They're all pretty fucking drunk.
Sam's got the most self-control, but Puck and Santana have been going since they stepped through the door and haven't slowed down since. And—whatever, Puck's obviously not gonna let himself get beat out by a chick, so they've been matching each other drink for drink for almost the past hour.
And in the last ten minutes, it's gotten pretty obvious that Santana's looking for a little something extra. She's all pressed up against Sam, and she keeps showing off her tits and kissing along his jaw and trying to turn him on enough to forget about the fact that they're in a public place.
But he's shaken her off every single time, mumbling out excuses about how there are ipeople/i and they could get caught and Puck's pretty sure he even heard his name thrown in there a couple of times.
"Remember how you broke my mother's vase the other day?" She's sort of whispering it into his ear, but she's too drunk to have much volume control, and she's too drunk to care who hears, anyway. But mostly she's Santana, so giving a shit about other people doesn't rank too high on her skill list. "Now's your chance to make it up to me."
'Course, Puck knows her well enough to know she doesn't give a fuck about her family's antiques or whatever the hell, but if guilt-tripping works in favor of her getting some, it's not like she's gonna pass it up. It's a reminder why they're best friends; he's gotta respect a chick who pulls out all the stops if it means getting laid.
It doesn't stop there, either. As soon as she's done talking, she grabs Sam's wrist and pulls it between her legs, while he sits there in wide-eyed shock. Shit, Puck knows she must be really wet, too, if she's not even going for the tit action first. He's walked in on them half-undressed enough times to know second base is definitely a favorite. (It'd be a favorite of his, too, if he had a girlfriend with tits that looked like that.)
Finally, Sam seems to realize what's going on and frantically pulls his hand away, backing up to the edge of the booth like he's being pursued by a fucking ninety year old lady without her dentures in and not his hot as hell twenty-five year old girlfriend who's practically begging him to get her off. ('Course, if she ever heard him say that she'd probably go Lima Heights all over him, which is why he'll keep that one to himself. But whatever—point is, she's totally dying for it.)
"Santana," he breathes, glancing around and turning pink. "It'll be a lot better in our bed."
By the time it dissolves into her pressing up against him and demanding that he fuck her, while Sam's still over there looking everywhere but at his girlfriend, Puck's had enough.
"Dude," he says, roughly, "if you don't hurry up and service your girlfriend, then I will."
Sam looks at him like he's kind of dumbfounded—and, look, Puck loves the dude (in, you know, a manly kind of way), but his shame's getting in the way of making his girl come, which is some seriously amateur, thirteen year old virgin shit.
Santana kind of smirks at him and runs her foot against his leg under the table and says, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Puckerman?"
Apparently because his answer was a shrug and an uh, yeah, and because they're all drunk enough for it, and because the (fuckin' valid) argument was made that they're all super hot, they sort of end up at Sam and Santana's place. Together.
Together like Puck's in their bedroom watching them make out with his shirt off. Together like Puck's starting to wonder if maybe he should just step between them or something and get in on the action. And, like, it's not like he's never threesomed before—it's just there was never another dick in the mix, and it's never been with a couple.
They've been going at it for a few minutes before Santana turns to him and raises an eyebrow and asks him if he's just gonna stand there the whole night and gawk like a first grader or if he's actually planning on dropping some balls within the next year. Then there's Sam, who kind of looks at him and shrugs like hey, whatever, he's just long for the ride.
And, yeah, it's not like Puck's gonna take Santana's comment lying down, so he sort of grabs her around the waist and kisses her—hard, thoroughly, maybe a little sloppier than usual 'cause there was kind of a lot of drinking. Doesn't matter—Santana's not exactly protesting, and Puck knows he's still awesome. She's got a hand in his 'hawk (there's a reason he's been telling Sam he should look into it—nothin' like a good mohawk to get chicks all hot and bothered) and he's bringing his hand up under the hem of her top when she finally backs away.
"Okay," she says, looking between them expectantly. "Your turn."
Puck and Sam exchange a glance. "That sounds pretty fucking gay," Puck says, at the same time Sam's saying, "I thought this was gonna be about you, San."
But she's smiling at them like nothing about this has ever been up to anyone but her when she says, "Um, obviously I'm sexy enough for both of you, but apparently neither of you are man enough to do this with me."
Fuck it. Puck takes the last step toward him and kisses him. It's—kind of different, but a lot the same. Sam seems pretty damn unsure at first, so Puck figures he better be sure enough for the both of them—if he's going for it, he's fucking going for it. Seriously, he's a sex shark. No way is there anyone in the world he can't get all hot and bothered for him, even if there is an extra dick involved.
Besides, Sam's lips don't feel too bad—they are total chick lips—and when he presses his tongue past them, and into his mouth, and Sam finally starts responding, he realizes it kind of doesn't suck. He can sort of see Santana pressing kisses against Sam's neck, too, out of the corner of his eye, and on a whim he decides to prove how much of a pussy he's not: he reaches one hand down between them and starts rubbing Sam through his jeans.
"Dude," Sam says, a little sharply, pulling away—but not very far. "What are you—"
But Puck's here to prove a point—that he's a badass, and that it's not just chicks he can get begging for him, so he presses the heel of his hand between Sam's legs and starts rubbing a little harder. And, like—if he doesn't think about it too much, it's sort of like he could just be doing it to himself, except backwards. And without the perks of actually feeling it, but whatever. He knows he's awesome at it.
He can tell Sam knows, too, 'cause Santana's started kissing him to shut him up, and Puck can hear this low sound he makes into her mouth when he increases the pressure a little. Fuck yeah.
It's not like Puck's ever gotten another dude off before, but he figures it can't be too hard. By the time he's unzipped him and got his friend's dick in his hand, he's already kind of talked himself into not being worried about it. Like, it doesn't look exactly like his, or anything, but the size isn't too different (Puck thinks he's probably got a half inch on the dude, but that still makes Sam's length pretty impressive, so whatever, he's willing to give him that) and when he closes his eyes it doesn't feel totally unfamiliar, either.
Besides, he's here to prove a point. The second he gets his hand around the base of Sam's dick, the dude's groaning against Santana's lips, and his hips kind of jerk forward, and Puck feels pretty awesome about himself. So maybe a little gay's worth the price.
"I think he wants your mouth, Puck," Santana says, then, and she's giving him this smile like no matter what he says, the result's gonna be the same.
"No way, Lopez," he says, anyway. "That's too fucking gay, even for you."
"Really?" she says, and her smile widens. "Because I know you've been dying to feel my tits."
Without meaning to, he looks down at her chest, and—yeah, alright, maybe he's done a little staring. But, fuck, he's caught the happy couple a shitload of times when she didn't have a shirt on and Sam had his hands all over her and—they're fucking hot, okay? He's not blind.
"Sucking a dude off for second base?" he asks, skeptically. Total bullshit. "Sounds like a bullshit trade."
She just keeps smiling. "Your call, baby."
Sam's kind of just looking between them like he hasn't quite figured out what's going on, and Puck looks down at the dick in his hand. The dick that isn't his. Come on, she can't actually fucking expect him to—
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lifting up her top. Slipping out of her bra. Taking Sam's motionless hand and covering one of her tits with it.
Goddammit.
"Evans," he says, "if you don't let me know when you're about to unload, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you, and then I'm gonna fucking steal all your Spider-Man comics. Got it, bro?"
Sam looks like he's about to ask if he's sure, or maybe try to stop him, but Puck's already on his knees, and taking a breath, and then he sort of just opens his mouth and it's there.
By that time, Puck's already got his best friend's dick in his mouth, so he figures he's not gonna half-ass this shit. He's gonna make Sam want it, and maybe when he's lying in bed sometimes he'll think of Puck down on his knees in front of him and get all worked up about it. Puck at least deserves to be someone that gets jacked off to once in a while.
So he sort of just takes him in a little bit further, and wraps his other hand around the base, and runs his tongue along the underside. Puck can hear this strangled sound from somewhere, and so he starts moving a little faster. He tastes—kind of weird, and kind of like dude, but it's sort of not the grossest thing ever. And when he swallows around him, Sam starts making more sounds, so Puck takes him a little deeper and does it again and figures it's probably a good sign when Sam reaches down and fists a hand in his 'hawk.
Guess it's not just chicks that dig it, he thinks, and maybe it's the gayest thing he's ever done, but Sam's the one who sounds like he just defeated the final boss in Super Mario '64, except with a lower pitch and a longer groan. Sam's the one who's digging on Puck's mouth this much, so he figures that totally wins him gayest award for the day.
"Come on, baby," he hears Santana half-whispering into Sam's ear. "Tell him how much you like it."
There's a pause. "Just, like—keep going, man," he says, in between these quick breaths he's taking. Puck's got this in the bag. "Don't—yeah, with your tongue. More."
So he does the thing with his tongue again, and Sam does warn him before he comes, but just 'cause Puck's mouth isn't around him anymore doesn't mean it's not his name Sam says when he unloads. Santana takes a finger and runs it through some of the extra, brings it up to her mouth.
The weirdest part is (and he's totally not mentioning this shit to anyone ever, and just hoping Santana doesn't notice 'cause she'd never fucking let it go) that he's actually kind of hard. Like, even before he started watching Santana's tongue moving along her finger, he could already sort of feel his dick pressing against the inside of his jeans. It sort of hurts. That sounds a little gay, even to him.
"I guess that does mean you earned your reward, Puckerman," she says with this satisfied smile that kind of doesn't bother him 'cause he's already reaching forward to cover her tits with his hands. He runs his thumb over her nipple and leans down to take one of them into his mouth, 'cause he kind of needs something in there to get rid of all the gay. And 'cause they're sexy as fuck.
He switches after he's left several open-mouthed kisses against one of them—if there's anything he knows, it's how to give tits the right amount of attention—and traces his thumb over the other. Sam seems to have recovered a little, too, 'cause he leans over and kisses Santana and then reaches his hand between her thighs and presses right up against her with a couple fingers.
She was already getting kind of worked up just from Puck's mouth, so he's not surprised when her breathing starts going seriously uneven.
"Bed," he says, 'cause he doesn't think Santana's knees are gonna hold out forever—not if this shit's up to him, anyway—and 'cause they can get better access when they end up like this, Puck with his mouth all over her tits and Sam starting to press kisses up along her inner thighs.
Puck can tell the minute Sam finally reaches her clit 'cause she reaches down and grabs Puck's face and pulls his mouth up to hers to press this bruising, eager kiss against him. Which is totally cool with him, so he reaches forward and curls one of his hands in her hair and kisses her back, swallowing the sounds that are getting louder and louder. He's gotta give it to his buddy: Sam knows what he's doing with her pussy. Her hips are jumping up into him and her kisses are starting to get more and more messy, more teeth than tongue. Hell, she bites his lip so hard he can taste the blood in his mouth, and when he tugs hard at her hair, it makes the noises louder.
Shit, he really digs this girl.
"Fuck," she hisses, pulling away and falling back against the bed, fingers twisting violently in the sheets. Puck starts leaving kisses against her jaw, and then he starts sucking at her pulse point, skimming his teeth along the skin. When she jerks up violently against Sam's mouth, Puck knows it's because of the way he bit her neck, maybe hard enough for marks, and it feels pretty damn awesome. He sort of feels like they're a team, which is cool and way less gay, too.
"Stop," Santana says, and she must be so close 'cause Puck's never heard her voice sound like that, low and raspy and barely there. He kisses her again, for a second, just 'cause he can, and Sam slowly pulls away to look at her.
"Is something wrong?" he asks, quickly, and there's this moment of understanding that makes Puck wonder for a half-second if he should even be here. They're the happy couple, right?
Whatever, he figures. Adding his hotness to this mix just means they have good fuckin' taste.
"Puck," she says, looking straight at him. "How badly do you want me right now?"
"What?" he asks like a dumbass, just 'cause two seconds ago she was getting close to coming from her boyfriend's mouth and he wasn't expecting it, alright?
"I said tell me how much you want to fuck me, Puck," she whispers almost into his ear, and the way she says his name, low and kind of like she's tasting it, makes him even harder.
He looks at her for just a second, 'cause her eyes are dark and hungry and he doesn't need to ask to see how much she wants him.
Santana wants him inside her.
"I want to fuck you," he says this time, and he's already moving down and settling over her and he can see Sam out of the corner of his eye but he's mostly watching the way Santana's watching him. "I want to fuck you 'til you're screaming for me, babe."
He settles between her thighs and reaches into his back pocket to grab a condom—c'mon, he's Puck; he's always gotta be prepared for this shit. Not just when he's at the bars, either—never underestimate the sex drive of those housewives at the grocery store. Seriously. They're just fucking waiting to release all that pent-up sexual frustration between the tubs of ice cream and the microwavable dinners.
"So get the fuck inside me, Puckerman," she says, and he's already gotten himself out of his jeans and his boxers and the condom's rolled on by the time he looks over at Sam. It's just, like—Puck's not really planning on stopping, but having another dude all up in between his girl's legs getting ready to show her the time of her life has gotta be pretty weird for him. But Sam looks at him, and—yeah, he seems a little stunned, still, but he smiles at Puck and lifts a shoulder like what can you do, man and go for it, and Puck's not wasting time asking for more permission than that.
She's already so fucking wet when he presses inside her she's slick with it, and he clenches his jaw to stop himself from what he thinks is almost this low groan, already. Look, it's not like he's never thought about this before—sure, they're his two best friends and they've been together as long as he's known them, but Santana's a chick, and she's hot, and she's got really nice tits, so he doesn't think he should take the blame for that shit. Wasn't like he was ever gonna make a move or anything. Sure, helping hot chicks—and hot moms—cheat is kind of his thing, but he loves them both and they have this weird way of actually kind of working together pretty damn well, so he wasn't gonna mess that up. But what dude in his right mind could say no to this?
When he pushes a little further into her, and she rakes her nails down his back and presses up against him, he knows his fantasies seriously never gave her enough credit.
"She feels good, huh?" comes Sam's voice, and Puck looks over at him for a second. He's not sure what he expected, but it's not this: Sam's watching the space between them, where Puck's moving deeper inside her and Santana's pussy is clenching around him, and his eyes are getting all dark, and Puck can see him getting hard again.
There's something about the way Sam's looking at them and the way Santana's tightening around him that pulls this low, rough noise out of his chest and makes him push inside her harder.
"Shit," he says, and Santana wraps her legs around him and pulls him in tighter and he feels her fucking everywhere.
"Deeper," Sam says, and he looks a little self-conscious but a lot turned on and he's got his hand on his dick and he's sort of tracing over the tip with his thumb. "She wants it deep, Puck."
He kind of slams into her, then, and she makes this high, broken little sound he never would've expected and it makes him do it again—thrust inside of her, insistent and more and more erratic. He's getting too fucking close to do anything but reach a hand down between them and rub his thumb against her clit, because they're fucking coming together. Period.
"Hard," Sam says, and his voice sounds a little shaky, so Puck figures he's probably really jacking himself off now. "Go hard."
But that's not advice Puck needs—he's going hard and deep and rough and Santana's got her fingernails biting into the skin between his shoulder blades and her hips are jerking up into him and she's clenching fucking violently around him and when they come, they come together.
It takes him a minute to realize it wasn't just the two of them, either, because mostly he hears the way Santana's saying his name, again and again, before it hits him that there's another sound—lower, like a dude, and not Puck's. And it's, like—not exactly a turn off, either.
Sam's the first one to break the silence after Puck's rolled onto his back and tossed the condom aside. "Woah," he says. And then, "That was kinda hot."
No shit, Puck thinks, but then Sam's moving a little bit to reach a finger between Santana's legs and get some of the wetness that's still there. He must know it's something Lopez is into, 'cause he cleans it all off with his mouth and then he leans down deliberately and kisses her. Puck can tell there's a lot of tongue, and Santana kind of jerks up and moans, and that's hot, too.
It isn't even that weird when Sam pulls away and looks over at him like he's asking permission, and then leans over Santana and kisses Puck. It's harder, but there's still a lot of teeth and tongue and, okay, Sam's lips are kind of hot and he's kind of good at this and when Puck slides his tongue over Sam's he can still taste some of Santana there.
Yeah. It's kinda hot.
When they pull apart, Santana's looking between them again—satisfied and smirking a little.
"No fucking way," Puck says before she can say anything, because sucking a dude off is one thing but a dick up the ass is a whole 'nother ballgame.
Sam looks kind of dumbstruck, but then he's shaking his head and, "Yeah, baby, not today."
Her smirk's widened into a grin, but there's still something kind of dangerous there at the corners. "Don't worry," she says. "That'll be for next time."
Puck shares a look with Sam and then settles back down onto the bed. "Whatever," he says. "But I'm not fuckin' taking it."
And that's how they end up together on Sam and Santana's bed, with Santana on her back and Puck and Sam on either side of her. And, like, Puck's not a cuddler, or anything, but he's sort of got his leg resting against Santana's leg, and his mouth's sort of pressed against her shoulder, and maybe his hand's touching Sam's hand just a little over Santana's abdomen. They're not holding hands or anything: Puck's fingers are covering Sam's fingers, and Sam's thumb is resting over Puck's palm, and there's a hot chick between them, so it's definitely not gay.
But they do all kind of drift off together, and Puck's last thought is that maybe sticking his dick into another dude's ass would be okay if it meant there was a next time, after all.