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It's not like it's a first for them; not by a long shot. San knows this guy, who knows this girl, whose roommate's boyfriend's best buddy has a friend who knows about this party. It's a whole big complex thing, but San wrangles herself an invite, it's in Bowling Green, which means weekend out of town and shit, most of them need the excuse to let the fuck loose.

It's discussed, and Rachel eventually relents on her 'we need to be serious' bullshit and they agree. They'll go together. All of them.

Puck's not sure about that whole 'a glee club that parties together stays together' thing, but he's not arguing because it means less to pay on the hotel room they might need (will definitely need). So, there's a van, they drive out to the college campus on Friday after school and it just feels like the best way to start senior year. It's even better for Puck, since he's officially single after his thing with Lauren ended so if he finds some college skirt, it's all good. Rachel's trying to stay responsible, and that shit is boring, because even Kurt's busting into the booze this time.

Somewhere around midnight, Puck's lost track of how many he's had (it's probably in double digits, but he's not sure) and he's mellowing out on a sofa while the music beats around them. They're in one of the main rooms in this frat house, it's pretty chill because there's a pool out back and most of the college kids are out there enjoying the last few weeks before it'll get too cold to enjoy.

Rachel and Finn are over by the far wall, Finn's hand running on Rachel's hip to get her to relax a little while she's nursing her second drink of the night and Finn's buzzed. Puck can still hear Mercedes and Tina laughing with Artie in the corner and Britt's dancing with Mike in the middle of the room. Kurt's just sitting on the floor, legs out in front of himself, giggling at nothing.

He's half contemplating making sure Santana isn't somewhere eating pussy without telling him so he can watch when she saunters into the room with a smirk on her face that tells him two things. One, she's drunk, and two, she's really fucking horny.

It's perfectly normal for her to just straddle him right there. All her cheerleading has given her these fantastic legs; legs like Rachel and Britt's, toned and fucking awesome. And the skirt she's rocking is just so fucking tight that it could be a damn belt, the way it hitches up her thighs as her legs spread over his hips, he's pretty sure it's as good as around her waist now. With Santana, there's no need to play it cool, he can just run his hands along her legs, fingers teasing the back of her thighs while she shifts her hips towards his.

She just watches him for a moment, licking her lips and that totally draws his attention, because she's got an awesome mouth. He knows exactly what she can do with that mouth too; they usually just gravitate towards each other during their free moments. They trust each other, it's easy to let go and just do what feels good. He knows that she's got Britt for it too, but her thing with Britt scares her sometimes, and he's always just been there for her to use whenever she needed to, and he's had that with her for so long it's just second nature.

He doesn't even hesitate when she leans down, his head tipping back against the sofa and leaning into her, lips parting under hers to draw her tongue into his mouth. They know each other's buttons better than anything else. Even sloppy and drunk, they know how the other works. He knows that he can run a hand up to her ass and pull her down into his crotch, she knows that she can tug on his 'hawk to shift his head to her preferred position, he knows about the way her body will shudder when he runs his hand up her spine and over her vertebrae. They just know these things.

And it's something they can slip into easily; everything else just fades away and it's just him and her and a sofa and whatever they want. The groan is muffled against her mouth as her fingers tug his shirt up from his jeans, her nails scratching lightly down his abs to the belt of his jeans while she pressed her hips down into him. She didn't need to work to get him hot for her; he'd been half hard since she walked into the room, fully gone after she straddled him. There was just something inherently arousing about Santana. He just had to run his hand under her blouse, skirting his fingers along her spine and her back was arching, her head tossed back as she moaned low and loud. It's so fucking sexy, how into it she gets. Chicks sometimes try too hard; high school girls trying to be wild and crazy and just coming off desperate and pathetic, cougars trying to be young alluring and just coming off stiff and older. But Santana, she's liquid fucking sex, she's all sensual lines and smooth skin, she's this hot little Latina package that's confident and seductive and fucking wild hot. Her moans sear through him, the way she twists her hips and works her tongue, the tightness and flexibility all wrapped up in this tanned, toned, fucking amazing body? All the girls in Lima and she's still the hottest lay he's ever had.

He bites down her throat as her hand slides between them, rubbing the line of his erection in his jeans before she undoes his belt and fly. It's the crash of a bottle that reminds him that they aren't exactly alone. That the entire club is in the room with them, that there's probably a few college kids around or whatever. But her hand is in his pants and she's stroking his cock in her sure, knowing grip and he seriously couldn't care less about any of them. Pressing his hips up, bucking into her hand, he groans against her neck, leaning up to bite at the lobe of her ear.

"Got an audience, baby." He can see the way that Rachel keeps trying to not look over, because it's probably obvious that San's jerking him off, if not from the way her arm is moving, definitely from the groans he's trying to bite back and the way his hips shift up.

"So?" He knew she had kinks, she's got some serious control kinks, and she loves it when he eats her out until she legit cannot stand it anymore. Just like he totally digs it when she sharpens her claws, and how he seriously gets off on her dirty talk in Spanish (he could ace Spanish if they let him say some of the shit she says to him).

She's utterly shameless, and he adores that about her. She just latches on to his mouth again, completely ignoring the muttered 'get a room' from the corner and Puck doesn't care who suggests it, because Santana doesn't listen. His bottom lip is between her teeth as she sinks down onto his cock, just moving her panties to the side and foregoing anything else (she's been on the pill since long before Quinn got preggers, and he's not stupid enough to not get tested every six months) and he can't think of a better feeling than her, hot and fucking soaking around his cock with nothing between them.

Santana's head tips back as he pulls her hips down until he's fully sheathed inside her, his pelvis pressing up to hers and his hands holding her hips in place. It's been too fucking long since he's been inside her, much too long since he's felt her grip around him and felt her move above him. Her hips flex, his hands stopping her from thrusting like she wants to, only giving her a little bit of leeway to move. It drives her fucking wild when he restricts her movement, builds up that heat to the point where she nearly loses her shit.

"Christ," he's certain that Quinn isn't squirming in her seat because she's uncomfortable, if she is, it's because she's turned the fuck on. Puck let's go of one of San's hips, tugging the front of her shirt open and pulling her bra aside to get his mouth around her tit, teeth pulling at her nipple and making her shudder. Her hips lift slightly, pressing down as she grips to his shoulders for leverage to continue the movements as he meets each thrust with a press of his hips, mouth laving at her breast.

"Is she- they're really- oh, my God." There's this insane roll and twist that San does, it's like she's drawing fucking circles with his cock still inside her, and it drives him fucking nuts, like his brain totally shuts down when she does it. He groans against her chest, head pressing against her skin and she does it again just to get the reaction out of him.

"Fuck, yes, Noah," they're beyond the point of teasing now, her hips are pressing into his with a harder rhythm, his feet planted on the floor for the leverage to press into her with the depth and force, his hands both pulling her hips to his.

"That is so hot." Britt sounds really fucking close, but Puck's not interested in pulling away from Santana to look. This ridiculous whine breaks from her throat the same time his teeth find her pulse point and his thumb slides around to rub circles at her clit. She's always been a fan of a little pain, and he knows just when to press hard against her pussy and flick his nail against her clit to get her muscles quivering, the way her cunt grips to his cock is fucking mind numbing and he'd seriously stay buried in her for hours if he could.

"Shit, yes," her hips jerk, throwing off her rhythm as everything in her tightens and she bows over, head pressing to his shoulder as she bites where she can reach and clenches. He keeps up the pressure, he knows she can take it, the stimulation reaching the point of painful before she'll whimper and shift away. He's the only thing directing her hips as he fucks her, grinding her down into him with the tight grasp on her hipbones. She's lethargic and shaking just slightly as her hand runs under his shirt, roaming until she finds his nipple, nail flicking over his re-pierced nub as she presses their mouths together and he groans into her mouth before spilling inside her.

She rides it out, just like he knew she would, tightening around him in a distinct pattern that just milks everything he has, her tongue sliding along his leisurely while they wind down from the orgasm. His hands just carry on stroking up and down her back, her teeth catching on his lips, their bodies pressed flush together.

"Now that we've had a porn show with our drinks, anyone ready to hit the hotel?" As catty as Mercedes might want to sound, she just comes off as a little out of breath, maybe a little embarrassed but she's probably soaked her own panties, and Puck doesn't give a shit.

"I'm ready for a cold shower." Tina actually presses the heel of her hand into her crotch and Santana laughs against Puck's neck, burrowing in against him like she's perfectly happy to fall asleep where she is.

There's the shuffle of movement, the others leaving the room as Puck presses kisses up San's throat and she stays seated in his lap, while they're left alone for the time it'll take them to right themselves and get out to walk to the hotel they're staying at. Britt throws a look over her shoulder from the door way that Puck catches, smirking at the glint in her eyes (whoever said threesomes weren't going to happen in high school never knew Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce) leaving Puck and San alone.

"We just had sex," he murmurs the affirmative against her neck, "at a frat party," this time it's against her ear, his lips pressing just at the join of her neck and skull, "with the entire club watching."

"Not to kill the mood, but you started it." And it wasn't like they couldn't just fucking leave, they stayed and fucking watched, so he's not apologising for that. "'s fuckin' hot, babe." And it sort of was; since he knows that Finn was probably seconds away from jizzing, and Kurt was oddly watching them avidly, and Britt was totally turned on, same as Tina and Mike. Puck's not ashamed of anything.

"We should get a room, just us." She backs off him, using her panties to wipe between her thighs while he refastens his jeans and belt, watching her stand there with her blouse open.

"Well, yeah," he pushes himself to his feet, smoothing his hands down her blouse, fixing the buttons and pulling her bra up over her fucking amazing tit again. "I really wanna go down on you until you're fucking screaming, babe." She shivers and leans in towards him, his mouth closing over her neck to suck a hickey into her skin and yeah, they'd been cooling their heels for way too long.

He's really going to make up for that tonight.