Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, I'd play Rachel's best friend. Or Artie's girlfriend. Or Puck's girlfriend. Or hell, even Will's girlfriend.
Author notes: This is my first Glee fic ever. Holy crap.
They'd been together for almost three months. They'd argued over little things, like what music to listen to on their road trip to New York, and big things, like Noah almost dropping out of school. But after every fight, they had mind-blowing sex. Like, really. He'd never been so incoherent as he was after their make-up sex. And he's not the most eloquent guy to begin with. Breathlessly saying, "Fuck, that, you, pussy, shit!" isn't exactly poetic.
He expected this to get him a better reaction. The bigger the freak out, the hotter the sex, the more explosive the orgasm. He decides one day that their sex life has been too boring (Really? Only missionary and doggie style for the last two weeks? Lame.) So he needs to stir it up a little bit.
He shows up at her house when he knows her dads are gone for the afternoon. He makes himself comfortable on her bed while she does homework at her desk. They sit in companionable silence for a while, before he sits up and clears his throat. "Uh, Rach?"
She doesn't glance up at him from her books as she murmurs a "What?"
"I think it's time we talk about the 'L' word."
She whips around in her chair, her eyes wide as she stares over at him. "L-love?"
He smirks, shaking his head. "Nah babe, lesbians."
Her eyes narrow as she stands up, stomping over to the edge of the bed with her hands on her hips. "Please tell me I misunderstood what you just said, Noah." He shakes his head again, snagging her by the wrist to tug her down on top of him. "Definitely not. I'd pay a fuckin' ton of money to see you in some hot girl-on-girl action, babe."
She slaps his chest, her expression full of indignation. "Noah Puckerman! You're so uncouth! What on earth would make you think I would ever agree to that?" He chuckles, running his hands up and down her bare arms as her hands brace on his shoulders. "Rach, I've seen the way you look at Santana. She's pretty damn hot, and she's noticed that you are too. C'mon, it could be so hot."
Rachel rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she tries to get up but is held down by Noah's arms snaking around her waist. "No way. No way in hell, Puckerman! She hates me and she's never been anything but a huge bitch to me!"
He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking just barely. "What about when you wore that skanky Britney Spears outfit? She was totally checking you out, babe." She furrows her brow, thinking back to that day. There's no way she actually thought I looked hot, right? She just thought my clothes were better… Right?
She shakes her head quickly, rattling the thought from her mind. "You're completely insane, do you know that?" He laughs, sitting up to press his lips to hers as he slips his hand between her thighs. "Yeah, I know. But you know how convincing I can be." As his finger dips inside her and she lets out a pained whimper, she knows she can be persuaded to do just about anything, as long as he keeps doing what he's doing right now.
