Fic: The Scientific Method
Title: The Scientific Method
Author: Soliloquyrain
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,332
Spoilers: All aired episodes.
Summary: Sequel to Sixty-Four Colors. There are few forces in this world greater than that of a 16-year-old boy who thinks he has a chance at seeing boobs. Rachel has a hypothesis and Puck's all for hands-on experimentation.
Author's note: God, one day, maybe I'll actually write a fic that doesn't end in smut. Written for Becca_radcgg. Prompt: An instrument of art, Flu shots in both arms, a candy bar, and stupid snow drivers. Hope you enjoy. =)
_____
So, here's the thing.
She drives him kinda crazy. She's bossy and loud and God she just never shuts up, even when he's trying to watch TV and then he says really calmly, "Rach, I'm watching TV," and she gets quiet for like, 47 seconds before she's off again and so he says it a little louder and she gets a little louder, and then ten minutes later he is shouting, and she is shouting, and he's motioning to the TV like a giant moron cause she's making him miss Jon fucking Stewart and then finally Sarah comes downstairs cause they've woken her up, and then he's stuck with two crazy women; who still won't shut the fuck up and let him watch TV, he might add.
He half expected her to bail after he sexually assaulted her with a yellow crayon, which is a completely different story--one he'll come back to when he's looking for some prime spankin' material--but she didn't. The next night she was right there again with Turkish Delight and those ridiculous knee socks and when he put on his best shit-eating grin, leaned against the door, and said, "I knew you couldn't resist, Berry," she just pushed past him and rolled her eyes, using big words like Banalities and Frivolous and Gross National Product or something.
Surprised he knew that one, aren't you?
Anyways. Not only did she come back the next night, but pretty much almost every night after that--when his moms was at work, anyways--which was fine with him cause his crazy little sister loved her, which meant he was off the hook for babysitting duties.
What surprised him wasn't that she came back, but that she came back and acted like nothing happened, and that infuriates him.
So, yeah. She drives him kinda crazy. But it's ok, cause he drives her pretty crazy too. Like when she came over straight from the Health Department, and whined and moaned about the pain of getting Flu shots in either arm, which of course meant he spent the rest of the night arbitrarily poking her in her sore bicep; or the time they were watching one of her stupid musicals, and he kept hitting the Mute button, only unmuting it when she started to yell at him, which was fucking hilarious and only got funnier when she started to turn red. Or, his favorite, the time he hid her cell phone in the kitchen cabinet and called it every ten minutes (thank you, Jim Halpert) which had the added bonus of not only driving Rachel nuts, but sent Sarah into a tizzy trying to find it to help her new BFFE.
Despite driving each other nuts (which they do), at some point in this weird friendship, he sorta started not minding her presence so much and she sorta stopped calling him insufferable all the time. Which is weird enough within itself.
But when she turns to him one night with a paintbrush in her hand (cause she does all this arts and crafts shit with his sister cause she says it nurtures her right brain or whatever) and asks, "Have you ever just felt like, inexplicably horny?" he's pretty sure the meter on his Weirdness Reader just fucking broke.
_____
At first he tried to play it cool and was like, "Shit yeah, Berry, I'm a 16 year old Sex Viking, of course I'm always horny."
But then she waved that away and said this wasn't just teenage hormones, this was like, advanced horniness--her words, not his--and it's been so odd cause she's never experienced that before, well, once when her hormones went sort of crazy right before her peri--
And then he stops her there because, shit. He is not ready for that.
The funny thing about Rachel is she says shit like this and she's not even trying to be sexy. She didn't bring it up in hopes that he would offer his services--she just genuinely thinks that this is acceptable cleaning-up-the-living-room conversation.
So he tries to play it cool and not let on that she's just melted his brain, and he's doing pretty well until she says, "I think it's important for a person to take control of their own sexual needs," and then he's pretty sure his eyes are rolling into the back of his head with the images that accompanied that statement--she's annoying, but she's hot.
And then it sorta went down hill from there.
_____
Rachel Berry is nothing if not thorough, and he learns--through this weird Twilight-Zone conversation--that she's been doing her homework on the subject and she has webpages bookmarked and Jesus, she practices, and the mental image of her sitting at her desk with one leg on her chair and her head thrown back is enough to make him feel dizzy and it totally beats the snot out of the whole yellow crayon memory in terms of High-Interest Spank Bank material.
He tries to concentrate on her soliloquy but her voice sort of teeters in and out of focus and he can only catch bits and pieces because he's so fucking hard thinking about her touching herself that he's fairly certain his brain is suffering supreme blood loss.
"Full disclosure... manual stimulation... visual stimulus."
(Rachel. Naked. Finger. FUCK.)
"Well, I was wondering, since you have been one of my visual aids, if maybe I'll have more success with you actually in front of me. Or maybe I can increase the frequency of my orgasms or the speed of them."
Yup, he's just come in his pants and he has to place a hand on the wall to steady himself. It's kinda gross (and something he hasn't done since seventh grade) but he's still half hard and she just keeps talking.
"Anyway, I was hoping that you'd be open to the suggestion that we make an appointment time and experiment with my hypothesis. Would that be agreeable to you?"
Finally she breathes and he steps so that their bodies are touching, so that there's no mistaking his "primal" reaction to her. He grabs her arms and forces her lips on his. Fuck, she tastes so good, like strawberry lip stuff and candied sin wrapped in a virginal package. Fucking irresistible to a guy like him.
She sort of yelps in surprise at first, but then leans into it and deepens the kiss, and he only briefly wonders if Finn's ever kissed her like this as he runs his hands down her arms, pulling that stupid paintbrush out of her grip. When he pulls away, she's a little breathless (ok, fine, maybe he is too) and her lips are slightly swollen.
"So, maybe I should see this technique of yours," he says and his voice is low and croaky, like he's just swallowed an air bubble, and it's not at all the sexy come-hither voice he was trying to make.
Her face flushes spectacularly, and she seems to be reconsidering this fantastic plan of hers, because she stammers, "I, uh, well I didn't mean now."
Their bodies are still pressed close together and he moves against her just slightly, reminding her that he's there, and it makes her eyes bulge and her lips part in surprise.
He twirls the paintbrush between his fingers for a split second before dragging it up her arm; it's still slightly damp and it leaves a wet streak up soft curve of her inner elbow.
"Hey, so," he starts but he's not sure how to say what's next without sounding completely gay, or like a little girl--or like Finn.
(Hey, so, I think about you too, like, alot. Totally gay.)
She tilts her head to the side, waiting for his next words, but she's looking at him with such intensity that he pusses out and clears his throat before saying, "So, yeah, let's get practicing," as he plasters that Puckerman grin back onto his face, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the couch despite her squeals.
"Well, I mean, I'm not ready now, I was just thinking we could set--"
He interrupts her by flopping himself onto the couch, pulling her down on top of him gracelessly.
"I can't really do it in this particular position," she protests, followed by a squeak when he slides his hands up her skirt and he thinks it's only kinda really-fucking-adorable.
"Yeah well, figured I'd help you set the mood."
She contemplates, shifting on him slightly and making him suck his teeth in response. "Yeah, ok," she says after studying his face, and she lowers her lips onto his.
They settle into each other seamlessly (it kinda frightens him how well she fits against him), and when he runs his hand up the inside of her shirt, she pulls away from him with a gasp.
"No," she hisses, and it makes him laugh cause really?
"You're about to give me a live demonstration of the "inner workings" of Rachel Berry and I'm still not allowed up your shirt?"
"It's different."
"How is it different?"
She sits up on him and he tries his hardest to focus on her face and not the fact that she's sitting right on him. "Well for one, it'll be my hands--"
He scoffs and she stabs his chest with a finger.
"--my hands on me and two, my breasts have nothing to do with this."
He grows serious, widening his eyes at her in surprise. "Seriously? Well, psh, there's one of your many, many problems, Berry."
"What?" She looks genuinely confused, "Do you think I should incorporate breast play into my routine?"
"Ok, one, by talking like that, you're sucking all the fun out of something that is supposed to be a lot of fun, and two--"
He never does get to two because he hears a door open upstairs, followed by tiny footsteps coming towards the stairs. "Noah?" Sarah calls out, and Rachel all but flies off the couch and onto the neighboring loveseat.
Seriously, he's never seen a girl move so fast, not even Linda Howser that one time her husband came home when he was in the middle of "cleaning her pool."
_____
He jumps off the couch and rushes towards the stairs, meeting his sister halfway before she can actually see into the living room. "Heeeeey, Sarah," he says as he picks her up and carries her upstairs.
She squirms in his grip, kicking at his knees. "Let me down, I want a drink of water."
Once they're back in her room, he sets her down, kneeling so he is eye-level with her. "Look. If you stay up here and don't come out again, I will totally take you shopping tomorrow and buy you all the candy bars you want."
"I want one now."
"I don't have one now."
"Then I want water."
He groans in frustration as he imagines the girl downstairs; she's probably putting on her coat and preparing to leave. "I'll bring you a glass of water."
She eyes him warily, and when she agrees, he is barreling down the stairs and when he sees Rachel--just as he thought--standing at the front door with her coat on, he all but whines.
"No, no, no," he sighs, and he is on her in a second, gripping her hips and trying to lead her back to the couch.
"I do hope you're not trying to "do" me while your little sister is awake upstairs," she says, though she only sounds half-disgusted and he takes that as a good sign.
"Of course not, Berry," he says, putting on his best offended face, "she should be asleep in like, twenty minutes."
She makes a face and scoffs disgustedly and he thinks she's been spending way, way too much time with Santana, but she lets him drag her into the kitchen even though she's saying, "I really should go" in that mewling voice she has, which he never realized how much he liked until now.
He feels like he is moving in fast forward, and he throws a few cubes of ice into a glass of tap water and takes two steps out of the kitchen before turning back towards her. "Stay. Here."
When he has tucked his sister back into bed, he rushes back into the hallway to find Rachel leaning against his bedroom door.
"So," she starts, her voice a little shaky, "You have a lock on your door, right?"
_____
It takes some needling to get her to sit on his bed, even after he's locked the door, and she refuses to get undressed until she's sure his sister is asleep. So they spend thirty minutes making awkward small talk and for the first time ever he's relieved at her natural inability to shut up.
She carries a conversation by herself, complaining about nearly getting run off the road last week by some moron who cut her off in a snow storm, how much homework her history teacher gave her over the weekend, and when she's started on her opinions of her voice versus that of Mercedes--"She really does have a wonderful voice but it's not a show tune voice and I think she needs to accept that"--he jumps up, slaps his hands together and tries not to look too excited.
"Right. I'm gonna go check on Sarah."
When he finds her sleeping, he nearly does a happy dance. But then remembers he's Noah Puckerman, and he doesn't play that.
_____
She makes him turn around as she gets undressed, which he thinks is stupid, and doesn't fail to tell her so--
"This is stupid. I'm going to see all of you in like, two minutes. This is stupid."
"Will you just turn around?"
"It's stupid."
"Turn around."
--and he hears her rustling around in his bed for a moment before she gives him the ok to take his face out of the corner.
It pretty much takes everything he's got not to lose his shit at the sight of her, propped up against his headboard with his sheets pulled up to her chest, and he didn't think there was such a thing as being a "shoulder guy" but there's something about the way her entire body is covered except for that one part of her that makes it kinda mind-breaking; he wonders if she'd let him bite her there.
To be honest, he secretly thinks it's just a little hotter that she's still covered up--leaving stuff up to the imagination or whatever--and he'd be kinda happy to just spend the rest of the evening drinking in the sight of her, but of course, she's Rachel Berry, and she is the queen of ruining fantastic moments.
"Noah, when was the last time you changed your sheets?"
"Is this relevant?"
"It kind of is, yes."
"I don't know, my mom does that shit."
"You're old enough to start taking some of the domestic responsibilities off of her shoulders, Noah, especially given that she works so many overtime hours to provide for--"
"Oh my God, Rachel, just shut up."
"Stop telling me to shut up!"
"If you can go ten minutes without spouting some BANAL"--yes, threw that word back in her face like a pro--"monologue, I'll go twenty minutes without telling you to shut up."
And then they're fighting again, kinda like they do when she tries to talk over his TV shows except this time she's naked and she can't talk so animatedly, or the sheet slips down just a little bit.
"You really are insufferable," she says, but that word stopped working on him like the seventeenth time she used it, so he just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of the bed.
"Are you going to do this or not? Cause if not, scoot the hell over, I'm tired."
She doesn't answer him, choosing instead to narrow her eyes in disgust, so he's like fine, whatever, and clambers over the bed, ignoring her protests, and deposits himself next to her on top of the blankets.
"This is very inappropriate, Noah."
He lays on his back and laces his fingers behind his head. "My bed, Berry, if you don't like it, you can get out."
"This was obviously a terrible idea, I'm sorry I ever asked you."
"I forgive you."
"Will you let me get up and get dressed?"
He eyes her clothes, draped over his desk on the other side of the room. "I'm not stopping you."
"Well, I need to go get my clothes."
"Again, I'm not stopping you."
"You're not going to see me naked, Noah."
"Fine, you won't be seeing me naked, either."
"I never--!"
"You asked with your eyes."
"Ugh, you're such a pig."
"With all due respect, Berry, I'm not the one who proposed this arrangement."
She tries to pull the blankets out from under his dead weight, and after a moment or two of straining, she falls back against the headboard, glaring at him. "Ok, you win, are you happy?"
"Deliriously so."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
"How quick they forget!" He exclaims, sitting up to stare her down, "You came onto me, Berry, not the other--"
"I did not come onto you, you foul--"
"--but don't get me wrong, I totally don't blame you, cause if I were you--"
"--deplorable creature, I can't even--"
"--especially since I laid my game down like a viking last week--"
"--will you stop calling yourself that! What does that even mean any--"
"--and not for anything, but what are you even--"
"--a MOCKERY, I cannot believe I trusted you with that information--"
"--thought you wanted to be with Finn."
The word slaps the both of them, and silence settles over them and he's like, half hah, take that and half, oh crap why'd I say that but she just gets this weird look on her face like she's just swallowed a bug.
She juts her chin out, trying her hardest to look dignified while still completely naked. "I'm far too much of a respectable lady to go traipsing after my dear friend who has just separated from his long-time girlfriend."
"Right. He hasn't called you, you mean."
She doesn't answer but her eyes flicker and it's all the response he needs. "Right-o," he says, suddenly tired and headachey and feeling a twitch in his left eye. He gets up from the bed and crosses the room, gathering her clothes up into a rumpled mess and tossing them to her on the bed.
She sighs, pressing her fingers to her forehead in dramatic display of exasperation. "You're upset."
"You're naked."
"Noah."
"Thought we were playing State the Obvious." She gets this look on her face, this pitying, oh-you-poor-dear-you-thought-I-liked-you-look, and he sorta just kinda snaps. "Look, it's whatever. I don't give two shits about who you want to give it up to, Berry, but I'm tired of--"
God, don't even go there, pussy.
"I'm not gonna be your dress rehearsal, all right? So, whatever."
"It's not like that."
He bites the inside of his cheek, motions to her clothes and says, "I'll let you get dressed," before he can let himself to say something gay like if it's not like that, what is it like, then? cause he's not about to turn into one of those pansies who discuss their feelings or relationships or whatever--and this is so not a relationship anyways.
He is halfway to the door before she is scrambling out of the bed, forgoing the sheet and Jesus, yes, she's totally naked and Puck immediately slams his eyes shut cause... Jesus.
"Berry, seriously," he groans, covering his eyes with his hands for good measure cause he just doesn't trust himself not to peek.
"Am I really that hideous?" She huffs, a small twinge of hurt in her voice.
"God, are you kidding me? You're hot, you're totally hot, you're one of the hottest girls I know so put your clothes back on, please."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Yes, it does."
"Will you look at me, then?"
Notgonnalook notgonnalook notgonnalook
"Noah."
"God damn it, woman, just make up your mind, ten minutes ago I couldn't get you out from under those blankets if i had a Tony in my hand--and the fact that I'm now queer enough to know what a Tony is, thanks to you, is not lost on me."
"You should thank me for bringing a bit of culture and sophistication into your life, really--"
"Oh please, don't flatter yourself, Berry," and in his annoyance he drops his hands so he can focus fully on giving her a piece of his mind.
But then he gets a full eyeful and he's totally forgot what he was saying.
_____
He's still a guy, alright? Men are like, hard-wired to forgive a girl if she gets totally naked in front of him. So, no matter how pissed he was at her a second ago he sort of forgets all of that when he sees her for the first time, and it is so much better than all that fantasizing in math class.
She's got this nervous look on her face that's completely innocent except for the fact that she is naked from the neck--oh Christ, she kept those ridiculous socks on, which he thinks is equal parts adorable and mind-blowingly erotic; soft gray cotton pulled up to her knees followed by miles and miles of skin.
She traps her lower lip between her teeth and that's really all the invitation he needs, because he is on her in a flash, pressing his lips against hers, tangling one hand in her hair and snaking the other around her waist, stepping into her space to back her up against his bed.
He drags his mouth down the length of her jaw, tugging at her hair gently to tilt her head to the side, allowing better access. She murmurs something under her breath that he can't quite make out and he responds by running his free hand down over the curve of her ass.
"I want to watch you," he says (pleads), half expecting his voice to snap her back to reality--a reality where she'll call him a pig and stomp downstairs--but instead she nods against him, untangling her body from his and sinking to the bed slowly.
She lays herself out on his bed and she does it so slow and sensual he thinks she must have done this before; then she bumps her head on his headboard and it's enough to break the tension, causing them both to laugh in spite of the situation.
"Ow," she says, rubbing her head, but he is not about to let that break this mood so he sits on the edge of the bed next to her and puts his hand her left knee, forcing himself not to break eye contact with her.
"I want to see all of you," and this time his voice is doing that soft, sexy thing, but he's not even trying anymore. She nods her permission and he slides his fingers under the elastic band of her socks, caressing her calf all the way down, dragging the soft material with it; he cups her heel and runs his fingertips across the soft arch of her foot, and she sighs just slightly as the garment is removed completely and falls to the bed.
He brings his focus to her right knee and as he is about to restart the process, he sees her hands travelling down her body and his own hands stop cold; she notices his hesitation and she slows, eying him for a long time before nodding. "Take it off," she encourages, and her voice is low and husky and it resonates all the way through him, and so of course he obliges.
He starts on the right one, dragging it down the length of her leg, and she watches him with still hands--"Slower," she says--and as his fingers graze her toes, her breath hitches.
Her eyes slide shut as she dips a finger inside and he can't help but groan as he watches her move it in and out. She adds a second finger, pressing against her clit softly before sliding them inside of her, and he has to touch her, he just has to; he puts his hand on the nearest part of her he can touch--her ankle--and traces small circles against her skin with his thumb.
"Open your eyes," and it's so soft he doesn't know if he actually said it or just thought it, until her eyes are open and locked with his.
She continues to work her right hand between her thighs, moving at a slow, torturous pace and he briefly wonders how she can stand it before he is running his hand up her leg and across her thigh.
He crawls across the bed along side of her until he is laying flush against her, sharing the same pillow, and her eyes slip closed for a second--"No, no, keep them open,"--as he runs his palm across her belly.
She lifts her left hand to grab his and he shakes her off deftly, chuckling at the sigh of frustration it elicits. "Touch yourself with that hand, too," he says against her ear, and she nods barely, nuzzling her face against him.
Rachel trails her hand up her abdomen, brushing it across a nipple and the effect is immediate--she gasps slightly and her whole body bucks and it's enough to make him moan as he presses his lips to her neck.
He grazes his lips down her neck, sucking on her shoulder before biting it gently; it makes her groan and he can feel her speeding up, so he covers her hand with his, stilling it, and she whimpers.
"Wait a minute," he says, and he has to force the words out. A long moment hangs between them, silent save for their heavy breathing and she moves her hips slightly, trying to grind against their hands, so he intertwines his fingers with hers and pulls it away, brushing it up her body and leaving a slick, wet trail across her belly.
"No," she whines, and she sounds a little breathless as she squirms beside him, entire body buzzing with arousal.
"Just wait a minute," he shushes, ignoring her protests and bringing her fingers to his lips, "just wait." He sucks her fingers into his mouth and she moans again--fuck, she's just so. loud.--as he swirls his tongue between the two and then pulls them out of his mouth, scraping his teeth across her knuckles softly.
He releases her hand and she wastes no time in returning to work while he runs his hand across her entire body, touching every inch of her that he can reach. Her skin feels like velvet under his fingertips and he traces a circle around her navel before continuing his exploration of her, every dip and curve.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs into her hair and it is enough to finish her; she comes like she does everything else in life--loud and with passion--and she lifts her hips off his bed, moaning his name; garbled syllables breathed out between God, yes, please.
She starts to pull her hand away and he covers it with his own, pressing them against her. "No, no," he breathes, "keep it there, ride it out baby," and he moves his fingers against hers, guiding them.
He moves his hand over hers, whispering her name against her skin, and it takes only a minute before she is coming again, gasping as she pushes his hands away from her,
"Stop. Stop, please," she breathes, swallowing large gulps of air, "too much, it's too much."
They lay together for a long moment, her shaking against him, and finally he pulls his hand away from her, wiping his fingers on his jeans quickly before rolling onto his back, putting space between them.
She takes only a minute to catch her breath before she is on him, pulling herself flush against him and bringing her leg up over him.
"Kiss me."
She doesn't have to ask twice; he grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her mouth to his, running his tongue over her lips. She parts them slightly and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue between them, and his toes nearly curl when she sucks on it gently.
He runs his fingers down the length of her thigh, from hip to knee, before grabbing her waist and pulling her on top of him; he can feel her pressing against him, hot and wet and she rocks her hips against him once before sliding down his body, fumbling with the button of his jeans.
He doesn't realize he's repeating her name until she pulls his zipper undone. "Do you ever think about me like I do you?" she asks, her voice low and breathy.
He tries to nod, but she slips her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and it takes his breath away. She wraps her fingers around him and moves her hand slowly, tentatively at first and he bucks his hips against her.
"Oh God, Rach," he breathes, digging his fingers into her thighs--he briefly worries if he's hurting her but then she tightens her grip just barely and he is seeing stars.
She quickens her pace, grinding herself against his leg and the feel of that alone is enough to make his eyes flutter shut and then she is the one whispering, "Nono, keep them open, look at me."
He does and the sight of her atop him, sucking on her bottom lip with her hand wrapped around him is enough to break him, and then he is coming with a groan--"keep your eyes on me"--hot and sticky in her hand.
A heavy silence hangs in the air, her hand still between them, covered with him. Finally, slowly, she slides herself back up his body, leaning forward so her chest is pressed again him; her face inches from his.
"Kiss me," she repeats.
She doesn't have to ask twice.
_____
They sorta lay there for a while, sweaty and sticky and pressed together, but still pretty comfortable, and he kinda can't help but run his finger up and down her spine, enjoying the slick feel of her skin.
She clears her throat, like she wants to say something (he knew this silence was too good to last) and finally she opens her mouth. "You're not, you know," she says and she traces his jaw with her fingers--they smell like her.
He takes a while to reply; he's sleepy, and his voice is low and lazy when he says, "Not what?"
She kisses his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, all before answering. "A dress rehearsal. You're not a rehearsal at all."
And a grin crosses his face that's more smile than smirk. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be the first choice.
_____
Rachel comes over the next day, complete with her tray of goodies--Halvah (His mom would be so proud of him)--though Sarah is too engorged on candy bars to enjoy it.
His sister doesn't sleep, but it's a Friday so they don't particularly care, and when she asks if they can play a board game, he's kinda in too good a mood to tell her off. So he's like, whatever, and it ends up being kinda fun, especially when he wins (he cheats) and gets to rub it in their faces how they're the sorriest hotel owners ever.
Once Sarah starts to doze off on the loveseat, he spends the next twenty minutes putting his feet all over Rachel--"Seriously, Noah, get them off me"--until she moves to the floor and he can finally stretch out on the couch.
When The Daily Show finally comes on, Rachel talks the entire time.
But he lets her come lay with him on the couch again, anyways.
Author: Soliloquyrain
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,332
Spoilers: All aired episodes.
Summary: Sequel to Sixty-Four Colors. There are few forces in this world greater than that of a 16-year-old boy who thinks he has a chance at seeing boobs. Rachel has a hypothesis and Puck's all for hands-on experimentation.
Author's note: God, one day, maybe I'll actually write a fic that doesn't end in smut. Written for Becca_radcgg. Prompt: An instrument of art, Flu shots in both arms, a candy bar, and stupid snow drivers. Hope you enjoy. =)
_____
So, here's the thing.
She drives him kinda crazy. She's bossy and loud and God she just never shuts up, even when he's trying to watch TV and then he says really calmly, "Rach, I'm watching TV," and she gets quiet for like, 47 seconds before she's off again and so he says it a little louder and she gets a little louder, and then ten minutes later he is shouting, and she is shouting, and he's motioning to the TV like a giant moron cause she's making him miss Jon fucking Stewart and then finally Sarah comes downstairs cause they've woken her up, and then he's stuck with two crazy women; who still won't shut the fuck up and let him watch TV, he might add.
He half expected her to bail after he sexually assaulted her with a yellow crayon, which is a completely different story--one he'll come back to when he's looking for some prime spankin' material--but she didn't. The next night she was right there again with Turkish Delight and those ridiculous knee socks and when he put on his best shit-eating grin, leaned against the door, and said, "I knew you couldn't resist, Berry," she just pushed past him and rolled her eyes, using big words like Banalities and Frivolous and Gross National Product or something.
Surprised he knew that one, aren't you?
Anyways. Not only did she come back the next night, but pretty much almost every night after that--when his moms was at work, anyways--which was fine with him cause his crazy little sister loved her, which meant he was off the hook for babysitting duties.
What surprised him wasn't that she came back, but that she came back and acted like nothing happened, and that infuriates him.
So, yeah. She drives him kinda crazy. But it's ok, cause he drives her pretty crazy too. Like when she came over straight from the Health Department, and whined and moaned about the pain of getting Flu shots in either arm, which of course meant he spent the rest of the night arbitrarily poking her in her sore bicep; or the time they were watching one of her stupid musicals, and he kept hitting the Mute button, only unmuting it when she started to yell at him, which was fucking hilarious and only got funnier when she started to turn red. Or, his favorite, the time he hid her cell phone in the kitchen cabinet and called it every ten minutes (thank you, Jim Halpert) which had the added bonus of not only driving Rachel nuts, but sent Sarah into a tizzy trying to find it to help her new BFFE.
Despite driving each other nuts (which they do), at some point in this weird friendship, he sorta started not minding her presence so much and she sorta stopped calling him insufferable all the time. Which is weird enough within itself.
But when she turns to him one night with a paintbrush in her hand (cause she does all this arts and crafts shit with his sister cause she says it nurtures her right brain or whatever) and asks, "Have you ever just felt like, inexplicably horny?" he's pretty sure the meter on his Weirdness Reader just fucking broke.
_____
At first he tried to play it cool and was like, "Shit yeah, Berry, I'm a 16 year old Sex Viking, of course I'm always horny."
But then she waved that away and said this wasn't just teenage hormones, this was like, advanced horniness--her words, not his--and it's been so odd cause she's never experienced that before, well, once when her hormones went sort of crazy right before her peri--
And then he stops her there because, shit. He is not ready for that.
The funny thing about Rachel is she says shit like this and she's not even trying to be sexy. She didn't bring it up in hopes that he would offer his services--she just genuinely thinks that this is acceptable cleaning-up-the-living-room conversation.
So he tries to play it cool and not let on that she's just melted his brain, and he's doing pretty well until she says, "I think it's important for a person to take control of their own sexual needs," and then he's pretty sure his eyes are rolling into the back of his head with the images that accompanied that statement--she's annoying, but she's hot.
And then it sorta went down hill from there.
_____
Rachel Berry is nothing if not thorough, and he learns--through this weird Twilight-Zone conversation--that she's been doing her homework on the subject and she has webpages bookmarked and Jesus, she practices, and the mental image of her sitting at her desk with one leg on her chair and her head thrown back is enough to make him feel dizzy and it totally beats the snot out of the whole yellow crayon memory in terms of High-Interest Spank Bank material.
He tries to concentrate on her soliloquy but her voice sort of teeters in and out of focus and he can only catch bits and pieces because he's so fucking hard thinking about her touching herself that he's fairly certain his brain is suffering supreme blood loss.
"Full disclosure... manual stimulation... visual stimulus."
(Rachel. Naked. Finger. FUCK.)
"Well, I was wondering, since you have been one of my visual aids, if maybe I'll have more success with you actually in front of me. Or maybe I can increase the frequency of my orgasms or the speed of them."
Yup, he's just come in his pants and he has to place a hand on the wall to steady himself. It's kinda gross (and something he hasn't done since seventh grade) but he's still half hard and she just keeps talking.
"Anyway, I was hoping that you'd be open to the suggestion that we make an appointment time and experiment with my hypothesis. Would that be agreeable to you?"
Finally she breathes and he steps so that their bodies are touching, so that there's no mistaking his "primal" reaction to her. He grabs her arms and forces her lips on his. Fuck, she tastes so good, like strawberry lip stuff and candied sin wrapped in a virginal package. Fucking irresistible to a guy like him.
She sort of yelps in surprise at first, but then leans into it and deepens the kiss, and he only briefly wonders if Finn's ever kissed her like this as he runs his hands down her arms, pulling that stupid paintbrush out of her grip. When he pulls away, she's a little breathless (ok, fine, maybe he is too) and her lips are slightly swollen.
"So, maybe I should see this technique of yours," he says and his voice is low and croaky, like he's just swallowed an air bubble, and it's not at all the sexy come-hither voice he was trying to make.
Her face flushes spectacularly, and she seems to be reconsidering this fantastic plan of hers, because she stammers, "I, uh, well I didn't mean now."
Their bodies are still pressed close together and he moves against her just slightly, reminding her that he's there, and it makes her eyes bulge and her lips part in surprise.
He twirls the paintbrush between his fingers for a split second before dragging it up her arm; it's still slightly damp and it leaves a wet streak up soft curve of her inner elbow.
"Hey, so," he starts but he's not sure how to say what's next without sounding completely gay, or like a little girl--or like Finn.
(Hey, so, I think about you too, like, alot. Totally gay.)
She tilts her head to the side, waiting for his next words, but she's looking at him with such intensity that he pusses out and clears his throat before saying, "So, yeah, let's get practicing," as he plasters that Puckerman grin back onto his face, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the couch despite her squeals.
"Well, I mean, I'm not ready now, I was just thinking we could set--"
He interrupts her by flopping himself onto the couch, pulling her down on top of him gracelessly.
"I can't really do it in this particular position," she protests, followed by a squeak when he slides his hands up her skirt and he thinks it's only kinda really-fucking-adorable.
"Yeah well, figured I'd help you set the mood."
She contemplates, shifting on him slightly and making him suck his teeth in response. "Yeah, ok," she says after studying his face, and she lowers her lips onto his.
They settle into each other seamlessly (it kinda frightens him how well she fits against him), and when he runs his hand up the inside of her shirt, she pulls away from him with a gasp.
"No," she hisses, and it makes him laugh cause really?
"You're about to give me a live demonstration of the "inner workings" of Rachel Berry and I'm still not allowed up your shirt?"
"It's different."
"How is it different?"
She sits up on him and he tries his hardest to focus on her face and not the fact that she's sitting right on him. "Well for one, it'll be my hands--"
He scoffs and she stabs his chest with a finger.
"--my hands on me and two, my breasts have nothing to do with this."
He grows serious, widening his eyes at her in surprise. "Seriously? Well, psh, there's one of your many, many problems, Berry."
"What?" She looks genuinely confused, "Do you think I should incorporate breast play into my routine?"
"Ok, one, by talking like that, you're sucking all the fun out of something that is supposed to be a lot of fun, and two--"
He never does get to two because he hears a door open upstairs, followed by tiny footsteps coming towards the stairs. "Noah?" Sarah calls out, and Rachel all but flies off the couch and onto the neighboring loveseat.
Seriously, he's never seen a girl move so fast, not even Linda Howser that one time her husband came home when he was in the middle of "cleaning her pool."
_____
He jumps off the couch and rushes towards the stairs, meeting his sister halfway before she can actually see into the living room. "Heeeeey, Sarah," he says as he picks her up and carries her upstairs.
She squirms in his grip, kicking at his knees. "Let me down, I want a drink of water."
Once they're back in her room, he sets her down, kneeling so he is eye-level with her. "Look. If you stay up here and don't come out again, I will totally take you shopping tomorrow and buy you all the candy bars you want."
"I want one now."
"I don't have one now."
"Then I want water."
He groans in frustration as he imagines the girl downstairs; she's probably putting on her coat and preparing to leave. "I'll bring you a glass of water."
She eyes him warily, and when she agrees, he is barreling down the stairs and when he sees Rachel--just as he thought--standing at the front door with her coat on, he all but whines.
"No, no, no," he sighs, and he is on her in a second, gripping her hips and trying to lead her back to the couch.
"I do hope you're not trying to "do" me while your little sister is awake upstairs," she says, though she only sounds half-disgusted and he takes that as a good sign.
"Of course not, Berry," he says, putting on his best offended face, "she should be asleep in like, twenty minutes."
She makes a face and scoffs disgustedly and he thinks she's been spending way, way too much time with Santana, but she lets him drag her into the kitchen even though she's saying, "I really should go" in that mewling voice she has, which he never realized how much he liked until now.
He feels like he is moving in fast forward, and he throws a few cubes of ice into a glass of tap water and takes two steps out of the kitchen before turning back towards her. "Stay. Here."
When he has tucked his sister back into bed, he rushes back into the hallway to find Rachel leaning against his bedroom door.
"So," she starts, her voice a little shaky, "You have a lock on your door, right?"
_____
It takes some needling to get her to sit on his bed, even after he's locked the door, and she refuses to get undressed until she's sure his sister is asleep. So they spend thirty minutes making awkward small talk and for the first time ever he's relieved at her natural inability to shut up.
She carries a conversation by herself, complaining about nearly getting run off the road last week by some moron who cut her off in a snow storm, how much homework her history teacher gave her over the weekend, and when she's started on her opinions of her voice versus that of Mercedes--"She really does have a wonderful voice but it's not a show tune voice and I think she needs to accept that"--he jumps up, slaps his hands together and tries not to look too excited.
"Right. I'm gonna go check on Sarah."
When he finds her sleeping, he nearly does a happy dance. But then remembers he's Noah Puckerman, and he doesn't play that.
_____
She makes him turn around as she gets undressed, which he thinks is stupid, and doesn't fail to tell her so--
"This is stupid. I'm going to see all of you in like, two minutes. This is stupid."
"Will you just turn around?"
"It's stupid."
"Turn around."
--and he hears her rustling around in his bed for a moment before she gives him the ok to take his face out of the corner.
It pretty much takes everything he's got not to lose his shit at the sight of her, propped up against his headboard with his sheets pulled up to her chest, and he didn't think there was such a thing as being a "shoulder guy" but there's something about the way her entire body is covered except for that one part of her that makes it kinda mind-breaking; he wonders if she'd let him bite her there.
To be honest, he secretly thinks it's just a little hotter that she's still covered up--leaving stuff up to the imagination or whatever--and he'd be kinda happy to just spend the rest of the evening drinking in the sight of her, but of course, she's Rachel Berry, and she is the queen of ruining fantastic moments.
"Noah, when was the last time you changed your sheets?"
"Is this relevant?"
"It kind of is, yes."
"I don't know, my mom does that shit."
"You're old enough to start taking some of the domestic responsibilities off of her shoulders, Noah, especially given that she works so many overtime hours to provide for--"
"Oh my God, Rachel, just shut up."
"Stop telling me to shut up!"
"If you can go ten minutes without spouting some BANAL"--yes, threw that word back in her face like a pro--"monologue, I'll go twenty minutes without telling you to shut up."
And then they're fighting again, kinda like they do when she tries to talk over his TV shows except this time she's naked and she can't talk so animatedly, or the sheet slips down just a little bit.
"You really are insufferable," she says, but that word stopped working on him like the seventeenth time she used it, so he just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of the bed.
"Are you going to do this or not? Cause if not, scoot the hell over, I'm tired."
She doesn't answer him, choosing instead to narrow her eyes in disgust, so he's like fine, whatever, and clambers over the bed, ignoring her protests, and deposits himself next to her on top of the blankets.
"This is very inappropriate, Noah."
He lays on his back and laces his fingers behind his head. "My bed, Berry, if you don't like it, you can get out."
"This was obviously a terrible idea, I'm sorry I ever asked you."
"I forgive you."
"Will you let me get up and get dressed?"
He eyes her clothes, draped over his desk on the other side of the room. "I'm not stopping you."
"Well, I need to go get my clothes."
"Again, I'm not stopping you."
"You're not going to see me naked, Noah."
"Fine, you won't be seeing me naked, either."
"I never--!"
"You asked with your eyes."
"Ugh, you're such a pig."
"With all due respect, Berry, I'm not the one who proposed this arrangement."
She tries to pull the blankets out from under his dead weight, and after a moment or two of straining, she falls back against the headboard, glaring at him. "Ok, you win, are you happy?"
"Deliriously so."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
"How quick they forget!" He exclaims, sitting up to stare her down, "You came onto me, Berry, not the other--"
"I did not come onto you, you foul--"
"--but don't get me wrong, I totally don't blame you, cause if I were you--"
"--deplorable creature, I can't even--"
"--especially since I laid my game down like a viking last week--"
"--will you stop calling yourself that! What does that even mean any--"
"--and not for anything, but what are you even--"
"--a MOCKERY, I cannot believe I trusted you with that information--"
"--thought you wanted to be with Finn."
The word slaps the both of them, and silence settles over them and he's like, half hah, take that and half, oh crap why'd I say that but she just gets this weird look on her face like she's just swallowed a bug.
She juts her chin out, trying her hardest to look dignified while still completely naked. "I'm far too much of a respectable lady to go traipsing after my dear friend who has just separated from his long-time girlfriend."
"Right. He hasn't called you, you mean."
She doesn't answer but her eyes flicker and it's all the response he needs. "Right-o," he says, suddenly tired and headachey and feeling a twitch in his left eye. He gets up from the bed and crosses the room, gathering her clothes up into a rumpled mess and tossing them to her on the bed.
She sighs, pressing her fingers to her forehead in dramatic display of exasperation. "You're upset."
"You're naked."
"Noah."
"Thought we were playing State the Obvious." She gets this look on her face, this pitying, oh-you-poor-dear-you-thought-I-liked-you-look, and he sorta just kinda snaps. "Look, it's whatever. I don't give two shits about who you want to give it up to, Berry, but I'm tired of--"
God, don't even go there, pussy.
"I'm not gonna be your dress rehearsal, all right? So, whatever."
"It's not like that."
He bites the inside of his cheek, motions to her clothes and says, "I'll let you get dressed," before he can let himself to say something gay like if it's not like that, what is it like, then? cause he's not about to turn into one of those pansies who discuss their feelings or relationships or whatever--and this is so not a relationship anyways.
He is halfway to the door before she is scrambling out of the bed, forgoing the sheet and Jesus, yes, she's totally naked and Puck immediately slams his eyes shut cause... Jesus.
"Berry, seriously," he groans, covering his eyes with his hands for good measure cause he just doesn't trust himself not to peek.
"Am I really that hideous?" She huffs, a small twinge of hurt in her voice.
"God, are you kidding me? You're hot, you're totally hot, you're one of the hottest girls I know so put your clothes back on, please."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Yes, it does."
"Will you look at me, then?"
Notgonnalook notgonnalook notgonnalook
"Noah."
"God damn it, woman, just make up your mind, ten minutes ago I couldn't get you out from under those blankets if i had a Tony in my hand--and the fact that I'm now queer enough to know what a Tony is, thanks to you, is not lost on me."
"You should thank me for bringing a bit of culture and sophistication into your life, really--"
"Oh please, don't flatter yourself, Berry," and in his annoyance he drops his hands so he can focus fully on giving her a piece of his mind.
But then he gets a full eyeful and he's totally forgot what he was saying.
_____
He's still a guy, alright? Men are like, hard-wired to forgive a girl if she gets totally naked in front of him. So, no matter how pissed he was at her a second ago he sort of forgets all of that when he sees her for the first time, and it is so much better than all that fantasizing in math class.
She's got this nervous look on her face that's completely innocent except for the fact that she is naked from the neck--oh Christ, she kept those ridiculous socks on, which he thinks is equal parts adorable and mind-blowingly erotic; soft gray cotton pulled up to her knees followed by miles and miles of skin.
She traps her lower lip between her teeth and that's really all the invitation he needs, because he is on her in a flash, pressing his lips against hers, tangling one hand in her hair and snaking the other around her waist, stepping into her space to back her up against his bed.
He drags his mouth down the length of her jaw, tugging at her hair gently to tilt her head to the side, allowing better access. She murmurs something under her breath that he can't quite make out and he responds by running his free hand down over the curve of her ass.
"I want to watch you," he says (pleads), half expecting his voice to snap her back to reality--a reality where she'll call him a pig and stomp downstairs--but instead she nods against him, untangling her body from his and sinking to the bed slowly.
She lays herself out on his bed and she does it so slow and sensual he thinks she must have done this before; then she bumps her head on his headboard and it's enough to break the tension, causing them both to laugh in spite of the situation.
"Ow," she says, rubbing her head, but he is not about to let that break this mood so he sits on the edge of the bed next to her and puts his hand her left knee, forcing himself not to break eye contact with her.
"I want to see all of you," and this time his voice is doing that soft, sexy thing, but he's not even trying anymore. She nods her permission and he slides his fingers under the elastic band of her socks, caressing her calf all the way down, dragging the soft material with it; he cups her heel and runs his fingertips across the soft arch of her foot, and she sighs just slightly as the garment is removed completely and falls to the bed.
He brings his focus to her right knee and as he is about to restart the process, he sees her hands travelling down her body and his own hands stop cold; she notices his hesitation and she slows, eying him for a long time before nodding. "Take it off," she encourages, and her voice is low and husky and it resonates all the way through him, and so of course he obliges.
He starts on the right one, dragging it down the length of her leg, and she watches him with still hands--"Slower," she says--and as his fingers graze her toes, her breath hitches.
Her eyes slide shut as she dips a finger inside and he can't help but groan as he watches her move it in and out. She adds a second finger, pressing against her clit softly before sliding them inside of her, and he has to touch her, he just has to; he puts his hand on the nearest part of her he can touch--her ankle--and traces small circles against her skin with his thumb.
"Open your eyes," and it's so soft he doesn't know if he actually said it or just thought it, until her eyes are open and locked with his.
She continues to work her right hand between her thighs, moving at a slow, torturous pace and he briefly wonders how she can stand it before he is running his hand up her leg and across her thigh.
He crawls across the bed along side of her until he is laying flush against her, sharing the same pillow, and her eyes slip closed for a second--"No, no, keep them open,"--as he runs his palm across her belly.
She lifts her left hand to grab his and he shakes her off deftly, chuckling at the sigh of frustration it elicits. "Touch yourself with that hand, too," he says against her ear, and she nods barely, nuzzling her face against him.
Rachel trails her hand up her abdomen, brushing it across a nipple and the effect is immediate--she gasps slightly and her whole body bucks and it's enough to make him moan as he presses his lips to her neck.
He grazes his lips down her neck, sucking on her shoulder before biting it gently; it makes her groan and he can feel her speeding up, so he covers her hand with his, stilling it, and she whimpers.
"Wait a minute," he says, and he has to force the words out. A long moment hangs between them, silent save for their heavy breathing and she moves her hips slightly, trying to grind against their hands, so he intertwines his fingers with hers and pulls it away, brushing it up her body and leaving a slick, wet trail across her belly.
"No," she whines, and she sounds a little breathless as she squirms beside him, entire body buzzing with arousal.
"Just wait a minute," he shushes, ignoring her protests and bringing her fingers to his lips, "just wait." He sucks her fingers into his mouth and she moans again--fuck, she's just so. loud.--as he swirls his tongue between the two and then pulls them out of his mouth, scraping his teeth across her knuckles softly.
He releases her hand and she wastes no time in returning to work while he runs his hand across her entire body, touching every inch of her that he can reach. Her skin feels like velvet under his fingertips and he traces a circle around her navel before continuing his exploration of her, every dip and curve.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs into her hair and it is enough to finish her; she comes like she does everything else in life--loud and with passion--and she lifts her hips off his bed, moaning his name; garbled syllables breathed out between God, yes, please.
She starts to pull her hand away and he covers it with his own, pressing them against her. "No, no," he breathes, "keep it there, ride it out baby," and he moves his fingers against hers, guiding them.
He moves his hand over hers, whispering her name against her skin, and it takes only a minute before she is coming again, gasping as she pushes his hands away from her,
"Stop. Stop, please," she breathes, swallowing large gulps of air, "too much, it's too much."
They lay together for a long moment, her shaking against him, and finally he pulls his hand away from her, wiping his fingers on his jeans quickly before rolling onto his back, putting space between them.
She takes only a minute to catch her breath before she is on him, pulling herself flush against him and bringing her leg up over him.
"Kiss me."
She doesn't have to ask twice; he grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her mouth to his, running his tongue over her lips. She parts them slightly and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue between them, and his toes nearly curl when she sucks on it gently.
He runs his fingers down the length of her thigh, from hip to knee, before grabbing her waist and pulling her on top of him; he can feel her pressing against him, hot and wet and she rocks her hips against him once before sliding down his body, fumbling with the button of his jeans.
He doesn't realize he's repeating her name until she pulls his zipper undone. "Do you ever think about me like I do you?" she asks, her voice low and breathy.
He tries to nod, but she slips her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and it takes his breath away. She wraps her fingers around him and moves her hand slowly, tentatively at first and he bucks his hips against her.
"Oh God, Rach," he breathes, digging his fingers into her thighs--he briefly worries if he's hurting her but then she tightens her grip just barely and he is seeing stars.
She quickens her pace, grinding herself against his leg and the feel of that alone is enough to make his eyes flutter shut and then she is the one whispering, "Nono, keep them open, look at me."
He does and the sight of her atop him, sucking on her bottom lip with her hand wrapped around him is enough to break him, and then he is coming with a groan--"keep your eyes on me"--hot and sticky in her hand.
A heavy silence hangs in the air, her hand still between them, covered with him. Finally, slowly, she slides herself back up his body, leaning forward so her chest is pressed again him; her face inches from his.
"Kiss me," she repeats.
She doesn't have to ask twice.
_____
They sorta lay there for a while, sweaty and sticky and pressed together, but still pretty comfortable, and he kinda can't help but run his finger up and down her spine, enjoying the slick feel of her skin.
She clears her throat, like she wants to say something (he knew this silence was too good to last) and finally she opens her mouth. "You're not, you know," she says and she traces his jaw with her fingers--they smell like her.
He takes a while to reply; he's sleepy, and his voice is low and lazy when he says, "Not what?"
She kisses his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, all before answering. "A dress rehearsal. You're not a rehearsal at all."
And a grin crosses his face that's more smile than smirk. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be the first choice.
_____
Rachel comes over the next day, complete with her tray of goodies--Halvah (His mom would be so proud of him)--though Sarah is too engorged on candy bars to enjoy it.
His sister doesn't sleep, but it's a Friday so they don't particularly care, and when she asks if they can play a board game, he's kinda in too good a mood to tell her off. So he's like, whatever, and it ends up being kinda fun, especially when he wins (he cheats) and gets to rub it in their faces how they're the sorriest hotel owners ever.
Once Sarah starts to doze off on the loveseat, he spends the next twenty minutes putting his feet all over Rachel--"Seriously, Noah, get them off me"--until she moves to the floor and he can finally stretch out on the couch.
When The Daily Show finally comes on, Rachel talks the entire time.
But he lets her come lay with him on the couch again, anyways.