Glee Fic: only it’s just not jagger
Yeah, well ... yeah. I'm going to go hide now or something. This may or may not be in the same 'verse as the high school trap. I don't know. Probably. I just need to leave the kink meme alone because, yeah. Anyways. As always, the blame goes to 0penhearts.
Also, fair warning (and I definitely should have put this up earlier), if Student/Teacher anything isn't your thing, you should keep on, keep on scrolling on. Please.
only it’s just not jagger
the song, it goes a little something like this: shake your hips, you wild, wild thing.
glee | will/rachel | general spoilers for never been kissed | 2,241 words, adult.
for the glee_kink_meme and this prompt, calling for: established relationship, student/teacher, leather, and dirty talk ... I think.
-
He sees her first because Puck has her at the door, his hand wrapped around her elbow as they laugh about his grandmother and something about temple duties. Rachel is barely paying attention, her cheeks flushing even though it’s really all about the leather and less about the glance that Mr. Schuester throws her as he bypasses the two of them for the door and the chorus room.
“I should finish getting ready, Noah,” she says, and her voice is a little breathless. Her friend raises an eyebrow and she pushes his hand away, grinning a little as he pretends to only slightly cop some kind of feel of her ass.
Her eyes are bright and it’s still, still about the last five minutes before a performance, whoever’s in there or not. She feels the pulse and the fluttering in her stomach and the heels of her boots click as she turns to head back to the other girls.
“It’s faux leather. They’re really leggings,” she says, and Puck laughs until he disappears behind her.
For the record, Bon Jovi is not her thing. In fact, if there were ever the opportunity to do some real classic rock outside of eighties, eighties, and more eighties and Journey and what have you, she’d be all for trying new things. But Bon Jovi does get it done.
She’s breathing heavily still, sweat gathering at the back of her neck as she pushes her hair away from her face. Mercedes says something about walking around like this all day and Rachel’s not a liar and she’s a girl, she doesn’t miss the looks she gets from Puck and Finn and Sam and the other boys. So she kind of likes it.
“I’ll see you after school,” she tells her friends, leading the impression that she’s going to change out of her clothes anyway, and there’s a kiss on her cheek from Finn, Kurt pushing him away as she turns to go and grab her bag. Her movements are deliberate until she wraps her fingers around the strap and behind her, the chorus room door shuts and locks.
Rachel keeps her back to the door. Her lips purse and she tries not to smile, peeling off the jacket and letting it hang around the back of the chair that her bag sits in.
“You seem pretty pleased.”
Her mouth twitches. Rachel still doesn’t turn around.
“I am,” she says, and it’s easy, lazy even; the sound of Mr. Schuester’s voice sort of echoes in the room and she listens to the blinds snap against the glass of the door window. She lets a finger curl in her hair, twirling a loose strand. “But you knew that.”
“I do,” he agrees.
Mr. Schuester is leaning against the door too. His arms are folded against his chest. His gaze is heavy and she moves her hand to the column of her throat, tugging loose the necklace. Her eyes keep to his mouth and she watches his tongue dart out to wet his lips. She can’t decide if he’s angry and uncomfortable, curious or even pleased.
School is not a new thing for them. She offers her hand before she tells him come here.
It started in the summer. Rachel cannot tell you how or why, outside of that one time Finn couldn’t meet him for some club favor and she had to go instead. There was the back of his car and the way her skirt bunched up over her hips as his tongue flicked at her clit and the only real thing he could tell her was how much he loves how she tastes.
After that, it was his bed, in the dark of his house after her dads went away for too long of a weekend. There was a lie to friends, somewhere in there, because she ended up keeping herself naked for a straight too days and he fucked her into the window, bright and open, her legs dangling at his sides as the morning came and the neighbors were getting ready to cut the grass.
Here’s a secret and it’s like this: they like watching each other and this classroom is too, too easy to do that.
When he peels off the bustier, his mouth closes around her breast and she shoves her fingers into his hair. They twist and she lets out this little sigh, sweeping her teeth against her lip as she leans into straddle his lap.
“I almost - ” her voice sharpens when his teeth twist over her nipple, “I almost wish we were on stage for this. And afterwards, I’d climb into your lap just so everybody could see just how crazy I make you.”
He groans and she feels his hand stretch over her belly, sliding under the waistband of her leggings and between her legs. She feels his breath catch against her breast, as he turns his head and flicks his tongue against her other nipple.
When his lips close around it, she starts humming. “I think you’d like that,” she manages, and her hips press forward into his hand. She’s not wearing panties and his finger slips between her folds, circling around her hole. She jerks too when his thumb rubs lightly against her clit, it slides down back over his fingers, just before they curl and he pinches her clit. She makes a soft noise and he nuzzles her throat.
“I don’t want to share you, baby,” he tells her.
She laughs and he slides two fingers inside of her. The sound almost chokes.
Mr. Schuester likes certain things. Like when he brings her off, she finds herself more than just half-naked, on her knees and watching him watch her slide his dick into her mouth. She’s deliberate with her lips and hums just before her teeth scrape lightly over the tip of his dick.
“You’re so good at that,” he breathes, and he makes a fist in her hair. The strands tangle between his fingers and she twists her head to the side, running her tongue along his length. He leans forward, tugging at her head and then his fingers are in her mouth too as she tastes that odd mix of him and her.
She lets her hand stroke him too, running her fingers up and down. She cups his balls and then pulls back from his hand, running her tongue against this skin. He makes this sound and his hand pulls her hair back, just as she watches his head drops.
“Rachel.”
Her lips curl and she presses her mouth back over his dick, taking the tip against her lips. She lets her tongue flatten against the skin and there’s that taste, that odd salty taste that clings to her mouth and carries through until she gets home or they stop or until her fingers slide between her legs and she has to fuck herself because he’s not around. Rachel knows that he likes that part best.
“You’re going to come,” she says. Her voice is soft and calm. His hand wraps around his dick too, covering her hand before she leans in again. And maybe it’s because Puck is her friend and she’s around more boys and Santana than she is with girls who talk about mystery and romance and all things you think sixteen and seventeen should really be about. She likes the dirty secret though and she thinks he likes it more than she does.
But she’s sore and she wants to touch herself, but she won’t, not in front of him, because he always does it himself and she likes it when she gets to pull at his hair and hands and then lick off the taste of her own orgasm off of his mouth. Rachel thinks that this is really all his fault and maybe, just maybe, if they were back in the car, and it had been a kiss and conversation, there might be a little more romance.
“Open your mouth,” he says, and she does.
He decides to fuck her over Puck’s chair. She laughs just before he pushes the fat tip of his dick inside of her. Rachel moans and wiggles her ass, his hand flattening against the small of her back.
Her knees are shaky. She grips the back of the chair with her fists. Her eyes squeeze shut and she feels his fingers roll a little against her skin. This is a declaration, not a gesture, and for a moment, the control comes back to him.
“You’re going to put the pants back on,” he says, and he pushes his hips forward, just a little, and she feels his dick slide a little further inside of her. She’s wet, god, she’s wet and sticky and the taste of him in her mouth is so, so perfect because she knows that eventually he’ll have to taste her mouth too.
“Thank god for free periods,” she says instead, and her lips press over the god and the free, just as he begins to move his hips.
She’s tight, she knows she’s tight as she feels him press further, deeper inside of her. She likes the sensation of how she stretches and how big he feels. There’s no fumbling and it’s not awkward and she knows exactly how and why she wants it the way she wants it. He does too and she thinks that if there’s anything, any line that they’ve always been clear about since the beginning, beyond any of this, is those lines.
“I want to come slowly,” she demands. Her voice is shaky. His knee presses into the back of her leg and she’s forced to almost lower herself into the chair. The position is awkward and uncomfortable until he turns them and he’s sitting in Puck’s chair and she’s spread wide in his lap, facing the door of the chorus room.
“Baby,” he says.
She starts to rock against him. Her hips rise and fall and she slides a hand between her legs, her fingers rubbing over her clit. His teeth graze her shoulder once, then twice and hard and she would laugh if she could.
“I like tasting you,” she says too. “I like when I’m sticky and flushed and - oh - I should have come to your office earlier. You’d like that, right?”
Mr. Schuester moans. Rachel’s head drops back, against his shoulder and his hand cups one of her breasts. She moves steadily, as if to drag everything out.
“You’d like knowing,” she gasps, “ - that I had to perform like that covered in you, teeth marks and sticky thighs, crawling to the boys who are totally, totally unaware that you’re fucking me and it’s all right where they sit and stand and so, so good.”
“Yes,” he hisses, and his teeth scrape over her ear.
This is how it goes: he completely and utterly falls apart to tell her that he’d like to have her here again and again, then his office and in the classroom, and the car again too. He’d like to have her and make sure that Finn and Puck and old names like Jesse all know that he’s the one inside of her, stretching her, and those pants, those pants in heap on the floor by the door and her boots, were all for him.
When he comes, her thighs are sticky with his release. Before she puts her clothes back on, she makes sure he sucks her fingers off to keep them clean.
He still says, “I like to watch you,” and his gaze is too heavy, his eyes glassy, and she really doesn’t move because she likes the feeling of his chest against her back and the way her legs dangle off his thighs. He’s still inside of her too and her toes curl at the sensation, just as he shifts.
“You’re always the perfect audience,” she says.
(Here’s another secret, and just a piece of it, but he’ll drive her home and they’ll sit in the driveway outside of her house, just as the light of the television flickers in one of the windows and it all means that one of her dads are home. He lean over and she’ll take his fingers into her mouth, sucking at them as he rubs her off, over the leggings. Her jacket will flutter against her sides and cover the deep teeth marks on her shoulder.
“You’re mine,” he says, and she’ll only smile to agree.)
They stand at the door. Her jacket is draped over her arm. Her lips twitch as he presses a shoulder into the wall, towering over her even with her boots.
“You look beautiful,” he says, and she’s aware she looks thoroughly fucked, that she’s going to have to disappear into the bathroom and maybe change into a t-shirt and wash her face several times before the flush goes away and her hair can be fixed into something that isn’t a mess.
She knows that they both have this schedule, where he knows that Coach Sylvester is going to come barreling down the hallway in about ten minutes, just before the bell. There’s the case of her too, where she has to make sure that she’s off to her next class just in time to see Mercedes and Puck and keep in an appearance for the weekend.
Rachel is a good girl, after all.
Also, fair warning (and I definitely should have put this up earlier), if Student/Teacher anything isn't your thing, you should keep on, keep on scrolling on. Please.
only it’s just not jagger
the song, it goes a little something like this: shake your hips, you wild, wild thing.
glee | will/rachel | general spoilers for never been kissed | 2,241 words, adult.
for the glee_kink_meme and this prompt, calling for: established relationship, student/teacher, leather, and dirty talk ... I think.
-
He sees her first because Puck has her at the door, his hand wrapped around her elbow as they laugh about his grandmother and something about temple duties. Rachel is barely paying attention, her cheeks flushing even though it’s really all about the leather and less about the glance that Mr. Schuester throws her as he bypasses the two of them for the door and the chorus room.
“I should finish getting ready, Noah,” she says, and her voice is a little breathless. Her friend raises an eyebrow and she pushes his hand away, grinning a little as he pretends to only slightly cop some kind of feel of her ass.
Her eyes are bright and it’s still, still about the last five minutes before a performance, whoever’s in there or not. She feels the pulse and the fluttering in her stomach and the heels of her boots click as she turns to head back to the other girls.
“It’s faux leather. They’re really leggings,” she says, and Puck laughs until he disappears behind her.
For the record, Bon Jovi is not her thing. In fact, if there were ever the opportunity to do some real classic rock outside of eighties, eighties, and more eighties and Journey and what have you, she’d be all for trying new things. But Bon Jovi does get it done.
She’s breathing heavily still, sweat gathering at the back of her neck as she pushes her hair away from her face. Mercedes says something about walking around like this all day and Rachel’s not a liar and she’s a girl, she doesn’t miss the looks she gets from Puck and Finn and Sam and the other boys. So she kind of likes it.
“I’ll see you after school,” she tells her friends, leading the impression that she’s going to change out of her clothes anyway, and there’s a kiss on her cheek from Finn, Kurt pushing him away as she turns to go and grab her bag. Her movements are deliberate until she wraps her fingers around the strap and behind her, the chorus room door shuts and locks.
Rachel keeps her back to the door. Her lips purse and she tries not to smile, peeling off the jacket and letting it hang around the back of the chair that her bag sits in.
“You seem pretty pleased.”
Her mouth twitches. Rachel still doesn’t turn around.
“I am,” she says, and it’s easy, lazy even; the sound of Mr. Schuester’s voice sort of echoes in the room and she listens to the blinds snap against the glass of the door window. She lets a finger curl in her hair, twirling a loose strand. “But you knew that.”
“I do,” he agrees.
Mr. Schuester is leaning against the door too. His arms are folded against his chest. His gaze is heavy and she moves her hand to the column of her throat, tugging loose the necklace. Her eyes keep to his mouth and she watches his tongue dart out to wet his lips. She can’t decide if he’s angry and uncomfortable, curious or even pleased.
School is not a new thing for them. She offers her hand before she tells him come here.
It started in the summer. Rachel cannot tell you how or why, outside of that one time Finn couldn’t meet him for some club favor and she had to go instead. There was the back of his car and the way her skirt bunched up over her hips as his tongue flicked at her clit and the only real thing he could tell her was how much he loves how she tastes.
After that, it was his bed, in the dark of his house after her dads went away for too long of a weekend. There was a lie to friends, somewhere in there, because she ended up keeping herself naked for a straight too days and he fucked her into the window, bright and open, her legs dangling at his sides as the morning came and the neighbors were getting ready to cut the grass.
Here’s a secret and it’s like this: they like watching each other and this classroom is too, too easy to do that.
When he peels off the bustier, his mouth closes around her breast and she shoves her fingers into his hair. They twist and she lets out this little sigh, sweeping her teeth against her lip as she leans into straddle his lap.
“I almost - ” her voice sharpens when his teeth twist over her nipple, “I almost wish we were on stage for this. And afterwards, I’d climb into your lap just so everybody could see just how crazy I make you.”
He groans and she feels his hand stretch over her belly, sliding under the waistband of her leggings and between her legs. She feels his breath catch against her breast, as he turns his head and flicks his tongue against her other nipple.
When his lips close around it, she starts humming. “I think you’d like that,” she manages, and her hips press forward into his hand. She’s not wearing panties and his finger slips between her folds, circling around her hole. She jerks too when his thumb rubs lightly against her clit, it slides down back over his fingers, just before they curl and he pinches her clit. She makes a soft noise and he nuzzles her throat.
“I don’t want to share you, baby,” he tells her.
She laughs and he slides two fingers inside of her. The sound almost chokes.
Mr. Schuester likes certain things. Like when he brings her off, she finds herself more than just half-naked, on her knees and watching him watch her slide his dick into her mouth. She’s deliberate with her lips and hums just before her teeth scrape lightly over the tip of his dick.
“You’re so good at that,” he breathes, and he makes a fist in her hair. The strands tangle between his fingers and she twists her head to the side, running her tongue along his length. He leans forward, tugging at her head and then his fingers are in her mouth too as she tastes that odd mix of him and her.
She lets her hand stroke him too, running her fingers up and down. She cups his balls and then pulls back from his hand, running her tongue against this skin. He makes this sound and his hand pulls her hair back, just as she watches his head drops.
“Rachel.”
Her lips curl and she presses her mouth back over his dick, taking the tip against her lips. She lets her tongue flatten against the skin and there’s that taste, that odd salty taste that clings to her mouth and carries through until she gets home or they stop or until her fingers slide between her legs and she has to fuck herself because he’s not around. Rachel knows that he likes that part best.
“You’re going to come,” she says. Her voice is soft and calm. His hand wraps around his dick too, covering her hand before she leans in again. And maybe it’s because Puck is her friend and she’s around more boys and Santana than she is with girls who talk about mystery and romance and all things you think sixteen and seventeen should really be about. She likes the dirty secret though and she thinks he likes it more than she does.
But she’s sore and she wants to touch herself, but she won’t, not in front of him, because he always does it himself and she likes it when she gets to pull at his hair and hands and then lick off the taste of her own orgasm off of his mouth. Rachel thinks that this is really all his fault and maybe, just maybe, if they were back in the car, and it had been a kiss and conversation, there might be a little more romance.
“Open your mouth,” he says, and she does.
He decides to fuck her over Puck’s chair. She laughs just before he pushes the fat tip of his dick inside of her. Rachel moans and wiggles her ass, his hand flattening against the small of her back.
Her knees are shaky. She grips the back of the chair with her fists. Her eyes squeeze shut and she feels his fingers roll a little against her skin. This is a declaration, not a gesture, and for a moment, the control comes back to him.
“You’re going to put the pants back on,” he says, and he pushes his hips forward, just a little, and she feels his dick slide a little further inside of her. She’s wet, god, she’s wet and sticky and the taste of him in her mouth is so, so perfect because she knows that eventually he’ll have to taste her mouth too.
“Thank god for free periods,” she says instead, and her lips press over the god and the free, just as he begins to move his hips.
She’s tight, she knows she’s tight as she feels him press further, deeper inside of her. She likes the sensation of how she stretches and how big he feels. There’s no fumbling and it’s not awkward and she knows exactly how and why she wants it the way she wants it. He does too and she thinks that if there’s anything, any line that they’ve always been clear about since the beginning, beyond any of this, is those lines.
“I want to come slowly,” she demands. Her voice is shaky. His knee presses into the back of her leg and she’s forced to almost lower herself into the chair. The position is awkward and uncomfortable until he turns them and he’s sitting in Puck’s chair and she’s spread wide in his lap, facing the door of the chorus room.
“Baby,” he says.
She starts to rock against him. Her hips rise and fall and she slides a hand between her legs, her fingers rubbing over her clit. His teeth graze her shoulder once, then twice and hard and she would laugh if she could.
“I like tasting you,” she says too. “I like when I’m sticky and flushed and - oh - I should have come to your office earlier. You’d like that, right?”
Mr. Schuester moans. Rachel’s head drops back, against his shoulder and his hand cups one of her breasts. She moves steadily, as if to drag everything out.
“You’d like knowing,” she gasps, “ - that I had to perform like that covered in you, teeth marks and sticky thighs, crawling to the boys who are totally, totally unaware that you’re fucking me and it’s all right where they sit and stand and so, so good.”
“Yes,” he hisses, and his teeth scrape over her ear.
This is how it goes: he completely and utterly falls apart to tell her that he’d like to have her here again and again, then his office and in the classroom, and the car again too. He’d like to have her and make sure that Finn and Puck and old names like Jesse all know that he’s the one inside of her, stretching her, and those pants, those pants in heap on the floor by the door and her boots, were all for him.
When he comes, her thighs are sticky with his release. Before she puts her clothes back on, she makes sure he sucks her fingers off to keep them clean.
He still says, “I like to watch you,” and his gaze is too heavy, his eyes glassy, and she really doesn’t move because she likes the feeling of his chest against her back and the way her legs dangle off his thighs. He’s still inside of her too and her toes curl at the sensation, just as he shifts.
“You’re always the perfect audience,” she says.
(Here’s another secret, and just a piece of it, but he’ll drive her home and they’ll sit in the driveway outside of her house, just as the light of the television flickers in one of the windows and it all means that one of her dads are home. He lean over and she’ll take his fingers into her mouth, sucking at them as he rubs her off, over the leggings. Her jacket will flutter against her sides and cover the deep teeth marks on her shoulder.
“You’re mine,” he says, and she’ll only smile to agree.)
They stand at the door. Her jacket is draped over her arm. Her lips twitch as he presses a shoulder into the wall, towering over her even with her boots.
“You look beautiful,” he says, and she’s aware she looks thoroughly fucked, that she’s going to have to disappear into the bathroom and maybe change into a t-shirt and wash her face several times before the flush goes away and her hair can be fixed into something that isn’t a mess.
She knows that they both have this schedule, where he knows that Coach Sylvester is going to come barreling down the hallway in about ten minutes, just before the bell. There’s the case of her too, where she has to make sure that she’s off to her next class just in time to see Mercedes and Puck and keep in an appearance for the weekend.
Rachel is a good girl, after all.