Let Me Show You One Time 1/1
Title: Let Me Show You One Time
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: I guess spoilers up to Sectionals. This follows Regret Is A Bitter Pill in my fictable madness.
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Fictable prompt #14 - Sex.
Word Count: 7,116
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, I would write myself in as a love interest for Finn, thereby forcing Puck and Rachel together, and allowing myself to make out with Cory. (Clearly, I don't own.)
So if he didn't, you know, have other things in mind, he'd probably try to take some time and figure out how he managed to get Rachel naked and underneath him so willingly.
(And there was no alcohol involved, you jerks.)
It's not like he and Rachel are even friends. They're not. They just like, talk sometimes, and she goes for runs with him on Saturday mornings, and she's really good with his kid, and he helped her pull an amazing prank on her douche of an ex-boyfriend (she wore leather boots and a utility belt and it was fucking epic) and sometimes they watch movies when her dads are out for the night and stuff.
They're not friends.
(Shit. They're totally fucking friends. He's not admitting that to anyone; not even her. God, she'd probably bake him a plate of fucking cookies if he used the word.)
But yeah. They hang out. She helps him with his homework, even though he doesn't ask. (What that means is that she forces him to open books in the library now that she knows that they have the same free period.) She practically squealed when he got a 78% on a math test last week, threw her arms around him so her feet weren't even on the floor.
And so it kinda feels awesome that she gets so happy for him when stuff goes right. Like when he asked for help with this crazy choreography that's way out of his skill level, and she tutored him late night in the dance studio (so no one would see, alright?) and she clapped and showered him with praise and compliments when he finally got it right. And this is coming from a girl who can like, actually do all that crazy ballet shit.
It's a little weird that no one has really bothered them about their...friendship. Or whatever. The glee kids don't really care (let's face it, most of them are too selfish to even fucking notice). Finn walks around with his head up his ass 90 per cent of the time, and Quinn and Rachel actually have this weird, like, creepy friendship or 'acceptance' (that's what Rachel calls it, but Puck doesn't really know what the fuck that means; it's total chick-speak). Quinn has made a point of telling him just how good Rachel is with Evie, and he doesn't really know what she's getting at. Yeah, Rachel's good with the baby. Whatever.
Rachel's good with a lot of things.
Like baking. Those cookies he said she'd bake if he told her he was her friend? It's almost worth it.
And singing. C'mon. Goes without saying. It's not really his style of music, his style of voice to enjoy, but he could just listen to her sing forever and be okay. Sometimes she even switches it up, sings pop tunes or sometimes classic rock stuff, and he has to smile, because she's just so talented it's not even fair. He's never told her that. Everyone else does.
And she's funny. Most of the time she doesn't even realize she's being funny, but she is. Like when she lost her shit because one of her solos got cut from their end-of-the-year concert and she literally threw a folder of music across her room when he was there, he started laughing. That shit was hilarious. She was practically purple with rage, but then when she saw him laughing, she started laughing too. Then he bought her the biggest milkshake he could find in town (no really, they drove around for an hour, checking who had the biggest) and sat with her while she ate the whole damn thing.
Not to mention, sometimes she says hilariously bitchy things about Kurt that make Puck lose his shit. Those two are 'frienemies' or whatever, but she pretty much hates the guy. Puck knows. She'll put on a brave face and be nice for the good of the group. But he really can't blame her for not liking Kurt; the guy's always cutting her down for his own amusement.
(Puck does it, too, but at least she knows, and he's not serious about it. Usually.)
And yeah, maybe he thinks it's kind of awesome that his mom likes Rachel so much. Mostly because she doesn't set out any rules, like 'no girls in the house unsupervised', because she knows Rachel is 'wholesome' and 'not corrupting my son like that other girl. What's her name? Sunturna?' (Apparently his mother doesn't know that short skirts are crack to a teenaged boy, and Rachel is like a drug lord.)
So basically, they're cool, he and Rachel, and they have been pretty much since he consoled her after Jesse cashed in the v-card and left Rachel with pretty much nothing.
(He gets mad even thinking about it. Puck is a lot of things, but probably more than anything else, he's loyal to his friends and protective to a fault. You know, except for that whole Quinn thing.)
It's summer now, which means that he's working more and making money and supporting his little girl, who he gets to spend an ass load of time with, since Quinn works opposite hours than he does. She's a waitress at the Bob Evans, so she works mostly nights and weekends, and he works during the week days. Between the two of them, and his mom (and sometimes Rachel) they don't have to pay for a babysitter or day care or whatever, which is awesome.
This is a rare Saturday night when Quinn isn't working, and she told him to stay the hell away from her place, because she wants a night alone with their daughter. He just laughed and told her he'd pick up Evie tomorrow morning before Quinn's shift.
So at least that explains how he finds himself at Rachel's place on a Saturday night when her dads are away for their anniversary. Apparently they go away every year. Who knew? This year, it's a four day trip to Martha's Vineyard. Puck doesn't know where that is, but it sounds like the kind of place her dads would like.
She's making them pizza from scratch, because he's insisted that they watch Scarface, and she's got it in her head that they need to have a proper Italian meal while they watch the movie. He doesn't know why. She does this kind of thing a lot. Everything has to be an experience. You can't just watch a movie, you have to make it memorable.
And yeah, he'll admit that watching Sideways with her and her dads was made way less lame by the fact that her dads let them drink this really fucking good wine. They even drove him home at the end of the night and explained to his mom what had happened. She didn't even care, really, just smiled and thanked them for taking care of him. (He wasn't even drunk. It takes more than two glasses of wine to get him hammered. But it is pretty awesome that the fact that the Berry's are Jewish pretty much gives him a free pass, so long as he's got them to cover him. Sweet.)
Rachel makes him grate cheese, because apparently sitting in her kitchen looking hot as hell in her presence isn't enough of a 'task'. (He totally does look hot as hell, too. He knows it. And she told him she loves this shirt the last time he wore it.)
(Not that he's wearing it on purpose. He was driving around when she called and asked if he was busy, and he already had it on. So there.)
But something's off with her. Seriously off. He hasn't seen her act this weird since she had to tell everyone that she and The Douche (Jesse, to most) broke up and she had to listen to Kurt and Mercedes' snide comments about it.
So he's going to ask her about it.
"The fuck's wrong with you?"
(In his own way, of course.)
"Nothing," she says, shrugging one shoulder as she stretches out the pizza dough. Seriously? She's awesome in the kitchen.
"You're a liar," he states, grinning, though she's not watching him.
"I am not!" she shouts, eyes flying up to meet his. "And I'll thank you not to say so."
"Okay, whoa," he says, rounding the counter to stand in front of her. "What's wrong with you?"
She stops what she's doing, brushes her hair back from her face with her hand (she cut her bangs into like, the - shit, what does she call it? - 'sweeping' bang; it looks nice on her). It smears a little flour onto her forehead and he wants to wipe it away.
"I saw Jesse today."
"What?" he asks. She lets out a sigh and he thinks he shouldn't be as pissed as he is. "Why?"
"I didn't seek him out," she tells him, laughing softly. "I was dropping files off at daddy's office, and he was there with his dad. Apparently he's dating his ex again."
Puck scoffs. "So?"
"So!" she shouts, throwing her hands up. "So it didn't take him long to get over me!"
"I don't think he was really that into you in the first place."
He does not realize how fucking wrong it was for him to say that until she clenches her jaw and her eyes get like, misty and shit.
Fuck. He didn't mean it like that. He just meant that the guy's a moron and was obviously using her or something, or at the very least, he didn't (doesn't) know how to date a woman (woman? Huh. He'll go with it) like Rachel. She's high maintenance and just this side of Crazy Town, at least camped out on the border, and you can't just be with her, you have to put effort into it. Puck only dated her for a week and he knows this much, put in the effort himself.
"Shit. That's not what I mean," he says. He reaches out for her, but she takes a step back. "I just meant that you shouldn't get all upset about that asshole. And he is an asshole. We wrote it in soap paint on his precious Jetta."
She cracks a smile, no doubt thinking of that night when they'd dressed in black and driven across town in 'Stealth Mode' (the headlights of Puck's truck off) so they could write ridiculous messages on Jesse's shiny black car when it was parked at a party.
"It's just upsetting, knowing he's completely moved on and I'm not...I mean, I don't really have anything on the horizon," she explains, toying with the edge of a tea towel and avoiding his eyes.
Thinking about her getting another boyfriend bugs the hell out of Puck. It has for a while.
"Well...I don't really know what to say about that," he admits.
"It's just that I see him, and I just...I'm reminded of the way things went, how they ended, and it's just..." She pauses, takes a deep breath, and he takes a step towards her. "It's not a good memory."
It's funny, he decides, that the thing that brought them closer in the first place is the thing that they never talk about. Never, since that morning, have they brought up the reason she and The Douche broke up. Sure, there was their night of 'espionage' (he didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't really using that word correctly, despite how awesome it was to know that for once, she was wrong and he was fucking right.) Other than that, though, he makes fun of The Douche and she laughs and rolls her eyes, but he knows she totally digs it.
But they've never, ever talked about 'it' like this. Which, come to think of it, he's pretty happy about. He realizes now that talking with Rachel about sex makes him (naturally) think about sex with Rachel, and that's dangerous territory.
Especially right now, reaching out to wipe the flour off her forehead.
He makes a bold fucking choice that could either be awesome, or send her knee into a painful area.
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her against him, then leans down to kiss her just as her breath hitches in her throat.
Holy hell, he should have done this sooner. She's totally into it. Like, immediately. She practically purrs when he curves his hand around her waist, and she fists the back of his collar when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth. She tastes like cola and cherry lip gloss, which is a pretty fucking awesome combination. She gasps when he grinds himself against her stomach after a few minutes of seriously hot making out.
"Noah," she says, all breathy and hot. He looks down at her, her cheeks all flushed and lips red. "What are you doing?"
"Two to tango, Rach." He smirks and she rolls her eyes. "I'm kissing you."
He does it again and she attempts a protest, but the sound barely leaves her throat and she's melting against him again, her body completely at his mercy when he holds her tighter.
"But..." She's cut off when he kisses her again, smiling against her lips. "But why?"
"Because I fucking want to. I need a better reason?" He pulls away slightly, brushes the hair back from her face with both hands. "Look, that guy...he acted like a boy with you, okay?"
"What does that have to do with..."
He lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. "You need a man." He thinks she shivers, and when she looks up at him, her brown eyes are so dark that he can't help but arch his hips a little bit. "Rachel, I'll show you."
She swallows and looks at him through hooded eyes. He wonders if she knows she's running her hand through the hair at the back of his head.
"Show me what?"
And that is a green light if he's ever seen one. She knows exactly what he's saying. Though, he does love this coy shit she's pulling. (And yeah, he knows what coy means. She told him. And demonstrated. Jesus fucking Christ, why didn't he do this sooner?)
He knows she expects him just to kiss her again. Not going to happen (yet.) He's going to spell it out for her and enjoy the way it makes her blush.
"We're going to go to your bedroom." He stops to kiss her gently. "And I'm going to take your clothes off." Her hand falls to his bicep, gripping tighter than it has to. "I'm gonna take my time...until you're begging me." She whispers his name and her back arches slightly. "And then I'm gonna show you how fucking amazing sex is." She actually giggles. It makes him smile. She's not being bashful or girlish, she just likes the idea, he thinks. "It'll probably ruin you for other dudes forever."
Shit. SHIT. He should not have said that last part. He doesn't know why he did. To be honest, he hasn't really though much further than making her come (several times, if he can). He should not be making statements like that, ones that might be true (dude, he is a sex ninja) but sound way heavier than they should.
Because it's not like he wants to be with her or whatever. He just doesn't think any girl should have such a shitty memory of her first time.
Which gives him another idea...
"Rachel," he says, voice low, and she looks up at him again, "this is your first time."
"But..."
"Rachel. It's your first time." He says it firmly, and she smiles and nods, so he knows she knows what he's saying.
She kisses him this time, which is nice for a few reasons. It just means he doesn't have to ask her if she's okay with all this. Given the way her tongue is in his mouth, he's pretty sure she's game.
She pulls away from him after a moment, slips her hand into his and shoots him the sexiest fucking look ever over her shoulder.
"What have I gotten myself into?" he asks, smirking at her. She tips her head back and laughs. He likes that she's happy.
When they get to her room, she pushes the door shut gently and looks at him, almost like she's waiting for instructions or something. Well, that's fun. She never really gives herself up like that - the girl loves control - so he is going to take advantage of it.
"Sit down," he says, smiling as she bites her bottom lip nervously. "Sit down and...and relax, okay? You have any matches?"
She points to the bedside table and he opens the drawer. "Wait!"
He arches his brow and grabs a couple condoms from the drawer. "We'll need these too," he says, and she closes her eyes tightly. "Seriously, Rachel, you need to calm down. It's just me. It'll be good. I swear."
He can feel her eyes on him as he lights a few candles - she's got about a hundred - and then slips into her bathroom. She calls to him, asking what he's doing, but he doesn't answer, just laughs to himself, because she's really going crazy, probably getting really worked up because he's taking his sweet time. Well, that's not going to change.
He wasn't lying. He wants her begging for it. It's not sadistic or whatever the right word is, he just wants her to be 100 per cent certain of what she wants.
He walks back into the room with a bottle of lotion, and she looks at him like he's nuts. But whatever. It's like, his favourite smell that she uses. And it'll help.
He leans down in front of her, pressing his lips to hers as his hands find the bottom of her shirt. When he pulls away and searches her eyes for permission, she nods and he tugs the shirt up over her head. He doesn't want her to be shy - wants her to be the opposite - so he doesn't ogle her like he damn well wants to. He just kisses her again and decides he digs the way she holds onto his arms when they're kissing.
"Lay down on your stomach," he tells her after a few moments.
"What?" She looks appalled.
"Rachel, you have to trust me, or we're stopping right now."
"No!" she says, far too quickly. She blushes when he raises one eyebrow. "No, I trust you, I just..."
"Lay down."
She does as she's told, and he smooths out her skirt at the back of her thighs, covering her up completely. Honestly? This whole thing is tempting enough. He needs to keep his cool. He straddles her back, resting his weight on his legs and not on her, and run his hand lightly down her spine, over her bra and straight down to the small of her back. He squeezes some of the lotion onto his palm and rubs his hands together, then slides them up her back, working her muscles gently.
"Have you ever had a massage before?" he asks, his hands kneading her shoulders, brushing her hair aside.
"Yes," she answers. "Well, no. Not like this, I mean. Daddy and I go to this spa in Cleveland twice a year and I spend the entire day getting treatments, and..."
"Rachel. Short answers," he chuckles. He feels her sigh. "I'm trying to get you to stop being so tense. You have a knot in your back the size of Greenland."
She turns her head to look at him as best she can, and there's a smile on her face. "Aren't you glad I make you go to Geography."
He laughs. Jokes. That's better. "Whatever."
The more he works his hands over her, the more relaxed she gets. She's breathing slowly, her eyes are closed, and she's not saying anything. He's got her right where he wants her. He doesn't want her falling asleep, but he wants her right on the edge, so calm that she can enjoy this.
His hands run over the clasp of her bra. "Can I take this off?"
"Mhmm."
There is no delay in her reply.
He undoes the clasp and then moves off her so he's on his knees next to her, looking down at her amazing, taut back, bared to him. "You wanna roll over?"
(See? This is how you treat virgins. You let them think absolutely everything is on their terms, but you make it impossible for them to say no. And if they do say no, you fucking stop immediately.)
"Okay," she says, and she's biting her lower lip as she does so, pulling her bra from her body. He smiles at the way she locks eyes with him, and no, he doesn't fucking look away to sneak a peek at her rack, though he fucking wants to. "I'm almost naked in front of you."
"I know." He looks down at her then, and she lays on her back. He rests his hand on her stomach. "And you're pretty fucking hot."
"Shut up," she laughs.
"I'm serious. Those argyle sweaters don't do you justice." He lays down on his side next to her, his fingertips tracing patterns on her skin, and her breath hitches every time he passes over one spot. Ticklish. He makes a mental note. "You really are hot, Rach. And...I dunno. Beautiful or whatever."
"Or whatever?"
He meets her eyes and just nods, because this is the kind of compliment he gives, and she knows it.
"You good?" he asks as his hand moves up so his fingers are brushing against the underside of her breast. Her eyes are closed and she nods. "You smell nice."
"You bathed me in coconut lime lotion," she says, smiling and opening her eyes.
"I like that stuff."
"Me too." He leans over her a little bit more, kissing her in hopes of distracting her so he can slip his hand onto her chest without her getting tense again. She moans into his mouth, but it's the good kind, not the 'stop right there' kind. "Noah," she breathes out.
He smirks at that. Always a good sound.
"I'm gonna take off your skirt now," he tells her, and she nods, leaning up to kiss him again as his hand finds the zipper at her side.
(He ignores the stupid voice in his head telling him that he could get used to this, to kissing her.)
His lips are on hers the whole time, figuring that tactic works. She seems to like kissing him, too, and he thinks that if he just keeps doing this, it might just keep her loose and ready. And god, her skin is so smooth. He hates thinking of anything but kissing her while he's kissing her, but his hand falls to her hip as he pushes her skirt as far off her body as he can, and he feels her skin hot beneath his palm. He's never, ever loved touching a girl this much. And that's saying a lot.
"Please," she says, tearing her lips from his.
He laughs softly, dips one finger beneath the band of her underwear at her hip, and she squirms. "You want these off, don't you?"
"Stop teasing."
"I'm not." He's smirking at her and she's trying to control her breathing.
"I don't like not being in control," she tells him seriously. He knows she's not joking at all.
He moves so he's kneeling between her legs, and she lifts her hips so he can pull her skirt off her. "Get used to it. Sex isn't about control. Well, sometimes it is, but...yeah, that's a lesson for another day."
"Noah."
His eyes roam over her body. He wonders if she has any idea how fucking sexy she is. Not that he had any doubts, but he is going to fucking love this.
"Rachel, you're...god. I want you naked."
She takes a breath, and he watches her chest, and she smiles when his eyes meet hers again. His hands are on her thighs, moving gently up to her hips, then back down to her knees again.
"It's okay," she says, and he likes that she's figured out that he's not going to do anything unless she asks. "You can."
He smirks and winks, letting his hands grip the sides of her panties gently. "Good girl."
She giggles and lifts her hips again.
She is so totally into this.
She's laying naked before him, and he can tell she doesn't know what to do with her hands. He lays down next to her again, rests his palm on her stomach, and her hand finds his while the other lays at her side.
"I'm gonna need my hand, babe."
She gets all confused. Aww. Cute. (He smirks wickedly.)
"What?"
"Rachel," he says quietly. When he pulls his hand away from hers, it's to move it down between her legs. She doesn't even flinch when she realizes what's happening. "Did he touch you like this?"
Her eyes flutter closed as his fingers run over her, far too lightly, if you ask her. "Don't talk about him."
"That's a no," he laughs.
"He did," she replies. "Just not...not much. God, Noah." He presses against her a little more. She's so wet already. "Can you...more. Please."
She's such a quick learner. He gives her what she wants, circling her clit, and she moans quietly. She doesn't do anything quietly. He thinks he's going to have to change this new shyness or whatever it is she's displaying. Sure enough, when he slips a finger inside her, she shifts her hips and lets out a throaty sound so sexy that he can't even stand it.
"Fuck, Rachel," he says, leaning over to kiss her hard, just because he wants to, because he can. She bites down on his lip just a little bit when he adds another finger, and she pulls her mouth away from his when he rubs his thumb against her most sensitive spot.
"I can't...I'm...Noah." She's close, and he can tell. A few more moments and she'll be falling apart, but he can't let that happen without one more thing happening, so he pulls his hand away. "No. No. Why did you do that?"
He chuckles a little bit and kisses her. "Baby, we're just getting started."
"But I'm so..."
He kisses her again and then lays between her legs, pulling his shirt over his head, because it feels like a good time to start wearing less clothes. "Relax, Rachel. Just...stay exactly like you are, alright? It's...it's good."
He leans down, kisses her quickly, then makes his way down her body, and by the time he gets to her stomach, she's clawing at his shoulders, and he can tell she's a little bit more tense.
"No one's ever..."
"It's okay," he says, leaving kisses on her bare skin as his hands find her thighs, urging her to bend her knees. He looks up at her and she's nibbling at her lip. He decides he likes that she does that. "You'll like it."
Like would be an understatement. As soon as his lips and tongue are on her, she's saying his name, running her hand through his hair. It's the only method he employs at first, just his mouth on her, because he needs her to be into this. And she so is. He waits until she's rolling her hips against him, trying to get more of him, then he does his signature move.
Hell yeah, he's got a signature move.
He presses the flat of his tongue against her clit, moves it just gently, then closes his mouth around her as he inserts two fingers again, pretty much without warning. Rachel lets out the hottest sound he's ever heard in his entire life, and he finds himself moaning against her, which she seems to fucking love.
He pulls his mouth away from her and she whines. "Rachel, you taste so fucking good, baby," he tells her, and she's grasping for purchase at her sheets.
"Don't stop. Please, Noah. I'm...I think I'm..."
He knows what she wants to say, what she wants to do. He's not cruel enough to make her say it (she'd probably have a fucking aneurysm.) He just smirks and puts his tongue back to work.
And god, she's fucking beautiful when she comes.
She arches her back, hips pressing into the mattress, and he can feel her legs trembling. She fists the bedspread in one hand and he offers one of his, which she takes in the other. As he looks up at her, he watches her mouth fall open, his name spilling from her reddened lips, and as she really lets go, she closes her eyes tight. He doesn't stop working her until she's coming down, shifting her hips and trying to get him to stop.
He's not going to tell her, but that was the most amazing orgasm he's ever witnessed.
He moves so he's laying next to her again, rests his hand over her stomach as she closes her legs tightly, then opens them a little bit again. She finally opens her eyes and glances at him, and she looks fucking satisfied.
"Oh my god," she breathes out, shifting her body. She rolls her hips and arches her back and stretches her arms before laying still again. It's fucking hot. "That's so much better with someone."
He thinks he's about to come. "What?" he asks, a smirk on his lips. She laughs, but covers her face with her hands. (As if that's the part of her he's staring at right now.) "Rachel Berry, you might just kill me. Now..." He leans over and kisses her, not caring that she probably hates the idea of tasting herself on him. "Now I won't be able to stop thinking about you touching yourself."
"Would you like to know a secret?" she asks, and he can tell by the look in her eyes, the way she doesn't even care anymore that she's naked, that this is going to be good.
"What?"
She falters for a second, bites her lip then curves her hand around his neck, bringing him closer so she can kiss him again. "Sometimes I think of you."
"Jesus fucking Christ." She giggles when he pulls away to look at her. He's so hard it's not even close to being funny. "Rachel, you can't...fuck. You can't say that to a guy. We...shit."
She smiles and kisses him again. She's so fucking perfect right now he can barely think straight. He hasn't even fucked her yet and he already wonders if they should do this more often. He's still wearing his jeans, for crying out loud! She's hardly touched him at all, and he's thinking about...
Shit that he shouldn't even be thinking about.
"Rachel, we need to..." He's glad he stops himself before he finishes that sentence. She'd probably hate his use of the word 'fuck' there even more than usual. "Are you...you're still good?"
She wiggles against him, his cock pressing against her hip, making him groan loudly.
"I'm good," she confirms.
Thank fuck.
He stands from the bed, staring at her, watching her watching him as he undoes his belt, then unzips his fly. She tries to keep her eyes on his face. It's really cute, the way he can see her struggling.
"It's okay, Rach," he laughs. "You can look."
"I don't want to stare!" she cries. "It wouldn't be polite."
He laughs and shakes his head as his jeans fall to the floor. "We're past polite, babe."
He pushes his boxers down his hips and she literally gasps.
Well, that's pretty much the best response a guy could ask for.
She bites her bottom lip as he walks back towards her, and he swears he's going to lose his fucking mind when he's actually inside her. The buildup has been torturous, and if he's being honest, it was really, really fucking hard not to come when she was calling his name and trembling like that.
She tenses slightly when he lays on top of her, though he makes sure that he's not touching her like he could be (like he wants to, his cock nestled between her legs.) He's actively trying not to freak her out.
"What is it?" he asks delicately, brushing the hair from her forehead. She's a little sweaty. He doesn't know if he's ever seen her break a sweat, even in rehearsal.
She locks eyes with him and says words he's sure she didn't say to that other guy. "I'm scared."
He actually smiles, brushes his nose against hers and kisses her gently. "Okay."
"I don't want to stop, I just wanted you to know."
"Good. Tell me everything."
The way he feels her shudder beneath him, he's pretty sure he's just said some kind of magic phrase.
"You feel...you feel really good," she admits, smiling up at him.
Oh, Jesus. Her telling him everything is going to be fucking hot. He growls and she smiles. "Sexy girl."
He watches her reach over to the bedside table, handing him one of the condoms. She takes a deep breath, which just presses her against him even more, and he shifts his body so he's pushed between her legs. She mewls and rolls her hips, and he feels her wet against his shaft. Holy shit. He needs her right fucking now. He's having to remind himself that she's practically still a virgin, that at the very least, that's how he needs to treat her.
"You're still sure?" he asks, holding the condom in his hand, braced over her shoulder.
"Yes," she answers quickly. "Yes, I'm sure. Please, Noah, I want..."
He kisses her, because he literally can't hear her say that shit right now. He needs this to be amazing for her, and it won't be if he can't control his shit.
"I wanna watch you come again," he says gruffly, hand kneading her skin.
"Is that...can I?" she asks.
He laughs softly. Good god, he didn't know this would be so goddamn fun. "You bet your ass you can. And I'm gonna make you."
She watches as he tears open the condom package, then slips it on. When he instructs her to take a deep breath, just relax and stay as loose as possible, she nods and kisses him. She insists that she's okay, that she's ready for him, and he kisses her before pushing into her slowly. She winces and closes her eyes tightly, and there's a split second when he wonders (call it male curiosity) how much bigger he is than The Douche.
"You okay?"
"Yes," she breathes out. He's not sure he should believe her. "I'm fine. It's...I can't even..."
He smiles, kisses her, then begins moving again. If he thought she felt good before, this is off the fucking chart. He couldn't even describe it if she tried to make him. She's just so tight, so hot around him, and it takes everything in him not to just take her hard and fast, because fuck, that's what he wants to do.
Once he's buried all the way inside her, she mewls and spreads her legs further, which he takes as an invitation. He rocks his hips back and forth, and eventually she starts moving with him, urging him deeper, wordlessly asking for more.
She's trying to speak, but he can tell she can't find the words, and he doesn't want her talking anyway. Sure, it's really hot, the way she's saying his name, letting out a bunch of sounds. That, he's got no problem with, really.
"Stop thinking, baby," he says, leaning down to kiss her neck.
"I'm...god," she breathes out, rolling her hips again. He grounds out her name. Fuck, she can't do that and expect him to last. "This is...you're so good."
He slows down, simply because if he doesn't, he won't be able to keep himself in check. "Rachel, you can't fuckin' say that."
She giggles a little bit, runs her hands up and down his back slowly. "You keep saying that."
"You keep saying shit that makes me..."
Then her hands are on his ass, legs spreading even wider, and he forgets what he was about to say, because there's no way he can hold out anymore. Her breathing gets even more shallow the faster he moves, and he can tell she loves it. Like, she's enjoying the shit out of this. It's safe to assume that she doesn't hate sex anymore. Not at all.
"Oh, shit. Rachel..."
He can feel his release nearing, and when he looks down at her...god, she's gorgeous. Sweating, hair sticking to her forehead, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted. He snaps his hips roughly against hers, and she lets out this guttural sound. He does it again, and he's pretty sure she's closer than she thinks.
"Noah, I think I'm...oh." Her hand comes up to rest on his bicep, fingers curling around the flesh and holding on tight. He slips his hand down between then and presses his fingertips against her as he moves his hips. "Noah."
Then she's falling over the edge, hands gripping his arms and thighs squeezed tight against his hips, and the sensation of her coming around him is enough to make him let go after another thrust or maybe two (he doesn't know.) He says her name, slips his arm beneath her arched back, and holds her tight against him as he rides out his release.
"Holy shit," he says, breathing heavily, face buried in her neck. He pulls away to look at her, and she's still got her eyes closed, so he kisses her, though they're both still so short of breath. "You okay?"
"I'm...I feel...I didn't know it could be like that," she admits. He smirks proudly and runs his hand over her hip. "But you're kind of heavy, though."
"Shit. Sorry," he mumbles, pulling out carefully. She winces at the loss, and he tosses the condom.
He lays on his back next to her, and they're both just staring at the ceiling. Eventually, her hand finds his. He doesn't hate it.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "That was perfect."
"Yeah?" he asks, turning his head to look at her. She nods. "Told ya you'd like it." She rolls her eyes and bites her bottom lip. He did tell her that. "I'm starving."
"I don't think I can move yet," she admits.
He smiles. Shit, that's hot. "C'mere," he says, opening his arm to her. So she curls up against him, resting her hand on his chest. He catches sight of something on the night stand, and smirks to himself. "There's still another condom there."
She laughs a little bit, kisses his chest. "There's a whole box in the bathroom."
"Rachel, you..."
"What?" she asks, pulling away. "I can't say that either?"
He glares at her playfully. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he tells her.
She leans up and kisses him properly, and his hand comes to rest on her back, pushing her closer to him.
"But I do now," she reminds him.
They never do get around to watching that movie.
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: I guess spoilers up to Sectionals. This follows Regret Is A Bitter Pill in my fictable madness.
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Fictable prompt #14 - Sex.
Word Count: 7,116
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, I would write myself in as a love interest for Finn, thereby forcing Puck and Rachel together, and allowing myself to make out with Cory. (Clearly, I don't own.)
So if he didn't, you know, have other things in mind, he'd probably try to take some time and figure out how he managed to get Rachel naked and underneath him so willingly.
(And there was no alcohol involved, you jerks.)
It's not like he and Rachel are even friends. They're not. They just like, talk sometimes, and she goes for runs with him on Saturday mornings, and she's really good with his kid, and he helped her pull an amazing prank on her douche of an ex-boyfriend (she wore leather boots and a utility belt and it was fucking epic) and sometimes they watch movies when her dads are out for the night and stuff.
They're not friends.
(Shit. They're totally fucking friends. He's not admitting that to anyone; not even her. God, she'd probably bake him a plate of fucking cookies if he used the word.)
But yeah. They hang out. She helps him with his homework, even though he doesn't ask. (What that means is that she forces him to open books in the library now that she knows that they have the same free period.) She practically squealed when he got a 78% on a math test last week, threw her arms around him so her feet weren't even on the floor.
And so it kinda feels awesome that she gets so happy for him when stuff goes right. Like when he asked for help with this crazy choreography that's way out of his skill level, and she tutored him late night in the dance studio (so no one would see, alright?) and she clapped and showered him with praise and compliments when he finally got it right. And this is coming from a girl who can like, actually do all that crazy ballet shit.
It's a little weird that no one has really bothered them about their...friendship. Or whatever. The glee kids don't really care (let's face it, most of them are too selfish to even fucking notice). Finn walks around with his head up his ass 90 per cent of the time, and Quinn and Rachel actually have this weird, like, creepy friendship or 'acceptance' (that's what Rachel calls it, but Puck doesn't really know what the fuck that means; it's total chick-speak). Quinn has made a point of telling him just how good Rachel is with Evie, and he doesn't really know what she's getting at. Yeah, Rachel's good with the baby. Whatever.
Rachel's good with a lot of things.
Like baking. Those cookies he said she'd bake if he told her he was her friend? It's almost worth it.
And singing. C'mon. Goes without saying. It's not really his style of music, his style of voice to enjoy, but he could just listen to her sing forever and be okay. Sometimes she even switches it up, sings pop tunes or sometimes classic rock stuff, and he has to smile, because she's just so talented it's not even fair. He's never told her that. Everyone else does.
And she's funny. Most of the time she doesn't even realize she's being funny, but she is. Like when she lost her shit because one of her solos got cut from their end-of-the-year concert and she literally threw a folder of music across her room when he was there, he started laughing. That shit was hilarious. She was practically purple with rage, but then when she saw him laughing, she started laughing too. Then he bought her the biggest milkshake he could find in town (no really, they drove around for an hour, checking who had the biggest) and sat with her while she ate the whole damn thing.
Not to mention, sometimes she says hilariously bitchy things about Kurt that make Puck lose his shit. Those two are 'frienemies' or whatever, but she pretty much hates the guy. Puck knows. She'll put on a brave face and be nice for the good of the group. But he really can't blame her for not liking Kurt; the guy's always cutting her down for his own amusement.
(Puck does it, too, but at least she knows, and he's not serious about it. Usually.)
And yeah, maybe he thinks it's kind of awesome that his mom likes Rachel so much. Mostly because she doesn't set out any rules, like 'no girls in the house unsupervised', because she knows Rachel is 'wholesome' and 'not corrupting my son like that other girl. What's her name? Sunturna?' (Apparently his mother doesn't know that short skirts are crack to a teenaged boy, and Rachel is like a drug lord.)
So basically, they're cool, he and Rachel, and they have been pretty much since he consoled her after Jesse cashed in the v-card and left Rachel with pretty much nothing.
(He gets mad even thinking about it. Puck is a lot of things, but probably more than anything else, he's loyal to his friends and protective to a fault. You know, except for that whole Quinn thing.)
It's summer now, which means that he's working more and making money and supporting his little girl, who he gets to spend an ass load of time with, since Quinn works opposite hours than he does. She's a waitress at the Bob Evans, so she works mostly nights and weekends, and he works during the week days. Between the two of them, and his mom (and sometimes Rachel) they don't have to pay for a babysitter or day care or whatever, which is awesome.
This is a rare Saturday night when Quinn isn't working, and she told him to stay the hell away from her place, because she wants a night alone with their daughter. He just laughed and told her he'd pick up Evie tomorrow morning before Quinn's shift.
So at least that explains how he finds himself at Rachel's place on a Saturday night when her dads are away for their anniversary. Apparently they go away every year. Who knew? This year, it's a four day trip to Martha's Vineyard. Puck doesn't know where that is, but it sounds like the kind of place her dads would like.
She's making them pizza from scratch, because he's insisted that they watch Scarface, and she's got it in her head that they need to have a proper Italian meal while they watch the movie. He doesn't know why. She does this kind of thing a lot. Everything has to be an experience. You can't just watch a movie, you have to make it memorable.
And yeah, he'll admit that watching Sideways with her and her dads was made way less lame by the fact that her dads let them drink this really fucking good wine. They even drove him home at the end of the night and explained to his mom what had happened. She didn't even care, really, just smiled and thanked them for taking care of him. (He wasn't even drunk. It takes more than two glasses of wine to get him hammered. But it is pretty awesome that the fact that the Berry's are Jewish pretty much gives him a free pass, so long as he's got them to cover him. Sweet.)
Rachel makes him grate cheese, because apparently sitting in her kitchen looking hot as hell in her presence isn't enough of a 'task'. (He totally does look hot as hell, too. He knows it. And she told him she loves this shirt the last time he wore it.)
(Not that he's wearing it on purpose. He was driving around when she called and asked if he was busy, and he already had it on. So there.)
But something's off with her. Seriously off. He hasn't seen her act this weird since she had to tell everyone that she and The Douche (Jesse, to most) broke up and she had to listen to Kurt and Mercedes' snide comments about it.
So he's going to ask her about it.
"The fuck's wrong with you?"
(In his own way, of course.)
"Nothing," she says, shrugging one shoulder as she stretches out the pizza dough. Seriously? She's awesome in the kitchen.
"You're a liar," he states, grinning, though she's not watching him.
"I am not!" she shouts, eyes flying up to meet his. "And I'll thank you not to say so."
"Okay, whoa," he says, rounding the counter to stand in front of her. "What's wrong with you?"
She stops what she's doing, brushes her hair back from her face with her hand (she cut her bangs into like, the - shit, what does she call it? - 'sweeping' bang; it looks nice on her). It smears a little flour onto her forehead and he wants to wipe it away.
"I saw Jesse today."
"What?" he asks. She lets out a sigh and he thinks he shouldn't be as pissed as he is. "Why?"
"I didn't seek him out," she tells him, laughing softly. "I was dropping files off at daddy's office, and he was there with his dad. Apparently he's dating his ex again."
Puck scoffs. "So?"
"So!" she shouts, throwing her hands up. "So it didn't take him long to get over me!"
"I don't think he was really that into you in the first place."
He does not realize how fucking wrong it was for him to say that until she clenches her jaw and her eyes get like, misty and shit.
Fuck. He didn't mean it like that. He just meant that the guy's a moron and was obviously using her or something, or at the very least, he didn't (doesn't) know how to date a woman (woman? Huh. He'll go with it) like Rachel. She's high maintenance and just this side of Crazy Town, at least camped out on the border, and you can't just be with her, you have to put effort into it. Puck only dated her for a week and he knows this much, put in the effort himself.
"Shit. That's not what I mean," he says. He reaches out for her, but she takes a step back. "I just meant that you shouldn't get all upset about that asshole. And he is an asshole. We wrote it in soap paint on his precious Jetta."
She cracks a smile, no doubt thinking of that night when they'd dressed in black and driven across town in 'Stealth Mode' (the headlights of Puck's truck off) so they could write ridiculous messages on Jesse's shiny black car when it was parked at a party.
"It's just upsetting, knowing he's completely moved on and I'm not...I mean, I don't really have anything on the horizon," she explains, toying with the edge of a tea towel and avoiding his eyes.
Thinking about her getting another boyfriend bugs the hell out of Puck. It has for a while.
"Well...I don't really know what to say about that," he admits.
"It's just that I see him, and I just...I'm reminded of the way things went, how they ended, and it's just..." She pauses, takes a deep breath, and he takes a step towards her. "It's not a good memory."
It's funny, he decides, that the thing that brought them closer in the first place is the thing that they never talk about. Never, since that morning, have they brought up the reason she and The Douche broke up. Sure, there was their night of 'espionage' (he didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't really using that word correctly, despite how awesome it was to know that for once, she was wrong and he was fucking right.) Other than that, though, he makes fun of The Douche and she laughs and rolls her eyes, but he knows she totally digs it.
But they've never, ever talked about 'it' like this. Which, come to think of it, he's pretty happy about. He realizes now that talking with Rachel about sex makes him (naturally) think about sex with Rachel, and that's dangerous territory.
Especially right now, reaching out to wipe the flour off her forehead.
He makes a bold fucking choice that could either be awesome, or send her knee into a painful area.
He grabs her by the waist and pulls her against him, then leans down to kiss her just as her breath hitches in her throat.
Holy hell, he should have done this sooner. She's totally into it. Like, immediately. She practically purrs when he curves his hand around her waist, and she fists the back of his collar when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth. She tastes like cola and cherry lip gloss, which is a pretty fucking awesome combination. She gasps when he grinds himself against her stomach after a few minutes of seriously hot making out.
"Noah," she says, all breathy and hot. He looks down at her, her cheeks all flushed and lips red. "What are you doing?"
"Two to tango, Rach." He smirks and she rolls her eyes. "I'm kissing you."
He does it again and she attempts a protest, but the sound barely leaves her throat and she's melting against him again, her body completely at his mercy when he holds her tighter.
"But..." She's cut off when he kisses her again, smiling against her lips. "But why?"
"Because I fucking want to. I need a better reason?" He pulls away slightly, brushes the hair back from her face with both hands. "Look, that guy...he acted like a boy with you, okay?"
"What does that have to do with..."
He lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. "You need a man." He thinks she shivers, and when she looks up at him, her brown eyes are so dark that he can't help but arch his hips a little bit. "Rachel, I'll show you."
She swallows and looks at him through hooded eyes. He wonders if she knows she's running her hand through the hair at the back of his head.
"Show me what?"
And that is a green light if he's ever seen one. She knows exactly what he's saying. Though, he does love this coy shit she's pulling. (And yeah, he knows what coy means. She told him. And demonstrated. Jesus fucking Christ, why didn't he do this sooner?)
He knows she expects him just to kiss her again. Not going to happen (yet.) He's going to spell it out for her and enjoy the way it makes her blush.
"We're going to go to your bedroom." He stops to kiss her gently. "And I'm going to take your clothes off." Her hand falls to his bicep, gripping tighter than it has to. "I'm gonna take my time...until you're begging me." She whispers his name and her back arches slightly. "And then I'm gonna show you how fucking amazing sex is." She actually giggles. It makes him smile. She's not being bashful or girlish, she just likes the idea, he thinks. "It'll probably ruin you for other dudes forever."
Shit. SHIT. He should not have said that last part. He doesn't know why he did. To be honest, he hasn't really though much further than making her come (several times, if he can). He should not be making statements like that, ones that might be true (dude, he is a sex ninja) but sound way heavier than they should.
Because it's not like he wants to be with her or whatever. He just doesn't think any girl should have such a shitty memory of her first time.
Which gives him another idea...
"Rachel," he says, voice low, and she looks up at him again, "this is your first time."
"But..."
"Rachel. It's your first time." He says it firmly, and she smiles and nods, so he knows she knows what he's saying.
She kisses him this time, which is nice for a few reasons. It just means he doesn't have to ask her if she's okay with all this. Given the way her tongue is in his mouth, he's pretty sure she's game.
She pulls away from him after a moment, slips her hand into his and shoots him the sexiest fucking look ever over her shoulder.
"What have I gotten myself into?" he asks, smirking at her. She tips her head back and laughs. He likes that she's happy.
When they get to her room, she pushes the door shut gently and looks at him, almost like she's waiting for instructions or something. Well, that's fun. She never really gives herself up like that - the girl loves control - so he is going to take advantage of it.
"Sit down," he says, smiling as she bites her bottom lip nervously. "Sit down and...and relax, okay? You have any matches?"
She points to the bedside table and he opens the drawer. "Wait!"
He arches his brow and grabs a couple condoms from the drawer. "We'll need these too," he says, and she closes her eyes tightly. "Seriously, Rachel, you need to calm down. It's just me. It'll be good. I swear."
He can feel her eyes on him as he lights a few candles - she's got about a hundred - and then slips into her bathroom. She calls to him, asking what he's doing, but he doesn't answer, just laughs to himself, because she's really going crazy, probably getting really worked up because he's taking his sweet time. Well, that's not going to change.
He wasn't lying. He wants her begging for it. It's not sadistic or whatever the right word is, he just wants her to be 100 per cent certain of what she wants.
He walks back into the room with a bottle of lotion, and she looks at him like he's nuts. But whatever. It's like, his favourite smell that she uses. And it'll help.
He leans down in front of her, pressing his lips to hers as his hands find the bottom of her shirt. When he pulls away and searches her eyes for permission, she nods and he tugs the shirt up over her head. He doesn't want her to be shy - wants her to be the opposite - so he doesn't ogle her like he damn well wants to. He just kisses her again and decides he digs the way she holds onto his arms when they're kissing.
"Lay down on your stomach," he tells her after a few moments.
"What?" She looks appalled.
"Rachel, you have to trust me, or we're stopping right now."
"No!" she says, far too quickly. She blushes when he raises one eyebrow. "No, I trust you, I just..."
"Lay down."
She does as she's told, and he smooths out her skirt at the back of her thighs, covering her up completely. Honestly? This whole thing is tempting enough. He needs to keep his cool. He straddles her back, resting his weight on his legs and not on her, and run his hand lightly down her spine, over her bra and straight down to the small of her back. He squeezes some of the lotion onto his palm and rubs his hands together, then slides them up her back, working her muscles gently.
"Have you ever had a massage before?" he asks, his hands kneading her shoulders, brushing her hair aside.
"Yes," she answers. "Well, no. Not like this, I mean. Daddy and I go to this spa in Cleveland twice a year and I spend the entire day getting treatments, and..."
"Rachel. Short answers," he chuckles. He feels her sigh. "I'm trying to get you to stop being so tense. You have a knot in your back the size of Greenland."
She turns her head to look at him as best she can, and there's a smile on her face. "Aren't you glad I make you go to Geography."
He laughs. Jokes. That's better. "Whatever."
The more he works his hands over her, the more relaxed she gets. She's breathing slowly, her eyes are closed, and she's not saying anything. He's got her right where he wants her. He doesn't want her falling asleep, but he wants her right on the edge, so calm that she can enjoy this.
His hands run over the clasp of her bra. "Can I take this off?"
"Mhmm."
There is no delay in her reply.
He undoes the clasp and then moves off her so he's on his knees next to her, looking down at her amazing, taut back, bared to him. "You wanna roll over?"
(See? This is how you treat virgins. You let them think absolutely everything is on their terms, but you make it impossible for them to say no. And if they do say no, you fucking stop immediately.)
"Okay," she says, and she's biting her lower lip as she does so, pulling her bra from her body. He smiles at the way she locks eyes with him, and no, he doesn't fucking look away to sneak a peek at her rack, though he fucking wants to. "I'm almost naked in front of you."
"I know." He looks down at her then, and she lays on her back. He rests his hand on her stomach. "And you're pretty fucking hot."
"Shut up," she laughs.
"I'm serious. Those argyle sweaters don't do you justice." He lays down on his side next to her, his fingertips tracing patterns on her skin, and her breath hitches every time he passes over one spot. Ticklish. He makes a mental note. "You really are hot, Rach. And...I dunno. Beautiful or whatever."
"Or whatever?"
He meets her eyes and just nods, because this is the kind of compliment he gives, and she knows it.
"You good?" he asks as his hand moves up so his fingers are brushing against the underside of her breast. Her eyes are closed and she nods. "You smell nice."
"You bathed me in coconut lime lotion," she says, smiling and opening her eyes.
"I like that stuff."
"Me too." He leans over her a little bit more, kissing her in hopes of distracting her so he can slip his hand onto her chest without her getting tense again. She moans into his mouth, but it's the good kind, not the 'stop right there' kind. "Noah," she breathes out.
He smirks at that. Always a good sound.
"I'm gonna take off your skirt now," he tells her, and she nods, leaning up to kiss him again as his hand finds the zipper at her side.
(He ignores the stupid voice in his head telling him that he could get used to this, to kissing her.)
His lips are on hers the whole time, figuring that tactic works. She seems to like kissing him, too, and he thinks that if he just keeps doing this, it might just keep her loose and ready. And god, her skin is so smooth. He hates thinking of anything but kissing her while he's kissing her, but his hand falls to her hip as he pushes her skirt as far off her body as he can, and he feels her skin hot beneath his palm. He's never, ever loved touching a girl this much. And that's saying a lot.
"Please," she says, tearing her lips from his.
He laughs softly, dips one finger beneath the band of her underwear at her hip, and she squirms. "You want these off, don't you?"
"Stop teasing."
"I'm not." He's smirking at her and she's trying to control her breathing.
"I don't like not being in control," she tells him seriously. He knows she's not joking at all.
He moves so he's kneeling between her legs, and she lifts her hips so he can pull her skirt off her. "Get used to it. Sex isn't about control. Well, sometimes it is, but...yeah, that's a lesson for another day."
"Noah."
His eyes roam over her body. He wonders if she has any idea how fucking sexy she is. Not that he had any doubts, but he is going to fucking love this.
"Rachel, you're...god. I want you naked."
She takes a breath, and he watches her chest, and she smiles when his eyes meet hers again. His hands are on her thighs, moving gently up to her hips, then back down to her knees again.
"It's okay," she says, and he likes that she's figured out that he's not going to do anything unless she asks. "You can."
He smirks and winks, letting his hands grip the sides of her panties gently. "Good girl."
She giggles and lifts her hips again.
She is so totally into this.
She's laying naked before him, and he can tell she doesn't know what to do with her hands. He lays down next to her again, rests his palm on her stomach, and her hand finds his while the other lays at her side.
"I'm gonna need my hand, babe."
She gets all confused. Aww. Cute. (He smirks wickedly.)
"What?"
"Rachel," he says quietly. When he pulls his hand away from hers, it's to move it down between her legs. She doesn't even flinch when she realizes what's happening. "Did he touch you like this?"
Her eyes flutter closed as his fingers run over her, far too lightly, if you ask her. "Don't talk about him."
"That's a no," he laughs.
"He did," she replies. "Just not...not much. God, Noah." He presses against her a little more. She's so wet already. "Can you...more. Please."
She's such a quick learner. He gives her what she wants, circling her clit, and she moans quietly. She doesn't do anything quietly. He thinks he's going to have to change this new shyness or whatever it is she's displaying. Sure enough, when he slips a finger inside her, she shifts her hips and lets out a throaty sound so sexy that he can't even stand it.
"Fuck, Rachel," he says, leaning over to kiss her hard, just because he wants to, because he can. She bites down on his lip just a little bit when he adds another finger, and she pulls her mouth away from his when he rubs his thumb against her most sensitive spot.
"I can't...I'm...Noah." She's close, and he can tell. A few more moments and she'll be falling apart, but he can't let that happen without one more thing happening, so he pulls his hand away. "No. No. Why did you do that?"
He chuckles a little bit and kisses her. "Baby, we're just getting started."
"But I'm so..."
He kisses her again and then lays between her legs, pulling his shirt over his head, because it feels like a good time to start wearing less clothes. "Relax, Rachel. Just...stay exactly like you are, alright? It's...it's good."
He leans down, kisses her quickly, then makes his way down her body, and by the time he gets to her stomach, she's clawing at his shoulders, and he can tell she's a little bit more tense.
"No one's ever..."
"It's okay," he says, leaving kisses on her bare skin as his hands find her thighs, urging her to bend her knees. He looks up at her and she's nibbling at her lip. He decides he likes that she does that. "You'll like it."
Like would be an understatement. As soon as his lips and tongue are on her, she's saying his name, running her hand through his hair. It's the only method he employs at first, just his mouth on her, because he needs her to be into this. And she so is. He waits until she's rolling her hips against him, trying to get more of him, then he does his signature move.
Hell yeah, he's got a signature move.
He presses the flat of his tongue against her clit, moves it just gently, then closes his mouth around her as he inserts two fingers again, pretty much without warning. Rachel lets out the hottest sound he's ever heard in his entire life, and he finds himself moaning against her, which she seems to fucking love.
He pulls his mouth away from her and she whines. "Rachel, you taste so fucking good, baby," he tells her, and she's grasping for purchase at her sheets.
"Don't stop. Please, Noah. I'm...I think I'm..."
He knows what she wants to say, what she wants to do. He's not cruel enough to make her say it (she'd probably have a fucking aneurysm.) He just smirks and puts his tongue back to work.
And god, she's fucking beautiful when she comes.
She arches her back, hips pressing into the mattress, and he can feel her legs trembling. She fists the bedspread in one hand and he offers one of his, which she takes in the other. As he looks up at her, he watches her mouth fall open, his name spilling from her reddened lips, and as she really lets go, she closes her eyes tight. He doesn't stop working her until she's coming down, shifting her hips and trying to get him to stop.
He's not going to tell her, but that was the most amazing orgasm he's ever witnessed.
He moves so he's laying next to her again, rests his hand over her stomach as she closes her legs tightly, then opens them a little bit again. She finally opens her eyes and glances at him, and she looks fucking satisfied.
"Oh my god," she breathes out, shifting her body. She rolls her hips and arches her back and stretches her arms before laying still again. It's fucking hot. "That's so much better with someone."
He thinks he's about to come. "What?" he asks, a smirk on his lips. She laughs, but covers her face with her hands. (As if that's the part of her he's staring at right now.) "Rachel Berry, you might just kill me. Now..." He leans over and kisses her, not caring that she probably hates the idea of tasting herself on him. "Now I won't be able to stop thinking about you touching yourself."
"Would you like to know a secret?" she asks, and he can tell by the look in her eyes, the way she doesn't even care anymore that she's naked, that this is going to be good.
"What?"
She falters for a second, bites her lip then curves her hand around his neck, bringing him closer so she can kiss him again. "Sometimes I think of you."
"Jesus fucking Christ." She giggles when he pulls away to look at her. He's so hard it's not even close to being funny. "Rachel, you can't...fuck. You can't say that to a guy. We...shit."
She smiles and kisses him again. She's so fucking perfect right now he can barely think straight. He hasn't even fucked her yet and he already wonders if they should do this more often. He's still wearing his jeans, for crying out loud! She's hardly touched him at all, and he's thinking about...
Shit that he shouldn't even be thinking about.
"Rachel, we need to..." He's glad he stops himself before he finishes that sentence. She'd probably hate his use of the word 'fuck' there even more than usual. "Are you...you're still good?"
She wiggles against him, his cock pressing against her hip, making him groan loudly.
"I'm good," she confirms.
Thank fuck.
He stands from the bed, staring at her, watching her watching him as he undoes his belt, then unzips his fly. She tries to keep her eyes on his face. It's really cute, the way he can see her struggling.
"It's okay, Rach," he laughs. "You can look."
"I don't want to stare!" she cries. "It wouldn't be polite."
He laughs and shakes his head as his jeans fall to the floor. "We're past polite, babe."
He pushes his boxers down his hips and she literally gasps.
Well, that's pretty much the best response a guy could ask for.
She bites her bottom lip as he walks back towards her, and he swears he's going to lose his fucking mind when he's actually inside her. The buildup has been torturous, and if he's being honest, it was really, really fucking hard not to come when she was calling his name and trembling like that.
She tenses slightly when he lays on top of her, though he makes sure that he's not touching her like he could be (like he wants to, his cock nestled between her legs.) He's actively trying not to freak her out.
"What is it?" he asks delicately, brushing the hair from her forehead. She's a little sweaty. He doesn't know if he's ever seen her break a sweat, even in rehearsal.
She locks eyes with him and says words he's sure she didn't say to that other guy. "I'm scared."
He actually smiles, brushes his nose against hers and kisses her gently. "Okay."
"I don't want to stop, I just wanted you to know."
"Good. Tell me everything."
The way he feels her shudder beneath him, he's pretty sure he's just said some kind of magic phrase.
"You feel...you feel really good," she admits, smiling up at him.
Oh, Jesus. Her telling him everything is going to be fucking hot. He growls and she smiles. "Sexy girl."
He watches her reach over to the bedside table, handing him one of the condoms. She takes a deep breath, which just presses her against him even more, and he shifts his body so he's pushed between her legs. She mewls and rolls her hips, and he feels her wet against his shaft. Holy shit. He needs her right fucking now. He's having to remind himself that she's practically still a virgin, that at the very least, that's how he needs to treat her.
"You're still sure?" he asks, holding the condom in his hand, braced over her shoulder.
"Yes," she answers quickly. "Yes, I'm sure. Please, Noah, I want..."
He kisses her, because he literally can't hear her say that shit right now. He needs this to be amazing for her, and it won't be if he can't control his shit.
"I wanna watch you come again," he says gruffly, hand kneading her skin.
"Is that...can I?" she asks.
He laughs softly. Good god, he didn't know this would be so goddamn fun. "You bet your ass you can. And I'm gonna make you."
She watches as he tears open the condom package, then slips it on. When he instructs her to take a deep breath, just relax and stay as loose as possible, she nods and kisses him. She insists that she's okay, that she's ready for him, and he kisses her before pushing into her slowly. She winces and closes her eyes tightly, and there's a split second when he wonders (call it male curiosity) how much bigger he is than The Douche.
"You okay?"
"Yes," she breathes out. He's not sure he should believe her. "I'm fine. It's...I can't even..."
He smiles, kisses her, then begins moving again. If he thought she felt good before, this is off the fucking chart. He couldn't even describe it if she tried to make him. She's just so tight, so hot around him, and it takes everything in him not to just take her hard and fast, because fuck, that's what he wants to do.
Once he's buried all the way inside her, she mewls and spreads her legs further, which he takes as an invitation. He rocks his hips back and forth, and eventually she starts moving with him, urging him deeper, wordlessly asking for more.
She's trying to speak, but he can tell she can't find the words, and he doesn't want her talking anyway. Sure, it's really hot, the way she's saying his name, letting out a bunch of sounds. That, he's got no problem with, really.
"Stop thinking, baby," he says, leaning down to kiss her neck.
"I'm...god," she breathes out, rolling her hips again. He grounds out her name. Fuck, she can't do that and expect him to last. "This is...you're so good."
He slows down, simply because if he doesn't, he won't be able to keep himself in check. "Rachel, you can't fuckin' say that."
She giggles a little bit, runs her hands up and down his back slowly. "You keep saying that."
"You keep saying shit that makes me..."
Then her hands are on his ass, legs spreading even wider, and he forgets what he was about to say, because there's no way he can hold out anymore. Her breathing gets even more shallow the faster he moves, and he can tell she loves it. Like, she's enjoying the shit out of this. It's safe to assume that she doesn't hate sex anymore. Not at all.
"Oh, shit. Rachel..."
He can feel his release nearing, and when he looks down at her...god, she's gorgeous. Sweating, hair sticking to her forehead, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted. He snaps his hips roughly against hers, and she lets out this guttural sound. He does it again, and he's pretty sure she's closer than she thinks.
"Noah, I think I'm...oh." Her hand comes up to rest on his bicep, fingers curling around the flesh and holding on tight. He slips his hand down between then and presses his fingertips against her as he moves his hips. "Noah."
Then she's falling over the edge, hands gripping his arms and thighs squeezed tight against his hips, and the sensation of her coming around him is enough to make him let go after another thrust or maybe two (he doesn't know.) He says her name, slips his arm beneath her arched back, and holds her tight against him as he rides out his release.
"Holy shit," he says, breathing heavily, face buried in her neck. He pulls away to look at her, and she's still got her eyes closed, so he kisses her, though they're both still so short of breath. "You okay?"
"I'm...I feel...I didn't know it could be like that," she admits. He smirks proudly and runs his hand over her hip. "But you're kind of heavy, though."
"Shit. Sorry," he mumbles, pulling out carefully. She winces at the loss, and he tosses the condom.
He lays on his back next to her, and they're both just staring at the ceiling. Eventually, her hand finds his. He doesn't hate it.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "That was perfect."
"Yeah?" he asks, turning his head to look at her. She nods. "Told ya you'd like it." She rolls her eyes and bites her bottom lip. He did tell her that. "I'm starving."
"I don't think I can move yet," she admits.
He smiles. Shit, that's hot. "C'mere," he says, opening his arm to her. So she curls up against him, resting her hand on his chest. He catches sight of something on the night stand, and smirks to himself. "There's still another condom there."
She laughs a little bit, kisses his chest. "There's a whole box in the bathroom."
"Rachel, you..."
"What?" she asks, pulling away. "I can't say that either?"
He glares at her playfully. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he tells her.
She leans up and kisses him properly, and his hand comes to rest on her back, pushing her closer to him.
"But I do now," she reminds him.
They never do get around to watching that movie.