ALSO IT'S UNBETA'ED. FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT ANY AND ALL MISTAKES.
Title: Puck's Happy Shower Time, And How It Was Fucking Awesome
Rating: Somewhere on that border between R and NC-17.
Summary: Showers and the good that can come out of them. That's...pretty much it.
Spoilers: No. Except it's probably set after that episode where Puck and Rachel hook up. But that's not a spoiler.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. Sark=mine.
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive. My loyalties are flexible, but stealing from me is not. No touchy or I go all banner ad on your ass.
He never gets the shower to himself.
It’s true, though, ‘cause he’s thought about this a lot. At home, yeah, he’s got the bathroom to himself but as soon as he’s done soaping up his ‘hawk and reaching down for some happy time, his mom or his sister starts banging on the door and shrieking that he’s gonna be late for school and, forget that shit, who the fuck cares if he makes it for homeroom or not? Only his mom; she doesn’t care if he up and died from blue balls.
And after gym, or football practice, no fucking way was he doing anything other than soaping up facing the wall, hands above the waist and no lingering anywhere, ‘cause even thinking about stroking one off in there was enough to get you a bar of Irish Spring shoved up where the sun don’t shine. And he knows, ‘cause he was there when they tried to do it to Hummel (he was also the one to stop them, but that’s a different story).
And so it’s like the fucking Ark or some rare shit like that when he can blow off second period (fuck that Spanish shit anyway; he already knows the dirty words from Santana) and work on some much needed hand-to-Puck senior (his cock is no fucking “junior”) time. At least he doesn’t waste the locker room singing like Hudson does (yeah, he’s heard it). If this is the only solo shower time he’s gonna get for a while, he’s gonna cherish the fuck out of it.
Yup, he never gets the shower to himself. And that’s why it’s such a fucking big deal when he heard someone banging around the lockers. ‘Cause they should just know it’s his fucking time.
He thought about leaving the towel behind before getting his beats on, but it might be Hummel, and for all Puck knows, that little fucker might actually think Puck’s hard on was for him (which it totally wasn’t. At all). Besides, if the beatdown were to end with Coach breaking it up, happy shower time would be over. No man on the good goddamn planet could stay hard knowing Coach was nearby.
He could feel the blood pumping through his veins as he walked to the lockers and damn it felt good. Laying down the beats was almost as good as jerking off, almost. He kinda hoped it was Hudson, or Chang, or one of those wrestling motherfuckers, because then he knew he’d get a good fight and not some pussy-assed shoving match. He flexed his fingers, ready to turn the corner and pound the blue-balling fucker into the floor…
Except it wasn’t Hudson, or Chang, or even fucking Hummel. It was freaky Rachel fucking Berry…
…breaking into HIS fucking locker.
He had to be hallucinating this shit, except he couldn’t be, because if he was going to be imagining Rachel Berry in the locker room, it’d be her naked on her knees and his cock stuffed down her throat (good way to get her to shut up), not fully clothed pawing through his locker.
Well, he couldn’t smack her, but he could mess with her, at least a little. “If you’re looking for my jock, it’s in the wash, but I can bring it to you tomorrow. Unless you enjoy a little of the natural Puck scent.”
She had the fucking decency to blush when she turned around, but her self-righteous scowl didn’t change. “Funny you should mention underwear,” she said nastily.
And then her eyes dropped.
And then she turned the best shade of red he’d ever seen.
“Why are you naked?” she shrieked. And holy fuck did her voice echo on tile.
“Shower, Miss Priss. And I’m not naked, or do towels not exist in your freaktastic little world?” And it was damned funny, because she couldn’t stop staring at his towel, and since it was covering his dick, she was basically staring at his dick. And that was awesome. He cocked an eyebrow, “I could get naked, if that’s what you want.” Hell, his hands were on his hips just waiting to whip that fucker off and give her the X-rated view.
Her mouth was wide open and for once, nothing was coming out of it. Then she closed her eyes tight, sucked in a big breath and let it hiss out from between her teeth. “Do not even…contemplate that, you…disgusting…barbaric…”
Okay, that was e-fucking-nough. “What the fuck you doing in here?”
Her eyes opened and he could tell she was having trouble trying to keep her eyes on his face. Awesome. “If you must know, I have come to retrieve my…personal property that you confiscated from my room.”
Fuck, he hated when she used big words. “Hang the fuck on, kiddo. What “personal property” are you yapping about? ‘Cause I wouldn’t steal shit from you.”
She gritted her teeth. “My…panties,” she hissed out, and now she was bright red and fucking mad. “And don’t try to deny that it was you, because I keep a complete inventory of my clothing and that particular pair has been missing since you were in my room. I want them back.”
Oh yeah, those. White cotton with little pink cherries on them (he was smart enough to appreciate the symbolism) and a little soft lace around the leg bands. Smelling like fabric softener and girl, even though they were clean, which he knew ‘cause he dug around her panty drawer until he found the perfect pair. Except now they were smelling less like her and more like, well, him, but it wasn’t just the smell, it was that feeling of pureness wrapped around his cock as he stroked himself at night. No way were they leaving their hiding place, stuffed down deep into his pillowcase so his mom didn’t find them.
Maybe she’d swap for a new pair. He grinned. “Sure, you can have ‘em back. Like I said, I knew you had a thing for my scent.”
She gasped and glared. “You’re absolutely disgusting, you cretin.” And then she turned like she was going to walk away, but he caught her in time, pushing her back against his locker and stepping in close, his arms braced on either side of her head. She glared even harder at him. “This is very immature of you, Noah.”
Well, fuck. She only called him ‘Noah’ when she was pulling that fake disappointment shit with him. Manipulative bitch. “Like breakin’ into my locker is real honour roll stuff.”
“You aren’t even intimidating me, you know. I could easily free myself right now through a well-aimed knee to your reproductive parts.” And there was that “I’m looking down my nose at you even though I’m shorter than you” look she always had. “Do not think I wouldn’t hesitate to do it, either. My dads taught me quite well how to defend myself.”
“You do that, you get more than a slushie to your face tomorrow,” he growled. And not ‘cause she was pissing him off, but ‘cause he’s turned on like fuck, and he really really really just wants to whip the cheap scratchy towel off, push her on her knees and get off on those hot little lips.
And then she tried to duck away and he had to move and he felt the towel droop a little on his hips. So of course he cocked them to the side so it would come a little looser and grinned when she scowled at him. “You keep doing that, you gonna get the show you were lookin’ for when you came in here.”
“Oh please,” she said in that snooty voice. “I did not come in here to see you naked, although I am not surprised your massive ego immediately jumped to that conclusion. And don’t think you can shock me with that threat. I have seen many pictures of the male anatomy and I assure you, there is nothing special about what you – or any other boy for that matter – possess. It is also a very juvenile act, but I would expect that of you.”
Too many words to process there. Juvenile? Massive ego…she’s one to talk. And then it hit him. ‘Nothing special’? He’d show her nothing special. “Well, if it’s ‘nothing special’ and ‘you’d expect it of me’, guess I may as well lose this thing.” And he totally rocked his hips until he felt the damn towel fall right off.
He had to give her credit, because she was blushing like crazy but she kept up the eye contact, as if she was proving that she was totally too good to check out his stuff. Whatever, his cock was just happy to be out and aimed straight for a shot up that skirt. He was hard as fuck and he really needed to get off, but he wasn’t gonna break in front of her. Nuh uh. He knew she’d look.
And then she did, just a quick look, but she did. Awesome.
And then she looked again. For longer. A lot longer. “Oh my,” she said softly.
“What?” he said, trying not to let his voice waver even though there wasn’t much blood left north of his waist. Okay, north of his cock.
“I’ve never seen one in the flesh,” she said and then holy good fucking god she knelt down. “It’s so…real,” she whispered.
This wasn’t happening. All that blood leaving his head had made him pass out and this was a wicked hot hallucination because he really wasn’t standing in the locker room naked and hard with Rachel Berry kneeling in front of him and looking at his cock like it was a fucking ice cream cone. “You can su-touch it, if you want.” Please please please let her want.
And then it was almost too much because her hot little hand wrapped around him and his knees buckled and even though he was trying to be all cool and unaffected and shit, holy fuck it was more than he could handle. She was still staring with that wide-eyed look and he was almost ready to beg her to suck it, stroke it; fuck, do something with it when she slowly slid her hand down his shaft and then up and he closed his eyes before she could see them roll back into his head.
“It’s so hard to describe how different this feels,” she breathed.
“Yeah?” he panted. Okay, fuck being cool, he just needed to get off.
“Yes,” she said and then her other hand was touching his balls and other parts and he knew she was still saying stuff about having no bases for comparing or something else with bases and how could she be talking baseball while she fondled his boys and rubbed her thumb over his cock head he didn’t know.
His knees were all loose and watery again and he leaned his hand on the lockers and took a deep breath. Ugh. Locker rooms were not sexy when you could smell jocks and sweat and all that other guy shit. “Stand up,” he croaked, and he’d totally be angry if he wasn’t ready to blow. “Please, Rachel, don’t stop stroking, I just need you to stand up.”
And then she did and he buried his face into her shoulder and breathed in that scent of her, the same scent her panties had, that cotton and fabric softener and oh fuck he wanted her. He wanted her badly enough to beg and he never begged. He wanted to turn her around, pull her skirt up and her panties down and fuck her deep and hard, make her scream and moan and oh god feel as good as he did right now.
He was so close and so he wrapped his right hand around hers and showed her how to do it right: up down squeeze right there rub palm over head. His left hand came around and found her tits and rubbed them through her sweater and that got a little moan from her lips, just a soft one but enough.
And then their joined hands hit something right. “Gonna…nnn…” he moaned and somehow he manages to remember to reach into his locker and grab his workout shirt and wrap it around his cock before he gets her to squeeze one last time and he’s coming hard, breathing hard ‘cause his body’s all tense like it always gets when he comes and he swears it’s the best orgasm he’s had or at least in the top ten because he’s pretty sure he blacked out a little or saw stars or something.
When he could really breathe again, all he could smell was her. And it’s fucking awesome.
“I am a little disappointed, Noah,” and then she had to ruin it with complaining, as usual. He pulled his head up to scowl at her and saw she looked kinda bummed. “I wanted to watch you.”
“Didn’t want your skirt to get messed up” and he knew he said the right thing because her face went all soft and melty and then he just had to kiss her, ‘cause he knows that’s what you do when girls get that look. And also ‘cause kissing Rachel is pretty fucking good. “I can let you watch next time.”
And then he kissed her again, and, okay, wasn’t quite what he expected, but sometimes it was fucking awesome getting interrupted in the shower.