Disclaimer: I do not own the television series Glee, and therefore I do not own any of the characters in this fic. Just like with the prequel, this fic title is taken from the Britney Spears song, "3".
A/N: So I'd hoped taking a break from the nursing program would afford me more time...but it seems I'm still busy. I apologize for the wait. I'm sincerely going to try and be more prompt.
I also apologize for the typos, and for the lack of progression you might be feeling in the story at this point. I have it outlined, so don't worry...it picks up a little soon.
Rated: M
Quinn actually really loves to dance.
Not just the kind of dance routines that she does with the Cheerio's members and or the numbers the glee club works out to go along with the vocals. Those are fun, and are usually really good exercise for what she feels like are her problem areas (hips and thighs) but she doesn't love them like she loves the kind of dancing she does at the little studio in town.
It might sound conceited and stuck-up of her, but Quinn is sort of glad that it's a very exclusive dance program and no other girl from McKinley has been allowed in. Okay, she's really glad about that. She doesn't need Rachel there turning the whole thing into a "me-me" show, or Santana there with her toned body making her feel self-conscious about the way her softer one moves.
This little dance company is something that's all hers.
She doesn't have to prove herself, or assert her self as the alpha female, or illustrate that she's the head-bitch-in-charge here. It's not about that. It's about being yourself, and doing what you love. Even if part of her loves being that girl every other girl envies or fears; she likes having a place where she she can escape that. A place where she can cease being the queen for a minute, and just be Quinn.
At one point, she even thought might want to be a ballerina. That little girl has grown up, but she's still there in the back of her mind a little bit every time she pirouettes.
The mirrored room is empty now, where it had held a handful of young girls (mostly daughters of the town's elite) just moments before. Even the instructor has packed up and left, leaving Quinn all alone, hanging against the bar, looking at the reflection of her feet in the mirror.
She knows he's going to be outside waiting. He hasn't texted since English, but she knows he remembered, and that he's probably out there sitting in his truck, waiting on her to come out. She's more than conflicted. Part of her just wants to keep waiting in here, hoping he'll go. Part of her wants to grab her stuff and rush out quickly to him.
The choice is a hard one, and luckily it's one she doesn't have to make.
"I thought you were a cheerleader, not a ballerina."
Quinn's startled by his voice, even though she shouldn't be.
"I'm not a ballerina" She clips, though she's suppressing a smile as she turns around. "This isn't a ballet class...it's mixed genre dancing...we do all sorts of styles"
Puck's in his usual after-shower wear: a t-shirt with the arms cut out to show off his guns, and pair of black athletic pants. That look, plus his mohawk makes him look very out of place in this ritzy studio, leaned up against one of the French-cut columns at the door that leads into the hall. His cocky smirk explains that he doesn't mind this contrast at all.
"I saw twirling." He scoffs, unfolding his arms and walking closer "That's ballet."
The thought he's been lurking about long enough to somehow watch the routine makes her blush, but she doesn't comment on that fact. Instead, she snarks her reply.
"What do you know about dance?"
He snorts "First off babe, I know about everything." Insert the necessary eyebrow raise "And secondly, you should turn that pretty little head of yours around in rehearsal sometime and watch me...I got moves."
"Thanks to intense step-tutoring sessions with Mike, no doubt." Quinn smiles knowingly. Finn's told her that Chang works with all the boys in the locker room, trying to help them learn to groove as effortlessly as he can.
"Please" He rolls his eyes and waves hand, "Asian invasion ain't got nothin' on me...I admit he can pop-lock-drop-it like it's his job...but just between you and me...that's totally a chick dance move."
She lifts her brow.
Puck does a half-assed imitation of Mike's signature move "See...it's completely designed for girls to show their booty off in the club...but hey...if Chang feels the need to show his ass off with the homegirls...I'm cool with that."
Quinn continues to shake her head, gripping the bar tighter.
"What are you doing here, Puck?"
She hates to take the conversation in this direction, but she knows he didn't come here to mock his fellow football players dance skill.
"I came to see you." He shrugs, "You knew I was gonna be here."
"I just don't know why." She breathes, turning toward the mirror again, away from him "I already told you how things are..."
"I thought-"
"You thought that you could corner me when I was alone...when my defenses were down...when there was no chance of being interrupted...and maybe then I would change my mind and cheat on my boyfriend...your best friend...with you." Quinn finishes.
"I thought that I was going to go fucking crazy if I didn't have the chance to be alone with you again..." Puck shoots back "Even if it was only for a few minutes...only if all we did was make small talk-"
"You're full of it." Quinn butts in, "You're not satisfied with any encounter you have with a girl unless it includes you jumping her bones."
"You know the first one to bring fucking into the equation usually turns out to be the one who wants to fuck."
This makes Quinn growl a little bit.
"For your information I've already had sex today...good sex...relationship sex"
"Relationship sex? Hmmm...that kind of sounds like the kind of sex my grandparents have in the retirement home."
"You came, you saw me, we had small talk which is now turning into big yelling...now you can leave." She suggests. "Or better yet I'll go...and then you can rob or vandalize the place or something." That's not her being bitchy. Those are actually Puck's hobbies.
Quinn releases the bar, but when she whirls around he's closer than she thought, and grabs her by the waist.
"How can you possibly be mad at me...for wanting you?" Puck demands, holding his grip.
It's a good question. How do you build anger at a person whose crime is loving you?
"Because you're going to mess everything up." Quinn finally murmurs, "And I'm not mad...I just want to go home." She moves, but he's still holding her.
"Dance with me first." Puck says shocking her, "Than I'll let you go home."
She shakes her head at first, but his hands don't budge.
"There's no music." She finally says.
"We don't need music." He shrugs, pulling her closer in, wrapping his arms around her waist "Chang says the real beat comes from the heart." Puck remembers, because he'd punched him and called him gay when he said it. Then later, he'd bought him a slushie to apologize...before offering to set him up with Kurt.
Quinn's arms slink up over Puck's shoulders, meeting behind his head as they both sway silently. They barely make any steps for a minutes, just moving slowly against each other.
It feels a little bit like a middle school dance, so moves his hands a little lower, and starts grinding his hips into hers in a rhythm. Her breath catches a little, but Quinn starts grinding hers back against his at the same pace. Her hair falls from it's bun a little bit, and she arches her neck back. Puck lays his warm lips against the exposed skin, but he doesn't kiss it. Instead, he dips his hands down even lower and grabs her ass, squeezing it lightly before lifting her onto one of his legs.
They keep moving at a rich, slow, grinding rate. Puck has moved lower in his stance, and Quinn's basically straddling his leg now, moving back and forth, the material of her soft pink tights causing friction against his thigh. He keeps one hand in place to hold her, and runs the other down the length of her body as he continues to get lower, and she arches even deeper as they sway.
When his hand makes the path down her body for the second time, he grips the top of her tights, pulling them down. He's instantly greeted by the dark groomed hair of her mound. She doesn't wear panties with her dance-tights. "Mmmm" He grunts. He's low enough to the ground now, that when he lowers his knee, he lays her comfortably on the mat.
His fingers continue to dig into the pink material, pulling her tights out the way. Quinn tries to protest, but it comes out as a slurred "Nuhhh" as the tights are pulled down past her knees. With a bite to his lower lip, Puck hikes up the flimsy barely there little skirt she's wearing with her camisole.
Quinn pants feebly when he touches the moist heat between her legs with the back of his finger. Puck loves how wet he's made her. He knew with them basically dry humping she was going to be slippery, but her core is dripping. His eyes light up with a newly charged lust as he cleans his finger in his mouth.
"Still want to go home?" He breathes, kneeling over her.
She nods, trying to be strong despite her body's betraying tremble.
He moves his fingers across her damp lips teasingly. "Now?"
"Mhmmm" Quinn tries to insist, but it sounds so much like a moan it's hard to distinguish.
Puck's fingers move further in now, seeking out her clit. He massages the swollen nub in a pattern that matches the rhythm they were dancing to, slipping two fingers up and inside of her "Now?"
She's gripping the vinyl of the dance mat now, swimming in her desire. "Yes"
"I guess if you're sure..." Puck begins, "Maybe I should just let you go home." He removes the fingers slowly.
As soon as his fingers are gone, and he seems to be moving, Quinn reaches weakly up toward him, whimpering.
"You need help standing up babe?" He teases, "Need me to help you pull your tights back up?"
"Please." She begs, gripping for his shirt
"Come on-" He puts his hands over the tiny one she's clutching him with, removing it, and making to stand up.
"Please let me come" Quinn pleads, eyes watering from the pressure that's built up in her stomach and
between her legs. "Don't you want me?"
The light tears almost make Puck sorry for teasing her.
"You know I do" He grunts, lowering himself back over her in a rough, but lithe movement "I fucking need you baby." His hand runs up her inner thigh again.
Her legs spread wider, and her little hands moved to tug down the soft material of his pants. His fingers aren't enough anymore. She needs to feel him. Her own fingers curl around his length, and he hisses. He works her clit with his knuckle, and she twists his tip between her thumb and forefinger gently.
Hooking a hand under her knee, he slides her effortlessly along the mat and closer to him, so that he can slip into her in a slow and delicious thrust. She quakes, so appreciative of the sensation. His lips closer over hers, taking his first kiss of the night. As he continues slowly moving in and out of her, he soaks her lips in similar intense kisses.
When she writhes back, her neck on display, he takes that skin between his lips too, sucking it as his hips speed up. Hers are meeting his now with each thrust, desperate for deeper connection. He's moving a hand to go back to paying attention to her sensitive spot when she comes with a sudden tremor, eyes flitting back a little.
He pushes his tongue through her slack lips, and with one more deep plunge into her, he releases with his own little shock-wave. For a moments, he just lays lays tangled with her, before pulling gently out.
Propping himself up beside on the mat, as she silently fights to regain the function to breathe properly, Puck traces her nipple through her camisole. Her green eyes line up with his. He's got her full attention now.
"I told you I had moves." He murmurs, with a satiated smirk "Fuck Mike Chang."
"Finn." She pants out guilty, closing her eyes.
Puck has to stop himself, because his instinct had been to add "Fuck Finn Hudson, too"
That won't help though, and in truth, he wouldn't really mean it. He cares about Finn. He just cares about Quinn more. One feeling is allowed to trump another one. He knows that much about feelings, even if he's not Dr. Phil.
"I won't tell him." Puck promises, leaning to kiss her shoulder "Our secret."
"Okay." Quinn agrees, as he brings his lips to hers. She has no idea what she's agreeing too, only that his lips taste wonderful.
Quinn tells her Mom and Dad tonight the troupe had a salsa lesson that ran over, and that's why she's so late and so sweaty. She's not sure if they even really hear her though. Her mom coos about it being nice over her chardonnay, and adds something about her needing a shower. Her Dad's too caught up in Glen Beck's program to do anything more than offer her a fatherly nod and smile. They might have responded, but she still doesn't feel heard.
She doesn't take a shower. She just slips into her pajamas, and under the covers. She'll shower in the morning, and remove all the dried sweat. She's too tired now. She's almost too tired to grab her phone from the nightstand when it vibrates.
It's a long text from Finn.
Finn: hope you had fun dirty dancing baby. don't let patrick swayze steal you away from me. sleep tight. i love you...and cherry popsicles.
She sends her reply:
Quinn: goodnight sweetheart. please don't tell your mom where the cherry stains came from. love you so much.
Her thumb vibrates when she's hitting send, as she gets an incoming text.
Puck: I need more of our secret.
Quinn doesn't send a reply to this, but she does fall asleep clutching the phone to her chest, still open on his text message.
Please review.