Chapter Text
On the bus to sectionals, he ended up sitting behind her, ‘accidentally,’ right at the back of the bus. She was on her own, something that he delighted in pointing out to her, because she was a total loser. She wasn’t even watching Finn and Quinn together like he thought she would be. She gazed out of the window, and every now and then looked down at her music.
'You probably care more about this shit than you do about other people,' Puck drawled, leaning forwards so that his mouth was by her ear. He was up for doing anything that felt good, and ribbing her about her pathetic, over-achieving life while being close to her was one of those things that he enjoyed. Rachel shifted away from him on her seat and then turned to look at him. She raised one, arch, eyebrow.
'Are you suggesting that people like you are worth caring for? I think you'll find that my ability to care for people is directly proportionate to how well they treat me, thank you.'
She turned forward again. Puck narrowed his eyes. It was like he was constantly surprised by how well she could lash him back, when she had the energy. After all this time, how did he not expect it?
He got off his seat and joined her on her own. She pushed at him, but he simply used his bulk to crowd her space and get her to move sideways against the window. Mr. Schue looked back at them, and then went back to talking to Brittany about oh, Puck imagined, something riveting like kittens or strawberries or what was it the other day? Ripe mangoes. Right.
Next to Rachel's slender form, especially the way she pressed herself into the window, he felt awesome and like a winning football player, all macho and strong. Not like the loser football player he actually was. He fake yawned, fake stretched, put a heavy arm around her shoulders. A few more people looked back at that, Artie rolled his eyes, Mercedes laughed, but they went back to their business. But Rachel, underneath his arm, was so tense that he thought she was going to jump right out of the chair.
'Get your arm off me.'
He squeezed her shoulder with his whole hand.
'Aw, I'm treating you pretty well right now. Your care factor for me must be increasing, right?' He grinned. 'And if it's not, at least I'm distracting you from your nerves about a meaningless competition. I'm your saviour.'
‘You are a bully,’ she snarled and then sighed explosively. ‘I don’t understand you at all. I’ve seen glimmers of you not being a miserable asshole, where are they now?’
‘I don’t know what to tell you, I hear the sound of your voice and they disappear,’ he said, and then grimaced. Glimmers of him not being an asshole? He had assumed that Rachel had typecast him like everyone else did. He ground his teeth together and then started to move his arm away.
‘No, keep it there,’ Rachel said suddenly, and Puck followed the direction of her gaze. Finn was watching them both, a furrow between his brows.
‘That is rich, Berry,’ Puck said, leaning back and shaking his head in disbelief.
A couple of minutes passed and Rachel relaxed next to him, and he began to become aware of the two of them together on the seat. He felt her next to him. He conveniently forgot how hot she was sometimes, when she was talking, or with what she usually wore (skirts are fine, but knee socks? Come on). But this was kind of nice. The hand on her shoulders became the back of his knuckles stroking down the side of her arm. Up and down. Up and down. He watched her open her mouth to protest, but then, inexplicably, she closed it again. He stopped himself from nodding, and couldn’t stop himself from thinking, well of course she’s desperate for it.
She sighed, her eyelids lowered so that he couldn’t properly see her expression, and then she looked away again. He wondered if she was ignoring him, or something else. He decided to find out.
He let the side of his knuckles 'accidentally' brush against the side of her breast and she tensed briefly, but then relaxed and didn’t shift away. So he did it again, and again, until the hands resting primly on her knees clenched at her skirt. Puck bit the inside of his lip. Hot. The seats were high enough and they were far back enough, that he could probably touch her breast without anyone really seeing. So he let knuckles become fingers, cupped her breast gently, squeezed.
Rachel exhaled shakily, turned back as though she was going to say something. He couldn’t actually believe she had been quiet for this long.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked after a beat, her voice low and quiet.
'Feeling you up,' he said, matching her tone, letting his hand drift down her ribs and back up again. She wore a soft sweater, but he doubted it’d be as soft as her skin. He looked around again, but he didn’t know why he bothered, no one gave a shit about what they were doing. He deftly navigated the underside of her sweater, finding his way to bare skin. He let his cool hand luxuriate in the secret warmth of her ribs. And then he trailed fingers up, skating the lace (oh yeah) on the underside of her breasts.
Rachel’s breath hitched, and she looked at him then. Their faces were so close. He could see her wide, vulnerable and confused expression. And even better, the way her lips were just oh-so-slightly parted so she could breathe heavier without people noticing. He thought about kissing her, but he didn’t.
'Surely you can see that this can't end well, on account of us being on a bus?' she whispered, and Puck shrugged, the motion bringing his fingers over her nipple through the lace. He rubbed finger-pads against it and watched her eyes flutter. He pinched the nipple more firmly and she made the tiniest of noises, jerked a little. But then her chest heaved harder and one of the hands on her knees transferred to his own, squeezed his thigh. He got harder, swallowed. He imagined that hand, those perfect nails on his dick, and felt dizzy for a moment.
'What, you think it's going to have an even better ending once we get to the motel?' he drawled, pinching her nipple again, wishing that he wasn’t so restricted from moving. That they weren't on a freaking bus. 'Thinking about it now, are you? Me pulling your legs apart, pushing myself into you, you thinking 'oh wait a minute, I was saving that for Finn, whoops,' how well do you think this is gonna end?' he smirked as her eyes opened. She looked wounded.
She moved her hand off his thigh, poked at his hand through her sweater so that it moved off her breast. He rested his hand on her ribs instead, waited to see what she would do. He wondered why he said these things to her.
'You're a pig,' she said quietly, and then, 'has it ever occurred to you that I'm aware exactly how ridiculous it is that I have a crush on someone who is soon to be a father of a child from a mishap teen pregnancy?'
'No. I don't think you're aware of exactly how ridiculous it is. That's why I'm here. On this trip. I'm a portable reality check for the number one Diva gleetard. I'm here just for you, babe,’ he mocked her, and she reached back with her hands and grabbed the fingers resting against her torso and twisted them back so hard he swore in pain and yanked his hand and arm back.
As the others looked back to them, Rachel stood up and moved awkwardly around him to another seat further up the bus. She ended up behind Mercedes and Kurt, who turned around to draw her into their conversation. Rachel responded with fake enthusiasm, and Puck knew it was fake, because no girl reacted the way she just did if the insult hadn’t landed. Bullseye.
If he were a sensitive, smarter guy, he’d think about why he was such an asshole. But instead he just stayed at the back of the bus, fell asleep while hard, thought about all the ways he could get under Rachel’s skin again.
________________________________________
He knew she was avoiding him, which made it even better. He was all about the chase, sometimes. Especially when he knew that he had a back-up of cougars that he didn’t have to chase at all. The reassurance of knowing that he could get pussy whenever he wanted allowed him to relax into the game. And that game was Rachel Berry.
Some of them end up with rooms together. Mercedes, Tina, Artie and Kurt requested it specifically, and so did a few of the others. But Rachel, he and Mr. Schue, along with the 'we can't trust you not to have sex because you're already pregnant hey' Quinn and Finn, got separate rooms. He checked his out, it was pretty lame, and decided to check in on Rachel.
He found her room number thanks to Mr. Schue, under the pretence of wanting to practice one of the songs.
He turned the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open. He walked in, and she was sleeping, fully clothed, on top of her bed. She was curled in on herself, one arm thrown out like she was reaching for something, probably her fame, he thought. He noticed her music notes on the floor, on the bedside stand. He'd never known anyone to take anything so seriously. He closed the door gently behind him, locked it, and then walked over to pick up some of the music. There are notations everywhere. 'Don't go flat!' and 'kill it' and 'big smile here!' and the kind of shit he actually expected her to write.
He put the music down, looked at Rachel, smiled to himself. The idea of sliding next to her, feeling her up until she woke up was a tempting fantasy, but also so not his style. He was not into chicks being asleep while he was making his moves. So instead he goes something that will be entertaining instead. He kicked the bed hard.
Rachel's eyes flew open as the bed shuddered in a way that suggested maybe one shouldn’t kick motel beds at all. Ever. Her reaching arm jerked back into her body, and in a matter of seconds she was sitting up, looking dazed and still managing to glare pure, venomous hatred at him.
'You forgot to lock the door,' he explained. 'Let this be your cautionary tale.'
'This is trespassing and harassment. I could press charges, you know.'
'Do it,' he flicked his cell phone at her, and it landed on the bed next to her. She looked at it, confused, and then looked back at him.
'Why are you doing this? You can’t actually be interested in me.'
'You know,' he said, as he sat down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. 'You're kind of hot, right? I mean kind of, not all out prom queen like Quinn or anything, but still...' he turned to face her, and then held his hands up when she started to get off the bed in disgust.
'Slow down, Sleeping Beauty,' he said, as she paused. He scooted towards her, seeing up close that she was still waking up, blinking like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.
He slowly reached out and grasped her forearm and she didn’t move away. She just looked down at the place where he’d made contact and bit at her bottom lip. He kept her gently pinned to the bed as he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips against his opened to say something, to protest maybe, and he licked her bottom lip with his tongue, before biting it. He slipped his tongue into her mouth like he was tasting a secret; gentle and thorough, slanting his lips across hers and feeling pretty damned awesome because man, sex with older women had put him in a pretty good position to read body language. Nothing like a woman in her prime to tell you exactly what she wanted, teach you things about the body they’d never teach in sex ed.
Rachel’s tongue, smaller than his, the one that shaped those perfect notes, shifted softly in her mouth and then touched his hesitantly. He responded by slicking his tongue up along hers and she shivered, leaned forward minutely. So he let go of her forearm and arched up over her, keeping their mouths connected, using his weight to encourage her to lie back down on the bed.
She made the tiniest of moans against him, something despairing in the tone, and he broke away from her lips and licked the side of her mouth, kissed his way along her jaw, licked the underside of that, kissed his way to her ear. She breathed heavily, not protesting, knees drawn up and one hand on his arm holding on. When he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, she turned her head for better access. And when he started kissing the side of her neck, running his hand down her arm, she exhaled hard.
'Why are you doing this?' she said again, her voice breathier, body shifting restlessly when he ran his hand over her clothed belly. He ignored her, kissed her collarbone, pulled the collar of her sweater down and kissed further. And then he pulled the hem of her sweater up. He looked down at her smooth, olive skin and held back from groaning as he moved down to kiss her belly. She spasmed beneath him, sensitive, and he kept kissing it until the muscles relaxed against him and she sighed again.
When he ran his teeth over her gently, her fingers clenched the bedspread. He smiled, lazily, pushed his body alongside hers, wrapped a leg around one of hers so that his thigh was moving her legs apart. He propped himself up on one elbow, looked down at her, thought of a few insults and then decided it wasn’t worth it. Not in this moment. He kissed her again, tongue tangling with hers, and then thrust it lewdly, provocatively. Rachel’s reaction was startling, and her whole body arched up against his. She whimpered.
‘Oh yeah, baby,’ he muttered, as he squeezed her knee and brought it up so that he had better access to all that skin underneath the skirt. He trailed his hand down her inner thigh, and she actually whimpered again, clutched at him, and then one of her hands grasped at his chest. She was kissing him back hard now, insistent, but her lips stumbled when he grazed her cotton panties. She paused, stilled, like she couldn’t believe what he was doing. Neither could he. She was so hot, like a furnace, and he felt dampness between her legs. He wondered if this was from earlier, on the bus, or from just now, and he didn’t care. He opened his eyes, looked at her closed ones. Wondered what she was thinking.
'Open your eyes, Rachel,' he said, and she did. They were wide and apprehensive. He couldn’t blame her for waiting for him to spoil it.
'Watch me,' He ordered, not wanting to be a Finn substitute, slipping a finger beneath the cotton, using his hand to make the fabric looser, give him more room to manoeuvre. And then he watched her intently as he slid the tip of his finger into her tight, wet heat. Rachel's mouth shaped a wordless syllable, her eyes fell closed, and he could almost feel all her concentration pooling at the centre of her body. He kissed the side of her mouth, pressed his head against hers.
'You want me to go deeper?' he husked, and she whimpered. He didn’t know what it was, but those high-pitched noises were really getting to him, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t believe it, but Rachel might actually like being talked dirty to. He hoped so, because when things went silent between the two of them for too long, things got strange and awkward.
He took the noise for an answer and slid his finger as deep as it would go. She was so hot, so tight, that his dick jerked in the confines of his jeans. He bit his lip, and Rachel’s head tilted backwards. She moaned as he withdrew, pressed back in again.
'You want me to fuck you?' he said, bluntly, and she gasped.
'Yes,’ followed by, ‘but, we shouldn't.' But her hand was underneath his shirt now, while the other clenched even harder on the bedspread. And she was touching him wherever she could reach skin.
'Shouldn't we? You really are saving yourself up for Finn, huh?' he said, pressing himself up against a slightly roughened patch of skin inside of all of that wet heat. Rachel bit off a shout, arched, her eyes widened.
'Oh god,' she choked.
'Like that, huh? Berry, I'll do that again, and then you can tell me why we shouldn't fuck,' he said darkly, but instead of doing it once, he pressed against the spot over and over again, rubbing it, slowly easing another finger into that impossible tightness. He was more aware of the restriction around his fingers now, and thought because she’s a virgin, and watched her face as he continued to untangle her defences. She said a half-word that he couldn’t identify, moaned long and loud. It would be perfect pitch if it wasn’t for the shakiness, the need she had to be constantly catching her breath.
'So tell me why,' he said, stopping suddenly, leaving his fingers inside of her. Rachel shifted, incoherent, rumpling her clothing even more. He stared down at her clothed breasts and thought, Jesus, what is wrong with me? Serious oversight here.
He withdrew his fingers, wiped them against her inner thigh, and then tugged at her sweater until she lifted her arms. And then her shirt. And then finally he was unsnapping her bra. As he drew it off her shoulders, her hand came up and held the bra to her chest.
'You can have sex with anyone, but doing it with me is just cruel,' she said, looking down at the bed, and then up to him again, face flushed. 'It doesn't matter what I want, what matters is your motives.'
She didn’t sound nearly as put together as usual. Her voice shook, and she looked dishevelled. Her skirt was bunched up, her bra hung off one shoulder, held in place by her hand. Puck looked at the way she looked back down at the bedspread again, and narrowed his eyes.
'It's never gonna be Finn,' he said, angry, and she smiled sadly.
'I'm not naive, Noah,' she said softly, vulnerable where he was abrasive. 'I know it's not going to be him. Probably not ever. No matter what I do, or what I want. This isn't about him, even though you seem to want it to be about him. It's about you. You saying to all your buddies 'I tapped that and wish I hadn't' in the boy's change rooms. Or accidentally letting Mr. Schue know that I'm not a virgin anymore. Or any of the hundred things you could say, you will say, to make me think of this as the biggest regret of my life. I get that a woman's first time is not perfect. But in this situation, I'd settle for something that I didn't look back on with horror for the rest of my life.'
Puck was struck dumb by her monologue. Because he really was like that. Because everything she had just said was everything he'd consider doing, except that he'd probably be a bit more lewd about it.
He really looked at her now, the way goosebumps had come up all across her skin. And the way she was concertedly not looking at him, being as non-confrontational as possible, laying it all out. He could say so much, right now, there were so many perfect one-liners to use in this situation. But he said nothing, rendered quiet by her quietness.
'What if I didn't do those things?' he said, suddenly, hopefully, wondering why he was even asking. He should just walk away now, forget this ever happened, find someone else to screw that wouldn't be such a simultaneous mind-fuck.
Rachel looked at him. She looked like she was about to cry.
'I can actually keep a secret,' he said suddenly. 'I have. I could have told everyone that I tapped Quinn, and I didn't. Sex isn't like everything else. It doesn't have to be.'
'You just really want to have sex. With anyone. It's your hormones,' she paused, 'it doesn't have to be me.'
'No, I think it does,' he said, 'I think it has to be you.' He took his wallet out of his jeans, took the condom out of it, threw it where she could see it. 'And...I think you want it to be you.'
Her breathing seemed to stop for a moment, the whole room was weighted with silence, and then she looked at him, her expression unfathomable. He heard himself breathing, he wanted her so badly. And then she removed her hand, and let her bra fall off her shoulders, onto the bed.
He swallowed hard. Her breasts were small, smooth, unmarked except for a small birthmark above her left nipple. He had to press his mouth to it, but not yet. He looked at her, and then took his shirt off, kicked off his jeans and crawled over to her. She was still sitting, and he pressed his mouth to the birthmark. She inhaled in shock. His mouth moved to surround her nipple, and it became quickly hard in his mouth. He sucked at it, and then bit gently. She grunted, and he bit harder, and she moaned. The elbow she was using to prop herself buckled. He filed that information away for later, and moved back up to her mouth to kiss her, rubbing his lips sensuously against hers, taking more time than he usually would. Wanting to do unusual things like savour.
Rachel's hands weren’t interested in savouring, and went straight for his dick. Out of nowhere, she pressed her palm against him through his briefs, and felt his size, hesitantly. He groaned, thrust against her, bit at her neck.
'Shit, Rachel,' he said, and emboldened, she pushed her hand, those fingers and pink-painted nails, underneath the material and touched him directly. He was pretty sure this was the first time she had touched anyone's dick ever, and the thought made him harder. He ran his hand down her torso and pressed it flat between her legs.
She exhaled shakily, and then lifted her hips so that he could slide her panties down. He flung them off the bed, and then slid a finger into her with no preamble, moved his thumb up to rest alongside her clitoris, not touching it directly. Her hand faltered against him, and she whispered something, but he couldn’t make it out as he moved his fingers back and forth, in and out. When he pushed back in, he rubbed against her g-spot, and when he withdrew, he withdrew all the way. Soon Rachel was making sobbing sounds, actually gripping his dick and moving her hand instinctively up and down.
'Jeeeeesus,' he said, and moved her hand out of his briefs and pinned it to the bed. 'Jesus, Rachel, that's not fair.'
He slid a second finger into her, watched her head thrash against the bed and moved his thumb alongside her clitoris. He wondered if she could come. She was so tightly wound most of the time, he didn’t know if it was going to happen. But this was good. This was promising. This was not what he realistically thought sex with Rachel would be like. He expected random monologues, and maybe even a chastity belt, and perhaps some kind of presentation of contracts to sign.
He took his time, listened to the way her breathing changed in cadence, deepening, speeding up, never completely even. When he gently stretched his fingers at her opening, she inhaled sharply through her nostrils and then moaned. When he pressed the pads of his fingers up deep inside of her, she always needed to catch her breath. He bit his lip, gently withdrew, took off his briefs. She looked into his eyes, and then slowly down at his dick. Her gaze was mostly hungry, but also a little nervous.
He grabbed the condom, and she looked at it. Her eyes widened a little when he didn’t hesitate and rolled it straight on. He was burning to be inside of her. To see what she did when he was deeper than anyone had ever been. He had to clench his teeth, and he thought of maths for a moment, because fuck, this was hotter than he ever thought it would be.
He settled himself between her legs, rubbed his dick up and down her wetness, bumped her clitoris. She groaned, but her eyes remained open, not looking away from his. He positioned himself at her entrance, kissed her.
‘Is it going to hurt?’ she asked, voicing the reason for her nervousness. And he frowned. Maybe it was just him, but it sounded like she meant that in more than one way. Physically. Mentally. The day after. Only one of them he could really address.
‘It’s different for everyone. But you’re really fucking wet, and my fingers were inside you for a long time, so not that much. I’ll go slow, and you can tell me stop and I’ll stop.’
‘I’m not scared,’ she said, squinting at him defiantly.
‘Me either,’ he said on a half-smirk.
‘Now that we’ve got that sorted, then...’ and she trailed off and dragged his head down so that she could kiss him. He dropped his head further down and kissed her breasts, laved her nipple with his tongue. She sighed shakily and then relaxed again back into the bed, betraying the tension she’d felt.
He thrust forward the tiniest bit, feeling her tightness as a slick, warm embrace all around him. She said ‘oh’, like she wasn’t expecting it, even though he’d been there the entire time. It wasn’t like she had no idea that was coming.
‘Kiss me,’ she said suddenly, a bit of the old Rachel spark flaring at the most unexpected moment. He grinned, because that was good timing, and he kissed her long and hard, until her hips arched up against him. He didn’t take the bait the first time, waited for her to relax, and then when she arched again, he pushed deeper as her hips rose.
She moaned sharply against him, stilled a little, though they didn’t stop kissing. Her teeth bit his bottom lip and he saw stars, because he happened to like it. He pushed slowly deeper, concentrating as hard as he could, until;
‘Wait a minute,’ she said, and he stopped, watched her. Her forehead was furrowed, her lips were swollen from all the kissing, her hair mussed all over the pillows. She looked utterly debauched already.
‘Is it bad?’ he asked, and she shook her head. He reached his finger between them and stroked it alongside her clitoris, since he had learned she was too sensitive for direct contact. He saw some of the tension in her face twist from discomfort into enjoyment, the moment she went from maybe this isn’t such a good idea to okay, I’m into it again.
‘That better?’ he whispered, ‘you like this?’ He withdrew, pushed back, feeling her heat around him and finding it harder and harder to pull his thoughts together. He did it again, and again, withdrawing and pushing in, over and over. He moved slowly, inexorably, and after a few minutes he was as deep as he could go and she was panting beneath him.
‘Oh, fuck,’ he said, and she nodded her head in fervent agreement.
'Say it,' he ordered, pressing his lips alongside hers, 'say 'fuck.'
'Fuck,' she whispered, as he arched his hips back and thought maybe teaching Rachel to talk dirty might be his new pet project; and then he pushed slowly back into her.
‘Oh, oh, oh my god,' she said. The words stretched out of her, and he wondered how often she got to feel this good. Ever. Wondered, because there was a quality of awe in her voice that he'd never heard before, even with Quinn. He had a sense of her occupying some amazing, new space, and found that he felt incredible and unexpectedly tender. It was like hearing her sing, going into that space with her, where he felt something he didn’t normally allow himself to feel.
He set up a fluid rhythm against her, plundering her heat, touching her breasts, kissing her and then brushing kisses against her eyelids, her cheeks, breathing in the scent of her hair. He kept his finger moving alongside her clitoris as best as he could despite the angle, and she seemed to like it, but he didn’t think she’d come. Maybe not this time. He wanted her to, would find a way to make it happen, realised he wanted it more than anything, because if she thought this was amazing, boy did he have some surprises for her.
‘You feel so good,’ he managed, and she opened her eyes.
'Do I?' she said, and there was nothing coy about it. Nothing but arousal and a level of insecurity he was surprised to see, it made his brows knit together.
'So good,' he said, emphasising his point by going a bit harder, a bit faster. Rachel made a choking sound deep in her throat, began arching up to meet his thrusts.
'Does it still hurt?' he said, wondering why he was even bothering to talk at all.
She nodded a little. And then she shook her head. 'It’s a good hurt,' she said, and he grinned to himself. He withdrew, thrust even harder, and her mouth fell open.
'Bastard,' she added.
'You said it was a good hurt,' he said, but his words were stifled in the force of his own want. 'Oh Jesus, I'm going to come,' he managed, and she actually moaned at that. He couldn’t believe it, she was going to do him in completely.
'Go on,' she breathed hungrily, 'you can.'
It was the last thing he ever expected to hear, but the sound of her voice encouraging him in the moment did it for him. He pushed deep into her, wrapped a hand underneath her hips and held her up to him as he exploded, jerking and swearing, pushing his head into her neck and breathing hard, over and over.
When he was done, he withdrew and kissed her gently as he did so. He looked down at the condom, took it off, tied a knot in it, threw it somewhere.
'What now?' Rachel said, her voice still wet and breathy. Still dazed. Puck decided he was going to take full credit for short-circuiting her ability to string more than two words together.
'Now? You,' he said, moving lazily back over her, pushing two fingers into her, rubbing up against her g-spot, biting his lip when she keened in the back of her throat. He was tired, but knew automatically that this was worth it.
'You don't have to...' she said, trailing off when he added a third finger, worked on stretching her even more. She made a thin, wanting sound deep down in her throat, lower than he’d ever heard her go outside of the choir room.
'I want to,' he said.
'I can't always, I can't...' she paused for a minute, caught her breath when he splayed his fingers inside of her, 'oh, god,' she finished.
'I figured, actually. You being so tightly wound and all. Come on, let me unwind you, Berry.' He switched back to two fingers, slid down her, pressed kisses against her breast and belly as he went, hungrily smelling her scent as he got closer to her pussy.
He pressed his tongue against her clitoris and she grunted, arched, spread her legs even wider. He began using everything in his significant repertoire, licking her, suckling, biting gently, and using his other hand to spread her legs so wide he was sure it hurt a little.
She was gasping now, moaning into her arm, saying something that sounded completely incoherent and may have ended with 'Puck, god.' It made his spent dick twitch again, and he smirked.
He built her up slowly, watching as each layer of tension; tension he didn't even know she still contained, seemed to unlock in her body. It unwound in her arms, in the quality and throatiness of her voice, she became boneless and lax. And then a moment later, she began to clench against him, she hummed in the back of her throat, whimpered over and over. And he thought, got you, and didn't stop what he was doing, only increasing the speed of his fingers inside of her.
He heard her saying something, and then he realised she was saying his name. 'Noah Noah Noah Noah Noah,' and it was maybe one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. That name, that voice, the whispery, desperate tone of it. She was reaching for him, pulling his head up, and he hesitated, because she was definitely going to come if he kept his mouth on her, but he followed her lead, came up, kept moving his fingers, using his thumb where his mouth had been.
'Come on, Berry,' he said, 'let it go. Just let it go.' Her body arched up against him suddenly, and he grasped her and held her in his free hand, feeling the tremors start, the spasms and the clenching and pressing so hard against his fingers that he struggled to move them and let them go limp instead. Her eyes had flown open, she was staring blindly up at the ceiling, and loud, harsh, unbelievable sounds fell out of her mouth. Her legs clamped shut, and she turned her body so that she was arching more fully into him, burrowing her head into his shoulder, making sobbing noises there. He held her, rode out one of...what would probably be top three orgasms he'd ever seen another woman have. And perhaps one of the most intense.
He held her when she went limp against him, and kept holding her as he withdrew his fingers from that tightness and wrapped them around her torso. And then drew her sideways into him, kept holding her, because if anyone was mean to her right now, in this moment, he'd kill them. He'd fucking slit their throats and kill them.
She was shuddering, still shaking in the aftermath, clinging to him like she'd been tossed from a car.
'I've got you,' he said, not really knowing why. And it all seemed to slow down. Her breathing, the desperation of her hands against him, even the hard way she pressed her head into his shoulder. She leaned back a little, and he saw tears on her eyelashes.
'You okay?'
She nodded, mute.
'Intense?' he guessed, because he'd seen this before. And she nodded again.
'Awesome,' he said, kissing her chastely on the lips, and then on her eyelids. She sighed against him, reached one of the hands that was clinging to his chest around so that it was under his arm, wrapped around his back.
'Is it always like that?' she said, 'I'd give up singing for that.' He laughed, because she was so sincere in the moment, and so delightful, and it made him feel warmer inside than he thought he could.
'No, you wouldn't. And no, it's not always that intense. Although,' he added, 'it might be for you. You're kind of an intense person.'
'And sleepy,' she said, yawning.
'Sleep then. We don't need to be anywhere.'
'Do you have another condom?' she asked, her voice sleep-infused already. Puck raised his eyebrows.
'Another in my wallet, a whole packet in my bag. I'm always prepared, baby.'
'Um,' she said happily, already drifting off.
Puck stared at her in shock for a moment, and then lay down next to her, falling asleep thinking happily about all the other ways he could get underneath Rachel's skin.