Santana – Lundies
They start dating in ninth grade and Sundays quickly become their days because his mom and his little sister spend the whole day with Nana Connie doing mother/daughter carp like knitting and scrapbooking (he doesn't know or care what they really do, he's just glad he's not asked to tag along) and Santana's extended family (which is fucking huge) gather's at her house for dinner. She says their bitching gives her migraines and really she shouldn't be expected to give a shit about her fourth and fifth cousins, twice removed.
She comes over after church and sprawls out across his bed flipping through his latest issue of Hustler while they watch NASCAR or play Mario Kart. They make out a lot too because the girl is smoking hot and they're both horny teenagers. It's no surprise really that his hand occasionally slips beneath her shirt while he marks her neck with little, red bite marks (she'll kick his ass for it later but it'll totally be worth it).
He palms her thigh through the black dress slacks she's wearing causing her to arch up against him and toss the magazine across the room. "The fuck, Bitch, I haven't read that—"
She cuts him off with a kiss, her tongue sliding against his as she wraps her fingers around his wrist and guides it over to the dampening fabric between her legs. Her free hand slides through his Mohawk, tugging viciously when he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip.
He laughs as he pulls away, fingers working the buttons of her dress pants, sliding the fabric down over her hips once he's gotten them unfastened. He pauses at the sight of her underwear. He's never seen this pair before. They're old and two sizes too big with little elasticity left. Normally she wears those cute ones shaped like the tiniest shorts on the face of the earth. He likes those.
"What?" she snaps pushing herself up on her elbows. When she sees what's caught his attention she rolls her eyes. "They're my lundies."
"Your whaties?"
"My laundry day underwear, the pair I wear when everything else is in the wash."
"They're fucking ugly."
"Who cares? It's not like they're going to be on much longer. I mean unless you suddenly don't want to get laid."
He does.
He smirks as he pulls them down over her hips, kissing just below her ear before snickering, "It'd have been sexier if you weren't wearing any at all."
Quinn - Spanks
Santana's on the rag which means she's a bigger bitch than normal. He's fucking tired of her shit so he bails on their movie night and takes the wine coolers he bought for her with him just for spite. He's about to climb into his truck when he spots the faint blue glow behind the curtains of Quinn's bedroom window. Before he even knows what he's doing he's crossed the street and has his finger on the door bell.
It takes her a few minutes to answer the door but when she does she scowls at him, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes in his direction. "Finn's not here."
"No shit," he replies rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "He's school shopping or something with his mom. I just—I was over at San's and saw the lights on. I thought maybe you could use some company."
She bites the corner of her lip delicately and he has to think about the boy's locker room in order to keep his lower anatomy from giving away his attraction to her. She's pretty in that never-been-touched way that most of the girls in their inner circle have never possessed. Problem is, she's dating Finn which means he shouldn't want her nearly as much as he does.
"Fine," she sighs, moving back so he can step through the doorway. "But keep your pervy hands to yourself Puckerman. I'm not one of your promiscuous little tarts and I have a boyfriend."
He holds his hands up in surrender as he surveys the expensive looking living room they're standing in. The house is quiet—a little too quiet. "Your folks home," he asks sizing her up out of the corner of his eye.
"No they're at a church sponsored charity event."
"You gave up a chance at playing chastity queen for a night alone? No offense Q but that doesn't really sound like you."
"No offense, Puck," she spits vehemently, "but you don't really know me."
"Uh, okay…" He cocks a curious brow in her direction as he sets the Seven-Eleven bag with the wine coolers down on the floor and then perches himself on the arm of a pristine white couch. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
She huffs her annoyance and rolls her exquisite amber eyes. "Not that it's any of your business but I've had a pretty rough day."
"Yeah, being Queen must be a fucking burden."
"You try listening to Coach Sylvester yell through a bull horn that the routine you spent all summer choreographing was sloppy and infantile while Jess Kale's knobby knee digs into your spleen. Apparently gaining one lousy, little pound gets you banished to the bottom of the pyramid and if that isn't bad enough, which it is, now my captaincy is in jeopardy of being handed over to a sniveling freshman with an eating disorder."
"Sounds like you could use a drink," he offers leaning down to retrieve one of the Margarita flavored wine coolers.
She takes it, turning it around to inspect the label. "Have you been listening to a single word I've said? I can't drink this there's like a million calories in a single sip."
"Are you kidding me? You're like fucking tiny—and hot. I don't think one wine cooler is going to value size your ass."
"You think I'm tiny?"
"Well yeah."
"And hot?"
"When you're not being a total bitch."
He thinks the smile she gives him is probably genuine and the way she looks at him through her lowered lashes is kind of sexy as fuck. He nods towards the bottle in her hand, "Trust! That shit right there will take the edge off. You'll forget all about your shitty day. Tastes good too."
She twists off the cap and takes a sip, licking her lips once she swallows. The image goes straight to his gonads. Fuck his life. He suppresses the groan threatening the back of his throat and pushes away from the couch.
"So what were you watching?" he asks nodding towards the stairs he suspects leads up to her bedroom.
She takes another dainty sip as she looks over towards the stairs too. "Oh, um—" she says a deep blush coloring her cheeks. "I was watching The Notebook. It's kind of my go to movie when I'm feeling crappy."
"Don't they die at the end?"
She grins widely, a soft bubble of laughter breezing past her lips. "You've seen The Notebook?"
"Shut up!" He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and laughs a little. "Its chick bait, okay, a one way ticket to the promised land."
"You're a pig."
"Does that mean I don't get to watch with you?"
"Well, I guess I kind of owe you for the drink," she says holding up the bottle she's still clutching in her hand.
"Yeah you do," he teases picking up the bag at his feet and following her up the stairs.
It's not really a big surprise that she cries. Santana cried too the first time and that bitch is fucking hard—like nails. He still laughs because it's a movie and shit like that just doesn't happen in real life. He reaches over though and swipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb. They're close; he can feel the warmth of her breath and smell a hint of apple from the wine cooler.
"Kiss me already," she orders rolling her eyes in exaggeration.
He doesn't hesitate and only after his tongue has slipped past her teeth does he even allow himself to think about Finn. He knows this situation is fucked up but he can't help himself. There's just something about this girl.
He's surprised at how easy it is to unlock her chastity belt, turns out it only takes a few well placed phrases—"You're not fat."…"This is more than just another hookup for me."—and her spanks practically crawl down her milky white thighs.
"No one can know about this." It's her only request and one he's more than happy to go along with. If Finn finds out he's well and truly fucked. That doesn't really stop him, however, from settling himself between her legs and taking her virginity.
Brittany - Commando
His fight with Finn was fucking ridiculous, he knows that. But fuck, dude is totally not manning up and his kid needs a dad not a douche-nozzle. He doesn't get why Quinn thinks Finn would make a better dad then him anyway but she's pretty dead set on her choice and he kind of just wants to make her happy.
With fifteen minutes to go in sixth period he raises his hand and asks to take a leak. Mrs. Kitchener looks appalled but she nods for him to go ahead and doesn't say anything when he picks up his book bag and heads for the door. He's fucking ready to bail, the only problem is skipping class isn't as much fun if you do it alone.
His first choice is Santana because that girl can do some pretty wild things with her mouth, but she's sort of dating Matt and he owes the dude a solid after sleeping with his mom at the beginning of summer. Finn's definitely out, besides he's probably off somewhere crying on Rachel's shoulder. Fucking asshole! Mike and Matt are out too, they both have weight training next period (he's glad he has that shit in the mornings) and no dude in their right mind would blow off weight training. He briefly thinks about asking Quinn but the last time he got her to loosen up for more than a second he ended up popping her cherry and knocking her up. He's pretty sure she won't be receptive.
There's really only one choice left so he heads towards the English hall and knocks on Ms. Turner's door, shooting the old hag an award winning smile as he pokes his head into the classroom.
"Figgins wants to see Brittany in his office, said to have her bring her stuff."
Mrs. Turner motions to Brittany as the rest of the class oohs and ahhs. He rolls his eyes and steps back choosing to wait in the hall in case Mrs. Turner decides to ask him for a note or a hall pass which would fucking ruin everything.
When Brittany steps through the class room door she nearly walks right past him. She's gnawing on her lower lip, hands fiddling with the pleats of her skirt, and when he reaches out to touch her arm she startles.
"Babe," he asks arching a questioning brow in Britt's direction.
"Am I in trouble," Brittany returns her voice trembling slightly. "Am I going to get suspended?"
"What…fuck no," he says with a little chuckle. "I just…I'm kidnapping you for the rest of the afternoon."
Brittany's eyes widen in surprise and she bites into her lip again. "My parents don't have a lot of money Puck and I think Santana might miss me if I disappear."
"For fucks sake, Britt, we're not jumping ship to Canada we're skipping seventh and eighth period. I'll have you back for cheerleading practice."
"Oh! Okay," she replies a smile slowly replacing her previous frown. "Where are we going?"
Puck shrugs as he pushes open the front doors of the school and steps out into the crisp fall air. "I don't know. What do you feel like doing?"
Her eyes sparkle and her smile widens, "Can we go to the park and feed the ducks?"
It sounds fucking awful but she's bouncing around all excited like, pony tail bobbing and boobs swaying hypnotically and really how can he say no to those boobs…err, to this girl, besides the park kind of use to be like their place.
He's lying on top of a picnic table near the duck pond, his head hanging over the edge as he watches Brittany feed the squawking animals. He kind of digs the upside down view of her ass clad in a red and white Cheerio skirt.
When she runs out of bread crumbs she skips over and sits down beside him. His hand falls to her calf massaging the muscles she's toned during years of dance classes and cheerleading practices. The tendons are tight beneath his fingers as she flexes her foot, rotating it until her ankle cracks. She babbles on and on about something he's not at all interested in so he concentrates instead on the feel of her skin as he moves his hand up to her knee.
He knows she's ticklish there so he gives her knee cap a little squeeze just to hear the chime of her laughter, its soft and kind of adorable. Pushing himself up he leans in letting his lips linger on the delicate curve of her jaw. When he reaches her thigh she parts her legs. He gives her a questioning look but her eyes are closed and she's biting into her bottom lip turning the pigment white.
His hand slips beneath the hem of her skirt to discover she's not wearing the red spanks that he knows is part of the uniform.
He slides the side of his pointer finger along her slit, letting his knuckle knead her clit with each upsweep. Her hips arch up against his teasing touch causing him to chuckle against her jaw. He nips the skin there as he slips his finger inside of her.
Her head lulls back as he works his finger in and out, curling it to stroke her center. It's fucking hot the way she's panting towards the sky and rocking against his hand.
"You like that baby?" he whispers against the shell of her ear even though he knows the answer.
"Uh huh," she replies, the words catching in the back of her throat as he gently bites down on her earlobe.
He's quick to capture her lips when she turns towards him, teasing them open with the tip of his tongue. She groans into the warmth of his mouth as he pushes a second finger inside of her and lets his thumb circle her clit.
"Harder," she pleads.
He gladly complies, the sooner he gets her off the sooner she can return the favor.
Rachel – Lace
They strike up this sort of friendship junior year where she starts coming to him for things—revenge on Finn, song ideas, a duet partner—and he agrees to them because he kind of likes hanging out with her. She's hilarious and kind of hot if you squint your eyes just right or you know, open them at all. She doesn't play games either which is a nice change because he spends most of that year chasing after Lauren and fighting off Santana and it's all just a whole lot of crazy.
He needs a taste of normal and as much as he hates to admit it Rachel's as close to normal as he's going to get so when she suggests he be her date to prom he agrees. He should have known there'd be strings attached.
"Go for Puck," he says answering his cell phone and putting an end to the god awful ring tone she programmed into his phone when he wasn't looking. It's something from some Broadway show he has no intentions on ever seeing. He'll change it later—maybe.
"I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to the mall today. I'd ask Kurt but he's got a performance with the Warbler's this afternoon and therefore isn't readily available."
"You want to maybe put that in to English for me because the only thing I got was 'the mall'."
She sighs on her end of the line and dummies it down for him, "Pick me up in fifteen minutes and don't be late."
He's bored as fuck and figures what the hell so he grabs his keys and picks her up. He regrets it the second she drags him past the arcade and towards a store with dresses in the window.
Two hours later he's counting ceiling tiles in an overly lit dressing room two towns over and wondering how pissed off she'd be if he left her ass stranded there and went home (he's betting pretty pissed.)
"What do you think of this one?" she asks stepping out of the curtained dressing room in blue dress number six (he's been keeping count of that shit because he plans on using it against her later).
"I liked the first five better," he mumbles under his breath. She narrows her eyes at him and he knows that look. He wards off the lecture he's sure is on the tip of her tongue by asking, "What the hell do you need a new dress for anyway? You have like a hundred in your closet."
"Nothing formal and if I'm going to be your date to prom—" he snorts because she acts like there's another option (there's not, for either of them), "—I'm going to need the appropriate attire."
He rolls his eyes because she's fucking crazy, she could wear a garbage bag and still look hotter than most (all) of the girls at McKinley. "This is torture right? Payback for all of those Slushies I tossed in your face?"
"Of course not Noah, that's just silly," she chastises as she appraises herself in the full length mirror. She twists her hips so that the skirt flares out giving him a good view of her upper thigh (a little higher and he may get panty action). She catches him looking and quickly stops, smiling meekly at him through the glass. "It's just that I don't have a whole lot of girlfriends and Mercedes went shopping with Quinn and Tina. I thought maybe if I brought you along you'd see something you liked…"
"Something I would like or something Finn would like?" He knows he's being a jerk but he thinks maybe her answer is kind of important.
"This isn't about Finn," she replies softly and fuck she looks like she's going to cry.
He feels like he's missed something or everything, like the entire point to this little outing or whatever, so when she moves to walk past him, back into the dressing room, he reaches up and lightly grasps her arm. "Hot girls," he says meeting her eyes. He can see the insecurity there and he swears to God the next words leave his mouth without his knowledge or permission. "That's what I like and in case you haven't noticed you happen to be one of them."
She smiles softly and sets a small hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Noah," she offers leaning down to quickly kiss his cheek before disappearing back into the dressing room. She pulls the curtain shut behind her but there's still a crack and through it he can see her dragging down the zipper at the side of the gown before pulling it off her shoulders and letting it pool around her feet.
He's always taken her for a white cotton kind of girl so he's pretty surprised to see pale, pink lace hugging the curves of her ass. It matches her bra too and it's fucking sexy as hell.
He catches her eyes as she looks back over her shoulder, cheeks colored with embarrassment. He expects her to cover herself up but she doesn't, just bites the inside of her cheek, and reaches for the curtain, tugging it closed.
He knows she has a pretty firm grip on her virginity (something about waiting until she's twenty-five? Finn has a big mouth) but he thinks he's going to have to spring for a hotel room anyway, just in case.