Spoilers: throughout early season 1, pre Mattress, since this was written before it had happened. Totally AU. It's my imagining of Sectionals.
Warnings: First Time, Smexin'
Author's Note / Summary: Feedback makes me write more fiction. It's a proven fact. I wish I could say a prompt inspired this, but really, just imagining Puck and Rachel doing dirty things together did. Standard disclaimer about me not owning the characters and stuff applies. Also, this is a multi-part series.
On the bus to sectionals, he ends up sitting behind her, right at the back of the bus. She's on her own, something that he delights in pointing out to her, because she's a total loser. She's not even watching Finn and Quinn together, like he thought she would be. She gazes out at the window, and every now and then looks 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 his ear. He doesn't know why he does this, but it feels good, ribbing her about her pathetic, over-achieving life. Rachel shifts away from him on her seat, and then turned to look at him, raising 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 gets off his seat and joins her on her own. She pushes at him, but he simply uses his bulk to crowd her space and get her to move sideways, against the window. Mr. Schue looks back at them, and then goes back to talking to Brittany about oh, Puck imagines, 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 presses herself into the window, he feels awesome and like a winning football player, all macho and strong. Not like the loser football player he actually is. He fake yawns, fake stretches, puts a heavy arm around her shoulders. A few more people look back at that, Artie rolls his eyes, Mercedes laughs, but they go back to their business. But Rachel, underneath his arm, is so tense he thinks she's going to jump upright out of the chair.
'Get your arm off me.'
He squeezes 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 grins. 'And if it's not, at least I'm distracting you from your nerves about a meaningless competition. I'm your saviour.'
Rachel looks dead ahead, her face stony.
Puck ignores her expression for a moment, feels her next to him instead. He conveniently forgets how hot she is sometimes, when she's talking, or with what she usually wears (skirts are fine, but knee socks? Come on), but this is... kind of nice. The hand on her shoulder becomes the back of his knuckles stroking down the side of her arm. Up and down. Up and down. He watches her open her mouth to protest, but then, inexplicably, she closes it again. He stops himself from nodding, as he thinks, well of course she's desperate for it.
She sighs, her eyelids lower so that he can't properly see her expression, and then she looks away again. He wonders if she's ignoring him, or something else. He decides to find out.
He lets the side of his knuckles 'accidentally' brush against the side of her breast and she tenses again, but doesn't move. So he does it again, and again, until the hands resting primly on her knees clench at her skirt. Puck bites the inside of his lip. Hot. The seats are high enough, and they are far back enough, that he could probably touch her breast without anyone really seeing. So he lets knuckles become fingers, cups her breast gently, and then squeezes.
Rachel exhales shakily, turns back as though she's going to say something, he can't actually believe she's been quiet for this long.
'What are you doing?' She says after a beat, her voice low and quiet.
'Feeling you up.' He says, matching her tone, letting his hand drift down her ribs and back up again. She's wearing a soft sweater, but he doubts it'll be as soft as his skin. He looks around again, but he doesn't know why he bothers, no one gives a shit about what he's doing. He deftly navigates under her sweater and shirt, onto bare skin. He lets his cool hand luxuriate in the secret warmth of her ribs. And then he trails fingers up, to skate the lace (oh yeah, he thinks) on the underside of her breasts.
Rachel's breath hitches, and she looks at him then. Their faces are so close. He can see her wide, vulnerable and confused expression. And even better, the way her lips are just oh-so-slightly parted so she can breathe heavier without people noticing. He thinks about kissing her, but he doesn't.
'Surely you can see that this can't end well, on account of us being on a bus?' She whispers, and Puck shrugs, the motion bringing his fingers over her nipple through the lace. He rubs fingerpads against it and watches her eyes flutter, and then pinches it, not as gently as he thought she might like. She makes the tiniest of noises, jerks a little, but then her chest heaves harder and one of the hands on her knees transfers to his own, squeezes his thigh now. He gets harder, swallows. He imagines that hand, those perfect nails on his dick, and feels dizzy for a moment.
'What, you think it's going to have an even better ending once we get to the motel?' He drawls, 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 smirks as her eyes open, and she looks wounded.
She moves her hand off his thigh, tries to shrug away from the hand under her sweater, but it doesn't work. He backs off a bit, rests his palm against her ribs again, looks at her wondering why she makes him say these things.
'You're a pig.' She says 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 mocks her, and she reaches back with her hands and grabs his fingers resting against her, through her sweater, and twists them back so hard that he swears in pain and yanks his hand and arm back.
As the others look back to them, Rachel stands up and moves awkwardly to another seat, further up the bus. She ends up behind Mercedes and Kurt, who turn around to draw her into their conversation. Rachel responds with a fake enthusiasm, and Puck knows its fake, because no girl reacts like she just did if the insult hasn't landed. Bullseye.
He stays at the back of the bus, falls asleep while hard, he thinks about all the ways he can get under Rachel's skin again.
He knows she's avoiding him, which makes it even better. He's all about the chase, sometimes. Especially when he knows that he's got a back up of cougars that he doesn't have to chase at all. The reassurance of knowing he can get pussy whenever he wants, allows him to relax into the game. And that game is 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 checks his out, it's pretty lame, and decides to check in on Rachel.
He finds out her room number from Mr. Schue, under the pretence of wanting to practice one of the songs.
He turns the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but it swings open. He walks in, and she's sleeping fully clothed on top of her bed, curled in on herself, one arm thrown out like she's reaching for something, probably her fame, he thinks. He notices her music notes on the floor, on the bedside stand. He's never known anyone to take anything this seriously. He closes the door gently behind him, locks it, and then walks 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 expects her to write.
He puts the music down, looks at Rachel, smiles to himself. The idea of sliding next to her, feeling her up until she wakes up is tempting, but also not really his style. He's not into chicks being asleep when he's making his moves. So instead he goes for something that will be really entertaining. He kicks the bed really hard.
Rachel's eyes fly open as the bed shudders in a way that suggests maybe you shouldn't kick motel beds at all. Her reaching arm jerks back into her body, and in a matter of seconds she's sitting up, looking dazed and still managing to glare pure, venomous, hate 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 flicks his cell phone at her, and it lands on the bed next to her. She looks at it, confused, and then looks back at him.
'Why are you doing this?'
'You know,' he says, as he sits down on the bed and kicks 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 turns to face her, and then grabs her arm when she goes to get off the bed in disgust.
'Slow down, Sleeping Beauty,' he says, scooting towards her, seeing up close that she's still waking up, blinking like she can't quite believe what is happening.
He keeps her pinned to the bed as he leans in and kisses her. Her lips against his open to say something, to protest, and he licks her bottom lip with his tongue, before biting it gently. He slips his tongue into her mouth like he's tasting a secret, gentle and thorough, slanting his lips across hers and feeling pretty damned awesome because man, sex with older women has put him in a pretty good position to read body language. Nothing like a woman in her prime to tell you exactly what she wants, teach you things about the body they'd inever/i teach in sex ed.
Rachel's tongue, smaller than his, the one that shapes those perfect notes, shifts softly in her mouth, and then touches his hesitantly. He responds by slicking his tongue up along hers, and she shivers, she's not trying to yank her arm away at all. So he lets go and arches up over her, keeping their mouths connected, using his weight to encourage her to lie back down on the bed.
She makes the tiniest of moans against him, something despairing in the tone, and he breaks away from her lips to lick the side of her mouth, kiss his way along her jaw, lick the underside of it, kiss his way to her ear. She is breathing heavily, not protesting at all, knees drawn up and one hand on his arm holding on. When he sucks her earlobe into his mouth, she turns her head for better access, and when he starts kissing the side of her neck, and running his hand down her arm, she exhales hard.
'Why are you doing this?' She says again, her voice breathier, her body shifting restlessly when he runs his hand over her clothed belly. He ignores her, kisses her collarbone, pulls the collar of her sweater down, kisses further. And then pulls the hem of the sweater up. He looks down at her smooth, olive skin and holds back from groaning as he moves down to kiss her belly. It spasms beneath him, sensitive, and he keeps kissing it until the muscles relax against him and she sighs.
When he runs his teeth over her gently, her fingers clench the bedspread. He smiles, lazily, pushes his body alongside hers, wraps a leg around one of hers so that his thigh is forcing her legs apart. He props himself up on one elbow, looks down at her, thinks of a few insults and then decides it's not worth it. Not in this moment. He kisses her again, tongue tangling with hers, and then thrusting lewdly, provocatively. Rachel's reaction is startling, and her whole body arches up against his. She whimpers.
'Oh yeah, baby,' he mutters, as he squeezes her knee and brings it up so that he has better access to all that skin underneath the skirt. He trails his hand down her inner thigh, and she actually whimpers again, clutches at him, and then one of her hands grasps at his chest. She's kissing him back hard now, but her lips stumble when he grazes her cotton panties. She pauses, stills, like she can't believe what he's doing. Neither can he. She's so hot, like a furnace, and he can feel dampness between her legs. He wonders if this is from earlier, on the bus, or from just now, and he doesn't care. He opens his eyes, and looks at her closed ones. Wonders what she's thinking.
'Open your eyes, Rachel,' he says, and she does so, they are wide and apprehensive. He can't blame her for waiting for him to spoil it.
'Watch me.' He orders, slipping a finger beneath the cotton, using his hand to make the fabric looser, give him more room to manoeuvre. And then he watches her intently as he slides the tip of his finger into her tight, wet heat. Rachel's mouth shapes around a wordless syllable, her eyes fall closed, and he can almost feel all her concentration at the centre of her body. He kisses the side of her mouth, presses his head against hers.
'You want me to go deeper?' He says, and she whimpers. He doesn't know what it is, but those high pitched noises are really getting to him, and he has to close his eyes for a moment. He can't believe it, but Rachel might actually like being talked dirty to. He hopes so, because when things go silent between the two of them for too long, it gets strange, and awkward.
He doesn't wait for her answer, just slides his finger as deep as it will go. She's so hot, and so tight, that his dick jerks in its confines. He bites his lip, and Rachel's head has tilted backwards, she moans as he withdraws, presses back in.
'You want me to fuck you?' He says, bluntly, and she gasps.
'We...shouldn't.' She manages, but her hand is underneath his shirt now, while the other clenches even harder on the bedspread. And she's touching him wherever she can reach skin.
'Shouldn't we? You really are saving yourself up for Finn, huh?' He says, pressing up against a slightly roughened patch of skin inside all that wet heat. Rachel shouts then, arches, eyes go incredibly wide.
'Oh god.' She chokes.
'Like that, huh? Berry, I'll do that again, and then you can tell me why we shouldn't fuck,' he says darkly, but instead of doing it once, he presses against the spot over and over again, rubbing it, slowly easing another finger into that impossible tightness. He's more aware of the restriction at her entrance now, and thinks because she's a virgin, and watches her face as he continues to untangle her defences. She's mumbling things, moaning long and loud. It'd be perfect pitch if it wasn't for the shakiness, the need she has to constantly be catching her breath.
'So tell me why,' he says, stopping suddenly, leaving his fingers inside of her. Rachel shifts, incoherent, rumpling her clothing even more. He thinks, Jesus, what is wrong with me? Serious oversight here.
He withdraws his fingers, wipes them against her inner thigh, and then tugs at her sweater until she lifts her arms. And then her shirt. And then finally he's unsnapping her bra and as he goes to draw it off her shoulders, her hand comes up and holds the bra to her chest.
'You can have sex with anyone, but doing it with me is just cruel.' She says, looking down at the bed, face still flushed. 'It doesn't matter what I want, what matters is your motives.'
She doesn't sound nearly as put together as usual. Her voice shakes, and she looks dishevelled. Her skirt is bunched up, her bra is hanging off one shoulder, being held in place by her hand. Puck looks at the way she looks down at the bedspread and narrows his eyes.
'It's never gonna be Finn.' He says, angrily, and she smiles sadly.
'I'm not naive, Noah.' She says softly, vulnerable where he is 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 iyou/i. You saying to all your buddies 'I tapped that and wish I didn't' in the boy's lockers. Or accidentally letting Mr. Schue know that I'm not a virgin anymore. Or any of the hundred things you could say, you iwill/i 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 is struck dumb by her monologue. Because he's really like that. Because everything she's just said is everything he'd consider doing, except that he'd probably be a bit more lewd about it.
He really looks at her now, the way goosebumps have come up all across her skin. And the way she's concertedly not looking at him, being as non-confrontational as possible, laying it all out. He could say so much, right now, there are so many perfect one-liners to use in this situation. But he says nothing, rendered quiet by her quietness.
'What if I didn't do those things?' He said, suddenly, 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 pauses. 'It doesn't have to be me.'
'No, I think it does,' he said, 'I think it has to be you.' He takes his wallet out of his pants, takes the condom out of it, throws it where she can see it. 'And...I think you want it to be you.'
Her breathing seems to stop for a moment, the whole room is weighted with silence, and then she looks at him, her expression unfathomable. He hears himself breathing, he wants her so badly. And then she removes her hand, and lets her bra fall of her shoulders, onto the bed.
He swallows hard. Her breasts are small, smooth, unmarked except for a small birthmark above her left nipple. He has to press his mouth to it, but not yet. He looks at her, and then takes his shirt off, kicks off his pants and crawls over to her. She is still sitting, and he presses his mouth to the birthmark. She inhales in shock. His mouth moves to surround her nipple, and it becomes quickly hard in his mouth. He sucks at it, and then bites gently. She grunts at this, and he bites harder, and she moans and the elbow she's using to prop herself up buckles. He files that information away for later, and moves back up to her mouth to kiss her, rubbing his lips sensuously against hers, taking more time than he'd usually bother with other women.
Rachel's hands have gone straight for his dick. Out of nowhere, she presses her palm against him through her briefs, and feels his size, hesitantly. He groans, thrusts against her, bites her neck.
'Shit, Rachel,' he says, and emboldened, she sneaks her hand, those fingers and pink-painted nails, underneath the material and touches him directly. He's pretty sure this is the first time she's touched anyone's dick ever, and the thought makes him harder, He runs his hand down her torso and presses it flat between her legs.
She exhales shakily, and then lifts her hips so that he can slide the panties down. He flings them off the bed, and then slides a finger into her with no preamble, moves his thumb up to rest alongside her clitoris, not touching it directly. Her hand falters against him, she whispers something, but he can't make it out as he begins to move his finger back and forth, in and out. When he pushes back in, he rubs against that spot, when he withdraws, he withdraws all the way. Soon Rachel is making sobbing sounds, actually gripping his penis and moving her own hand instinctively. Up. Down.
'Jeeeeesus,' he says, moving her hand out of his briefs and pinning it to the bed. 'Jesus, Rachel, that's not fair.' He pushes a second finger into her, watches her head thrash against the bed, and moves his thumb alongside her clitoris. He wonders if she can come, being so tightly wound, he doesn't know if it's going to happen. But this is good. This is promising. This is not what he realistically thought sex with Rachel would be. He expected random monologues, and maybe even a chastity belt, and perhaps some kind of presentation of contracts to sign.
He takes his time, listens to the way her breathing changes in cadence, deepening, speeding up, never completely even. When he gently stretches his fingers at her opening, she winces and then moans. When he's pressing fingerpads up deep inside of her, she always needs to catch her breath. He bites his lip, gently withdraws, and takes off his briefs. She looks at his eyes, and then slowly down at his dick. He thinks; she either wants it really badly, or she's wondering how it's gonna fit, or maybe a bit of both.
He grabs the condom, and she looks at it, and her eyes widen a little when he doesn't hesitate, and rolls it straight onto his dick. He is burning to be inside of her. To see what she does when he's deeper than anyone has ever been inside of her. He has to clench his teeth and think of maths for a moment, because Jesus, this is hotter than he ever thought it would be.
He settles himself between his legs, rubs his dick up and down her wetness, bumping her clitoris. She groans, but her eyes remain open, filled with trepidation, not looking away from his. He positions himself at her entrance, kisses her.
'Don't be scared.' He says, as he leans back to look at her.
'It's going to hurt.' She says, and he wonders if she means that in more than one way. But he whispers 'shhh' with more tenderness than he knew he possessed for anyone else bar his sister and mother. He says, 'I'll go slow, you can tell me to stop and I'll actually stop.'
She doesn't look convinced, and he's worried all this shit is ruining the mood. Time for plan B. He drops his head down, kisses her breasts, laves her nipple with his tongue. She sighs shakily, and then relaxes by increments. He thrusts forwards the tiniest bit, feeling her stretch around him. She said 'oh', like she wasn't expecting it, even though he'd been there the entire time. It's not 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 grins at her, because that's good timing, and he kisses her long and hard, until her hips arch up against his. He doesn't take the bait the first time, waits for her to relax, and then at her next arch, he times it and pushes in as her hips rise.
She moans sharply against him, and stills a little, though they don't stop kissing. Her teeth bite his bottom lip, and he sees stars, because he happens to like it. He pushes slowly deeper, concentrating as hard as he can, until;
'Oh god, wait, wait,' she says, and he watches her, forehead furrowed, mouth twisted in a grimace.
'Is it bad?' He said, and she shakes her head, but her brow was still furrowed. He reaches his finger between them and strokes it alongside her clitoris. Some of the tension in her face twisted from pain into something else, and he saw the moment she went from 'maybe this isn't such a good idea,' to 'okay, I'm into it again.'
'That better?' He said, 'you like this?' He added, and withdrew a little, pushed back, feeling her insanely tight against him. He did it again, and again, withdrawing, pushing in, over and over. Moving only about an inch inside of her. Slowly it got easier, and he got deeper and deeper, until he was all the way in.
'Oh fuck.' He said, and she was nodding her head in agreement.
'Say it.' He orders, pressing his lips alongside hers, 'say 'fuck.'
'Fuck,' she whispers, as he arches his hips back and thinks maybe teaching Rachel to talk dirty might be his new pet project; and then pushes slowly back into her, 'oh, oh, oh my god.' She said, the words stretching out of her, and he wonders if she's ever felt anything this good. Ever. Wondered, because there was a quality of awe in her voice that he'd never heard before, even with Quinn. A sense of being within something totally new, which made him feel both amazing, and tender. It was like hearing her sing, and going into that space with her, where he felt something he didn't normally allow himself to feel.
He sets up a fluid rhythm against her, plundering her heat, touching her breasts, kissing her and then brushing kisses against her eyelids, her cheeks, her eyes, 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'd like it if she did, and then he realised he wanted it more than anything, because if she thought ithis/i 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. 'A good hurt.' She said, and he grinned to himself. He withdrew, slammed back in, 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 desire. 'Oh Jesus, I'm going to come.' He manages, and she actually moans when she hears him say that. He can't believe it, she's going to do him in completely.
'Go on.' She said. 'You can.'
It was the last thing he ever expected to hear, but the sound of her voice encouraging him in this moment just did it for him. He thrust deep inside of 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, kissing 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's tired, but he decides that this might be worth it.
'You don't have to...' She said, trailing off when he added a third finger, worked on stretching her even more.
'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, pressing kisses against her breast and belly as he went, 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. In her arms, in quality and throatiness of her voice. 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 says, 'let it go. Just let it go,' he said to her, and 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.
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, holding at his back.
'Is it always like that?' She said, 'I'd give up singing for that.' She added, and he laughed, because he was so sincere in the moment, and so delightful, and 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 said, her voice sleep-infused already. Puck raised his eyebrows.
'Another in my wallet, a whole packet in my bag. I'm 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.