches.
He's been planning this for a week, okay?
"Noah, I look like such a whore," she calls out, laughing.
She really needs to stop laughing. It's kinda killing the mood.
"You're supposed to be a stripper, babe. Whore is kinda what I'm going for."
"This is completely degrading," he hears her mumble.
But then she walks out of the room and strikes this sexy little pose. He can see practically all of her thighs, and the push up bra makes her tits look fucking fantastic under that shirt. If she moves even an inch, he's gonna see her panties. She's wearing her black heels, the one thing he forgot, and he fucking loves her for thinking of it.
"Well?" she asks, arching her brow.
He can't really describe how fucking sexy she looks, so he just winks, smiles, and grabs the remote for the stereo. She laughs again. "Quit fucking laughing, Rachel. It's out of character."
"Don't school girls giggle?"
He thinks about it for a second. He supposes she's right. But he knows she's gonna lose her shit when he starts playing this song. Whatever, though, because he's had this fantasy of her dancing for him to this song since before they even got together. She can't take it away from him.
"You gotta dance for me," he says seriously. She bites her lip and nods. He thinks she's totally into it now, since he's been basically eye fucking her since she walked out of the bathroom. "Seriously."
"Okay," she says quietly. "I'll dance for you."
Hearing her say it is like the magic fucking words. He's about to turn on the music when he remembers one last thing that's kinda vital to all this.
"And you're calling me Daddy," he states. She pulls a face. "What?"
"I have two dads. Do you have any idea how strange it would be for me to call you that?" He rolls his eyes. "Can't I call you Father?"
"No fuckin' way!" he cries. "It'll sound like you're fucking a priest. That's gross."
"I am supposed to be a Catholic schoolgirl," she says, brow raised.
"Rachel," he whines, just to see what she'll do. She just shakes her head. "Just try it. Just see how it feels."
He knows he's in for something when she walks over, stands right in front of him, leans down with her hands on his shoulders and breathes out, "Daddy." His hands find her hips and his fingers dig in. Why the hell is that so fucking hot? She looks into his eyes when she pulls back. "Okay. Fine."
Puckerman: 1. Berry: 0.
He can see her trying not to laugh when she hears Cherry Pie by Warrant start to play. But she just looks at him, and he shifts in his chair. To be honest, the outfit alone has him straining against his zipper. When she starts moving, he's gonna have to unzip. But whatever. He's totally allowed to jerk off while she dances for him. It's his birthday.
He knows she doesn't really know what to do. What she usually does on stage is nothing like what he wants her to do now. The sexiest thing she does is, like, sway her hips a little bit. He wants a full on striptease. He wants her to drop to the floor and arch her back and be as hot as she knows how to be. And he knows she knows how to be hot.
She starts by running her hands through her hair, and he thinks that's pretty good. Then she turns around, gives him this fucking ridiculous look over her shoulder and runs her hand down her side, rolls her hips a little. Goddamn, her ass... When she turns around, she slides her hand under her shirt and runs it across her stomach, locks eyes with him and hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her skirt to show just the red lace of the top of her panties, then rolls her hips again in time with the music.
This was the best idea he's ever had.
When she bends her knees and drops down, legs parted and hands running over the inside of her thighs, that's when he decides his jeans need to be unzipped. He'd ask her to do it for him, but she's getting into her role now and you're crazy if you think he's gonna interrupt her flow. She bites her bottom lip and then her tongue darts out to wet her top one when she sees him take his length in his hand. She brings her body up slowly and her hand palms her breast, and she finally breaks eye contact, but only to close her eyes. He groans when she undoes one of the buttons of her top, and she grins at him like she's holding all the cards and has all the power, here. Fuck it. Maybe she does.
"I'm doing okay?" she asks. She's fucking teasing him, but he doesn't care.
"So good, Rach." Another button goes and her index finger sneaks between the fabric to trace the cup of her bra between her tits. "So fucking good."
She reaches for the next button and takes another step towards him. "Do you want to do it?" she asks coyly.
It takes him a few seconds to realize she's not talking about sex, that she's talking about him undressing her. He shakes his head. "'M'not allowed."
She stops dancing, puts her hands on her hips, rests her weight on one leg. It's sexy, for sure. "I'm not an actual stripper."
"Baby," he whines, shooting her a pathetic look. "C'mon. Don't ruin it."
She doesn't say anything else, just goes back to swaying her hips and unbuttoning her shirt. It's kinda fucked, the way they both follow the music, her with her body and him with his hand. It's totally hot, too, and he knows she notices, because she gives him this smile that makes him want to forget all this and just take her right now, pull that skirt off her and pull her into his lap.
When she drops the shirt on the floor and he can see the curve of her tits and her nipples through the lace, and he tightens his hold on his cock. She's fucking stunning. Seriously. Her stomach is flat and tanned, and her rack looks stellar in that bra. She should definitely wear it more often. Her hair is kind of messy and all over the place, like any good stripper's should be. And she's eye fucking him every time she looks at him, and licking her lips any time she lets her eyes fall to what he's doing with his hand.
"Take off the fucking skirt," he growls sometime around the third time she passes over the zipper with her fingers.
She breathes out a sigh of relief, like she wants to be naked as badly as he wants her naked. He watches as she pulls the zipper down way too fucking slowly, then the fabric falls to the floor and she's standing there in red lace and black heels. He palms his dick and swallows thickly. Hottest thing? She swallows thickly, too, with her eyes fixed on his cock.
The song ends, and he's almost relieved, because he needs to fuck her right now. But when she reaches for the remote, she legitimately pouts at him.
"I'm not done," she says seriously, hands on hips again.
"Sorry, baby," he says. He switches to another classic rock song with a killer groove. He should be calling the shots. He should also consider himself really fucking lucky that his girl is cool enough to agree to do this in the first place. If she wants to keep stripping, he's not stupid enough to tell her to stop.
"I love this song," she says, smiling at him. He knows. He nods. "I also love watching you."
"Holy fuck, Rach," he says quietly. "You're the fucking hottest thing." He nearly loses his shit when she runs her hand down her stomach, over the front of her panties, and brushes against herself over the fabric. "Baby, you gotta...I'll come. Seriously."
She smiles like she's won a prize and does that knee bending thing where she's practically on the floor again. This time, with her legs spread wide, he can see that her panties are totally wet, and when she cups her breast and rolls the nipple between her thumb and index finger, he thinks he might propose. No, seriously. Maybe it's the fact that he's about to come on his hand for the first time since...this morning...but he'd give her a ring right fucking now if he had one.
She puts her left hand on the floor behind her to steady herself, and the other ghosts over her stomach and into her panties. He watches the fabric move as she touches herself, then when he looks up, her chest is heaving, her eyes are closed, and her head is thrown back.
"Rachel," he barks. It comes out harsh and her eyes open to look at him. "Don't."
"Noah," she whines breathlessly. He arches his brow. She moans when she realizes what he wants. Her eyes close as she calls him daddy, and he needs his pants completely off immediately.
She's still on the floor when he stands to let his pants fall to the ground and he steps out of them. She licks her lips and he shoots her a look before he pulls his shirt off. She's still eyeing him like he's dinner, and he shakes his head.
"Don't even think about it." She pouts for all of two seconds, then smiles again and works her way back up to standing.
"Sit," she says. She pushes at his chest and he sits down again, lets his hands sit on the arm rests. She's a little closer to him, now, swaying her hips and watching him. "You can keep..."
Her voice trails. She's stripping for him and she just had her hand in her panties, but she can't say 'jerk off.'
"Say it."
"Use your hand," she says instead, and that's good enough for him. It's what he wants to do anyway.
He grabs his length again, watches as she reaches behind her and quickly undoes her bra. She pulls it down her arms and drops it on the floor carelessly. God, she's perfect. Literally, she's perfection.
"I might come," he admits seriously.
She grins and shakes her head, turns around and teases like she's going to take off her panties. She looks at him over her shoulder and says, "I know you can last," and really, she can't say shit like that and expect it to actually be true right now.
When she's still turned around and not looking at him, just rolling her body like a motherfucking miracle of some kind, he grabs his wallet from his pants and pulls out some bills.
What? She's a stripper.
"C'mere," he says, and she turns around quickly, hair flying around and tits bouncing. He's got the bills covered by his free hand on the arm of the chair. She walks over and stands with her legs on either side of one of his. Her hands are in her hair and she looks down as he pulls a $1 from the stack and tucks it into the waistband of her panties.
"A dollar?" she asks incredulously.
"You got attitude now?" She just raises her brow, steps even closer so his thigh is brushing the inside of her leg. When she rolls her hips, he's fucking itching to feel how wet he knows she is. He grabs a $20 and locks eyes with her, and he grazes her stomach just below her belly button as he slips the bill into the front of her panties. He smacks her ass and winks, and she steps away.
She pulls the bills from her panties and drops them on the floor, all $21. He actually feels kinda bad. She's worth so much more than that. Whatever. She knows. (Chick bought him a Rolex for his birthday. She gets paid.) Her fingers dip between her legs again and he groans and juts his hips up as he watches her. She looks right at him and tucks her fingers into the front of her panties, but before she can get far, he's barking an order.
"Don't make me come." He loosens his hand and she watches.
"What do you want me to do?"
She's asking for strict orders (good girl) and he's gonna give them to her. "Take off your panties and come sit on my lap."
She smiles all wide and pushes the lace off her hips, letting them fall to the ground before stepping out of them. She's in front of him quickly and he turns off the music, because as much as he loves her for dancing for him, he just wants to hear her now. His hands are on her ass as soon as she's close enough, and he squeezes a little, which he knows she loves.
All he wants to do right now is kiss her. Okay, that's a lie. All he wants to do first is kiss her, then fuck her senseless.
"Can I leave my heels on?" she asks, knees on either side of him. She's in total power position, raised up above him. He can't do anything but watch her and wait for her to sink down on him, really.
He needs to do something to get the control back.
"What's the magic word?" he asks, brow raised.
The grin she gives him is filthy, and she runs her nails none-too-lightly over the back of his neck. "Daddy?" she whispers, like she's pleading with him to let her do what she wants.
"Yeah, baby. Leave 'em on," he says, hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. "You're so sexy."
"So are you," she says, reaching down between them. He grabs her wrist before she can touch him. "Noah."
"Don't. Not yet." He kisses her and distracts her while he lets go of her hand and slips his hand between her legs. Her thigh twitches when his knuckle grazes it, and he knows she's seriously worked up. He's surprised she hasn't begged him yet. She usually does before she gets to this point. He finds the apex of her thighs and moans against her mouth when he feels just how wet she is. Dripping. Literally. "Shit, Rachel," he breathes out, lips nipping at hers.
"That was fun," she admits by way of explanation. She's half out of her head, he can tell. He looks into her eyes as he slips one finger into her easily, rubs her clit with his thumb a few times. She clenches around him, arches her back and grabs his shoulder. "Fuck. Noah. Don't. I'm gonna..."
He's not going to stop. He's barely touched her and she's about to fall apart, and he wants her to. He's got a reason. He wants to feel her still quivering when he's inside her for the first time tonight. He curls his finger and presses his thumb against her before rubbing hard, and she cries out, fingernails digging into his skin and back arched. She must be curling her toes, because one of her shoes falls off and onto the floor. He pulls his hand away before she's done coming, and her eyes fly open. (He never does that, always rides it out with her.)
"Now, baby," he says, cock in hand as he pushes her closer by the small of her back. It takes her all of a half a second to lower herself onto him. She's wet and tight and clenching around him, and the sound she lets out is so loud he swears the neighbours'll hear them. "Fuck." She's got one hand low on his stomach and the other other at the back of his neck. "Move, Rach."
All that talk about staying power? Whatever. He could get them both off and blow both their minds in about two minutes tonight.
"I can't," she whimpers. He grabs her hips and pushes her back, then forward just slightly. "Puck, I..." He presses his hips up into hers and she lets out a grunt, her forehead falling to his shoulder. She's kissing his neck, biting at the skin a little when she says, "I hate you."
"Liar," he barks, shifting under her again. "Rachel, fuck me. Now."
One of the things he loves most about her? It's like every time he says 'fuck' and 'me' together, she treats it like some kind of challenge. He can tell she's still kind of coming down from her orgasm, but that doesn't stop her from looking at him through her eyelashes, kissing him hard, and curling her tongue around his. She rolls her hips on her own for the first time, and his fingers curl into her skin at the small of her back. She leans back, steadies herself with a hand on his thigh, and pushes herself onto him. He doesn't even know what sounds he's making. His girl is fucking straight out of a porn right now, and he's about two seconds from blowing it. He looks down and sees her riding him. Her thighs are wet and he's sliding in and out of her, and he groans and grabs her arm, pulling her back to him.
He's not gonna last. Given the way she slows down her movements and kisses him, he's pretty sure she knows it. If she's taking pity on him, that's not gonna fly. He grabs her by the hips and lifts her up, and she's totally smiling at him when he pushes her back down.
"I thought you'd want..." she starts before he cuts her off.
"I wanna come," he insists, meeting her thrust with one of his own. Her forehead is against his, eyes snapped shut as she nods. "With you." He reaches up and palms her breast, and then she's kissing him again and he laughs when he hears her other shoe hit the floor. She's a fucking mess. It's amazing.
"Don't laugh," she says breathlessly.
He reaches back and tugs on her hair a little, just lightly, enough to get her attention, and she whimpers, rolling her hips in a slow figure eight that almost makes him let go. "Touch yourself," he tells her.
"You're..." She kisses him and slides her hand between them. He watches her work. She's using the same pattern he always does, the one that always works and makes her crazy. He thrusts up into her and she clenches a bit. "God, this is hot."
She's almost laughing, but he smacks her ass again and she pushes forward, lets out a squeal. He smiles as he's kissing her neck. Every time she moves her fingers, her hand brushes his pelvic bone and pulls him a little closer to finishing.
"Rachel."
"I'm..."
"Come with me," he says, nipping at her earlobe. He's holding back, waiting for her, and he can't do it much longer. "You gonna come for me?"
"Make me," she pleads. He thrusts into her hard, twice, and it actually forces her hand away. Her nails dig into his ribcage as she starts to flutter around him, then she's got her head thrown back. "Oh, god. Fuck. Noah!"
She takes her with him, and he comes hard. All he manages to do is ground out her name and a few vowels before his voice stops working. His lips are on her collarbone, sucking the skin there until her hand is in his hair and pulling his mouth away so she can kiss him. He keeps pushing his hips upward over and over again as he gives her everything he has, and he thinks maybe he's left a bruise on her hip from holding too tightly, but she doesn't seem too concerned.
She doesn't move, and he's glad. She's still clenching around him, and it feels fucking good, even if he's kind of bordering on death right now. She literally fucked him to the brink. They've had some really, really good sex, but this was a whole other story.
Her eyes blink open lazily to meet his. "Wow."
He nods in response and loosens his grip on her, brushes his thumb over the spot he's afraid to look at. He never wants to bruise her. He never means to. Hazard of the job, he supposes. He wraps her full into his arms, and she runs her hands softly over his shoulder blades.
"You know how much I fuckin' love you?" he asks, hand buried in her hair, lips against her cheek.
"Yes," she breathes out. She pulls away enough to look into his eyes. "I wouldn't have done all that for you if I didn't know." He smirks tiredly and brushes his lips against hers. "Happy birthday."
He laughs, lets his fingers dance down her spine. "Thanks." She lifts herself off him and sits back on his thighs. "You're a mess," he says, looking down between her legs, then back at her face. She shrugs her shoulder. "Wanna miss my birthday next year, too?"
She laughs and shakes her head. "Depends on what fantasies you want me to fulfill."
He raises his brow and grins at her. He knows she's not joking. "I'll have to think about it."
She buries her face against his neck and he twists a lock of hair around his finger. "You do that." She leans up and lets her lips brush the shell of his ear. "Daddy."
... ... ...
Prompt: Puck tells Rachel he wants her to strip for him. She's a school girl with daddy issues. The song is Cherry Pie.