A/N: This is a companion piece to a Finn/Santana story I did, "Touch Me, I'll Show You," though you definitely don't have to read that one to enjoy this!

Rachel's waiting for him in the little courtyard outside the music building when he gets there, her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and her head tilted down just a little with her shoulders lifted so that her light pink scarf is keeping her ears warm. He watches as she taps at her phone, then shoves it into her pocket.

She's fucking cute, and he can't help returning the bright smile she gives him when she sees him walking towards her. "Hi," she greets simply, looping her arm through his and falling in step beside him so they can walk to the parking lot. "How was your class?"

He shrugs; his physiology class is pretty straightforward and not terribly interesting. Well, not to anyone else. He actually thinks learning about how the human body works is pretty cool. "Leg bone's connected to the knee bone."

She just shakes her head, then starts chattering away about the piece they were deconstructing in class, something written by an old, dead, white guy that Puck doesn't really care about. What's more, he knows that as much as Rachel loves and cares about music, she's not quite as excited as she sounds; girl's from the 'fake it till you make it' school, and that includes enthusiasm for boring classes.

They've been together a little over a year, and yeah, he's totally fucking in love with her. It took a lot of convincing to get her to give him a chance - they'd basically been dancing around each other for years, so it made sense that she didn't totally trust that they were in the same place at the same time - but they're so good together. They each mellow the other, so now Rachel's less high-strung and Puck's less of a hot head, and they somehow manage to always have fun even though they have nearly as many differences as they have things in common.

It's all about compromise.

Rachel hates baseball, so he doesn't make her watch, but she'll listen to him talk about it when something excellent happens. He cannot stand to see the same old musicals over and over again, so Rachel keeps those to herself. (There are exceptions to that one. He doesn't hate Funny Girl, for example.) She doesn't nag him about eating meat, and he doesn't give her shit about eating like a rabbit. He gives her massages when her dance classes make her ache, and she bakes him cupcakes and cookies and all kinds of crazy delicious shit.

And yeah, they bicker like any other couple and sometimes they fight. Sometimes Puck is a complete dick, or Rachel forgets that she isn't fucking insane and they have it out, but their arguments always end in make-up sex. And their sex life?

Totally fucking rocks.

She keeps her bare hand tucked into the crook of his elbow when the light changes and they cross the street to the parking lot, and he wonders idly where her gloves are. They do this every Friday, and maybe it's lame, but he loves their routine. The house she shares with Santana is just a few blocks from campus, so she walks to class, and since he finishes at the same time, he and Rachel always meet and walk to his car together. They go for coffee at this little cafe that Rachel loves, then they go back to her place and hang out until he has to work or she has something to go do.

"I don't get it," he says flatly, not bothering to look up from the new issue of Maxim. Santana subscribes, which might be weird but isn't a surprise at all, and he snagged it off the kitchen counter where it was stacked with the rest of the mail. "You guys see each other all the time."

"We do not," Rachel counters. "I can't remember the last time I got to have a conversation with Santana that wasn't about whose turn it was to take out the recycling or whether or not the creepy neighbor is the one who keeps taking the Netflix movies out of the mailbox."

"So you have to get all dolled up and go out to dinner and get drunk?" he asks.

"Exactly!" she cries, tugging the magazine out of his hands and tossing it aside, swinging her leg over his and sitting back on his thighs. "See, you do understand."

He just shakes his head, his hands finding her hips. "I know what you're going to do, but I still don't get why," he tells her honestly.

She lets out a sigh and directs her eyes skyward as she thinks. "It's sort of like...like when you and Finn sit together and play those video games with the gratuitous violence. Like stress relief, I guess."

He smirks at her, skimming one hand up her side and cupping the back of her neck. He pulls her forward and kisses her gently. "I can take care of your stress, baby," he says against her lips, and she pulls away laughing.

"That's a different thing entirely, Noah."

She lets out a little squeal when he lifts her off his lap, tossing her onto the bed beside him and lying between her legs so he can kiss her, these light, tiny kisses designed to tease the hell out of her like he knows she loves even if she won't admit it.

He works in the music department at Barnes and Noble a couple nights a week, and it's a pretty sweet gig. He isn't allowed to leave the section, but that also means that no customers can come and ask him to show them where to find books by Sookie Stackhouse or Chelsea Handler or Dr. Seuss or whoever the fuck. Things are generally pretty slow and easy, and none of the managers give him shit about having his phone out - even if it is against company policy - as long as there aren't any customers in his section.

So he gets Rachel's message just after nine that she may have had a little too much sake at the sushi restaurant, and now she's on her way to a martini bar with Santana and Tina and she really, really wishes that he could be there with them because she thinks he'd look hot drinking a martini, like James Bond.

So, yeah, tonight's probably going to be fun, because a drunk Rachel is almost always amusing.

He's literally only had about a dozen sales tonight, and the whole store's been pretty slow, so he's hoping that means that the booksellers have their shit together and they'll be out of here by 11:30.

He and Rachel send a few messages back and forth, but he can tell the exact moment when she goes from mostly sober to buzzed: I'm wearing new panties, Noah.

Up till that point, her messages were about how cold it was outside and how she's drinking cosmopolitans and how she really loves getting to spend time with Santana and Tina, and now she's talking about her panties? To be honest, when she said she was drinking cosmos, he knew he was golden, because vodka makes his girl horny like nothing else. She gets all sexy and flirty and fucking handsy, and he kinda loves her like that.

yeah? what do they look like?

Dark purple lace, boy cut, with a bra that matches.

are they wet?

Fuck, he really wants to know.

He has to force himself not to groan when all she sends back is Mmmmm, because now he's picturing her on her back wearing nothing but those panties, just waiting for him to peel them off and drive into her the way they both love.

Once the store's closed and they're all supposed to be straightening bookshelves, Puck's totally distracted by his phone buzzing in his pocket every three minutes with a new message from Rachel. They're kind of on a roll tonight, and it's such a tease that he would fucking hate it if he wasn't going to be able to make good on all this shit in just a little while. Sexting is hot, but it kind of just pisses him off if there isn't going to be any real payoff.

He literally fidgets through the entire closing meeting, and when the annoying bohemian chick who works in the cafe takes for fucking ever to get her shit together and make it to the front doors, he think he might push her off the sidewalk just for the hell of it.

Patience isn't his strong suit.

He leaves his phone in his pocket while he drives downtown to pick up the girls because texting and driving is no joke and if Rachel says something particularly dirty, he might do something stupid like run a stop sign or whatever the hell else. Maybe it's only been a year, but that's most definitely the longest relationship he's ever been in, and he doesn't think he's ever loved anyone the way he loves Rachel, because he's really in love with her. Making that distinction kind of makes him feel like a pussy, so he'd probably never admit it out loud, but it does make a difference. He still loves Santana like a bro, and yeah, there was a part of him in high school that loved her for more than the dirty things she let him do to her in bed. And yes, he did love Quinn. Still does, in some ways, because they shared something really important, and in spite of what people might think, he wasn't going to betray Finn and sleep with his girl just for the hell of it. But they really, really weren't good together, weren't right for one another, and it's probably a good thing that Quinn had her eyes open wide enough to know that back then, because Puck sure as hell didn't.

Rachel's just different. She trusts him and believes in him in a way that no one else ever has, the way no one else probably ever will. She believes the best in him instead of assuming the worst, even though she's seen both ends of the spectrum, and she was the first person who ever really listened to what he had to say without dismissing it as bullshit or bravado. And it's kind of hard not to be in love with Rachel when she's just as crazy in love with him.

Despite all the drama of sophomore year, they did become friends. She kept her distance a little when she was with Finn because the guy was understandably wary of his girlfriends hanging out with Puck (especially after that whole Rachel cheating on Finn with Puck thing), but she never cut him out completely, and the more he got to know her, the less obnoxious she seemed and the more all that stuff that came out of her mouth - what he could make himself listen to, at least - started to make some kind of crazy sense. Fuck, maybe she brainwashed him, all of them, but he doesn't even care. A whole slew of the New Directions kids ended up in Cleveland for college, and Finn and Rachel called it quits before the end of their first semester, and the crazy group dynamic they'd all been toying with for years started to shift around. Rachel and Santana stopped getting at each other, moved in together, and wound up having this crazy friendship. The guys stuck together like always, but with Finn and Rachel broken up, things were different.

Puck's thinking about the New Year's Eve party at Santana's place last year when he finally sealed the deal with Rachel when he parks his Jeep on the street downtown, which really isn't much better than reading the girl's sexts. (That was a really good night.) He shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat to walk down the street to this martini bar that the girls are at, a ridiculous, overpriced place full of pretentious douchebags that Rachel is all into for reasons that Puck can't understand. What the hell is wrong with the pub?

He sees her as soon as he walks in the door, sitting at the bar in a black sweater and a pair of jeans that make her ass look phenomenal, her hair curled just a little and spilling down her back as she talks to Santana. He crosses the room and leans back against the empty stool next to Rachel. "Hey, baby."

She practically beams at him, then leans in to kiss him slow and dirty. She tastes like vodka when she slides her tongue against his; drunk Rachel is fucking cute and she's right at the perfect stage where he knows he could get her to do crazy shit if he wanted, but she isn't going to get sick.

She pulls back and looks at him through her eyelashes. "Hi." She slides her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, her thumb just brushing the side of his neck.

"Can we go?" Santana asks loudly, interrupting the totally dirty mental images he was getting.

He just looks over Rachel's shoulder at her, trying to decide if she's pissed off or just being Santana. There's this little crease between her eyebrows that he learned a long time ago means she needs to get laid, so he kind of hopes that she takes care of that shit tonight, because a sexually frustrated Santana usually means hell to pay for everyone around her. "Yeah," he answers simply, and he wraps his hand around Rachel's upper arm when she hops down off her stool and nearly rolls her ankle in her heels. The shoes are red and high, and he knows they make her legs look even more awesome when she wears them with a skirt, so he's a fan. She's definitely more drunk now that she's standing, but she's still good, just loops her arm through his and lets him lead her out of the bar and down the street to his Jeep, Santana clacking along beside Rachel.

If he thought texting and driving was a distraction, it's really just because he forgot what it's like driving around with a drunk, horny Rachel in the passenger seat. She's chattering away about nothing really, at least nothing important, and he's kind of tuning her voice out as he splits his concentration between the road and the way she's kneading his thigh, her fingertips moving dangerously (awesomely) close to his cock through his jeans. At one point, his thigh twitches and he has to grab her wrist, shooting her a quick glare. It's a distraction, and he can handle that, but not having control over the movement of the leg that works the pedals in the car is kind of a big deal.

He's honestly relieved when he pulls into the driveway, blocking in Rachel's little car and cutting the engine. He's a dude, and he only has so much self-restraint. He's pretty sure Santana wouldn't appreciate being in the car with them if he lost his cool and pulled over to let Rachel go ahead and do what she obviously wants to do to him. Yes, it's happened before, but it was just the two of them that time.

Santana pushes past him and Rachel to unlock the door, and by the time he's helped Rachel struggle out of her coat, Santana's standing near the stove with a beer in her hand. She ignores him when he walks past her to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water for Rachel, but Puck knows that face. That's Santana's I'm horny and you two are fucking hot together so I'm jealous face.

He hands Rachel the water, zoning out a little when the way she leans back against the counter makes her tits stick out a little. He groans out of habit when the words Mean Girls pierce through his thoughts of tugging that snug black sweater over Rachel's head, and he kind of loves Santana for not taking Rachel up on her offer to watch a movie they've all seen dozens of times. Then Santana's leaving the room and he says goodnight to her back as she walks away.

Puck's basically shameless, but he knows that Rachel isn't, even if she is just this side of wasted, so he waits until he hears Santana's door close to lift Rachel up onto the counter, leaving her perched right at the edge so he's pressed against her when he leans in and nips at the side of her neck. "Noah!" she cries, pushing him away gently as she giggles. "Santana," she hisses, as if that's going to stop him.

He rolls his eyes at her. "'S'not anything she hasn't heard before, babe," he points out, sliding his hands up her thighs with his thumbs tracing the seams of her jeans on the insides of her thighs. "C'mon." He grinds himself against her so she can feel that he's half-hard. "You know you want me."

She drapes her arms over his shoulders so that the inside of her elbows are resting right beside his neck, leaning close to press her lips to his softly. "I always want you," she murmurs, her eyes dark. She squeezes her thighs around his hips, hooking her feet behind him.

He shifts his hips against hers, watches her eyes fall closed when he slips his hand under her sweater at her side, his fingertips skimming up her ribs. "What do you want, baby?"

Her head falls back a little when his thumb grazes the underside of her breast, and he takes the opportunity to kiss up the column of her throat, smirking against her skin when he feels her swallow hard. "You," she manages.

He slides his hand around to splay between her shoulder blades, pulling her forward so she's flush against him. "No." He buries his free hand in her hair and kisses her hard, sliding his tongue against hers when she opens her mouth. "What do you want, Rachel?" he repeats against her lips, sipping at them until she gasps and pulls away.

"God, Noah." She pushes her hand through her hair and looks at him with hooded eyes. "Take me," she breathes, wrapping her arm around his neck. "Fuck me."

Fuck.

Honestly, nothing about this night has been too out of the ordinary. Rachel isn't allergic to swearing any more, even if she usually reserves it for being drunk or being naked. The girl writes some downright filthy shit to him on a regular basis, and every once in a while she busts out the dirty talk. She's sexy as fuck all the time, and it's weird, but it's like he never gets used to it. Even now, when he's pulling her off the counter, one arm up her shirt at her back and the other on her thigh just below her ass to keep her pressed against him as he carries her across the kitchen and down the hall to her room, he's like, totally hard and completely distracted by the way her tongue just slid up his jaw.

He nearly drops her when she bites down on his earlobe, but manages to push her against her open bedroom door instead. "Jesus fuck," he breathes.

"Rachel fuck," she counters with a giggle, reminding him that she's drunk and adorable even when he's thinking about fucking her through the wall.

He grinds himself against her hard, making her moan when her head drops back against the door. "How do you want it, baby?" She brings her head up to look at him, breath coming out on a little whimper. He moves his hips again. "Tell me."

"I want-" She cuts herself off and swallows hard when he kisses her neck, sucking at the flesh there, nipping it gently. "God, Noah." She lets out this sexy breath and tries to pull away from him. "I want to be on top," she finally manages, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Goddamn, this girl. They're both still fully dressed and she's making him totally fucking crazy. And it's basically always like this with Rachel. She's always been hot, hotter than most people realized, but in the last few years since they graduated from high school, that's gone through the roof. She's just the sexiest girl on the planet and he's face over ass in love with her, too.

He literally tosses her onto the bed because he just can't take it, and she lets out a little squeal, laughing at him when he pushes the bedroom door closed and steps over to where she's now sitting at the edge of her bed. She smiles up at him, tucking her hand in his front pocket and pulling him closer so he's standing between her thighs. She pushes her hands up his shirt, fingernails scraping lightly over his skin as she watches his eyes. "Take it off," she murmurs, smiling when he complies, pulling the shirt up over his head and dropping it on the floor. He takes her arms and helps her up onto her knees, burying his hands in her hair as he kisses her. She murmurs his names against his lips as her hands fall to his belt, working the buckle quickly.

"Baby."

"Shh." She slides his zipper down carefully, pushes his jeans and boxers down so he can step out of them, then takes his length in her hand, stroking him slowly, watching intently as she twists her wrist, her other hand coming up to trace over his abs as he slips his hands into her hair when she sits at the edge of the bed again.

"Rachel." Her tongue comes out and traces the underside of his dick, circling around the head while she blinks up at him slowly.

"Shh."

She takes him into her mouth slowly, her eyes locked with his until she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock in a way that makes his eyes literally roll back in his head. Her mouth is fucking insane, and she once told him that the reason she likes doing this so much is because it makes her feel powerful, which he figures makes sense since he's at her mercy right now. He groans when he hits the back of her throat, but she's playing the fucking tease tonight, because she pulls off completely to lick him from base to tip, circling her tongue around him as her fingernails graze down the backs of his thighs.

"Baby," he bites out, breathing out a curse when she take him all again and hums around him. "You gotta stop." The look in her eyes is filthy as she gazes up at him, taking him into her throat and swallowing. "Fuck. Stop." He tightens his grip on her hair and pulls her back gently, shaking his head at the almost disappointed look on her face.

She rubs her lips together, then smiles at him when he grips the bottom of her sweater and pulls it over her head without preamble, revealing the deep purple lace bra she's wearing underneath. "You have excellent self-control, Noah."

He just shakes his head again, pushing at her shoulder so she's lying down when he unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down her legs. If he really had excellent self-control, he'd return the favor and go down on her, but he won't make it through that without losing his shit. Besides, it's not like he's not good for it. "You're so fuckin' sexy, Rach."

"Thank you," she breathes. She's lying sideways across her bed in matching bra and panties, and the dark purple lace looks awesome against her skin. "I like the new panties," he teases, grinning down at her. He just never gets used to her, no matter how much they do this - and it's a lot - and he's pretty sure that she doesn't completely understand what it is that she does to him. She thinks she knows, but this girl...god, she just makes him crazy in the best way possible.

He can tell she's getting impatient because he's just standing there looking at her, but she looks amazing. Her eyes are all glassy, both from the vodka and what they've been doing, and her chest is practically heaving as she looks up at him. "Noah," she whines.

"What, baby?" he asks, smirking at her. God, he loves this girl.

She glares at him, then reaches behind her back, arching off the bed a little so she can unclasp her bra and pull it from her shoulders, tossing it at his chest. "Touch me." She says it like an order, which is basically the hottest thing she's done tonight, and he didn't think it was possible for her to get any hotter.

He reaches down, slipping his finger just beneath the elastic at the leg of her panties and tracing the skin there slowly, watching her eyes fall closed as he does it. He's torturing both of them when he doesn't just pull that last article of clothing off, instead leaning over her, resting his hand on the bed just above her shoulder, to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She lets out a breath and threads her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, arching into his mouth when he palms her other breast. She tightens her grip on his hair when he bites down gently on her nipple, tugging him away. "Stop. Teasing." She's trying to be forceful, but she's sort of breathless.

He doesn't really want to argue with her, so he wraps his arm around her waist as he climbs up onto the bed (finally), shifting her so she isn't lying perpendicular across it any more and is instead against the pillows, watching him as he brings his hand between her thighs to feel how wet she is. He groans into her mouth, biting down on her bottom lip when she rolls her hips into his hand.

Her eyes are wide when he rolls them so she's straddling his hips, situating her how he likes. He smirks up at her. "You said you wanted to be on top, baby."

He watches as her expression shifts from surprised to super dirty, and she pulls moans from both of them when she rolls her hips against his length, and the way that she looks down at him, he isn't sure which of them she's torturing more.

It doesn't really matter when she takes hold of his length in her hand and sinks down onto him, drawing out his name loudly when he's completely buried in her. She feels incredible, wet and hot and almost fluttering around him, her skin smooth when he skims his hands up her thighs and grips her hips. "Goddamn, Rach. Move."

Yeah, he could move her himself, lift her up and pull her back down, but she said she wanted to be on top, and he assumes that means that she wants to be in control. And letting her do her thing is generally pretty good for him, evidenced by the way it feels when she swivels her hips in this crazy pattern that feels so good it doesn't even make sense and always, always makes him sort of insane. He almost never comes when she's on top, but he likes watching her get herself off, and it feels fucking awesome even if it isn't going to push him over the edge.

She leans down to kiss him, one hand braced on the bed next to his head and the other reaching for his hand, weaving their fingers together. "You feel so good," she murmurs against his lips, grinding her hips into his. She sits up, smiling a little when he slides his hand up her stomach and between her breasts, his fingertips fluttering over her throat and then back down to tease at her nipple.

He bucks his hips up into hers when she lifts herself off of him a little, and she falls forward with a squeak, bracing her hands on the bed just above his shoulders. He leans up and nips at her earlobe. "C'mon, baby. Come for me." He pushes her up again, then slides his hands down to her hips, guiding her movements against him until she matches the rhythm he's setting, and she's crazy sexy moving over him and gasping out his name. He presses his thumb against her clit, just lightly, just the way she loves, and the moan she lets out when she lets go is fucking beautiful. Her head falls back and she stops moving, so he thrusts up into her, guiding her with his free hand on her hip, squeezing tight enough that she's definitely going to have bruises.

She falls forward and kisses him hard. "So good," she mutters, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue. "God, Noah."

She's still clenching around him a bit when he can't take it any more and rolls them, pressing her back into the mattress and thrusting into her hard, hard enough that she lets out a loud, high-pitched moan and clutches at his shoulders. He pulls almost all the way out, slowly, then pushes into her again just as hard as the first time. She makes the same sound, and it doesn't matter how many times he hears it, he fucking loves it. "Fuck, baby," he mutters against her ear, his tongue darting out to taste the skin beneath it. "Do you know how fucking good it feels when you come around me?" She whimpers when he grinds his hips against hers before pulling back again. He pushes himself up so he's hovering over her, looking down at her with her eyes squeezed closed and her face all flushed, a single bead of sweat at her hairline. "It's like your trying to choke my cock, baby, and it's so fucking good."

He hitches her leg up around his hip, thrusts shallowly a few times, then pushes into her hard again. She lets out a noise that's almost like a broken sob. "Fuck, Noah."

The fact that she's so close pushes him towards the edge, so he slows it down, setting an easy, comparatively gentle rhythm and leaning down to kiss her, his tongue in her mouth mimicking the other parts of their bodies that are coming together. She wraps her other leg around his waist, pressing her heel into the small of his back. "Open your eyes," he orders, pushing her damp hair off her forehead. "Rachel."

She blinks up at him slowly, her back arching when he snaps his hips. "Close," she gasps. "So close." She whimpers and clutches the hair at the back of his head when he snaps his hips again. "Please, touch me."

He's so not in the position to argue with her, so he slips his hand between them, his eyes locked with hers when he grazes her clit with the pad of his middle finger. She clenches around him and her body bows up off the bed, his name tearing from her lips on a whine as she watches him intently. Or maybe she's not seeing anything, but her eyes are open and wide and she's fucking gorgeous when she comes. She drags him over the edge with her, and just two strokes later he's coming hard, emptying inside her and pressing his forehead against hers as his vision goes sort of fuzzy.

She's trailing her fingernails lightly up and down his back, almost laughing when she says, "Holy shit," against his throat, pressing her lips there before sinking back into the pillows. "I don't even think I'm drunk any more."

He kisses her slowly, then shifts his hips against hers just once, just because it feels good, before pulling out and moving to lie beside her. He slides his hand across her stomach, and her sweaty skin is definitely sexy, even if he's totally done right now.

Then, down the hall, he hears Santana's cry of, 'Finn,' and Rachel rolls onto her side, giggling as she tangles her legs with his. "She's going to fall in love with him," she says with a little smile on her face, and he has to lean forward and press his lips to hers. "She's on her way."

"Mmm." Puck doesn't really want to encourage her, but he's pretty sure Rachel is right. Santana spends way more time with Finn than she even realizes, and their relationship is kind of weird, but the girl totally cares about him, more than Puck's seen Santana care about anyone in years. But he doesn't say any of that to Rachel because he doesn't want her to get into the middle of it; Santana and Finn need a chance to figure shit out on their own without Rachel trying to play yenta.

And why the fuck is he thinking about his two best friends when he's in bed with super hot, totally naked girlfriend?

Her eyes flutter closed when he lets his fingertips graze down her spine, just like always. "You're going to put me to sleep," she murmurs, blinking at him and smiling softly.

"Are you saying I wore you out?" he teases.

She bends one of her legs a little, her foot rubbing against his calf. "Mmm."

She's such a cliché, falling asleep right after, but he thinks it's completely adorable, so he just leans down a little, pulling the quilt at the foot of her bed up over them before tugging her a little closer to him and closing his eyes.