Prompt: Puck visits Santana after he gets out of juvie.
Originally posted this as its own story, but changed my mind and wanted to include it in here after after because it brings this story to an even ten chapters. Sorry to anyone that will have gotten this notification twice.
Santana's just getting ready for bed when she hears the tapping at her window.
She only jumps a little, and is both surprised and not to find Puck's expectant face staring back at her through the glass when she goes to investigate; he's the only one that ever sneaks through her window, but he's supposed to be in juvie.
"What the hell?" she asks as she opens the window for him, stepping aside so he can climb through and into her room. "Did you add 'jail break' to your list of ever growing criminal offenses?"
"Got out early," is all Puck says in way of explanation as he straightens himself out, trying to act like this is totally normal. "My mom was driving me crazy and I just had to get out of there."
Santana's too busy checking Puck out to really listen to him, carefully running her gaze over his face and body for any noticeable changes.
He has his mohawk back, that's the first thing she notices. Santana's happy about that.
He has earrings now, which will certainly take some getting used to.
He looks a bit bigger, maybe, a little buffer. She'll have to see him with his shirt off to be sure.
Santana can't see any other changes, but she's sure they're there; some under his clothes and some under the surface. She's never been, obviously, but she can only assume what spending weeks in juvie can do to a boy – even one as badass as Puck likes to think he is.
"Well, I'm glad you're back," Santana admits, the unaffected tone she tries for counteracted by the warm hug she gives him. She gets on her tippy toes to wrap her arms around his neck, forgetting that she's only wearing panties and a tiny t-shirt until she feels it riding up over her ass.
"Don't tell me you missed me, Lopez," he teases half-heartedly, only returning the hug with one arm while he looks around her room, trying to spot changes of his own. He knows it's not likely she's done anything in the few weeks he's been gone, but it feels like it's been a lifetime since he's been in here; and even longer since he's felt a friendly touch.
The hug starts to feel weird and suffocating soon after, but Puck doesn't have to try wiggling out of it because Santana senses his discomfort on her own and pulls back herself. "Maybe a little bit," she confesses, fingering the hem of her old shirt. "You know you're at the top of my roster."
"I'm sure you had plenty of back up," Puck dismisses, curling his fists at his sides as he struggles to figure out how to act. Santana looks as sexy as always in her little shirt, and he's certainly horny as fuck after being locked up, but he feels off, unsure; uncomfortable in his own skin.
Puck feels angry and restless and tired and sad, and a bunch of other things he can't identify that are brewing at the surface. He just knows he doesn't want to feel any of it, and he doesn't want Santana to know he's feeling any of it, but he's sure she does, somehow. It feels like it's written all over his face.
Santana shrugs. "Not really." She had her options, of course, but she never really sought any of them out while Puck was away, despite the lines she might have fed her best friend. "There was Britt, but she got all weird and started talking about feelings and shit, so you know…"
"Of course she did," is all Puck can think to say to that. The last thing he wants to talk about is feelings, his or anyone else's. "Chicks are so annoying with that shit."
"Tell me about it," Santana agrees with a roll of her eyes. She finally moves to close the window, letting Puck know she's already decided he's staying. "I'm guessing you don't wanna talk about it."
Puck clenches his fists some more and grinds his teeth as he shakes his head. "No."
And that in itself says a lot. It's enough to let Santana know he's not okay and he didn't enjoy it, and that's more than he plans on letting anyone else know come school on Monday. It's just a glimpse, but it's one he'll only let her see, and that means something.
"Come on, then," Santana sighs, reaching for one of Puck's hands, but settling her fingers around his wrist instead. "We won't talk."
She pulls him to her bed before she lets him go, releasing his wrist just so he can grab hers as she starts pulling down the covers.
The move is sudden and rough, but Santana's not surprised; not when he grabs her or when he pulls her against him, and not when he kisses her. Santana isn't surprised when Puck pushes his tongue past her lips and into her mouth, and she's not caught off guard when a rough hand finds its way under her shirt.
It's not surprising or uncommon for them, but it does feel different - Puck feels different.
He is different.
"Puck," she tries to say, but he swallows his own name. Santana presses her free hand against his chest, and doesn't miss the way he flinches at her touch. It's enough to detach their lips. "Noah," she says again, this time more stern. "Maybe we should just sleep."
Puck pulls away from Santana like he's been burnt. "Why?" he scoffs. "Don't tell me you're into that Backstreet Boy now, too."
"Who, Sam?" she questions, before her tone turns accusatory. "So, what, did you try Fabray first, and then come here after she turned you away?"
"No," he answers truthfully. "I just saw it on Facebook or whatever, when I got my phone back." He's not sure why any of this matters to either of them. "This is the first place I came."
Santana's shoulders relax and she kinda wants to laugh at herself. "Of course I'm not into Sam," she clarifies even though she doesn't have to. Puck's words feel like a gift, so she wants to give him something back. "It's just, you just got out, and my parents are home… Maybe you just need to sleep in a comfy bed and you'll feel better."
"Yeah," Puck agrees, even though he doesn't. Sleeping in a comfortable bed with someone warm sounds amazing, and safe, but also impossible. He runs a hand over his mohawk in exhausted frustration, suddenly doubting his decision to come here. "Maybe."
"Come on," Santana tries again, her eyes uncharacteristically kind. "Let's just get some sleep. No cuddling, I promise."
Puck almost cracks a smile at that and nods, relaxing a bit as he lets Santana help him out of his jeans. Once they're off, she goes for his shirt, bunching it up from the bottom until he leans over enough for her to pull it over his head.
He hears the sharp intake of breath, but it isn't until he feels a light brush of fingertips against his side that Puck realizes what Santana must have seen.
"It's nothing," Puck says after a few silent moments, trying not to pull away from her touch when she presses a little too close to his bruise. "You should see the other guys."
It's purple and ugly and deep, he knows, and it hurt like hell, but it looks worse than it feels now. Maybe he's just used to it.
Santana's fingers trace the large reminder, from his hipbone all the way to his chest, and when she reaches the end, they linger at his nipple, still red and a little puffy. "Your ring," she notices, thumb ghosting over where the hoop used to be. "It's gone."
That had hurt more than the bruise did, but Puck doesn't want to tell her that. Except, he actually kind of does.
Standing there safe in Santana's room, stripped down to just his boxers and his bruises, Puck suddenly wants to tell her every last gory detail of the hell these last few weeks have been for him.
He wants to, but he can't; he's just not wired that way. It's not how he works; hell, it's not how they work. Puck didn't come to Santana's house to cry about juvie, he came here to forget about it – to get past it – at least for half an hour or so.
Puck is rough when he grabs her – not enough to hurt her or leave a mark, not ever – just enough so that she doesn't bother to fight him when he pulls her closer and kisses her again. He's more forceful than he was before, and Santana resists less.
They've been rough before, but this feels all wrong to her. Puck's kisses are too forceful and his hands too rushed; she's not even sure he wants to do this either.
"What are you doing?" she pants once her mouth is free, now that he's moved on to biting and licking at her neck. "Puck, what are you doing?"
Puck pulls back to stare down at her, eyes dark and wild, and Santana thinks she might actually be able to feel his heart pounding against her own chest. "We're not talking."
Then his mouth is on hers again, and his fingers are in her panties, and Santana doesn't know what to do. She's not sure if she wants this, but she's not sure she doesn't, either. Santana has missed Puck, missed being with him even more, and even thought it still feels different and wrong, and also feels like he needs this, but not in the way he used to.
His touch is more than rough, it's careless and desperate, and when Puck shoves two fingers inside Santana she's not ready for it. "Puck, slow down," she groans out, but he doesn't respond to her words until she adds, "Please."
The fingers still, but when she wraps her own around his forearm to try to guide his attention to her clit, Puck pulls out of her panties, and her grip, instead.
Santana expects him to be frustrated, to flinch way from her again like before, but he stays and just stares. His eyes are even darker than they were moments ago, and his dick is harder, too. She reaches for it, because that's how they work – Puck gets a boner, and Santana takes care of it – but he stops her before she can.
Puck doesn't really know what he's doing; not when he grips Santana's wrist, not when he pushes her backwards onto her bed, and not even when he pulls her panties off in one fluid motion. It isn't until he's crawling ontop of her to trap her in place underneath him that he realizes what it is he wants from her.
Control.
After all the bullshit he's been through over the past few weeks, Puck just wants some control back.
It's that realization that calms the storm brewing inside him a bit. It eases his hands and slows his kisses, his movements less desperate and imposing now that he's gained some of what he craves back.
Santana immediately senses the shift from underneath him, and her own emotions calm, too. It's still too different to predict what's going to happen, but she feels safe with Puck again, and that's enough for her to give him what he needs.
She keeps her arms at her sides, but starts responding to his kisses, and when Puck's fingers find their way between her legs again, they're met with slick wetness this time. Santana spreads her thighs to give him more room to work, and she moans into his mouth as he buries his digits inside her.
The thing with Puck and Santana is that they fuck a lot; they have an establish dynamic, and this isn't it. There's the rare occasion that Santana fucks an older guy and she lets him take the lead, but with most of the guys she fucks, Santana's the one that's in control - she has to be, if she wants to get off. Not with Puck, though.
With Puck, they balance each other out, they give as good as they get; it's what makes their sex so fucking good. But this, surrendering all her control and being at Puck's mercy… This is good, too.
His fingers are fast and rough as they pump into her, curling in all the right ways, and it always surprises Santana just how well he knows her body, even after all this time. Puck can play Santana like he can play his guitar, and when he adds his thumb to her clit, she's ready to start singing.
Santana whines and moans underneath him and Puck almost smiles into their kiss. She's close already, he can tell, but it's up to him if she comes or not. Usually that's the goal, a total no-brainer, but maybe not tonight. Right now he has the power, Santana's given it back to him after he was stripped of it, and he doesn't want to waste it.
He stills his fingers just as Santana really starts writhing under him, and she cranes her neck to follow his mouth when he pulls away from her.
"W-Why'd you stop?" she pants, lips swollen and breath heavy. She might have started out reluctant, but it never takes Puck long to get Santana all worked up. "Puck…"
Puck's lips twitch into a smirk and he shakes his head. "Not yet," he tells her as he removes his fingers. He brings his hand up and offers the wet digits to Santana, holding her gaze as she obediently takes them in her mouth. Once she's sucked them clean, Puck leans back so he's straddling her, careful to keep his weight on his knees and not her. "Take your shirt off."
Something in his tone shoots straight to Santana's cunt, and she quickly does as Puck orders, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it across the room. She's completely naked now, trapped under Puck and totally in his control, and she's never wanted him more.
She knows she should wait for further instructions, but the tent in Puck's boxers just looks too inviting for her to resist, and she reaches out for it before she can stop herself. She just barely gets her fingers in the flap before her hand is batted away.
"Puck," Santana whines, but doesn't dare try again. "At least let me touch you."
Puck doesn't really want to give her what she wants, but his cock is aching for attention, so he compromises. He pulls his cock out through the flap of his boxers and strokes himself while Santana watches with rapt attention.
"You want my cock, Lopez?" he asks, and immediately gets the nod he expects. "Ask me nicely for it."
Santana doesn't hesitate as much as she thought she would, or at all, really. "Please," she swiftly complies, and the look on her face tells Puck she actually means it. "Please, Noah, let me touch you."
That sounds even hotter than Puck expected it to, and as much as he wishes he had the self control to drag this out more, he's only a teenage boy. So, dick in hand, he carefully crawls up Santana's body so he's hovering over her chest and feeds it to her.
She's so hungry for it, and after weeks, she knows Puck is too, but she starts slow. She teases the head with her tongue, tracing around the ridge of it and then moving to his slit; already tasting the faint hint of precum there.
Santana keeps her eyes on Puck's face as she focuses on his tip, lavishing it with a bit more attention before he starts pushing move of it into her mouth. Her hands are itching to help, but their position makes it awkward, so they settle for his thighs, and his hips and his stomach, for now; fingers running trails wherever they can reach, just because she needs to touch him.
Puck sighs as his shaft slides along Santana's eager tongue, her warm mouth welcoming every inch of it with ease; he'd almost forgotten how good Santana looks with his cock splitting her plump lips. As much as a part of him wants to, Puck refrains from just shoving the entire length of his dick down Santana's throat, instead working her up to it with a steady increase in pace.
By the time he's fucking the back of her throat, Puck's fingers are tangled in Santana's hair to pull her head up to meet each thrust of his cock. It's messy and she makes loud gagging noises with each poke of this cockhead, but she loves every second of it, because she knows he does, too.
Santana's never really concerned herself with the other person's enjoyment during sex, let alone gotten off on it, but as she watches Puck's face contort in pleasure and feels his abs tense under her hands, she finds her empty cunt throbbing from it.
As if sensing her need, Puck gives her mouth just a few more thrusts before he abruptly pulls out so he can stick his dick elsewhere. He sits there first for a few moments, though, marveling at the way his huge fat cock manages to block almost all of Santana's face if he angles his head just right. It amazes him, to think that she just took the entirety of it down her throat with no complaint; it makes his balls tingle and his back straighten and it feels like power.
Puck waves his cock teasingly in Santana's face, grinning at the way she cranes up to try to catch it in her mouth again. "Thought you'd want it in another hole, Lopez."
Santana's eyes light up as she relaxes against the bed, and gives him a cheshire cat smile. "I do."
"Tell me," Puck commands her, smacking his dick against her cheek playfully. "Tell me where you want my cock, Santana."
"My pussy," she's quick to answer, rocking her ass against the bed. "I want you to fuck my pussy, Noah, please, baby."
Puck loves that he didn't even have to tell Santana to beg this time, and he rewards her by giving her what she wants without further teasing. He shimmies back down her body and kneels up enough so that she has enough room to move.
"Turn over," he orders her, fisting his cock as Santana makes quick work of flipping over onto her stomach and sticking her ass in the air for him. Puck guides his spit slicked cock to Santana's entrance and slides it in, matching the girl's sigh as her walls expand and hug his thick shaft with warmth.
"Oh god, yes," Santana moans, immediately rolling her hips back into Puck before he presses a hand to her lower back to keep her against the bed.
"I'm the one fucking you, Santana," Puck reminders her, leaning over to cover her entire body with his own so he can whisper in her ear. He wraps his arm around her front, just below her neck, his massive bicep cradling her chin. "You're just gonna lay there and take it, yeah?"
That sounds amazing to Santana. "Give it to me," she moans. "I'll take it."
Puck is heavy ontop of her, his weight pressing her against the bed as he pumps and thrusts into her cunt. Santana can feel him all over her, and around her and inside her; and she never would've guessed it could feel this good on the bottom.
They've had rough sex before, so this shouldn't feel entirely brand new, but it feels like it is. She doesn't know if it's because he's being so dominant, or because it's been so long since they've fucked, but Santana's never felt it like this before.
Puck's breath is hot against her neck as he pants, the arm around her neck loosening a bit so he can reach down to grab one of her tits. It's too big for just one of his hands now, but he's more focused on her nipple anyways; pinching and twisting until he gets the gasps of pain from her that he's looking for.
"It feels so good to be inside you again," he huffs into her ear, his hips molding against the swell of her ass as he rides her from behind.
Santana moans her agreement. "Did you think about me while you were in there?" she finds herself asking before she can fully think it through. "When you were jerking off," she quickly adds. "Did you picture me?"
"I always picture you, babe." And it's true, mostly. Of course there's the occasional porn star or celebrity, or hot MILF, but like, of all the girls he actually knows and has hooked up with, he always comes back to Santana. "You're the hottest piece in town. Definitely the hottest piece my dick has been in, at least."
It's probably sad that kinda makes Santana swoon. She only expects so much from teenage boys, and that was almost romantic by those standards.
"You're the best, ah fuck! The best I've had, too," she decides to tell him after a particularly hard thrust, even though she might regret it later. It's always been true, but Puck has never needed the ego boost before.
It isn't exactly news to Puck, but it's still nice to hear. Nice enough that it makes him move his hand from her boob to her face, so he can tilt her head enough to be able to kiss her from behind. It's sloppy, and he kisses her chin more than her lips, but it's the thought that counts.
"Are you ready to come?" he pants into her mouth a minute or two later, his balls starting to tighten already. Puck usually has a lot more stamina, but after going weeks without pussy, he can't expect to fuck someone like Santana Lopez and not have a little trouble keeping up with his usual highly rated performance levels.
Santana leans back into his shoulder and turns her head to press her temple against his face. "Yes," she breathes into him. "Please. God, Puck, please make me come."
"Are you still-"
"Uh huh," Santana cuts him off, her eyes drifting closed the closer she gets to the edge. She blindly reaches for Puck's hands and finds one, intertwining their fingers and bringing it close to her to anchor her. "You can come inside me, please come inside me."
Again, Puck finds himself wishing he could drag it out more, because holy shit, hearing Santana Lopez beg does things to him, but. He's a sex shark that hasn't had sex in weeks, and Santana's pussy is clenching around him in all the right ways, and maybe Puck is more human than shark after all, because he just can't fight it.
"Fuck, I'm gonna nut," Puck warns her, and he hopes she's as close as she said. Wanting to make sure, he sneaks his free hand underneath Santana and furiously rubs at her clit, laying the entirely of his weight ontop of her as his hips start to buck wildly. "Ugh, fuck, come on, Lopez, come on, I'm gonna-"
Santana comes first, just by a couple seconds, but it's still her orgasm that eventually sets Puck off right after her. It's a perfect mess of clenching and throbbing and coming; Puck's cock buried in deep as he empties his load into Santana's pulsating cunt.
Puck hugs her close as they come down together, his hips still jerking a bit as he finishes spurting until he's finally done, his thick cum pooling and spreading a blissful warmth through Santana's entire body in the aftermath.
His high dissipates fast, the pleasurable fog clearing to make room for reality in no time at all; sex proving to be nothing more than a short distraction from the storm raging in his mind, no matter how amazing it is.
"Wow," Santana sighs heavily, laughing a little at how quickly they had fallen into bed after being reunited. "Well, welcome home." Puck doesn't respond, just takes another moment to recover before he rolls off her and breaks the little bubble they had surrounded themselves in. Santana feels the mood shift, and twists around to find Puck about to get out of bed. "No, stay."
"Santana…"
"Stay," she says again, but this time it sounds more like an order than a plea. "You're staying."
A ghost of a smile plays on Puck's lips at the abrupt change in roles; only Santana Lopez.
His shoulders slump as he gives in easily. "Okay," he agrees softly, letting Santana pull him back down and against her. "I'll stay."
Santana presses a kiss against his forehead as he curls around her, wrapping an arm around her stomach and laying his head against her chest. "Just sleep," she whispers, fingers lightly brushing through his trimmed mohawk. "I got you."