Author's Note: I really, really, really shouldn't be posting because I really, really, REALLY need to be writing, but I can't help it. You guys are just so awesome with the feedback that I can't help but want to update and see what you think. So, keep it coming. I've said it to some of you and I'll say it here, "You review, I'll write." Simple as that. :)

Puck stretched out of his seat, looking at his watch and noting how much of his life he'd never get back. It wasn't that the musical wasn't good, but he'd seen the Disney movie with his little sister way back when and it had been a lot shorter, not to mention cartoonish. The actual musical had way more songs and wasn't nearly as entertaining – at least not the half he'd seen. Apparently the first act was even longer than the second, which really pissed him off that he paid full price for a ticket even though he only saw the second act. Normally money wasn't really an issue with him, and the matinee tickets were cheaper than the ones for the night showings, but now he was basically paying for sex and that shit wasn't kosher.

But, it also wasn't stopping him from moving through the theater and toward the line of tables where some of the cast were sitting for autographs and pictures. He could hear her infectious laughter from the back of the line, and he did his best to remind himself that he was here simply to fill a need. Using the druggie metaphor that Santana had so wonderfully planted in his head, he was an addict that was about an hour away from relapsing – twice if there was time. He'd stayed away Friday and Saturday, which was harder than even he wanted to admit. The withdraw symptoms were actually not unlike what he knew happened to people who tried to kick their drug habits, Puck finding himself shaky and anxious during the course of the last two days.

And what for? To prove Santana wrong? Who cared if she was right? So he couldn't fuck Rachel out of his system. They were two consenting adults who both agreed to keep it light. No harm, no foul. And so what if he liked her? He thought Santana was pretty cool and funny in high school and they did it all the time but were never really boyfriend and girlfriend. This was the same thing. He could think Rachel was simply a good person, both in life and in bed. It didn't have to mean anything.

Puck passed the guy who'd played the Beast/Prince as well as the douche villain guy before getting to her table. "Sign my boobs?"

Rachel's head snapped up, her eyes eventually rolling when she focused on his face. She'd recognized the voice instantly, which was weird considering she didn't exactly know him from his conversational skills. It was distinct, though, shooting through her so quickly that her heart leapt into her throat and rendered her voice useless. Mercedes, however, was sitting next to her and had no problem filling in the silence.

"Why hello, Mr. M.D."

Puck returned her smile, recognizing the face but not quite able to place the name. He knew without asking that they hadn't had sex; typically those women didn't greet him with so much enthusiasm. Not unless it was a recent lay and he hadn't given them the slip yet, but he'd definitely remember her if that was the case. Puck was organized in that sense, never wanting anyone to fall through the cracks. Still, he was fairly certain he'd hit on her whenever they had met - it was almost a guarantee for him – so he faked recognition and turned on the charm.

"You rocked that shit," he commented lightly, gesturing back toward the stage. It seemed to satisfy the black woman, who just smiled at him and then moved on to the rest of the people in line hoping she'd sign their playbill or whatever else they had on hand. He realized he was sort of holding up the line of people trying to squeeze in and see Rachel, so he stepped off to the side but continued to engage her in conversation. "But you were way better."

"Thank you." Rachel blushed, leaning forward and signing an autograph for a little girl who said she was going to be Belle for Halloween. Rachel humored the young child and her mother for a few moments, her attention eventually moving back to Puck. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"S'different from the cartoon."

"You've seen the cartoon?" She asked bemused.

"Little sister," he explained, her eyes widening a little before she bent her head back down to sign her name for someone. Puck noticed that she always seemed surprised when he let information about himself pass into conversation, and he was glad he wasn't the only one. What the hell was going on? She already knew his real name; did she need to know his damn family tree, too? "I only saw the second part, though."

"Well if you only came for the second act, then I suppose I don't need to ask what you're here for," she commented absently, signing one last autograph before the director dismissed everyone. Rachel stood from her chair, biting her lip as she finally rested her focus solely on Puck. He looked almost offended by her comment, which made her nervous. "Do I?"

"I was actually wonderin' if you'd like to go to that meal we never got around to."

Rachel was again rendered speechless, giving Mercedes another opportunity to chime in. "Better late than never."

"Never truer than for orgasms and periods."

"You're absolutely vile," Rachel groaned, her eyes lifting in exasperation while her mind briefly wandered to two nights ago. Even with a few drinks circulating through both of them, her and Finn's conversation had never taken such a disgusting turn. Aside from that one moment where he'd thought she was propositioning him for sex, but even that had been caused by Puck … technically. She would never have questioned anyone about a casual relationship if she hadn't been engaging in one with the very man standing in front of her. Before him the thought wouldn't have even occurred to her!

"Yea, but you dig it."

Mercedes giggled at her friend's expense, hugging Rachel goodbye before waving at Puck and then walking away. The two well-acquainted strangers stared at one another for a few moments before Rachel just sighed and asked him to wait fifteen minutes. Raised to be the most accommodating hostess ever, she'd almost invited him to wait in her dressing room, but she remembered how well that had worked out last time. And even though she certainly didn't regret the results, she wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't interested in seeing if they could actually make it through dinner without killing each other or ripping each other's clothes off. After all, taking out all the conversation they've had with him as her doctor and she as his patient and then the almost-pickup lines they tossed back and forth between them, Rachel wasn't even sure they'd spoken more than a few words to each other.

That wasn't even casual. That was nothing.

"Freshening up?" Mercedes asked jokingly when she followed Rachel into the dressing room. Being the star in a Broadway musical for the past four years gave Rachel time to adjust to having no privacy. She didn't exactly have the paparazzi following her around everywhere she went – yet – but she'd learned long ago how to dress and undress when she wasn't exactly alone. Sometimes there was a curtain or at least a pseudo wall of some kind – her dressing room had one of those decorative privacy panels - but the theater was not the place for modesty. "I wouldn't bother with a shower. I think homeboy's looking to get dirty."

"Mercedes," Rachel chastised lightly, stepping out of the show's final dress and adding it to the small pile of costumes that would need cleaned before the next show. "While history isn't exactly on my side, he seemed quite civil in his dinner invitation."

"Yea yea, that's how they getcha."

"Well I wouldn't know."

"Oh, you wouldn't?" Mercedes teased, going further inside the room. "Because rumor is you have dinner plans with Kurt, Blaine, and Finn for Tuesday night." Rachel groaned loudly, silently wishing her friends weren't friends with each other as she changed into the skirt and shirt she'd come to work in. "And you know what they say? If it smells like a double date, and looks like a double date …"

"It's not a date." Rachel was firm, making sure that was clear. "It is merely four friends going out. A date is between two people."

"So are you and Dr. Love going on a date?"

Rachel's mouth slacked open, her voice letting one syllable loose before completely closing in on itself. A date? With Puck? That almost seemed like an oxymoron. And yet … entirely intriguing. Maybe her hypothetical conversation with Finn, Blaine, and Kurt was about to be tested. Perhaps a casual relationship wasn't possible. If it lasted longer than one night, then there were clearly some feelings involved. Those feelings didn't have to mean to death do us part, but they were there. And that meant something … or at least could mean something, right?

"Let's find out," she finally answered, a smirk dancing onto her face before she grabbed her purse and left the room. Mercedes didn't bother to follow, which was good because Rachel really didn't want to explain why she almost tripped over herself when she saw Puck standing by the door waiting for her. She'd known he was there, but her mind still couldn't wrap itself around the idea. He'd come to see her. He … missed her?

"Your skirts get shorter and shorter every time I see you."

"Well, maybe you should stop by more often. See what happens."

Puck grinned, nodding his head lightly as he walked through the theater's entrance, holding the door open for her. While she was changing, he'd called a local restaurant and reserved a table. It wasn't really necessary on Sunday when it was barely six o'clock, but it was New York. Plus, chicks liked to hear that reservations were made because it made everything seem planned and organized. Puck, on the other hand, didn't want to waste time waiting around when they could sit, eat, and then get to the good stuff. Dessert, if you will.

They walked the few blocks to the restaurant and were sat immediately. They chatted idly about the weather and nearby places they both knew. She asked him what he'd done during the weekend and he questioned her about the musical. The whole thing was completely comfortable, natural. During the course of the dinner Rachel had asked him so many questions that he felt like he was on Jeopardy, but he'd also answered most of them. She was easy to talk to, and surprisingly easy to listen to. When he'd first met her, he'd known she had a lot to say, but what he learned was that she was a great storyteller. She was enthusiastic and animated about everything, often having anecdotes to accompany her stories.

Rachel, similarly, was surprised by their interaction at dinner. Nothing felt forced nor was there even a moment of awkward silence between them. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help but draw the parallel between tonight with Puck and Friday night with Finn. Both evenings had been pleasant, but talking with Puck was just easier. He was still a little closed off, but Puck had been less guarded during their conversation than she'd ever experienced or would have expected. It wasn't like pulling teeth like she thought it would be – like it had been with Finn. In fact, without even realizing it, three hours went by before they finally left the restaurant, agreeing to go back to his place.

"That was legit the best bacon cheeseburger I've had in a long time."

"Thank you very much for paying."

"I'll put it on your tab, babe," he leered, Rachel rolling her eyes in response. "'Sides, you only ordered a dinky salad. So much for not being like every other chick."

Rachel scowled at the inference, matching his carefree stride instead of her usual fast-paced walk. "I happen to be vegan."

Puck literally stopped, Rachel walking a few steps ahead of him before realizing he wasn't at her side and turning. He wasn't sure why he felt so bad, but shoving his face with not just one dead animal but two seemed like a slap in the face when eating with a vegan. He thought she just got a salad because she was a girl, and maybe because of her job. Dancers have to stay fit and all, but then again she was more of a singer than a dancer. Not that she wasn't fit; he'd seen plenty of her body to know that wasn't the case.

"But, wait." He thought suddenly. "What about honey? Isn't that, like, a no-no?"

Rachel couldn't help but smile at his question, the two eventually stepping back in sync. "That's actually a hot topic with vegans, but even if I didn't need it to soothe my throat, I feel it's acceptable because it's the bee's life purpose to make honey."

"Like yours has something to do with taking over the world, one musical at a time?"

"Like yours has something to do with taking over the world one vagina at a time."

He chuckled at her joke, or maybe the cute, little crease on her forehead when she scowled at him. They walked into his apartment building and onto the elevator in the longest silence of the night, Rachel's arms crossing over her chest as she rested her back against the wall when the doors closed. He wasn't sure why, especially considering he knew it wasn't the most effective method of getting into a woman's pants, but there was something hot about Rachel being riled up. She was so passionate about everything, and maybe that clicked in his head about how passionate she was elsewhere.

"So," he began, testing the waters, "are you gonna be able to kiss me without thinking about a dead cow?"

"Don't forget the pig," she deflected, noticing his step closer but not wanting to react to it in any way. His body was close enough to hers that she was instantly brought back to their first time, how he'd confined her in this same small space and completely broken her resolve. He was doing it again, her skin flushing just in response to his proximity. He had a lazy smile on his face, his eyes hooded as he watched her. "A mint wouldn't kill you."

Puck pulled out a small tin of Altoids, shaking them in presentation before popping one into his mouth. He made a spectacle of freshening his breath, grinning at how she rolled her eyes even though she was doing her best to avoid looking at him. He stepped one foot closer, enough to have his body pressed against hers. His breath – now minty – danced over the skin of her neck, Rachel's eyes lifting to the top to see they were still ten floors away from the penthouse. If they'd gone to her place they'd be inside and in her bedroom already. Instead, she had to suffer inside this pressure cooker for at least another minute.

"Want one?" He questioned softly, moving his lips so they were just barely touching her ear. "They're curiously strong." He smirked, feeling her shudder. "Kinda like you."

It was completely ridiculous, and likely not the reason at all, but that was the final straw. Rachel uncrossed her arms and tossed them around his neck, delving her tongue inside his mouth. She curled her tongue around the remaining piece of mint left in his mouth, scooping it into her own along with his low moan of approval. She bit his lip softly on the release, her head falling back as he trailed his lips down the column of her throat. The tip of his tongue moved to probe her pulse point, and Rachel let out a high-pitched gasp almost simultaneously with the ding of the elevator as it reached the top floor.

Puck snaked his arms around Rachel's waist, pulling her out of the elevator and toward his apartment without removing his lips from her skin. She stumbled into him a bit and held tighter as she almost fell, the door to his place catching her with a heavy thud. With her balance restored, Puck suctioned his lips onto hers again, groaning in appreciation when her arms loosened from around his neck. They fell slowly down his torso, one hand searching his pants for his keys while the other searched his pants for something else entirely.

Rachel gasped when Puck pressed against her incessantly, his head dipping down to nip at her collarbone before he gripped her legs and forced her up. Instinctively she locked her ankles behind his back, a loan, throaty moan escaping when he rocked his hips against her. It was a challenge, but she managed to pry her eyes open long enough for her to remember that they still weren't in his apartment yet.

"Noah …" She was out of breath, and the way he bit the area where her neck and shoulder met and then licked away the pain wasn't helping. "Inside."

"Fuck, yes."

Even in a sexually intoxicated state, Rachel managed to roll her eyes, shaking her head from side to side when she felt one of his hands move off her ass to pull down his zipper. "Not me. Inside the apartment."

Puck growled, sliding his hands away from his crotch and into his pocket, retrieving the keys that Rachel had been searching for earlier. This was New York and even in a nice place like The Ellington, Puck had to unlock two different deadbolts and then the doorknob. Typically it was something he could do with his eyes closed, but finding the three different keys was a bit tougher when a smokin' hot girl was sucking on his earlobe. He damn near dropped them (and her) when she traced the outer shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue, ending the torture by tugging on the sensitive cartilage with her teeth.

"F-fuck," he stuttered, shoving the key into the last lock and turning the whole thing so the door swung open. The momentum pushed his body hard against hers, Rachel yelling out in ecstasy while re-tightening her legs' hold around him. Puck yanked the keys out of the doorknob then encircled her waist to peel her away from the door. He used his foot to kick the door closed, then pushed her back against the frame.

"Yes," she gasped out, nodding her head in agreement with herself and him. "Now."

Rachel's breath hitched when she felt him tear away her underwear, the oxygen coming out in a rush when a second later he entered her. He pounded into her so hard the door was actually shaking, but Rachel couldn't do anything but moan in pleasure. She was biting her lip to keep from screaming out loud, her toes curling when that familiar heat started to build. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wished they'd managed to remove more clothing from one another so she could feel more of his body against hers, but it was hard to find anything wrong with the current situation.

Rachel lifted her hands up to brace them on something, but came up empty. She applied more pressure to her back, and Puck used the extra leverage to his advantage. With one arm still holding her securely under her leg and across her ass, he lifted his other hand up. His fingers trailed over the sensitive skin on the underside of her arm, and she recoiled at his touch but her clasped his hand around both of hers and secured them back above her head. She hiccupped into the next thrust, what little of the blood she had left not circulating to her core flooding south when he'd pinned her hands to the door. For a girl who needed to be in control in so much of her life, she was entirely too aroused by Puck dominating her in this fashion.

He'd rendered her one leg useless by using it to help hold her up, but the other wrapped around him tighter, bringing him closer (as if it were possible) and effectively bringing her closer to oblivion. The heat that had started to build earlier shot through every vein in her body, actually causing her to shiver. Her fingers interlaced with his as she clutched his hand and fell over the edge, Puck pressing her hands into the door harder and holding on just as tightly before he too succumbed to his orgasm. Entirely too spent to hold her up afterward, he let her legs fall unsteadily back to the floor. He let her hands fall down from above her head, but he didn't let go of her hand right away.

"I knew you liked the short skirts." She smiled when she felt his grin spread against the skin of her neck. "I just didn't realize how much."

"You're just lucky we made it inside." He dropped a kiss below her ear before pulling back, looking at her through half-closed lids. "You're gonna owe me for that."

Rachel beamed, letting him lead her to his bedroom by the hand that he still hadn't let go. "Put it on my tab, babe."