I wanted a lemony love scene in my Puckleberry/Drizzle story "Finding My Name," and my readers did, too, but I didn't feel right changing the rating and tone of the story, so here it is: I've turned it into a condensed story that can stand alone. If you've already read "Finding my name" and want to jump to the sex, skip to below the double line. Some is repeated from the larger story, but with a lot more detail. Enjoy, darling readers!
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night…" Rachel had sung. She had taken Puck's unoccupied hand in hers. His other hand had been holding Quinn's as she breathed through a contraction, squeezing his fingers 'til he thought they would break. Puck had rolled his eyes at Rachel, but he'd joined her in singing the song Quinn had requested: "Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…"
Rachel had been there when Noah's baby girl first came into his life. Maybe it was fitting that she'd brought Drizzle back to him.
One night, his phone had rung with his crazy best friend Rachel on the other end of the line, freaking out backstage at the Nederlander where she played Laurie in Oklahoma: ""Noah, she's here. Drizzle is HERE and she wants to talk to me. What do I do? What do I tell her?" And just like that, he had his daughter in his life. Her adoptive parents had done a great job raising Drizzle, but she wanted her bio-parents in her life, too. It felt like a miracle: the forgiveness that he'd never believed he deserved—forgiveness he'd needed more than he'd ever known.
Puck owed the reunion to Rachel, first for forcing him to take piano lessons, then harassing him into applying for college music programs, encouraging him to graduate, then convincing him to move to NYC. Rachel was famous enough for Drizzle to somehow know about her and track down. Other people might find Rachel overbearing, but as far as he was concerned, she was his midget guardian angel. Well, their relationship was a little too hormonal for that, but whatever.
Noah and Rachel's friendship and make-out sessions started in middle school, halted during the Slushy Years, and restarted (however awkwardly) during the Finn Era. After graduation, Rachel and Puck found themselves drawn to each other as friends and supporters. After Noah moved to New York, they were each other's surrogate family, too. A few times through the years, they'd succumbed to their intense attraction between and indulged in fierce nights of kisses and caresses. Somehow, though, they always stopped before it went too far.
Rachel was able to stop because she'd had few close friends in life, and she wasn't willing to risk losing her best friend over sex. Also, for a long time she was intently focused on her career and suspected romance with Noah might distract her from her goals.
As for Puck, he couldn't have said what stopped him from taking his relationship with Rachel all the way. He had a long-developed talent for not thinking about such things. The truth was, he'd felt worthless ever since his dad walked out, leaving him with a crazy mother who compared him to a Nazi for dating shiksas. When he couldn't convince Quinn to keep Drizzle and raise the baby with him, the feeling doubled. He wasn't good enough to keep his dad around or to take care of his daughter. But Drizzle had grown up awesome, and she loved him. She wanted Noah to be in her life. It was her choice to track him down, and her choice to keep him around after she got to know him. Now Puck was seeing the whole world—including his best friend—through a fresh pair of eyes.
One night at a bar, he started off with some verbal flirtation and eased into invading Rachel's personal space.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked him. "Why now? What's different from all the other times we just ignored it?"
"I don't know." He slumped down on his stool, and she turned to look at him. "It's like when my dad left…Whatever. And when Quinn and I gave up Drizzle…" He just shook his head. "But like you said, she came back, and she actually…she wants me in her life. So maybe…maybe I can have this, for real Rachel. Maybe we can. I never thought I could, but somehow Drizzle makes me believe it. And you believed in me. God, all the way back in McKinley when I was a schmuck who knocked up his best friend's girl, when I was in Juvie, when I made out with your goddamn mother…you never gave up on me. I didn't deserve it, but…but the thing is, I never gave up on you, either. Remember that night you botched that audition and got puking drunk? You told me what Quinn had said: she'd get Finn and you'd get Broadway. You'd be alone, but it wouldn't matter because you'd have your dreams and the city. But I knew you'd be more than that…
Rachel stopped his words with a kiss, deep and passionate. Noah stood between her legs so he could be closer to her. With Rachel perched on the stool and Puck standing, he didn't have to lean down as far to kiss her as when she was flat-footed. Rachel held tightly to his waist so that she wouldn't topple from her bar stool. Noah slid his hands into her hair, pulling her close. She bit his lower lip, then let it slide slowly from between her teeth. He groaned and swirled his tongue on hers, and Rachel gasped. Noah smirked in response. Rachel placed a hand on his heart, but held him away.
"Sober. If you still feel this way when we're sober, then…" Their foreheads were touching, their breath fast and shallow.
"Come on, I've wanted you forever, and you know it." Rachel blushed. "See? And you know I love it when you blush like that. Okay, fine. You think I just want to be with you because I'm drunk? I'm going to prove you wrong. God, your nose is hot!" Then he swooped in and smooched the tip of her nose. Rachel was still giggling as Noah swept out the door. He'd proven his seriousness to Rachel by calling his mother, saying, "Guess what, Ma? You know how you've been bugging me since birth to get together with Rachel Berry? Well, it's on!"
When they took Drizzle to California to meet Quinn, Noah and Rachel slept side-by-side each night, yet they didn't want to take it further with Noah's teenage daughter in the hotel suite. But then they came home to NYC: their city.
"So what now?" Puck asked.
"What do you mean?" Rachel replied. She'd instinctively nestled her body against his when they settled into the backseat of the cab. Puck's right arm was around Rachel, and she snuggled her head onto his chest. His left hand was tracing wandering little circles on her left thigh.
"So you just go to your place and I go to mine or should we..."
"This is weird," Rachel interrupted.
"Why?"
"I want to go home with you, but I never go home with a man unless I'm in a serious relationship with him. We haven't even been on a date yet. On the other hand, you've told your mom about us. We know each other's families. Even when we do go on a first date, you already know my best anecdotes and I know yours. Doesn't that bother you?"
"To be honest, I don't really tell stories on dates."
"I can't decide whether normal dating is essential for us to develop a healthy relationship or whether it's idiotic at this point, and we should just skip to the end." She was pretty sure Puck's deft fingers caressing her thigh were not helping her make a clear-headed decision.
"Skip to the end. God, Berry, please, let's skip to the end!"
"Yeah, but imagine if we didn't." She pulled back a little and shot Noah a bright smile. "We'd go to a restaurant. We'd sit across from each other and flirt over our food. You would look so handsome by candlelight in that green shirt I love. I would wear the black lace dress and..."
"The red shoes? Hell, yes. But fuck that, Rachel. That's just wrapping paper. Don't get me wrong: it's sexy fucking wrapping paper, but let's get to the present already! I've been sleeping next to you for two nights, and I was a total freaking gentlemen."
"You really were."
"Look, romance we can do, and we will, trust me. But what you're describing is a night-long tease to build sexual tension. We've been flirting off and on for twenty years. Consider the tension built, okay? Although… if you need me to turn up the heat, I can do that," Puck said, playing with a loose curl of her hair.
"Y-you can?" she asked. Even in the dim cab, he could see her eyes widen.
"Oh, yeah. Lots of ways," he said, his hazel eyes locked on hers. She wasn't sure he'd ever looked at her this intensely. It made her squirm in her seat a little. "The only question is: which one should I use? I could sing. You'd like that, but it would almost be too easy. I could touch more of your hot little body, but in front of a cabbie? You wouldn't want that." He whispered the words in her ear as he glided his hands over the surface of her coat, so lightly he knew she wouldn't be able to feel it through the layers of fabric. Rachel let out a little groan of disappointment. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "But maybe I should do it anyway. That's one thing I don't know about you, yet. Do you get off on the idea that you might get caught? That I might slip my hand up under your skirt, pull off your panties, and... What kind are they?"
"Wh-what?"
"You heard me, Berry. Answer or I'll talk louder," he whispered firmly.
"Black lace!" She whispered frantically, and he chuckled.
"Right. I could pull off your black lace panties, then slide my hand between your thighs, and..."
"Right or Left?" The cabbie asked.
Noah and Rachel were both startled and breathing fast. Rachel cleared her throat, but didn't break eye-contact with Puck. "Right side of the street. We're the second-to-the-last building."
"I thought you said two stops."
"One stop. We changed our minds. Here," she said as they pulled to the curb, and peeled off the fare plus a generous tip. As he got out, Puck winked at the cabbie and slipped him a tip, too. The couple grabbed their bags from the trunk and rushed into Rachel's building. Rachel called out a quick "Hello!" as they rushed past the doorman to the elevator.
When the elevator doors closed behind them, Rachel pushed Puck up against the wall and kissed him hard. The cranky old elevator crept upwards toward her sixth floor apartment. Suddenly, Rachel noticed a breeze. Noah had worked her skirt up to her hips, slipped his hands underneath and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her low-rise bikini underwear. He broke their string of kisses to bend down and slide the black lace down her legs.
"NOAH!" Rachel protested, lightly batting his shoulder.
"I let you keep them in the car to protect your fucking modesty," He replied from where he knelt at her feet, grinning wickedly, "So now you're giving them to me as a reward. Step!"
She stepped out of them with an eye-roll and gave a little wave at the roof of the elevator. Her face was flushed, and she wished she could shed the hot layers she wore.
"Why are you waving?"
"In case there's a camera in this thing and the security guys are watching," she explained, pushing his back against the wall for another kiss.
Between kisses, Puck mused, "So what if they get a show? You worry too much." He kissed his way down her jaw to her slender neck.
"Ever hear of TMZ?" she asked, her voice huskier than normal. Her breathing was heavy and a bit ragged. "Perez Hilton? Hell, the internet in general?"
"Heh. Didn't think of that," he admitted, with one hand hitching up Rachel's right leg to pull her flush against him, and the other under her blouse, caressing the soft skin of her waist. "Your coat probably blocks anything good. I guess it's lucky that I didn't rip your shirt open and pull the skirt clear up to your waist. That's what I wanted to do."
"Your restraint is admirable," she replied. Then curiosity got the best of her. "What else did you want to do?"
"Berry, do you know how many times, how many ways, I've wanted to touch you over the years? How many times I stopped myself from grabbing you and kissing you senseless? I want to do you up against the wall of your living room, your legs around my waist. I want to bend you over your couch and take you from behind. I want to spread you out on your kitchen table and lick honey of your smooth skin. I want to…"
The elevator doors opened. They were both panting. Puck let go of Rachel's leg, and she straightened her skirt. He slipped her panties into his coat pocket. They gathered their bags and stumbled out of the elevator and over to her apartment door.
Puck stood behind Rachel, holding her tight against him, kissing behind her ear. Her mind was racing with images of all the delicious acts that Puck had proposed in the elevator. Rachel's hands were trembling so violently that she couldn't get her key in the lock.
"Can't even think straight, can you?" He sucked on her earlobe, his breath hot in her ear.
"Noah, you have to stop," she pleaded, resting her left hand and forehead on the door and breathing heavily. "Just for a second."
He laughed smugly, and she groaned. Puck had always been cocky when it came to sex. Now that she'd given him her panties, he was probably going to be insufferable. She opened the door and they carried their bags inside, then closed and locked the door. Puck took off his coat and tossed it on Rachel's coat-rack. She returned her keys to her purse and placed it on the hall table.
"Look, Noah, if your reputation is at all founded—and from our make-out sessions, I suspect it is—we would probably have amazing sex…"
"Would probably? Will, Berry. The word is 'will.' No maybes! What happened?" His brow furrowed in confusion.
"I'm not going to do it if you're going to be a jerk about it! I don't want asshole Noah; I want my best friend." She slid her tiny hands up his torso. "My hot, sexy best friend."
He laughed. "Sorry, Berry. It's been a while since I had sex when I cared whether the girl stuck around long-term."
Rachel wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him so hard he made a little "oof!" sound and chuckled. Puck took her face in his palms, then slid his hands up into her silky, raven hair. He eased her head back and kissed her without urgency. It was sweet and tentative, like a first kiss. Rachel smiled and shed her coat. Their kisses stretched on and on.
Ever since they were in middle school (Finn era distraction aside), kisses between Rachel and Noah had been special. He could teach Rachel a new technique without saying a word, and he knew some wonderful things. Puck loved that Rachel was so eager and a quick learner. Rachel loved that Noah paid such close attention to her. If she responded something— whether with a sigh, a moan, or adopting the technique herself—he filed that knowledge for future use. If she shifted styles, he shifted, too—seamlessly, almost instantly. It was effortless, and they could kiss and kiss and kiss without it ever getting old.
Even now, when 32-year-old Rachel assumed she knew all there was to know about kissing, he still managed to surprise her. Most men kissed like it was a duel of tongues. Noah somehow pressed his to hers, rough against rough, and drew circles. A delicious shudder wracked Rachel's body, heat pooling low in her. Where has that kiss been all my life? she wondered.
Rachel pulled his shirttails from his pants and began unbuttoning his shirt. Puck unbuttoned her blouse, too. She unfastened the waistband of his jeans and eased down his zipper, never breaking their kiss. Rachel pushed Puck's oxford down his broad shoulders and arms, then realized she hadn't unbuttoned the cuffs. They both laughed and stepped apart. Each unfastened their own sleeves, doffed their shirts and let them fall to the floor. Puck took advantage of their separation to slip off his jeans and toe off his socks.
"Bend down," Rachel said, crooking her finger. Noah quirked an eyebrow, but leaned toward her. She grabbed the hem of his wifebeater and peeled it off over his head. He stood there in nothing but navy boxer briefs that didn't leave much to the imagination. Rachel faced him in black knee-high boots, a red pencil skirt and black lace demi-bra that showed off her small-but-perky breasts. Her lips were red and swollen from kissing, and her eyes were big and soft. Noah's lips were bright and pouty, too. His eyes were an intense shade of green.
"I love you, Berry," he blurted when she reached for him again.
"What?" She dropped her hands, stunned.
"I…I didn't want to say it for the first time during, you know? And I'm pretty sure I would have. I love you, Rachel. You know that, right?"
She rested one hand on her heart, one on his. "Yes, Noah, but it's so good to hear. I love you, too."
He kissed her again, deep and intense. They kissed each other endlessly as they fumbled across her small apartment to her bedroom and her queen-sized bed. Rachel hopped up onto the mattress, and Puck took one of her tiny feet in his hands. He eased the zipper down slowly, knowing that Rachel had an impatient streak and it would drive her nuts. Then he slid off her boot sock by the tiniest increments, his guitar-callused fingertips scraping down her calf. She shuddered. He liked the tall sock. It reminded Puck of the knee-socks she'd worn in high school. He picked up her other foot and repeated the process.
"NOAH!" she exclaimed in a combination of arousal and annoyance. Rachel wanted so much more than his fingertips on her calves. After Noah finally dropped the last sock, he resisted the urge to just spread her legs, baring her to him, skirt rumpled up to her waist. Non-Asshole-Noah, he reminded himself. He knew she still wanted him strong and take-charge. He just needed to keep her feelings in mind. So instead, he nodded toward the head of the bed, encouraging Rachel to get comfortable She wriggled back, then turned down the covers. He was glad, then, that he'd done it. Rachel could be a hell-cat but she was also kind of anal. She probably would have been distracted for a while if things had gone too far on her good quilt or whatever.
Rachel lay back against the pillows, her legs held close together by the pencil skirt.
"Turn over, babe."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, but did as he asked. He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck, then nibbled down her right shoulder, then her left. Puck knew Rachel would appreciate the symmetry. Then he kissed and licked down her spine until he reached her bra strap. He unhooked it, continued the line of kisses down her back, then slid down the zipper of her red skirt.
Rachel turned back over and slid the pretty lace down her arms. She lifted her hips, and Noah slid the skirt down her legs. He'd seen parts of Rachel bare, but never all of her, glorious and ready to be his. He shucked his boxers with more speed than was cool, and Rachel giggled. He didn't care.
Noah crawled over her in a sinuous manner that reminded Rachel of a panther. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and pulled him down, needing to just feel the weight of his naked body against hers for a moment. She writhed a little, glorying in the glide of his skin against hers.
Puck moaned, knowing Rachel was going to test his willpower. Already, he wanted to go hard and fast. He hadn't been kidding about all the years of sexual tension. It was a lot to deal with. For Rachel, it was a little awkward, too. She was used to being the best at things, and it was intimidating to have sex with a man who was clearly more expert at it. But among Noah's talents was getting Rachel to stop thinking.
He kissed the length of her jaw, of her neck, clavicle, sternum, all the rises, plains and hollows of her body. Every place he had touched her or longed to touch her. His lips pressed her olive skin up the rise of her right breast as his left hand caressed the other breast, rough finger-pads brushing, squeezing. His right hand held Rachel's hip. She wiggled beneath him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping her smooth legs around Noah's strong, hair-rough legs. Noah kissed his way to her left breast and used his right hand to caress the other. Then he trailed kisses down ribs and her belly. He nipped the jutting bones of her pelvis—right, then left—before whispering his fingers over the hollows between them. "Oh!" Rachel exclaimed, her eyes popping open in shock. (He'd noticed her strong reaction to the spots during a tickle-fight years before.)
Then, he parted her legs gently, finally seeing her like this for the first time. He caught Rachel's eye, his face beaming hungry, masculine appreciation that made Rachel blush to the roots of her hair. Then, he knelt down between her legs to kiss her. Puck—his sensual lips and his glorious tongue—drove all thoughts, worries and insecurities clean out of her head. He nibbled, lapped, flicked and sucked until Rachel's entire body arched high and tight, tighter and higher, then snapped loose. "Oh, God, Noah!" she exclaimed, clinging to the sheets beneath her.
He climbed over her, wanting a kiss, but stopped at the last second, afraid she wouldn't want to taste herself. Rachel giggled. "C'mere," she whispered, and kissed him deep. Then, she nudged him to roll them over so that she was on top. She echoed the path Noah had taken down her body, complete with kissing and caressing his pecs before making her way down his torso to his hips and lower. She looked up at him with a sinful smirk before taking him into her mouth, easing him farther and farther, then swallowing. "Damn, Rachel!" She'd tipsily told him once that she could do this, but the hot, tight, massaging warmth of her mouth and throat was beyond what he'd imagined. And then she began to hum. He couldn't discern the tune, but at that moment he couldn't remember his name, either.
His hands tangled in her hair, and he tried to sit up a little and catch her eye. "Rach, you gotta stop, or…"
She just arched a defiant eyebrow at him and shook her head, 'no.' The unexpected waggle, rubbing her tongue against him, wrenched away the last of his control, and Noah came with a triumphant, wordless shout. She released him and licked her lips, looking pleased with herself. He lay there for a moment, too stunned to move or speak.
"Didn't you like it?" she teased.
"God, yes," he said. "But I'm not as young as I used to be, Berry! Now you're going to have to wait until…"
"Oh, I have faith in you, Puck. I'm sure you'll come back around," Rachel purred, still kneeling at his feet, her lips fuller than ever and her hair a fucking disaster. If she saw it, she would throw a fit, but he thought it looked sexy as hell.
Rachel dragged her body against Noah's as she rose to kiss his lips. He hissed as she brushed against him before straddling his waist. She began to kiss him again, just as they had in the living room, the elevator, the taxi, the hotel, the bar, his apartment, his truck, the bleachers, her childhood bedroom, the JCC. It was like they'd spent their lives kissing each other or waiting to kiss each other, and all the waiting seemed ridiculous. Puck kept hearing Yiddish in his head: "bashert, bashert, bashert." Meant to be, meant to be, meant to be.
It turned out Rachel was right: she didn't have to wait long for Noah. He rolled back on top of her tiny-yet-strong body. As he kissed his way down her form again, seeking spots he'd neglected before, she fumbled to open her bedside drawer and draw out a foil packet. She slipped it into his palm, and he opened it and rolled on the condom, then continued kissing her as though they had all the time in the world. And didn't they?
But then he was there, pressed against her. They swirled their hips in a mutual tease. Noah looked into Rachel's eyes and she nodded. He entered her slowly. She bit her lip. It had been a while, and it was a tight, almost uncomfortable, fit. He reached down to touch her, his fingers rubbing, plucking and caressing until Rachel began to move against him. She was not the kind of woman to lie there and let the man do everything. Frankly, she could not have lain still if she tried. Their hips thrust and swirled, met and parted, slowly at first, but with an ever-increasing pace.
Rachel was generally enthusiastic in bed and no stranger to orgasm, but sex had never been this intense before. The sensations were so strong that Rachel considered asking Puck stop. Then her competitive side kicked in. Rachel rode out the fear as her ecstasy rose and was rewarded with pleasure she hadn't thought herself capable of, waves of it that tore through her. She was pretty sure she hit an F above High C as the pleasure burst through Noah, too, and he hoarsely called out her name.
He laughed and whispered, "I should have known you'd sing."
She lifted her chin, and defiantly replied, "I can't scream, no matter how much I want to. It damages your vocal chords, and they're my livelihood."
"You were thinking about that, during?"
"No! It's a lifetime of training. I hit high notes when I ride roller coasters, too," she admitted. "Remember when we rode the Cyclone at Coney Island? Although I've never hit a note that high before. I didn't think I could hit an F6! Thank you." She kissed him tenderly and snuggled closer.
"For the new note in your repertoire?"
"No!" she exclaimed, then giggled. "Well, I guess for that, too."
"C'mere, bashert." Soul-mate. For Puck, that was practically reciting a love poem. He was rewarded by a pure, 1000-watt Rachel Berry smile, and she hugged him tighter than a tiny girl like her should have been able. It wasn't her show smile—the one she pasted on to hide how she was feeling—but a real one: her smile that always made Puck feel warm and safe and happy.
They were so good together that Noah wanted to curse himself for not being here sooner—for not deserving her sooner. But it would have to be enough that Rachel was his now, and he was hers. He would fight to keep deserving her, and they could spend the rest of their lives together this way, night after night.
I showed you some love. Now show some for me: comment, please!