Author's Note: This is for day five of Smuckleberry Week - roleplay. And it's also because I've been lusting after a Major League Baseball player version of Puck so... here ya go!
Also, due to what's going on over here (and the fact that I've already had one fic removed), I'm moving over to Archive Of Our Own and probably won't be posting fics over here after this. They'll either be on AO3 or LJ, and both of those links are listed in my profile.
The elevator dings just as Rachel is adjusting her skirt. It barely covers her behind, only grazing the very tops of her thighs. Beneath it, she's bare (and a girl of her caliber is certainly not used to going in public sans panties.) She shivers, partly in anticipation of what she's about to try to do, and partly because she is standing almost directly on top of an air conditioning vent. If it weren't for the cold air blasting up her legs and between her thighs, she'd be burning up.
When her target steps off the elevator, she inhales sharply. Damn, she muses, he looks so good. A sizzling rush of excitement shoots through her as she watches him stride down the hall. His strong thighs, born of years of crouching behind home plate, flex against the worn denim that encases them. He has a backpack thrown over one shoulder, but she can see his back muscles rippling against the polo shirt, which is tucked in against a narrow waist that gives way to his firm and perfect backside. The ever-present Mets cap tops off his look and the whole package, every bit of 5 feet and 11 inches of solid, sun-bronzed sex, makes her stifle a groan.
He doesn't seem notice her as he ambles down the hall toward his room, busy fiddling with the phone in his hand. She hears her own phone beep out a message alert from deep within her bag as she calls out, "Puck? Excuse me, Puck!"
He slows to a stop and then spins on his heel to stare at her. She feels his eyes move over her, a shudder slipping down her spine at the intensity of his scrutinizing stare.
"Hey. What are—"
She raises her hand to cut him off. "I'm your biggest fan." She moves forward, pulling his baseball card from her bag. "I wondered if you wouldn't mind signing this? I would really love to have your autograph."
His eyes bore into hers. She can practically see the cogs turning inside his devilishly handsome head. Finally, he smirks at her and waves away the card. "Sorry, babe, but I already signed all I'm gonna sign today for the rest of the groupies waiting downstairs."
"Hey!" She drops her hand to her waist and pops her hip out, trying to portray herself as more confident than she really is at this (terrifying) moment. "I'm not a groupie. I'm a true fan!"
He seems skeptical, his eyes roaming first over her tiny skirt and then up over the tank top she'd slid on over bare skin earlier this morning. Her nipples harden against the fabric as he gazes at her, pebbling into tight, tiny points that draws his attention right to them. A thrill drums through her when he licks her lips. He looks down at her legs, then slides his gaze over her heeled, strappy sandals before he drawls, "Coulda fooled me, honey."
"I just wanted to get your attention and I figured dressing like those girls downstairs would do the trick." She pauses, brushing her hand over her breast as she fights to push the uneasiness from her voice. "Did it?"
He shakes his head. The smirk on his face is so full of cockiness that it makes her crazy. He has hundreds, maybe thousands of women who proposition him like this all the time. She realizes that he's probably impervious to a little bit of cleavage and the tease of a hard nipple. The glint in his eyes means she's got his attention, at least, but if she thinks she's scoring an invitation to his room, she's going to have to up the ante. She takes a few steps forward to boldly smooth her hand down the front of his polo shirt. When she feels his abdomen muscles contract beneath her hand, her nipples harden even further. "I think you like what you see. I know a lot of women throw themselves at you but... I'm not like them. If you'd invite me to your room, I think you'd see that."
His head slowly starts to shake from side to side. Determined that she's going to get her way, Rachel bites her lip, lifting the hem of her skirt up until he can clearly see that she is naked underneath.
A low growl comes from his throat and he steps forward toward her until he's so close that she can feel the heat radiating from his body. It makes her have delicious, dirty thoughts, even as he says, "No dice, babe." His eyes darken. "I'm a happily married man. If you were a true fan, you'd know that."
He turns to leave. Frantic, she grabs his arm and digs her fingernails. He glares down at her, but the irritation gives way to an amused look when she starts to ramble. "Yes, I know you're married. Your relationship with your wife is well-documented. She's beautiful, by the way. And she's famous and amazingly talented in her own right..." Rachel takes a breath, pushing her hair away from her face. "But I also know you travel a lot and that she can't because of her career." She strokes her hand up his arm until her palm circles his bicep. "And I know you must get very lonely. I only want to talk." She pokes out her lower lip. "Please?"
She watches his shoulders droop before he ticks his head in the direction of the long hallway. She's hot on his heels all the way down the corridor to his room, her heart pounding in her chest the entire time. He's silent as he pulls the key card from his back pocket and then swipes it in the lock. They slip into the room quietly and, once she's inside, he puts the chain on the door, tosses his bag toward the floor, then turns to appraise her.
"What's your name?" He toes off his shoes and watches as she daintily sets her purse on the table by the window.
"My name? It's... Rachel."
Puck smirks. "Nice name. That happens to be my wife's name, too. What's your real name?"
Rachel shakes her head. "It's merely a coincidence, I promise."
He regards her with an unreadable look as he walks over to the bed and drops onto the plus mattress. He stretches his legs out in front of him and then leans back on his hands as he stares at her. "Lift up that skirt again for me, baby? I didn't get a good enough look before."
Her eyes are drawn to the obvious bulge pressing against the front of his jeans, but when he gives her the order, she glances down. Her cheeks turn a deep crimson as she does what she's told. Finally, after he's quiet for so long that her breath nearly seizes up inside her lungs, she drops the hem against her thighs again and glances at him. "I've followed your career since you were in the minor leagues. You're batting average continues to improve year over ye-"
He cuts her off. "Hey, Rachel? Shut the fuck up. We both know you're not here to impress me with your knowledge of my career stats." He stands up and saunters over to her, grabbing his wrist and circling it with his fingers. "I'm pretty sure you're just another groupie hoping to get your mouth around my cock, am I right?" He lowers his voice, his words coming out in a growl. "How many times do I have to tell you little bitches that I'm married?"
She shoots him a defiant look. "According to the girls downstairs, blow jobs don't count as cheating. All your teammates apparently have no problem with it!"
"I'm not them, baby."
Rachel's eyes narrow in frustration. She jerks her hand away from him and turns away. "Fine, I'll go."
Puck reaches out, his arm wrapping around her waist as his other hand slides up to circle her throat. He presses his mouth against her ear as he pulls her back against his chest. "No, you're not fucking going anywhere. You showed me that hot little pussy and guess what? I want what you're offering now." His open palm presses against her throat, not enough to hurt her but just tight enough to force a weak gasp from her as white hot streaks of desire shoot through her body and center right between her thighs. "You want my cock, don't you?"
Rachel nods her head as a tear, born of frustration, desire, and the tiniest bit of fear, slips down her cheek. He loosens his grip on her throat, his hand meandering down over her collarbone and into the top of her shirt to cup her breast. "I've wanted you for so long," she admits before eking out a moan as he pinches her nipple hard. "I make myself come every night thinking about you."
"Oh yeah?" Puck rasps in her ear. His hand moves away from her breast and over her body, first dragging along her side and then across her hips until he's pushing her skirt down her legs. It gets caught around her thighs, hanging there awkwardly as he snakes his hand over her belly and down over her mound. His fingers tap against her skin and he chuckles when she pushes her hips back against him. "You're fucking horny, aren't you? Horny and sexy, but you're just a kid. You aren't a day over seventeen, are you?"
"That's not true," she argues weakly. "I'm nineteen!"
"Okay, then why me? Why not one of the younger guys? You know I'm married. I'm 28 and fucking married." He pushes his thumb against her clit, rubbing in small circles. It feels so good that stutters out his name and puts her hand over top of his so that he can't move it.
"I know," she gasps. "I don't care about your teammates. You caught my attention so long ago and since then, you're...Oh, God..." His thumb moves along her slit, dragging through the wet evidence of her arousal before he pushes it into her pussy. Her eyes roll back in her head, her thighs instinctively widening so that he can touch every part of her.
"I'm what?" He slides his thumb back out, running the pad along her lips. When she doesn't answer, his hand rears back and he slaps her clit. She yelps and then sobs in pleasure, biting her lip when his arm tightens across her chest. "I'm what?"
"You're so gorgeous. I've never seen a man like you. I've gotten to the point where you're the only one that I know can satisfy me. I know you're married but I don't care. I just need you. Whatever you're willing to give me is what I'll take. Please."
Puck rewards her by pushing his thumb back inside her. She squeezes her pussy around him, hoping to give him a little preview of what it would feel like if decides he wants to bury himself between her thighs. "Okay, baby... I don't normally do this shit because I'm a good man but fuck, you've got the tightest little body and the hottest little pussy and I want this."
Rachel moans, so out of her head with desire that she can barely celebrate the victory of wearing him down. All she can do is grip his forearm with both her hands and lean her head back against his chest as he increases the speed of the hand working between her legs. His thumb continues to glide and twist inside her, his index finger soon stroking alongside her clit. She rocks her hips into his hand, moaning his name as he picks up his pace. His long, deliciously calloused fingers are delving deep into places that she can't reach on her own and that her vibrator (8 inches long, thick, realistic looking, and chosen just because she imagined that's what his cock would look like) can't even reach. He's nimble – twisting, plucking, and stroking. She knows that she's dripping, coating his fingers and even his palm, and she hopes he understands that he's the only man that can make her react this way. She's so close to coming, already dangling just on the brink of beautiful oblivion. Her eyes flutter closed. Just two more strokes. Just two more and—
She comes so hard and so fast that when she opens her mouth to scream, no sound comes out. Her eyes are screwed shut and her legs clamp closed, holding his hand between them as the delicious tremor rips through her, weakening her limbs. It's a heady feeling to know now that an orgasm at the hands of New York Mets catcher Noah Puckerman far exceeds the ones she has when she thinks about him in the darkness of her empty bed.
Puck steps quickly away from her, leaving her frustrated and in a haze because she's not ready to give up the intoxicating smell and feel of his body against hers. She hears the unmistakable sound of a descending zipper before he murmurs her name. She turns to face him, first meeting his eyes and then letting her gaze drop down his thick cock. He's stroking it lazily, a smirk on his face. "You good at sucking dick? That's why you're really here, right?"
She hesitates, then nods as her mouth starts to water. "I've done it a few times." She can't pull her eyes away. He's beautiful. He's thicker (much thicker) than she imagined and maybe a tad shy of the length that she'd always fantasized he has, but the strong veins that run up the length remind her of the veins in his arms. Those veins have always driven her wild. "God," she groans. "You're beautiful. It... it's gorgeous."
He looks down, watching his hand move over his cock. "C'mere then. Put that mouth on me and let me see what you got."
Rachel gives him a timid nod before she shimmies out of her skirt and then yanks her tank top over her head. She stands in front of him in nothing but her sandals before crossing the short distance and dropping to her knees. She locks eyes with him when she pushes his hand away, circling him with her own. She stares down at it, marveling at the thickness and heavy weight of it. She rubs her thighs together, visions of him sliding this thick cock inside her are so vivid that her pussy clenches and throbs in anticipation. Shuddering from the mere fantasy that's building in her head, she bends to lick the very tip of the head before moaning. "I've dreamed of doing this to you. I used to watch your games on TV with my ex-boyfriend and I'd get so wet just sitting there. They'd show you on camera and I'd watch the way your thighs moved, the way your muscles rippled, and I'd dream of doing this. I can't believe I-"
"Baby? Nobody wants to hear about your douchy ex-boyfriend." Puck interjects. "You talk too fucking much. Just suck it."
Rachel blushes at the chastisement, but grins at him before bending her head. She sucks just the head between her lips, then shivers when he winds his fingers into her hair. He tastes salty, and a little bit like the soap she knows he used in the locker room after the game. She blows a breath out through her nose and then opens her throat, taking him inside her until her nose brushes against the crinkly hairs peppering his pubic bone. She hears him groan, feels him shake, and smiles around him as he pulls her off of his cock and then, just as quickly, pushes himself back into the warm recesses of her mouth. He moves so fast that Rachel gags and has to push him from her mouth with her tongue. "Give me a minute," she orders smartly, her eyes watering.
Puck shakes his head, bucking his hips until his cock brushes against her lips. "Fucking take it, Rachel. If you're here to play ball with the big boys, you're gonna fucking do what I tell you."
The predatory glint in his eyes, coupled with the demanding tone in his voice, makes her whimper with need. She slips a hand between her own thighs, hoping to rub away some of the ache as she uses her mouth to pleasure him. Her mouth wide open, she sucks him in again. He murmurs "halle-fucking-lujah," presses her head against his pelvis, and begins to fuck her mouth. Rachel grunts, a little frantic because she'd never done this before (not like this anyway). His thrusts are relentless, his body language indicating little care for her own well-being as he seeks his release. She grips his wrist, her fingers digging in, and then swallows around his cock. He jerks inside her, grumbles her name, and then begins pounding himself down her throat so fast that spots of black begin to cloud her vision. She holds on for the ride, inhaling the smell of his skin and reveling in the weight of him on her tongue, until she feels the gush of his come flood her mouth. He roars her name, his fingers tight against her scalp until his body stops shuddering, and then he pushes her away and flops back on the bed.
She stares at him from her vantage point between his knees, wiping her mouth as she swallows repeatedly, hoping to force the sticky gunk further down her throat. What does she do now? Do the other girls just get up and leave? Does she tell him that her body is burning for him and that she wanted him to make her come again? Would he even care? Does she have to sign a nondisclosure form? She's never done anything sexual with a celebrity, and certainly not a professional baseball player, so the protocol eludes her.
Carefully, she stands up and walks to the side of the bed. Puck's eyes are closed but when he feels her presence, he pops them open and stares up at her. "What are you doing here, Rach?"
"Noah!" She complains, reaching out to swat him on the chest. "I'm not done yet! You can't just break character like that!"
Puck blinks at her. "Sorry, babe. I tried for as long as I could, but seriously, what the fuck are you doing here? You have a show in, like, two hours!"
Rachel climbs onto the bed and then sinks down, pressing herself against him. She drapes her arm across his chest as she cuddles herself into his side. "I missed you so much that I couldn't stand it, Noah. Our house was just too quiet and it was driving me crazy, so I asked my understudy to step in for a few days. You don't mind if I join you on the road for the next three games, do you?"
Puck rolls his head to the side, grinning at her. She watches his eyes soften and then he leans forward, brushing his lips over hers in a chaste kiss. When he pulls away, he threads his fingers through her hair. "S'great, baby. I was fucking floored to see you but you didn't give me a chance to even find out what the deal was before you jumped into that whole groupie role. Holy shit, by the way." He snickers. "That was so hot."
Rachel grins, happy that her acting skills (which she knows are top notch) continue to impress her husband. She drags her hand down his chest, relieved to see that he's on his way to a nice, thick erection once again. After reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, she pushes herself to her knees and flings her legs over his waist. She grabs his hand, pulling it up to cup her breast as she bites her lip and bats her eyelashes. "Puck, I want to feel you inside me. Will you... will you make love to me?" Leaning in, she whispers, "But I think you should know that I'm still a virgin."
"Oh, Jesus," Puck groans, then grips her hips and rolls her until she's under him. He nips at her collarbone and then lets his mouth hover over hers. "Yeah, I'll fuck you." He dips his head and takes her mouth roughly, his tongue battling with hers until they both moan. When he pulls back for air, shoots her a salacious leer. "But my wife can never know."
Rachel smiles as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down against her. "It'll be our little secret, I promise."