if I could tell you 10/?
Title: If I could tell you
Chapter: 10/?
Rating: M
Characters: Puck, Rachel, OC
Word Count: 6000
Summary: Puck and Rachel get another chance when unexpected events bring her to his doorstep years after graduation.
*****
She's pressed up against the wall and not at all sure how she got there, only with Noah's mouth moving along her neck and, oh god, sucking on that tender spot behind her ear, she thinks it may be the only thing holding her up. Well, that and the heat of his body against hers, touching from knees to torso, solid and exciting all at the same time and really, it's been far too long since she's had the opportunity to explore that body. One of her hands traces the lines of his back, slips under his shirt and scrapes lightly with her fingernails. He inhales hard against her collarbone and she does it again, lower this time, dipping below the waistband of his jeans, wanting to pull that sound from him again, but instead he recaptures her mouth, more aggressively this time, groaning in approval when she mirrors him. His hands which had been buried in her hair brush down along her sides to grip her hips firmly and he's walking her backwards out of the kitchen.
Just for a moment the tiny part of her that isn't consumed by all this is worried because bedroom? Isn't it all moving a little too fast? Instead he maneuvers them both into the living room, almost smacking her head on the door-frame as they cross the threshold.
"Sorry," he mutters, tearing his mouth away from hers for a second and she'd pout, only he's sinking onto the sofa and pulling her down next to him and she really needs to keep all her energy for the essentials, such as finding his lips again immediately.
They kiss...no, they make out for hours like a couple of teenagers. And despite the somewhat disappointing fact that his hands stay above her clothes at all times, it feels amazing. Noah always had the gift of being completely in the moment, like every ounce of his attention was on them and what they were doing. It's still intoxicating.
Eventually they pull back and she stares at his swollen lips, wondering if she looks as abandoned as he does. Reaching out, she rubs her thumb absently against a tiny mark that she must have given him just where his neck and shoulder meet and he catches her hand and kisses it briefly before linking his fingers with hers.
"I should go," he says. "It's late and unless things have changed in the last week, you're pretty much guaranteed to have an early start tomorrow. Besides, I completely want to punch myself for saying this, but we should probably take things slow."
She bites her bottom lip at this and briefly considers her bedroom again and there's definitely part of her that wants to drag him in there and tell him that taking it slow is completely overrated. (Except in the right context, naturally. Such as hours and hours of the kind of mind-blowing sexual experience that she's absolutely certain he'd be ready, willing and able to provide.) On the other hand part of her knows he's right. This is still so new for both of them. (Sort of.)
"I suppose so," she says with a last regretful glance at her bedroom door. He nods and stands and there's some uncomfortable looking shifting going on as he re-adjusts his jeans. She can't help giggling. (And admittedly, there's a fair amount of squirming because what Noah's carrying? Let's just say it looks impressive.)
"Really?" he asks, raising one eyebrow and grinning, "Because this is all you. There I was, just minding my own business, when out of nowhere...,"
She can feel heat rising to her cheeks, but she's still laughing as she rises up next to him, smacks him lightly on the arm and then tucks herself underneath it. "Oh is that how it happened? That's funny, because I could have sworn that you kissed me."
"Details. And speaking of details, what about our date? You still gonna bail on me?" he asks as they make their way to the apartment door.
A date? He was thinking of it as a date? There's the tiniest hint of strain buried beneath his casual tone. He's nervous, she realizes and of course she doesn't want him to be uncomfortable, but just that tiny hint that he's interested in more than the obvious is reassuring.
"What about lunch tomorrow?" she asks. "You don't have to work on Saturdays, do you? We could go to the park. I know! We could have a picnic! I'll pack some fruit and sandwiches and we can sit by the fountain." A sudden thought strikes her. "About that...Noah, you do realize that Connor and I are a package deal right now, right? I haven't been in San Francisco long enough to find a babysitter and I won't leave him with someone I don't trust, so I'm not sure if you'd actually consider that a proper date."
"Are you kidding?" he scoffs. "I need Connor around. How else am I going to get all the inside information like what your favorite flowers are or where the best place to shop for bunny slippers is? No, he's totally essential, so I'm sorry, you're just going to have to try to keep your hands to yourself."
She lifts one brow. "Oh really? Completely to myself?" she asks.
"Well, I don't know," he teases. "Maybe we can sneak around and hold hands when his back is turned."
She strongly suspects that if any sneaking around is done, they'll be doing quite a bit more than just holding hands. But is sneaking around the right word? Clearly, she's going to have to tell Connor something, but what? Would Noah even want to spend the night if he had the opportunity? What about her daddy? She doesn't need his approval exactly, but his support would be nice. What's he going to think? And then there's Finn. She's mentioned Noah's name one or twice in conversation (better to do it before Connor does) and he hadn't had much to say. What could he say, after all?
Noah's arm tightens around her and he's looking at her steadily.
"We'll figure it out," she says. After all, she doesn't need to have all the answers this minute any more than she had to have them back in high school, as much as she didn't understand that at the time. She just needs enough to go on and the rest will come.
"Yeah?" he asks.
She turns into him, reaching up and winding her hand along his shoulder blade to the back of his head, enjoying the feeling of his short hair prickling her palm. He leans into it, his eyes half-closing and her heart skips a beat.
"Yes," she says firmly as she pulls him down for a kiss.
*****
Disaster is a strong word and possibly a tiny bit of an over-exaggeration, but it does spring to mind more than once during their first official date since their sophomore year fling. Or ever, depending on whether your definition of a date encompasses spending the hour between her modern and tap dance class exploring each other's tonsils with their tongues in the parking lot of the 7-11. (He did buy her a slushie after, so there's that.)
First, there's Connor. She adores her son, but there's no denying that he has a stubborn streak a mile wide. (Daddy laughed himself sick the first time she mentioned that little fact to him.) She's in a bit of a rush trying to get ready before Noah arrives and yes, it was perhaps overly ambitious to think that in the allotted time she could shower, curl her hair, do her make-up and iron the yellow sundress that shows off her legs. (After all, slow doesn't mean stationary.)
Connor's on-the-floor, deperately-sobbing, full-on tantrum while she's trying to get him dressed just serves to put all of that into the realm of impossibility.
Listen, she chooses her battles carefully and fighting with a three-year-old over what to wear? Not high on her list. If Connor wants to wear his green dinosaur shirt with his red corduroy pants, she grins and bears it, even if he does look like a demented Christmas elf. But when both of those items are in the laundry basket covered with finger-paints and stain remover, sometimes he needs to make another choice.
Which she explains. At length.
And in fact, she's still explaining it when Noah arrives to find her in a ratty bathrobe with her wet hair dripping down the back of her neck. Just once she'd like to look like a put-together, polished woman when he shows up instead of looking like she's been dragged through a hedge backwards.
Still, he smiles warmly and squeezes her hand when he sees her and things look like they're going to pick up for a while. Connor consents to wear the blue airplane shirt when Noah says it's cool and the two of them make the sandwiches while she finishes getting ready. Vegan sandwiches no less, even if peanut butter and sliced banana strikes her as an odd combination.
Noah actually whistles when he sees her in her dress and Connor hugs her (happily with freshly washed hands, Noah is clearly a fast learner) and tells her she looks like a princess. She's beaming when she walks down the stairs with these two handsome men on her arms. And she's still smiling when she runs back up the stairs to fetch Bunny who apparently wants to go on the picnic too. Her smile becomes a little strained when she makes a second trip to get the sunblock she'd forgotten to pack and even more so when she makes a third trip back to the apartment for a washcloth to wipe the sunblock off of Bunny. ("Mommy! Bunny needs to be safe!")
They finally arrive at the park and their first picnic spot is still damp from the morning dew, the next one is immediately overrun by a group of hackey-sack playing senior citizens and at the third a scruffy looking squirrel is staring at them. ("Rach, c'mon! Admit it, that little rodent is creepy!")
Her favorite sandals break a strap, Connor's hat mysteriously ends up in a tree and needs to be retrieved and the girl at the ice-cream cart keeps throwing Noah flirtatious looks from across the bike path. Plus the sandwiches taste strange. ("Another one? Um...No. Thank you boys, they were...delicious, but I'm stuffed.")
To top it all off, Connor falls into the fountain (directly on his bottom in about three inches of water, but he lets out a very convincing wail) and when Noah pitches over the lip of it as he goes to rescue him, he not only gets completely soaked but also manages to scrape the ever-living daylights out of his shin. By the time they limp home, wet and bedraggled and in Noah's case, bleeding a little, Connor is more than ready to get into some dry clothes and be fussed over for a bit before being tucked into his bed for nap.
Noah doesn't seem to mind it all that much either. The fussing that is, not the being tucked into bed part. (Unfortunately.)
He's sitting on her vanity while she leans down to dabs hydrogen peroxide on his leg. It bubbles when it comes into contact with his cut and he lets out a hiss.
"Sorry," she says apologetically, "But that water is probably filthy. Better safe than sorry."
"S'okay. Blow on it?" he asks hopefully.
She gives him a look, but blows lightly on his cut and then pulls out a selection of colorful band-aids. "All I have are these ones I bought for Connor."
"That's cool," he laughs. "I'm down with Buzz Lightyear."
She looks down at his leg, carefully applying the bandage, a little bit afraid to meet his eyes. "This was kind of a disaster of a date, wasn't it?" she asks.
"I've had better," he deadpans and her eyes whip up to meet his. Hmmph. He's supposed to be comforting her. "No, no. I'm kidding," he continues, drawing her up and pulling her between his legs, "Sure, it was a hot mess, but that's kind of us all over."
"You think we're a mess?" she frowns, trying to pull away.
He links his fingers behind her back and tugs her back gently. "Hell, no. I think we get better with practice. And speaking of practice...." His hands move to cup her ass while his mouth slants over hers and she arches into him automatically, ignoring his damp clothes as she enthusiastically reciprocates.
It is an absolutely terrible line though and she's almost positive she'll mention it...later.
*****
They practice quite a bit over the next few weeks, both in reference to the dating and the kissing, though not with equal success.
He takes them to a Giants' game and not surprisingly after receiving a large container of popcorn, a foam finger and and a high five from the mascot, Connor adores it. Somewhat more unexpectedly, so does she. She may not be following much of the game but those uniforms are deliciously snug. They take a trip out into the harbor on a ferry boat and even though both of them keep a firm grip on Connor since the water here is considerably deeper than three inches, the views are amazing. They even have an evening to themselves to celebrate the completion her first week at school when Christine from apartment 2D suggests they trade off baby-sitting.
Basically, spending time with Noah is wonderful. Kissing Noah Puckerman regularly is more problematic.
It's not that it's unpleasant at all. Quite the contrary, the things that man could probably do with his mouth should be illegal and her biggest problem is that he's not doing nearly enough of them.
All right, fine. Things haven't progressed in quite the way she'd expected (hoped).
It's not like he's keeping six inches between them at all times or something ridiculous like that but on their evenings together when Connor's asleep and they start something, he's strangely reluctant to finish it, like there's some kind of invisible line he doesn't want to cross. And lordy, does she need that line to be crossed. To put it baldly, she's frustrated and that little toy she has carefully hidden away in her nightstand isn't doing the job any more, not when she knows that his mouth and his fingers and mmmmm, his cock (even thinking the word makes her shivery) would make it so much better.
And she's tried to be encouraging, really she has. She's let her skirt ride up, loosened one extra button on her blouse, allowed her hands to drift along his the delicious lines of his abs and down to his muscular thighs almost to where he should most want them to be. And while he seems to appreciate it, letting out a appreciative groan, his hands tightening on her and his eyes raking over her like she's naked, he doesn't offer to take things any further. And she's...she's been with one person in her entire life and she's never had to seduce someone and she doesn't want to make a fool of herself. (A tiny part of her is starting to wonder how interested Noah actually is. Isn't it supposed to be easier than this?)
She wishes she had someone to talk to about it but friends are a little thin on the ground just now. There's Noah obviously, but since this is about him, that doesn't work. Tina emails her a few times a year but most of her correspondence seems to center around the pictures of grammatically-inept cats in awkward positions that she uses as part of her performance-art. (Really. Apparently it's meant to be terrifyingly post-modern.) And while she's definitely made a few friends in San Francisco, especially Christine and her husband Scott and a few of her colleagues from school, she's reasonably sure that confessing how much she wants her boyfriend to fuck her would probably put a crimp in her nascent friendships.
That leaves...well, no one, actually. She'll just have to figure this out on her own.
*****
"Maybe you should just explain that you want to have sex with him. Honestly sweetheart, men aren't always that bright. You need to tell them these things."
Or she could blurt it out to her father the next time he calls. One or the other.
"Daddy, forget I said anything. This is completely embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as the time you and Dad acted out the menstrual cycle on our basement stage, but very, very close."
"That reminds me! I was cleaning out the downstairs closet and I found one of the papier-mache fallopian tubes. I wonder where the other one got to?"
"Have you tried the crawl-space over the garage?" She should not be encouraging him, but anything to change the subject. Only, oh god, she hopes he isn't scrap-booking again.
"I'll have to do that. But let's get back to your situation. I admit that I did have a bit of a flashback back to your high-school years when you first mentioned his name. Face it, the Puckerman boy did seem to spend most of his time looking at you as if he wanted to take all your clothes off and lay you down on the nearest horizontal surface."
"Daddy! He did not!" she protests, her cheeks burning. As is the rest of her.
"Darling, I was a teenage boy once, so you'll have to take my word for it. My point it this: you're my daughter and from the moment I knew you existed, I have always loved you. But I don't think I've ever been prouder of you than I have been during the last year. It takes an enormous amount of courage to face your life, realize that things haven't worked out the way you had hoped and then do something about it. You've done exactly that with grace and determination. I just want you to believe that it's all right for you to want things for yourself again. And if Noah Puckerman is what you want, you should go get him."
"But what if he says no?" she asks in a tiny voice. "What if I've been just been misreading things?"
"I sincerely doubt that's the case. But what if it is? Your Daddy used to say that there's no life without risk. And don't forget, he always liked Noah a lot."
She remembers. Dad never met a crazy scheme he didn't like and this year, all of it, the job, the move, it's almost like she can feel him over her shoulder, cheering her on, giving her courage. He would have loved this.
"You know what?" she says, "You're right. My neighbor owes me an evening of babysitting. I'm going to march right over to Noah's apartment and tell him how I feel! I'm going to put myself out there and go for what I want. Thank you so much for the pep-talk!"
"You're welcome sweetie. Just do me one tiny favor?"
"Anything."
"When you call me to let me know how things went, try to avoid going into too much detail. You're still my little girl, you know."
"It's a deal," she grins.
*****
"Noah, do you want to have sex with me?"
Hmmm. He's staring at her with his mouth open like a hooked fish. Maybe she should have tried opening with something else, something a little more subtle. Or possibly she should have confronted him in a slightly more private location than the entry-way to his apartment building and on that note, she smiles at sweet, old Mr. Santorini who is waving as he collects his mail. Oh well, she's ninety percent certain that Noah said he was mostly deaf, but she's being dragged to the elevator anyway and Noah's hitting the up button with considerable frustration. When it doesn't arrive in the next thirty seconds, he mutters a curse word and pulls her into the stairwell.
He surprises her by diving for her lips and kissing her hard and quick and just as her eyes flutter closed and her hands move to his shirt to tug him closer, he pulls back and starts pacing back and forth in front of her.
"Look Rach, I gotta tell you I'm kind of having a hard time processing what just happened. You know, long day, Jared being more obscure than usual, senior producer on my ass about the new album, so I'm just thinking it's possible I might be hallucinating here. Do you think that this once we could back up the conversation a little?"
She eyes him cautiously. "If you'd like. Hello, Noah. How was your day?"
"Yeah," he says, still pacing. "Busy and shit. How was yours? Where's Connor?"
"Connor is spending the evening with Christine and Scott. When I left, he and Gracie were setting up every stuffed animal in the house as some kind of audience. I just hope he manages to keep his hands off her hair this time. I swear, he's obsessed with her curls. And school was fine although I'm not sure if my third period class will ever be able to keep a beat and if Avery Powell thinks that her range is going to develop itself, she's got another thing coming. Oh, and Daddy called. He...um...says hello. Noah, do you think you could stop pacing? You're making me dizzy."
He grinds to a halt in front of her. "Fuck. Sorry. I'm just...can we go back to that other thing?"
"Noah, I...." She pauses and wets her upper lip nervously. For all her brave talk about putting herself out there and going for what she wants, her throat is dry and her stomach is clenching and she has to force herself to speak. "On the way over here, I started thinking that maybe this would be easier if I brought wine and rose-petals and soft music. Or if I was different, bolder, you know, all dressed up in high heels and black lingerie under a belted trench-coat."
"Rach," he says, his voice warm in her ear and she inhales because she didn't realize he was that close.
She can't look at him, but his fingers circle her wrist and it's enough to spur her into speech again. "But then I thought that I...I didn't need all that. That...that it could just be us and that would be enough." God, more than enough, the two of them, skin on skin, exploring, him hard where she's soft, the spark that lights a slow burn. Her knees are weak just thinking about it. "And I'm not sure why we haven't been. But I thought I'd put it out there, just in case."
When she gathers the courage to look up, he's leaning on the wall next to her, head tilted back against the rough surface. "If you're asking if I want you, of course I do," he says, his voice rough. "I want you all the fucking time. I fucking dream about you."
"But?" she asks dully. There always seems to be something.
"But nothing. I just didn't want to screw this up," he says quietly. "I don't want to screw it up."
Her heart is beating so hard that she can feel it as a pulsing rush in her ears. "So don't," she whispers.
His hand tightens around her wrist but his voice is soft and so, so careful. "Do you want to come upstairs with me?" he asks.
She nods because she can't find her words and then pipes out a squeaky 'yes' in case he missed it and and the two of them head up the stairs together, pausing to kiss on every landing, with her a step above so they're evenly matched. On the fourth floor they get carried away and he presses her up against the railing but she barely notices because one hand has insinuated itself under her blouse and his thumb is brushing the the lace at the underside of her breast. He dips into the cup of her bra and ghosts over her nipple and she can feel his smile against her neck and then his sharp inhale when she moves her hips to grind against his erection. She's beginning to wonder if they're even going to make it to his apartment.
Just wonder though, not particularly care.
A door bangs open and the echoing sound of voices fill the stairwell. It's from one flight down, thank goodness, but they both freeze--literally freeze, with his hand still cupping her breast and her leg nudging up against his cock--until the noise dies away completely. And then they burst out laughing, clinging on to each other for dear life. By the time they catch their breath she has to push forward with a grimace because it's just now starting to sink in that the rail is completely uncomfortable against her back.
His hand moves to rub her lower back gently and the little mewl she makes is only half because he's making it all better. The rest is because as sensitized as she is, him touching her skin in any context whatsoever is incredibly hot and she has to press her thighs together to assuage the ache.
He notices.
"I've got to get you upstairs and take your clothes off," he growls and the heated look is very definitely back.
"And lay me down on the nearest horizontal surface?" she asks. What? She's curious to find out if Daddy was right.
His eyebrow quirks. "Well, I was thinking of the bed first, but depending on how much time you have, we could try out a few more spots." His mouth travels down to her ear, nibbling on the lobe and then whispering, "You could make a list. That would be hot as fuck."
Would it be unladylike to run the last flight of stairs? Does she care?
When they finally, finally lock the door behind them, it's not at all what she expected based on the fact that she was about ninety seconds from begging him to finger her in the stairwell. They leave a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom, true, but none of it is rushed or desperate. Instead, he's careful with buttons and zippers, slow to slide each piece of fabric from her body to the floor, revealing skin inch by inch and licking and sucking and caressing each new spot as he discovers it.
He kisses the inside of her wrist in the living room, strokes a trail between her breasts with a touch so light she can barely feel it it the hall. She's shakier, unbuttons his shirt with trembling fingers and then pushes it off his shoulders as he kneels in front of her up against his bedroom door.
Looking up at her with wide, dark eyes, he murmurs, "You okay?" and she nods and throws her head back when she feels a puff of hot breath through her soaked panties. But he doesn't touch her there, instead he touches her legs, rubs the hollow behind her ankle, kisses the curve of her knee, sucks hard the front of her thigh, just where the hem of her dress would fall. He talks to her too, tells her how beautiful she is, every inch, and how he's going to take his time and show her.
By the time he gets to the her center, she's almost out of her mind and as he eases he underwear down, her eyes are squeezed shut and hands are fisted at her side. He gently nudges her to widen her stance and then moves closer, licking a quick stripe up her center and circling her bundle of nerves, before returning, dipping into her entrance. She's bucking towards him, desperate for more pressure and he gives it to her with the flat of his tongue against her clit and working one finger just an inch, then two into her pussy and then her eyes fly open in shock because suddenly it all stops.
"You like this?" he asks, his voice almost unrecognizable and she looks at him like he's crazy, because really? This is so goddamned good and she must have said so because he's grinning and diving back in, giving it all to her faster and a little harder, two fingers now, deeper, curling and stretching, and his tongue fluttering back and forth, sucking her clit into his mouth, letting his teeth scrape against it delicately. She's coiling and tightening, heat spreading to her fingers and toes and one of her hands is firm against the the back his head, guiding his movements and the other is wrapped up in his larger one, their fingers intertwined. She only has a moment to feel surprised about that when it all crescendos and she's climaxing, gasping out his name.
She's still coming down when he swoops her up and carries her to bed which is ridiculously cliched, or at least it would be if her legs still worked, so she'll let him get away with it this once. She pulls him closer, her hands making quick work of his jeans and boxers, pushing them carefully down his hips and allowing his cock to spring free. He said that she's beautiful? He is too, although she doubts he'd appreciate hearing it.
But maybe...this?
She leans over and takes him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the ridge and then sinking a little deeper, applying a light suction while backing off. His hands are everywhere, combing through her hair, gripping her shoulders, brushing against her cheek like he doesn't know what to do with them and when she sinks down further, lets him brush up against the back of her throat, he starts cursing. It's exciting to make him loose control like this and she can feel the ache between her legs build, feel herself getting wet again, but then he's pulling back, gasping.
"Noah!" She pouts a little and he lets out a choked laugh and then kisses her so sweetly that it feels like her heart is going to burst.
"I want to be inside you," he whispers in her ear, like it's some kind of secret.
She wants that too.
"Do you have protection?" she asks. (Of course she came prepared, but her handbag is by the door and that is clearly much too far away.) He reaches into his bedside drawer and places a condom into her hand and they both watch as she tears open the packet and carefully smooths it onto his length. She pumps him once or twice, experimentally twisting her wrist lightly, watching his reactions closely until he covers her hand, stilling the movement.
"Not gonna last if you keep doing that," he admits and yes, she's smirking at that. "Here," he says, rolling on to his back and pulling her astride him. "Like this. It'll be better for this time."
He's right. It's been a while, more than a year, a fact they've never discussed but she's sure he's aware of and he's not small. Besides, being on top, controlling the speed, the depth, the angle? That has its own appeal to her. If she had to guess, she'd say he's aware of that too.
She smiles as hovers above him and then lightly rubs against him, undulating her hips in a wide circle, letting her nipples drag against his chest. "Like this?" she purrs.
"Tease," he mumbles, propping himself up on his elbows so he can watch as she nudges the head of his cock with her pussy, making sure that he hits her clit just right.
"Touch me," she demands and he smiles wolfishly and takes one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling lightly and then blowing on it while he rolls the other gently between his fingertips.
"More?" he asks and when she moans affirmatively, he latches on, sucking hard and letting it pop out of his mouth before switching to the other and the frisson goes straight to her center.
She can't go without him another second. Trembling, her thighs burning from the effort of going slow, she guides herself on top of him and sinks down, hissing when she comes to rest with him buried inside her. And she's so full and it's so good, but even better when she starts to move, slowly at first, canting forward to grind against his pelvis, watching him swallow hard as he fists the bedspread. She builds a steady rhythm as she kisses his chest, working her way up to his neck, his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip and then catching it between her teeth, but it's not quite enough to get her where she needs to be.
"Noah," she murmurs as she grabs his hands and places them on her hips and he surges beneath her, gripping her tightly, increasing the pace until she's flying and there's nothing else but her heartbeat and heat and him.
"Baby, so good," he croons, throwing his head back and she ripples, tightens around him and almost stutters to a stop as he slams her hips down, once, twice, a third time, pulsing into the condom just as those stars she was always chasing are in her grasp for a single perfect moment.
Oh god, she's not going to want to give this up. Any of it. Not ever.
Chapter 11