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Madrid, Spain

He loves bullfights.

Forget the frilly hats and red capes; Puck would go apeshit on that animal and show it who the real beast was.

He glances over at Quinn. She's leaning forward with her chin between her wrists, watching the arena very intently and... are her eyes hooded? Fuck. Is she turned on by this?

He licks his lips and leans in her ear. "Someone's excited."

Quinn glances at him and winks before turning her attention back to the center. They watch another round before she puts a hand on his thigh, one eyebrow raised to the sky. "Let's not live like common people, okay?" she tells him. "Let's be better than that."

He stares at her for a second before smirking. "And what if we can't?" he counters.

"Let's pretend we can."

….

There's so much sweat, so many bodies, and he runs his tongue across the mouth of some girl he met literally two minutes ago. She pushes herself against him, whispering some sweet Spanish notes into his ear when he sees Quinn across the way, twirling in the crowd with a shot in the air.

He doesn't remember how they get separated, because going to Macumba was her idea. But Puck suddenly realizes he's not like her as she laughs with a young crowd from their tour group; she likes people. She likes the feeling under their glow, to be surrounded by smiles and not feel so alone.

He's been drunk since noon time, so he doesn't even realize he's walking towards her until he no longer feels the weight of the other girl pressing against his side. He watches as Quinn tosses her jacket at some vague direction, throwing her arms in the air like she's shedding her skin.

But ignoring her is like a magnet trying to avoid the pull of another: impossible.

And when he approaches her, she leans in his ear and he catches the whiff of red wine on her lips. "Come with me," and she giggles a bit and tugs on his wrist as they escape through the crowds.

She pushes him into the women's restroom, and the moment they stumble into a stall, she rings her arms around his neck as he pushes her against the door. Her teeth nips at his bottom lip as he bunches her emerald dress well past her hips. Their tongues war with each other, rough and delicious, and he hungrily tugs the waistband of her lacy underwear. Quinn immediately hooks her thighs around his waist as he pins her against the wall.

He feels her smile against his mouth, her tongue twisting around his. She reaches down to fumble with the zipper of his pants, but he slides a finger into her and she instantly shudders against him. "Fuck," she throws her head against the wall, a weak bang echoing as she tugs helplessly at his collar. He grins and presses his thumb against her clit, and she bites her lip to stifle the sudden urge to cry out. He eases another finger in and she shuts her eyes and gasps silently, her hands reaching out grab to something, anything.

"Fuck me," she commands softly in his ear, her words slightly slurred together. The music pumps louder outside the bathroom, and she scratches his neck closer towards her, her sharp nails leaving red lines down his back.

He smirks at the sound of his own thumping heart. "Oh, I fucking intend to," and he lifts her a little higher before driving into her with a single fierce thrust.

"Jesus," she curses and whimpers, and her little voice is driving him so fucking insane that he thrusts harder and harder until she gasps his name in her ear. Puck slams into her so hard, he watches amusingly as one of her shiny heels falls off her foot, clattering onto the floor with a dull thud. Her hips bang mercilessly against the stall, rattling it so loudly he thinks he might just fuck her through the wall, and when she says his name one more time – in that fucking voice – his nerves melt to wax and he grinds his hipbone into hers and lets his face fall into the curve of her neck as he comes apart inside her.

….

They stroll through Retiro Park, the morning sun blazing through their skin as she bends towards a pink flower and sniffs it. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at the clouds, wondering if maybe answers are really written in the sky. He spots a puff that looks like turtle but nothing else, and he looks over at Quinn and frowns.

"Why are you here?" Puck asks, and she plucks the flower from the stem.

"That's a rude question," she bites back airily. She raises the flower towards the sky, her eyes tracing the petals for any imperfections.

"I meant here, on this trip," he repeats, his brow furrowing. Quinn continues to ignore him, picking at the stem and twirling it under the sunlight, and he feels himself becoming frustrated. "What? Were you just feeling bored one day and daddy paid it all for you?"

He watches as two green eyes flash dangerously at him. "Don't talk to me like you know me."

"I'm curious," he says smugly, folding his arms across his chest. "Or is it some kind of girl thing? Did you just want to go to Europe to discover yourself?" He taunts her, spitting out the last two words.

Puck doesn't know why he's so angry; he just suddenly realizes he is, and she's there, so now it's her fault.

Quinn squints up at him, blond hair flying all around her face as she pinches the flower in between her fingers. "What the fuck happened to you?" she asks, and he blinks because there's honesty laced with her malice.

"You wouldn't get it," he waves her off and walks away. Suddenly, he feels a tug on his wrist as she presses the pink flower against his chest; it crumbles to his feet.

"You don't get to walk away," Quinn tells him plainly. "You don't get to be the one who walks away." And he doesn't know why he can't move when she leaves him there. He just suddenly feels really empty, so he yells fuck to the sky and hopes God is listening.

….

Puck watches people weave in and out of the street, the rich smell of chocolate floating in the air. He glances up at the buildings with pointed roofs, striking the air like the tip of a fountain pen, and he feels a little bad for the birds out here.

He sees their tour guide (he really should learn his fucking name) gesture for the group to regather, and Puck pulls out a cigarette and a cheap lighter from his pocket.

He stares at the flame and doesn't move for a long time.

….

A group of them are having dinner together, wine glasses clinking as the sound of flamenco music envelopes the atmosphere. He purposely places himself next to Quinn, and she gives him a small look before picking at a plate of tapas.

He feels his pride slipping as he leans into her ear and mutters, "Look, I'm sorry if I hurt you. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

She gives him a short smile and takes a sip from her glass. "Nobody hurts me."

"Good, because I wasn't going to take it back," Puck retaliates, and he immediately feels like an idiot.

She grabs a tooth pick and stabs a plump, green olive. "You can forgive," she begins, "but never forget." He watches her twirl the olive in her mouth, and she licks it once before biting down on it and sucking on the tooth pick.

Puck glares at her.

She laughs at him, teasing him gently as she repeats her action. This time, she opens her mouth a little wider as he watches the olive slosh uselessly around her tongue, and when Quinn swallows, she moans a bit and licks each one of her fingers.

He's really starting to hate what she's doing to him.

….

They're on the way back to the hotel when she stops in front of Almudena Cathedral and kind of just stares at it. Puck stands next to her, and he doesn't even realize he's got a hand on her hip.

"What happened to your mom?" she breathes, and he sees, for the first time, an innocent little girl under all her layers.

"She had cancer," he says slowly, the words burning on his tongue. He doesn't like how she makes it so easy for him to talk aloud about this. "She was supposed to go on this trip. It was her biggest dream to travel the world, and I kept pushing for her to just go out there and experience everything. But a couple weeks beforehand, she was sent to the hospital. We thought it was just from exhaustion, but she died in my arms the next day."

Puck sees something like sympathy in her eyes, and he really hopes she doesn't start crying. "I took her spot because I didn't want her dream to go to waste," he continues. "I just wanted to finish something for her."

They sway under the night sky and gaze at the moon's reflection on the church bells. "Tell me a secret," he prompts her, and she closes her eyes and smiles.

"I want to be somebody's favorite person," she hums. "Like they can't live if I wasn't there. I want to be indispensable to somebody."

When she opens her eyes, he sees something like relief flicker across her face. Like she was lost before this, and now she finds herself outside her front door again. Quinn leans over and kisses him like he has the key.

He hears something rattle in his chest as he kisses her back. It's a kiss that makes his heart feel young again and disposes his years of anguish.

….

It starts out as slow, sensual, as he melts his lips against hers like molding clay. When she opens her mouth, he sweeps his tongue over her gums before tangling it with hers. He pulls her closer to him by her waist, and this time, she pulls her dress off herself.

Puck smirks. "It looked good on you," he murmurs into her lips. "It looks better on the floor."

He slams his mouth against hers to hush her protest, and her fingers carefully peel off his shirt as he tips her down on to the bed and lets her swim under the covers.

He hovers on top of her for a moment before moving in again, his lips branding on hers – like claiming her as his. She moans lazily as he travels down her neck and licks his way towards her stomach, dipping his tongue into her naval. Quinn spreads her legs a little wider as he rolls her panties off her legs with his teeth and presses his cheek against her inner thigh.

A helpless whimper slips past her lips as he brushes his tongue against her clit. He starts to circle it – his movements cool and slow – and he feels her slowly buckling underneath him. He slides a finger into her, and then another, and she's biting her lip so hard it makes him grin. He reaches a hand to cup her left breast as he alternates between licking and sucking, and when he presses his tongue lightly against her clit, Puck feels her thighs shake violently.

He sees her toes curl as he moves his mouth away, and something like a smile tugs both their lips.

And then there's a moment – he doesn't even know what the fuck just happened – but he becomes so lost in her honey blond hair, her green eyes, her flawless skin.

He suddenly feels so urgent because he wants all of it.

So when he leans back down, he massages her hips as he enters with a delicious thrust. She gasps lightly, and it becomes a strange sensation when he slows down, dipping into her at a more relaxed pace. Like they're both unwinding against each other as his skin tingles from the butterfly kisses she trails on his jaw. It's so foreign and gentle, he thinks he should feel uncomfortable with something as delicate as this, but she feels so fucking soft it's driving him a bit nuts.

He pants against her cheek as she wraps her fingers around his neck, placing gentle kisses around the skin near his ears. Her lips part as she drags her teeth down his neck and onto his shoulder, and he feels his hips falter slightly as she traces secret messages with her finger on his bare back.

And when their mouths meet again, he feels her shudder slightly as he strokes her neck and thrusts into her. His right arm drops next to her head, and she reaches for it and laces their fingers together. He pushes their hand deeper into the mattress and eases tenderly into her again, her back arching into him as both their bones start to tremble.

When she moans, she bites back his name until he lowers himself into her a few more times, and when she finally orgasms and lets it slip from her mouth, he feels his stomach catch on fire and burn up. Their fingers are still laced together, and they both cling onto each other as if they are about to fly away any second as he comes into her.

He doesn't believe he's shivering when she sweeps her tongue across his neck as he rolls off, and they both lay there quietly and pant against the sweaty sheets.

Slowly, so very slowly, she moves towards him and rests her head against his chest. He wraps an arm around her frame and pulls her in closer, and she sighs under the heated darkness.

"You're going to break my heart, aren't you?" she whispers in his ear. He doesn't say anything, and she settles into him. "I think I'm going to break yours, too."

He gazes directly into her eyes, and it's the first time they really look at each other face to face.

Suddenly, Puck sees the little cracks she hides so well, the ones that are now breaking apart in front of him. He watches as small flecks of light try to fight through; light that is trying to get in and light that is trying to get out.

He wonders if she's starting to see the real him, too.

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