Finding Talent

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Glee or 'Sweet Caroline' by Neil Diamond.

AN: This is AU Puckleberry at its smuttiest.


The heat of the lights.

The suffocating mutterings of the audience.
The fact that I had been sitting in this same leather seat, staring at the same stage all afternoon.
The mutterings rose in volume as a lull occurred between acts.
"I need a break", I hissed.
"Take one", Mercedes returned.
I had become fairly good friends with the singer since joining the judging panel of 'Looking for Talent'.

I smiled gratefully.
"Thanks diva, I say no to anyone who comes on stage in a cat suit, and yes to anyone who can sing in tune".
"Got it. Go have a coffee".
I slipped quickly out from behind the desk and escaped backstage before anybody could stop me.

As soon as I escaped into the quiet corridor, I just leaned back against the wall and took a few deep breaths.

This talent judging was intense.

I thought it would be a more relaxing change of scene after starring in no less than 4 Broadway musicals.
I had achieved my childhood dream.
I had always thought I would feel accomplished.
Maybe a change of scene would help me work out the reason why I felt that my life had reached a bit of an anticlimax.

It had only been 2 weeks and I was already wondering whether it would have been a better idea to take one if my other change of scene options (perhaps starring in a soap or recording a single?)
But I already had singing and acting in my life.

That wasn't what was missing.

A door opened at the end of the corridor and a group of backstage crew and the next hour or so worth of acts spilled out into my silent oasis.
I looked down at my feet, waiting patiently for them to walk through and leave me to my thoughts again.
I sensed my personal space being invaded and I closed my eyelids for a prolonged blink, willing the sanction of loneliness to return.
But it didn't, and I found myself looking up into the most beautiful hazel eyes, almost catlike, with such a warm depth it was as though I was looking straight into his soul.

"Are you alright?"
He smirked.
"Are you alright?"
He knew the effect he was having on me. I couldn't stop my eyes from tracing his well toned muscles through his t shirt and his arms were lovely (lack of blood in my head made it difficult to obtain a wider range of adjectives).

He smirked again as I desperately tried to remember what he had just asked me.

I opted for a nonchalant shrug.

He had picked up my left hand which was hanging uselessly at my side.

"What's a fine piece of ass like you doing still on the market?" He asked.

"Not having a ring doesn't mean I'm single", I countered; silently thanking my acting abilities to kick in where life experience fails me.

He grinned wider.

Dropping my hand, he held up both his hands and wiggled his fingers.

"Wearing a ring doesn't mean I'm not single".

"But it's not on your ring finger", I pointed out.

"Are you this fiery in bed?"


"Are we really going to go through that again? I said, are you this fiery in bed?"

"You don't ask things like that to a complete stranger!"

He laughed.

"Maybe you don't. I do. Especially fucking hot ones like you".

"I think you have somewhere to go".

"Are you entering too? I don't see a sticker on you… Can you even sing?"

"Can I even sing? Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Yes. Some hot chick that is going to end up in my hotel bed tonight".

He raised his eyebrow and I seethed angrily.

"That would be an impossibility".

"Nothing's impossible, darlin'"

I huffed.

He reached out his finger to my face, and I froze rigid as he ran his rough finger from the tip of my nose down to my chin.

"Later hot stuff".

And he was gone, his guitar swinging on his back and whistling a tune I did not recognise but echoed in my head long after the sound had dissipated.

I would be lying if I said I had completely forgotten about the delicious stranger as I returned to my seat, my headache strangely gone, and concentrating on the acts with double the enthusiasm lest a certain guitar playing skin-headed Texan arrive on stage.

And when he did I don't think I breathed once throughout the whole 2 minutes of his mind-melting rendition of 'Sweet Caroline'.

And with a smirk that was directed solely at me, he departed stage left and I felt an invisible force carry my feet once more to the safe haven of that quiet corridor.

Fortunately it was a planned break for the judging panel and so I was able to sneak round to the exact same place on the wall I had leaned maybe 2 hours before.

Somehow, I just knew that was where he would be.


I didn't want small talk or any charming winning lines.

"No strings sex- right?"

He looked taken aback, and looked me up and down with open admiration in his eyes.

"Though you'd take a lot more, persuading, but- fuck yes let's go get us a taxi".


He smirked and I suddenly realised I had though less about this than I had ever thought about anything ever before, (even getting up in the morning required more thought).

He was right in front of me again, and his sinewy curves were so very tangible that I had the urge to reach out and run my hands over his chest and arms.

He tilted my head up with rough fingers to his to look right into my eyes.

My heartbeat was surely vibrating his forearm that was pressed against my chest.

He lowered his lips to mine, brushing them lightly across eliciting a very uncharacteristically lustful groan from my throat, at which he captured my bottom lip in between his teeth and dragged it out gently.

My breathing ragged, he looked back into my eyes, gauging my reaction. I assume my reaction was satisfactory, as he straightened up and tightened the strap on his guitar across his back.

"No-strings-the-best-you-have-ever-had sex", he checked the details, and moistened his lips with his tongue.

I followed the movement of his tongue, not worried about being so forward with a complete stranger.

We would never see each other after tonight. Right?

I nodded breathlessly, caught up in that smouldering gaze.

"Fuck I've never met anyone like you", he grinned suddenly.

"I'll take that as a compliment", I returned.

"It is", he said in a low voice, "'Cos I've met…"

"I don't care", I interrupted.

And I didn't.

He nodded and jerked his head to the door.

"Keep close- it's madness out there".

I gulped.

"How close?"

He grabbed my hands and positioned them around his waist.

And there was no going back now.

The hotel room was basic and poorly lit but I didn't have much chance to take in the scenery as his lips found mine and kissed me with unyielding force, and his muscled form was pushing me back against the wall as he kicked the door shut behind us.

This was what was missing.

The excitement, the burning flame of passion, the raw hungry need.

I took control of the kiss, detaching my lips from his and favouring his jaw line and throat with wet, wanton kisses and suddenly I was in control and he was the one moaning and slamming his hands against the wall to keep himself upright.

It was almost a battle, and lips fought to explore more sensory spots and our tongues battled for dominance.

"Fuck", he hissed, almost in surprise as I pushed his open shirt hastily over his shoulders and my fingertips appreciated the twitching muscles beneath.

He only allowed me to exercise some control for a prolonged moment, until he was mashing our lips together again, with bruising force, and his hands were hot on my bare skin as he pushed my dress roughly over my head, breaking the kiss for only an instant to throw it across the room.

And I had barely managed to remove his shirt and undo his jeans before he lifted me up and carried me stumblingly over to the bed, and the few seconds in which he stepped back to strip to his boxers enabled me to attempt to catch my breath.

I eyed him admiringly, with the sudden urge to just lick him all over.

It was at that moment I realised I didn't know his name.

But again, time for thinking was negligible as his body was pressed against mine, and as we kissed and hands explored, his hips rocked against mine.

"Fuck", he moaned, his hand straying between my legs and fingers pushing up inside my underwear.

I was glad he had thought of protection, as he dropped a condom onto the bed beside my head, because that was not on the top of my mind, as he pushed a rough finger inside me.

"So tight", he breathed, and I took both hands from around his shoulders to bring his head up to mine and kiss his swollen lips fully.

I saw stars; I saw shooting stars as he added a second finger inside me to the action of the first, and without knowing his name to scream I bit down hard on his shoulder.

At some point, when I recovered, he removed my bra and was also suddenly boxer-less, and his talented mouth was moving a scorching path over my breasts, and I arched off the bed as he bit lightly on each nipple.

I lost all will to be in control. He could do what he liked to me if that was just the beginning.

He pressed the condom into my hand and I tried desperately to clear some of the delicious fog from my mind in order to coordinate my movement and push it over his throbbing cock.

Impatient, he helped me out, and then thrust suddenly into me with a moan that was nearly as loud as my own.

He flashed black eyes to mine before moving with excruciating unhurriedness.

"Faster", I grunted, gasping as he sucked on a sensitive spot on my neck.

He agreed, and we would have all night to make up for the fact that that first time was over so soon.

Having been awake at 4 am every morning for a while, I was awake before it had even got light. His heavy arm was draped across me, and I carefully slid from his embrace, tiptoeing around the room to find my clothes (I couldn't find my underwear anywhere, but maybe I didn't look that hard and wanted to leave him with a souvenir).

With one last longing smile at his seemingly innocent sleeping face, I left.

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