Who: Santana and Puck (and some Mateo and Francine)
Where: Francine’s house, Santana’s house
Summary: Puck and Santana awkwardly meet up for Sunday Dinner, leading to them discussing the tension between them. Then oops, they sleep together. All night. Smut ahead!
Santana knew today was going to be awkward. After the intense conversation she'd had the night before with Puck, and a grumpy little boy, she had a feeling something was going to happen. Not only had Puck been accusing her of sleeping with every man she mentioned, but he'd apparently been fighting with Finn and becoming best friends with Rachel. It was annoying that he couldn't seem to trust her. Sure, she'd initially lied about Mateo, but the truth had come out minutes later and she didn't really count that as a lie. She also didn't know why he thought he needed to act so jealous when it came to Finn, when it was obvious to everyone else that Finn was just her best friend.
Sighing, she scooped a pouting Mateo out of the car, rubbing his back. “I know you're mad, mi amor. I'm sorry but mommy has to catch up on work. Daddy will be so much fun,” she told him, walking to the front door. It seemed as soon as they crossed the threshold, the sobbing started. He didn't often get mad or upset, but when he did, Mateo loved tantrums. Rolling her eyes, Santana tried to set him down in the living room, Francine’s head shaking at her already, probably at the fact that she was ditching Sunday dinner. “Mateo let go,” she warned, separating herself from him, making him throw himself on the floor.
It wasn’t every day that Puck swallowed his pride and owned up to his faults. In fact, he was adept at inflating his own ego. However the texting between him and Santana had found him apologizing profusely and confessing his fears. That left Puck feeling vulnerable in a way he hadn’t yet experienced. Still, he knew he had to set his relationship with Santana aside to focus on their son. Mateo was their number one priority and that meant any ill feelings or nagging regrets from the past had to take a back seat.
On his travels, Puck had learned to cook actual food. Long gone were the days of hot pockets and instant ramen, unless he was feeling nostalgic or particularly lazy. Which was why he’d spent the bulk of the morning and afternoon grocery shopping with Francine, only to send her to the living room to relax and enjoy some TV while he prepared Sunday dinner. The chicken was just finishing broiling as Puck plated out the cubed rosemary potatoes; he wanted to show Santana that he could provide for their son, both physically and emotionally. The front door opened and closed as Puck pulled the sizzling tray of golden brown chicken from the oven. Slinging the dishtowel over his shoulder and using it to wipe his hands, Puck hurried from the kitchen to greet Santana and Mateo. Unfortunately, the happy excitement that he had been met with the last few times in visiting his son was nowhere in sight as the toddler clung to his mother. The moment Santana disentangled Mateo from around her he was on the floor, kicking his legs and slamming his fists as he cried. Puck’s eyes widened, his tongue smoothing over his lips quickly as he tried to think of a way to console his furious son.
“Hey kiddo, it’s okay. How about we watch some Ninja Turtles before we eat dinner, huh?” He bent down to the floor and tried to smooth his hand over Mateo’s tousled hair but the boy only seemed to scream louder and produce thicker tears. “Or not…” Puck stood and looked at Santana. “Maybe Mommy can stay for a little while?” he offered, hoping Santana would throw him a bone.
In the grand scheme of things, Mateo’s fit couldn't come at a better time. With tension at an all time high between his parents, this was a welcome distraction. Most of the time, Santana didn't tolerate this kind of behavior. In fact, she often got Mateo to quiet down quickly due to what Francine called her ‘Witches eye’. She'd inherited the look from her mother and grandmother, and it was her one defense against a child that had both of his parent’s tempers. Smirking at Puck, she crossed her arms. “Mama is fine for a few minutes. Daddy needs to handle this.” Hearing Francine chuckle behind her meant she'd done the right thing. Puck needed to see all sides of his son.
Santana moved to put Mateo’s backpack down, leaving the room to put the fruit she'd brought in the fridge. For some reason Francine got on her about things being kosher even if Mateo wasn't jewish, so bringing fruit seemed to be her easy snack. She could still hear her son wailing away, and when he finally called ‘mama!’ She walked back into the living room, raising her eyebrow at Mateo and Puck.
For a fleeting moment Puck thought that Santana would actually come to his rescue. What did he know about a toddler in mid tantrum? Bupkis. But an almost wicked smirk seemed to twist Santana’s lips, making Puck feel like the floor was falling out from underneath his feet.
“Oookay,” Puck drawled, trying to ignore the hushed chuckle from his mother. Apparently this was another sink or swim moment and Puck had to pony up the courage to dive off the deep end. “Mateo, buddy, the floor isn’t really that comfortable, is it? How about we go sit on the couch and put on Power Rangers?” He was desperately trying to coax his son away from spontaneous combustion. But Mateo was the product of two very stubborn people and he refused to even entertain the idea of listening to Puck. “No? How about more Star Wars then?” Puck tried, Mateo rolling onto his back and calling out for Santana. “Come on, kid, cut me some slack,” Puck huffed, sitting down next to his son and trying once again to smooth out his hair.
When Santana came back from the kitchen, Puck cleared his throat. “Think you can maybe give me a few pointers on how to handle this?” If Santana wasn’t going to stay, especially with Mateo completely out of sorts, then the least she could do was give him a few tips. He’d only been at this whole dad thing for a week after all.
Santana knew the crying had gone on long enough, and if she didn't handle the situation, Mateo would make himself sick. As much as she wanted to laugh at how terrified Puck looked, she knew he'd probably never seen a child throw a tantrum like this, and he had no idea what to say. She looked over at Francine who looked just as amused as she felt, waiting for the woman to give her nod of approval.
Quickly, she clapped her hands once. “Basta! No mames! Callete!” Santana rambled off in Spanish, raising her voice at the child and telling him to quit his crying. “Te daria una buena zerra!” With that, Mateo stopped crying, his wails turned to pouting. “Tell him you’ll spank him. He’ll stop right away. It's more menacing if you use the eye,” she smiled, looking down at her son with one eyebrow raised. “He knows better than to act like this.”
The moment Santana busted out the Spanish, Puck knew his son would respond; she damn near put the fear of God in him. Mateo’s tantrum fizzled out as his screaming morphed from blubbering into stoic hiccups. He wiped at his face, his eyes puffy from crying and slimy snot dripping from his nose. In that moment Puck could feel for his son, his own mother had utilized those same threats when he was a child. Of course Francine rarely spanked him, her words were usually enough to get Puck to stop whatever meltdown he was having. “Spanking...got it,” Puck muttered, looking over at Mateo pouting on the floor. Maybe it was because this was his first week as a full fledged dad, but Puck wasn’t exactly excited about threatening his son with physical punishment; he’d have to figure out his own method with time. “Mateo,” he started, gaining his son’s attention, “if you don’t want to stay here, you don’t have to. I just thought it would be kinda fun to have dinner and play with Legos, like last Sunday. Remember?” Mateo wiped at his nose, his eyes flicking between Santana and Puck before nodding his head. “I don’t wanna take you away from Mommy if you don’t want to okay? But if you wanna hang out with me for a little while, Mommy will be back. I promise.” Again, Mateo looked at both his parents. “Promise?” This time it was Puck’s turn to nod. “Promise,” Puck repeated, crossing his finger over his chest. “If you wanna stay, go give Mommy a hug and tell her you love her. Then we’ll go get the big box of Legos out, okay?” He was trying to be as gentle as possible with his son because he was still clueless when it came to being an authority figure. Mateo pushed off the floor and trudged over to Santana for a hug, leaving Puck breathing a deep sigh. “Legos and Star Wars it is.”
She knew she could stop the fit, but that didn't mean she was sure she should leave. Sure, Mateo’s grandmother could easily handle another one, but if the reason the boy was upset was because Santana was leaving, then part of her wanted to stay. Even though she kept Mateo disciplined, she still had a soft side that wanted to hold him and rock him until he smiled again. Santana held him against her, hands smoothing his hair out. “I'll hang with you for a little bit, bebito. But your dad is so excited to see you. Grandma too. You don't need boring mom around when there's so much fun to have here.”
Her eyes met Puck’s, the reason she wanted to not be here in the first place making her sigh. She'd wanted to stay far enough away that she wasn't wanting to hold him against her either. His nervous but excited way of parenting made her smile, and the more she saw him as their son’s father, the harder it was to keep the feelings she had at bay. “I'll stay and work. I won't eat or anything, just chill here and edit some stuff until he's cool again.” It would be an easy fix, and she could stay parked in one spot until Mateo decided he could ignore her and do his own thing. Their son still clung to her, making her chuckle. “That was only a preview, daddy.”
There was something about watching Mateo cling to Santana that reminded Puck how much of an outsider he really was. Truthfully, he was still a stranger to their son, so he couldn’t blame Mateo for not wanting to be away from his mother. On the flipside, he didn’t want Santana to think he couldn’t handle being a parent. Still, relief flooded his system when Santana said she would stay. Even though his own mother was around to help with any emergency situation, it would make for an easier transition if Santana didn’t just drop him off. “Awesome. See bubba? Not so scary hanging out here, huh?” Puck got up off the floor, a blush creeping up his neck at Santana’s words. “Go big or go home, right?” He picked up the dish towel that had fallen from his shoulder and wrung it between his hands. “Well dinner is basically done anyway. You don’t have to hole yourself away here. We can eat and then you can work while us boys build an epic battleship out of Legos,” Puck explained, looking at Santana more than Mateo as his son’s back was still to him. “I made plenty of food, so it’s not a big deal.”
Santana knew that Mateo was seconds away from another meltdown if she didn't tread carefully, so she nodded, lifting her son away from her body to stand him up. “Go with dad and wash up while I get my laptop.” Once her son actually moved on his own and went to hug his grandmother before looking at Puck, she walked back out the front door and grabbed her bag from her car. As she looked back up at the house, she sighed, wishing she could escape from having to spend the evening acting like a happy little family. Steeling herself, she went back in and set up on the couch, glad to see that Mateo was starting to perk up. Once Francine let her know that dinner was ready, she went into the kitchen to help set the table. “Mateo! Sit. I'll get your plate.” Santana walked into the kitchen, grabbing the child’s plate from the counter, already filled with food. “Thanks for cooking,” she told him, slipping past him again.
After Puck and Mateo finished washing their hands, they made their way back out to the living room, a little more pep in the toddler’s step. “Do you like potatoes?” Puck asked, realizing he didn’t even know some of his kid’s favorite foods. When Mateo responded with an emphatic “Yeah!” Puck felt his muscles start to relax again. “Good. Because I made you some awesome potatoes,” Puck smiled, Santana’s call from the kitchen beckoning them towards the table. He helped Mateo into his booster seat while Santana set a plate of food in front of him. “No problem,” Puck responded, his heart thudding against his ribcage when her body brushed against his. Get ahold of yourself, dude he thought, shaking his head slightly before filling his own plate with chicken, potatoes, and salad. “Nothing fancy,” he added, laying his plate on the table before turning around to grab himself a cup. “Want anything to drink?” he asked, looking at Santana since Francine already had her glass of ice water and Mateo his sippy cup of milk.
It was surprising that Puck could cook, and for a moment Santana wondered if Francine had cooked to make him look good, but she knew the woman wouldn't do that. Not after all this time. Francine had told her enough times that she was upset with Puck’s actions so she wasn't too worried that the woman was defending him. “Water,” she answered, going to make sure their son didn't start flinging food around the room. Noticing that as she sat, Francine had taken one head of the table, with Mateo at the other, meaning that Puck was directly across from her. That meant a full meal of awkward glances between them while she tried to not focus on the fact that his face had changed a little, or how he looked more relaxed than he ever had before. She tried to ignore the way she wished she could reach for his hand like she used to, instead she helped Mateo eat and then stared down at her food until she was finished. “That was awesome. Thanks.”
There was a palpable awkwardness that hung around the table, a tension that no one dared to comment on. Once upon a time Santana had been the one person that Puck felt the most comfortable around. Now, he glanced up a few times as they ate to find Santana’s eyes boring into her plate. Puck shifted throughout their meal, eating faster than normal so that they wouldn’t have to sit there much longer. “Yeah, it wasn’t half bad. I’m glad you all liked it,” Puck answered, picking up the dirty plates and utensils. A part of him was relieved that dinner was over and they didn’t have to pretend that they weren’t uncomfortable in front of their son anymore. In an attempt to give Santana the space she’d requested, Puck set the dishes in the sink and turned towards Mateo with a happy grin on his face. “How about we go get some ice cream, Bubba?” Puck asked, walking over to help his son out of his booster seat. The boy was in a much better mood after having eaten and the surprise of dessert seemed to light him up. “Yeah!” Mateo cheered, no sign of another tantrum in sight. “Yeah! Let’s go get your coat on.” Puck watched Mateo run towards the living room, but he hung back briefly to talk to Santana and Francine. “I figured I could get him out of the house and you guys can do whatever you do on Sundays,” he started, rubbing his hands together. He was still new to their routine and he didn’t want to screw up any more than he had. “I’ll have him back in a couple hours, if that’s cool.”
She could tell everyone was eating quicker than usual to avoid having to speak to one another. She felt like it was entirely her fault because she'd brought up needing space from him, and now they were here, answering Mateo like they did family dinners often. It was weird how domestic and normal it was, and Santana didn't know if she liked how similar this seemed to dinners with Finn and Kate, Puck teasing their small child to make her laugh. At Puck’s offer of ice cream, Santana frowned slightly. Her son loved ice cream like every other kid, but Santana limited his intake because he bounced off the walls on sugar. “No crazy candy toppings,” she warned. “I want him to actually sleep. And if he's gonna run off with you, I might as well go home to my office. We usually just lounge around but I have about a million Christmas images that need editing.” She looked at Francine, who nodded and agreed she had things to do as well. “Okay, cool. Think you can bring him to my house when you're done? No later than eight.”
Spending the evening out with Mateo would definitely be a step up from walking on eggshells around Santana. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want to do the whole co-parenting thing together and Puck had to respect her wishes, but now he felt like he had to be on his A game all the time. “No crazy toppings and home by eight, got it,” Puck listed off, more than ready to get a breath of fresh air. “If you change your mind and have too much work and need me to keep him for the night, just text me. I’d be down for a Puckerman men sleepover.” He tossed her a playful smile, thankful that she didn’t pump the breaks on him fueling their kid with sugar.
After getting Mateo and himself into their coats and hats, Puck fiddled with the carseat for a good five minutes, determined to figure it out himself. Once Mateo was safely buckled in, Puck slid into the driver’s seat and took off toward the ice cream parlor downtown. Fizzywhips had been a staple in Puck and Santana’s date nights when they were home; an evening out just wasn’t complete unless they stopped in for homemade ice cream or a monster sized shake. Just being back in the small shop had Puck’s heart warming; and now he was there with their son.
Even in the middle of winter there was a line to the door, the icy air outside a a failed threat to the frozen treats. It took at least twenty minutes to even get to the the counter and by then Mateo was still waffling over what flavor to get. As big of a sucker as Puck was for his son, he’d promised Santana no toppings and only one scoop of ice cream to keep Mateo from turning into a wild child . To Puck’s delight, Mateo finally settled on cookies ‘n cream, Puck’s favorite flavor as well. And after they both watched the snow fall while slowly working their way through their cones, Puck realized that almost forty-five minutes had passed. Eight o’clock was swiftly approaching and Puck wanted to take his time getting to Santana’s because of the snow. He wet a napkin and did his best at wiping Mateo’s face and hands clean before ordering a strawberry shake to go and ushering Mateo out the door and back into the car.
It was just past eight when Puck knocked on Santana’s door, steeling himself for the backlash for not having Mateo home on time. He’d driven extra slow through downtown and had taken a few detours on the way back to show Mateo all of the best Christmas lights. Even though he was Jewish, Puck had always loved the way Christmas lights seemed so magical. If she wanted to be mad at him for that, Puck would let it roll off his shoulders because Mateo was practically beaming the entire ride home. With Mateo in his arms and his hand clutched around the strawberry shake, Puck knocked awkwardly on the front door. When it swung open, Puck was already apologizing. “I know, I know. You said no later than eight and it’s past eight. I’m sorry. The snow got a little heavy,” Puck explained as Mateo held onto him tighter. “Daddy showed me the lights!” Mateo chimed, looking over at Santana with big eyes. A blush crept up Puck’s neck and cheeks, his son ratting him out without knowing. “I took him down Brewster Street. They have the best lights.” He stood there for a moment before he realized that her shake was quickly becoming strawberry milk. “Oh...I got this for you. Thought you might want a little sugar yourself.”
Santana desperately wanted to go with them and experience Puck taking his son to get ice cream. It would be adorable. She desperately wished that they were okay enough to do this together, but instead she had to put up a barrier because she wanted things too much and she knew they'd only fight. So instead she spent the night editing Christmas photos, sending them out as she finished. Thankfully, Puck gave her enough time that she only had half a shoot to finish by the time they knocked. She noticed it was after eight, but the way Mateo’s face split into a smile when she opened the door made her stop the rant threatening to spill out. Mateo ran past her to take his coat off, and she closed the door behind Puck before taking the cup. “You got me Fizzywhips? I haven't had it in ages,” she grinned, taking a long sip. Her eyes closed, a satisfied moan spilling from her. “I rarely do sugar. This is so good. Thank you.” She looked at him, biting her lip as her eyes scanned his face. His cheeks and nose red from the cold, eyes lit up from making their son happy. “I-” she started, being cut off by Mateo tearing into the room in his pajamas. “Daddy! Can we watch Force Waking?” He asked, making her laugh. “The Force Awakens. He just got the DVD yesterday. I uh… you're more than welcome to watch it.”
A soft laugh billowed from the back of Puck’s throat as Santana moaned around her straw; she used to make that same sound every time she got a shake from Fizzywhips. “No problem,” he hummed, watching her indulge happily. Puck’s eyes were practically glued to her as Mateo rushed back into the entryway already changed into his pajamas. Puck’s brows furrowed for a moment, a smile on his face as he tried to decipher what exactly his son was asking. Santana translated the toddler speak, making Puck huff another soft laugh. “Wow. Did mommy get you that DVD?” he asked, entertaining Mateo’s excitement. The boy nodded and jumped around, the sugar working its way through his system. Puck knew that the sugar high wouldn’t last much longer and Mateo would be crashing into a deep sleep in less than an hour, so he looked back at Santana. Her invitation made his lips bow into a soft smile. “You sure? I don’t wanna overstep.” Puck was really trying his best not to encroach on her space and they’d already had a tense dinner together. “If you have some more work to do I can hang out with him for a bit until you’re done and then I can head out,” he offered.
“No, it'll be fine. I'm almost done editing. You guys can watch it in here and I'll just chill on my end and finish.” Mateo was already rushing to put the DVD in the player, making her smile. “You can hang up your coat there,” she pointed to the hooks by the door, turning back in to the living room. “Mateo, go get your blanket. Puck, if you want anything to drink, there's different stuff in the fridge. And snacks in the cabinet. Make yourself at home.” Santana didn't want things to be awkward, especially because Mateo needed to settle down. “Y'all behave. I'm here if ya need something.”
Puck was pleasantly surprised by Santana’s warm welcome. After the dinner they’d had, he was sure she would be eager to have him out of her hair until at least Tuesday. Looking to where Santana pointed, Puck shrugged off his coat and pulled off his hat before hanging them on the hook next to the door. He smoothed out his shirt and patted down his hair before stepping further into Santana’s home. “Thank,” he mumbled, watching her walk back to what he assumed was her office. Puck blew a long breath of air out through his nose before joining Mateo on the couch. “Bring on the storm troopers!” Puck announced, Mateo bouncing into his lap. He was taken aback at first, but his arms easily molded around his son as the movie began to play.
Seventy-five minutes later, Mateo’s eyelids drooped close and his body went completely limp in Puck’s arms. The sugar had run its course and, try as he might, Mateo just couldn’t stay awake any longer. Not that Puck could blame the kid, he’d been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster today and Puck wasn’t a stranger to that kind of exhaustion. As quietly and carefully as he could, Puck stood up and carried Mateo back towards where Santana had disappeared to. He could have left the boy on the couch, but he figured he’d help Santana out and carry their son to bed so she wouldn’t have to later. Peeking into the only room with the light on, Puck lightly tapped on the door. “Hey...he’s out. I dunno if you want him in your room or his room...,” Puck explained, keeping his voice soft and low. “Or I can put him back on the sofa If you want.” His hand rubbed up and down Mateo’s back gently as he rocked slowly from side to side on the balls of his feet to keep their son in dreamland.
Thankfully, she had finished editing, sending off the last of her digital albums to her clients. Now all she had left was a wedding, but she could do that over the next day or two since it wasn't on a deadline. As much as she loved taking pictures, she hated how much time editing took sometimes. When Puck appeared in her door which a sleeping Mateo, she smiled, pushing her glasses up on her head as she sat her laptop down next to her. “His room. I've officially kicked him out of my bed. No more tiny cold feet on my back at night.” She pushed the covers down to get out of bed, leading him to Mateo’s room, pulling his covers back. “He's a heavy sleeper thankfully.”
Once Mateo was in bed, Santana flipped the night light on and left the room, slightly closing the door behind her. Now that it was just the two of them in her hallway, she felt like she was much too close to him, and it was much too dark for them to act like rational adults. “Thank you. The milkshake was amazing. Mateo had an awesome time. I bet he absolutely loved the lights.” She smiled at him, crossing her arms. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
After tucking Mateo into bed, Puck stepped back and let Santana finish up her nightly ritual with their son. He watched through the doorway as Santana pressed a kiss to his forehead and turned on the nightlight next to his bed. Observing the way things came so easily to her in regards to being a mother made him happy and sad at the same time; he’d have had the same confidence in being a parent if he had only stayed three years ago. Puck chewed on his bottom lip, taking another step back when Santana came out of the boy’s bedroom and closed the door behind her. The air around them seemed to disappear and Puck swore he could feel every fiber pulse in his heart. “You don’t have to thank me. Really. I love spending time with him. I wanna get to know him...every part of him...including the part that likes to throw tantrums. Pretty sure he got a double dose of our bad tempers, so I can’t really blame him.” He tried to keep his eyes from roaming over her, but he couldn’t help but soak in the way her body had softened just the slightest bit since she’d given birth; her breasts were a little bigger and her hips had more of a curve than an angle to them. When she crossed her arms over her chest, he was sure he’d been caught admiring and a blush crept up his neck. “Last night...what about it?”
Maybe she didn't need to bring up the night before, but after the way she'd made dinner awkward, she felt like she definitely needed to say something. Though, she knew if she started talking so close to her bedroom, she'd probably end up dragging him in. The few glasses of wine she'd drank had her cheeks flushed and her tongue loose. Never a good combination when the man that still held your heart was around. She led him back down the hallway towards the living room since she figured that was a safe space, no overly inviting bed or romantic lighting to tempt her. “I just wanna apologize. For Finn’s behavior, for me going off about some random ex. For all of it. I don't like this tension between us. I wanna be around you without being worried about what might be said.” She pushed her hair off her shoulders before rubbing over them, fighting the nerves. “Look, we have our son and I don't want to impose some strict rule about you seeing him. I want you to come over, for him to go there. Whenever you get your own place or whatever, he’ll go there. No ‘every other weekend’ shit. We aren't divorced and angry. We’re just… harboring feelings that we eventually need to discuss. When you're ready or when I'm ready or whatever. I want us to work.”
His confusion ebbed away as Santana spoke, her nervous mannerisms betraying her calm and collected tone. She was anxious, Puck could practically taste how jittery she was, but still she pushed on with her explanation. If Santana Lopez was one thing, she was a fighter; she’d been a fighter her entire life and her tenacity only seemed to grow stronger with motherhood; it was one of the many things that Puck loved about her. The knot that had been growing in his chest started to fray and sever with each word Santana offered. Things between them definitely weren’t perfect, but knowing that she genuinely wanted him in Mateo’s life had his lungs relaxing. “You don’t have to apologize, Santana. I…” he started, his thoughts jumbled after the harsh tension between them was released. “It’s not my place to comment on your relationships with Finn or with any other guy you have in your life. You’ve raised our son to be this amazing little dude and I know that every decision you make is with him at the front of your mind. And I didn’t come home to screw up your life or his life. Hell, I didn’t even know you were back. And I obviously didn’t know about Mateo.” Puck felt like he was getting off track, rambling because he finally felt like he could talk to her without there being some huge blowout. “I didn’t like the idea of visitation, but I’d do it if that’s what you really wanted. I’m not trying to change your mind about that by inviting you to dinner or taking our son out for ice cream. I just...I don’t want to do anything to make you hate me even more than you already do. So if you’re changing the whole scheduled visits thing because you feel guilty, then don’t. But if you’re changing it because you really don’t like it, then I’d love to have that kind of relationship with him...and with you. You’re his mom, Santana. You’re his ride or die. You call the shots,” he echoed her words from the first night he was home because they would always hold true. “For the record...if it counts for anything...I want us to work too.”
Santana sighed, shaking her head. “I know you didn't come home to screw anything up. I know you didn't know. I know that you aren't trying to be a dick… minus the few times you have been,” she laughed. “Look, I don't know if it's jealousy or what, but I get it. You're a new dad, you're protective of your child, you're unsure of who I bring around. Trust me when I say it's only been Finn and my ex. Both trustworthy guys. And the visitation thing was a hasty decision I made because I was upset and didn't know how to just be around you.” She took a deep breath, motioning between them. “Since we were teens, there's been this thing between us that makes it hard for us to be calm and cool around each other. I want us to just… exist. To be able to sit next to one another at class recitals and football games. We can do this. We can parent together. We can.. be a sort of family. Different, but still a family.” Pausing, she looked at him, not hesitating to wrap her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest. “We’re gonna be good parents. Together.”
Puck felt like he couldn’t breathe properly again, but this time it was because Santana was saying everything he needed to hear. Unlike himself, Santana had learned to reign in her anger and think more logically than emotionally; devoting her life to her son had really taught her some harsh lessons. Puck nodded as she spoke, silently encouraging her to continue sharing her thoughts on their situation. When she mentioned the way they seemed to ignite one another’s fire, Puck merely chuckled. It was true; ever since high school they could get under each other’s skin and push just the right buttons. But now their dynamic had shifted and they needed to be a united front for their son. “Still a family,” Puck echoed, his heart pounding painfully in his chest as Santana wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt. He wanted to apologize for every tear he’d made her cry, for every second that her heart was in pain. If there was a way to undo that hurt, Puck would find it. His arms anchored her in place, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other smoothed up and down her back just as he’d been doing to Mateo not even ten minutes ago. “Better together.” Puck was sure his heart was ready to beat its way right of his chest. It had been three years since he’d held her like this, three years since he could smell the mix of her perfume and sweat. Without thinking it through, Puck pulled back enough to tilt Santana’s chin up, his lips meeting hers with firm pressure.
She knew that hugging him was dangerous territory. This wasn't some random person, this was her person, back from god knows where, ready to be there for her and their son. Call it mother’s intuition, but Santana knew that Puck wasn't just going to take off again. She'd seen him after Beth, after Shelby dangled the girl in front of him. She knew he was capable of being a father, capable of taking care of their child when she wasn't around. Since all that had been settled, now she just needed to deal with her feelings for him that didn't involve Mateo. She loved him. She'd been in love with him the entire time he was gone, which was one of the reasons she beat herself up about it so much. Hearing him agree they'd be better together made her think of just how great they could be, the feeling of his arms making her sigh softly against his shirt. Feeling his fingers in her hair, she let him maneuver her head, his lips sending her into shock. After a moment she kissed back, hands fisting in his shirt as she leaned closer, her lips chasing his.
There was a brief moment where Puck thought he may get slapped, but then Santana started kissing him back, her fingers twisting into his shirt, and Puck couldn’t think of anything but her. He’d tried and failed to push her out of his mind for the last three years; no matter who he shared his bed with, they didn’t come close to Santana. Puck figured it was his punishment for just up and leaving, but now he knew that their lives were so intertwined that he’d never be able to cut her out without risk of losing himself. The floodgates had opened the moment their lips met, bringing with it the rush of shackled feelings that Puck had tried to lock away three years ago. His tongue swept past her lips, the sugary sweetness of her mouth making him groan as his hand slipped down her back to grab her ass. It felt like he couldn’t get enough of her, like he’d been denying himself the one thing that would make him feel complete.
Since he'd come home, Santana had a small feeling that he still had feelings for her, but she wasn't sure. Puck had always been critical of who she slept with, so even though she'd thought it was jealousy, she couldn't be sure. Now she was. There was more than just old feelings between them. She didn't know if she should keep kissing him, or stop to ask him what the hell they were doing, but his hand gripping her ass answered that for her. It was embarrassing how much she needed this, how good it felt to be wanted again. She hadn't been with anyone in ages, and no matter how many times she wanted to, she couldn't find time to date or hook up. Her hands moved from his shirt to his hair, a small moan of delight escaping her. When she pulled away to actually breathe, she chuckled, biting her lower lip. “That was surprising,” she offered, her eyes falling from his eyes to his lips before she leaned into kiss him again, suddenly feeling like if she stopped, she'd wake up from some sort of dream.
Swallowing the moan that bubbled from Santana’s throat made Puck smile into their kiss. He was genuinely happy, his heart blooming in his chest. As she pulled away Puck slowly opened his eyes, preparing himself for some sort of reprimand. But Santana’s words were light and breathy, her mouth seeking out his own before he could even answer her. The need for her started to ebb out towards every cell in his body, the taste of her tongue spurring him on. Puck lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, as he carried her towards the couch. He couldn’t remember how many times this kind of kiss had lead them into a night full of tangled and sweaty limbs. “You feel so fucking good,” Puck groaned, his mouth parting from hers to nip and suck down her neck once he was pressed between her legs on the sofa.
She didn't know how she went from trying to make things okay between them to making out with him, but she wasn't ready to stop it. She wanted him, loved him, missed him. There was no way she was going to tell him they couldn't do this. Being lifted made her gasp against his lips, but she went with it, wrapping her legs around him to let him carry her wherever he pleased. Her hands stayed in his hair, giving the longer strands a light tug as she laid back against the cushions. “Mm, don't stop kissing me. I've missed it too much,” she told him honestly, one hand moving to slide under the back of his t-shirt, fingers running over smooth skin. Her lips traced his jaw before nipping lightly under his ear, something she used to do constantly, before kissing him slowly again.
He was starting to mark her neck, make her his again, when her desperate demand brought his lips back to hers. She’d missed him, his kiss at least, and that was enough for Puck to rock forward against her. The warmth of her fingers along his back made a shiver zip down his spine, his cock growing stiff beneath the confines of his jeans. “I’ve missed you too,” he admitted, his words pressed against her lips. Enjoying the way Santana seemed to fold around him, Puck continued to rut against the basin of her pelvis, the friction helping to ease the ache at his base. His hands worked their way beneath her shirt, fingertips grazing up her ribcage before he palmed her heavy breast.
She could feel him through the thin material of her leggings, her own body rocking up against his as his lips left marks on her neck. She knew she needed to keep him from marking her, but her sixteen year old self reminded her she could do wonders with a cold spoon and some foundation. Santana used her legs to keep him against her, moaning as he finally found a stiff bud to roll between his fingers. Her sensitivity was off the charts, making her squirm under him. “Let me up,” she told him, waiting for him to sit up. Once he complied, she straddled him, grinding down against him as she pulled her sweater over her head, reaching to yank his shirt off as well.
At first Santana’s words sounded like a warning, despite the fact that her heart was beating just as hard as his was, but when Puck sat up she didn’t push him towards the door. Instead she straddled his lap, her center pressing down over his covered member as she peeled off her sweater and tossed it aside. Her breasts were on full display, magnets for Puck’s mouth as his hands guided the motion of her pelvis along his cock. She tugged at his shirt, practically ripping it off of him before throwing it to the floor to join her sweater. His mouth was on her then, carving a path down the valley between her breasts before sealing his lips over her pert left nipple. He pulled it through his teeth, one hand abandoning her hip to slip beneath the stretchy material of her leggings. There was no denying that she would be wet, he could practically feel the heat of her through his denim, but Puck couldn’t help the moan that roared from his chest when his fingertips dipped between her sopping folds. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growled, his cock twitching at the thought of sinking deep inside of her.
She cried out, her back arching as her eyes snapped closed, his mouth making her rock her hips harder. She wanted less clothing between them, but she didn't push it, wanting them to go at the pace that felt natural for them. Instead of trying to think about what any of this meant, or why they were doing it, she focused on how good it felt to just be touched by him. His teeth had her whimpering, his rough treatment making her shiver. Then his hand slid beneath her leggings and into her, making her drop her head against his shoulder, nails digging into his arms. “Oh fuck,” she whined, voice shaky. “No shit. You're dry humping me like we’re sixteen and I haven't had an orgasm from another person in what feels like ages. Keep going,” she rasped, lips attacking his skin to suck tiny spots down the column of his throat.
“You’re anything but dry,” Puck countered with a smirk, a grunt forcing from his throat as Santana dug her nails into his skin. The pain only added to the pleasure, making Puck curl his fingers to tap into the spot that made Santana’s legs quake. Even after three years and a baby, he still knew her body; being inside of her was like coming home. Her lips along his neck made him pulse, the blood rushing to his groin making it hard for him to concentrate. While he’d had his fair share of sex over the past three years, it had actually been months since he’d gotten anything more than a blow job. Not to mention that this was Santana, the woman to whom he compared all of the other notches on his bedpost. Puck tried his best to focus on her, to build her up until she was primed. He alternated between pressing inside of her and rubbing over her clit until she was so wet that he could barely keep contact with the slippery nub. Puck pulled his hand free and pushed against her hips so she’d stand up. “Get these fucking things off,” he ordered, snapping the waistband of her leggings before sucking his fingers clean while opening the fly of his jeans. He let out a hard breath, his hand wrapping around his dick to ease the ache flaring up his shaft.
She'd never been more thankful that her son was a hard sleeper. Usually it worried her that he could sleep through a tornado, but now she considered it a blessing. The last thing she needed was Mateo walking in on them. “Shut up,” she groaned, rocking her hips against his hand, breathy moans filling the silence. She was so close to coming that her thighs were starting to jump every time he brushed her clit, driving her insane. Being told once was enough, his demand making her stand and push the leggings off. She struggled slightly, the stretchy material getting hung on her ankle before she got them off. Once she was done struggling, she looked him over, a satisfied smirk on her face. He looked exactly the same, every inch of his body the same way she'd left it. His cock stood proudly, her center clenching at the thought of having him inside her again. She crawled over him, not even thinking to ask about tests or condoms, her body slowly taking him inch by inch as she stretched around him. “Holy shit,”
she whined, her forehead wrinkling. “Fuck, Noah,” she panted, eyes snapping to meet his.
One moment they were tucking their son into bed and the next Santana was panting Puck’s name as she lowered herself onto his bare cock. All rational thought went out the window the moment Puck sunk into her. This was the woman he loved for so many years, the mother of his child, the woman who still let him back into her life after pulling some David Copperfield shit. It felt like his heart couldn’t contain it all, his ribs cracking beneath the pressure, but he let his physical pleasure supercede his emotional upheaval and eagerly watched her sink down on him. His eyes flicked between the joining of their bodies and the look on Santana’s face as he bottomed out; he’d have her furrowed brow and gently parted lips burned into his mind forever. The way she said his name made his stomach churn, their eyes finally catching as she adjusted to the intrusion. “I got you, Tana,” Puck answered, his voice an octave below normal. He didn’t break eye contact at all, his hands gripping onto her hips to help lift and lower her along his shaft at a steady pace. “I got you, baby.”
With one hand gripping the couch behind his head and the other curled around the back of his neck, Santana slowly started to move, letting him guide her movements. She felt crazed from the pleasure and emotion running through her, making her snap her hips against his. The realization that the last time she'd done this with him had been the time she’d conceived Mateo had her feeling suddenly nervous. She'd had a child, gained a few pounds here and there, and apparently got stitched up so good down there that she felt like a virgin all over again. That thought almost made her laugh, but then he was looking at her and calling her baby, calling her Tana, and all she could focus on was how amazing this felt. Like coming home. She loved him, no matter how flawed he was, no matter the mistakes he'd made, and getting to be intimate with him once again had her heart bursting. She wished she could tell him, explain to him that he had her heart if he wanted it, and even if he didn't. But she didn't. Instead she let out another cry, her hips rolling against his as she clenched around him, thighs starting to shake. “I'm so close. So fucking close already,” she breathed.
If it was physically possible, Puck would stay inside of Santana forever. Every twitch of her muscles and whimper from her throat made him pulse heavily between his legs. He had been so focused on her orgasm that his own climb to climax was nearing fruition. Puck felt like a teenager again, frustrated and embarrassed that he wasn’t able to last more than a couple of minutes before he’d nut. He’d prided himself on mastering the long game in high school, but there was no way he could hold back much longer. Despite the fact that he wanted to drag this out and prolong the heavenly feeling of Santana snug around his cock, he could already feel the pressure deep in his sack. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions and all the tension that had been building between them over the last few hours culminated in a sexual release that they both desperately needed. Santana’s thighs were trembling, her hips taking up a chaotic rhythm in her approach to her peak. Puck dropped his hands away from her hips, one hand sliding between them to add pressure to her clit while the other fisted into her hair, tugging forcefully. And when Santana clenched hard in reaction to the double assault, that was all Puck needed. “Fuck!” he barked, his hips lifting off the couch in successive jerks, driving himself deeper into her as heat rose up his shaft and spurted from his tip in a heavy load.
It was like he shoved her right over the edge of a cliff, her stomach tightening as her legs shook, clenching around him as she came. Her eyes rolled, movements getting jerky as she fell apart, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Fucking hell,” she whined, leaning in to suck at a spot on his neck, rocking her hips against him as he came. “Jesus, it’s like we just had a quickie in your truck after a football game,” she laughed, smoothing her hands up and down his arms, head resting against his shoulder. “How long do I need to give you before you can get in the shower with me and bang me there too?” She was trying to keep things light between them, not wanting to overcomplicate whatever this was. On top of that, she still couldn’t get enough of him, and just the thought of having him again had her clenching around him.
There was no stopping the laugh that rumbled through his chest at Santana’s words. She was right, when they were together in high school they’d find themselves crammed together like this in the cab of his truck after a big win; Santana had deemed it Puck’s reward for kicking ass. And when they reconnected in college they couldn’t get enough of each other, his truck moonlighting as their second bedroom at times so they could fit in a quickie between work and classes. Puck was going soft inside her, Santana’s walls still squeezing around him sporadically. He’d never had a long recovery time, which for them was a blessing, and it would only take another five to ten minutes before he was stiff again. “Depends. How far away is your shower?” Puck teased, his hands reaching down to lift her as he slipped out. The fact that she wanted him again bolstered Puck’s confidence. They had always been hot headed and impulsive together, but Puck didn’t want Santana to regret this. He couldn’t sink into his emotions at the moment, he just needed to act on what every cell in his body was telling him: to rip every moan and whimper from Santana’s chest.
Puck eased Santana off his lap, missing the weight of her once she was standing. His hands smoothed down her body, his thumbs pressing over the jut of her hip bones. “You’re still so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He leaned in and nipped below her navel, his eyes slowly looking up to find hers. “I wanna make you come like that at least another couple times,” he admitted, pulling back before pushing himself off the couch. Puck shoved his pants the rest of the way off, his boxers and jeans a puddle at his feet. “Lead the way, mama.”
Santana ran a hand over his hair to cup his cheek as he kissed her skin. “Thanks. It's not the same tight cheerleader body from before, but childbirth and your mother’s cooking keep me from getting back to that,” she explained. It was weird that she felt the need to explain, but the last time he’d seen her naked, she looked perfect. Now she had tiny lines from being pregnant, and thicker thighs from too much cream sauce. “That sounds like a plan. Come on.” She scooped up all of their clothes, afraid to leave them out just in case. Leading them to her bedroom, she dumped them unceremoniously on the floor before walking in to her master bath to start the shower. “I love my shower. The shower head was so expensive but it's my favorite thing. Wait til you feel it.”
On their way back towards Santana’s bedroom, Puck kept his hand on the small of her back. It was something he'd done since forever, a possessive protective gesture that came naturally when it involved Santana. “Cream sauce and Mateo aside, I think you look incredible. I'd say even better than before but you might take that the wrong way,” Puck teased, following Santana into the master bath. Once she had ditched their clothes and turned on the faucet, Puck pulled her back against him, her ass fitting against his pelvis as both of his hands meandered up to massage her breasts. They hadn't even stepped into the shower yet, but he couldn't wait to touch her again. Puck rolled both of Santana’s nipples between his fingers, his lips trailing down the side of her neck to her pulse point. It was then that he started to suck against the rapid beat, his teeth digging into her just enough to bruise.
“I think I look better than before too. Motherhood made my tits bigger, my ass bigger, and my body way more sensitive than before,” she laughed. It was true, she felt like she was shaping up to be an hourglass figure when before she was a stick. Perks of being a Latina mother. She wiggled her ass against him, hand going to grip the counter top as she moaned. Santana dropped her head forward, her eyes watching him in the mirror as he moved against her. “In the shower, Mi Vida.” She pulled away from him to guide him, stepping under the water. “Fuck yes. Perfectly hot. Scalding the way I like it.”
That damn nickname was Puck’s undoing; it was what Santana had started to call him six months into their college relationship. He hadn’t thought to ask what it meant until she was lying breathless against his chest after a few rounds of sex celebrating the end of winter finals. It was then that Puck realized that this wasn’t like high school; they weren’t just hooking up for the physical perks, there were actual feelings involved. Four years later he’d felt the pressure of her marriage fever and decided that his best option was to run. An idiotic, selfish decision, but his decision nonetheless. Three years after that, here he was, standing in Santana’s bathroom as she uttered those same two words. His heart felt heavy, his feet glued to the tiled floor as he watched her step into the spray of the shower. What were they doing? What was he doing? He thought about leaving, letting her shower away the regret she would inevitably feel over this spontaneous reconnection. But he couldn’t. Not again. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Puck waited a beat before stepping into the shower behind her, steam already billowing around them. Pulling Santana against him, Puck dropped his head to the curve of her neck. “I’m sorry, Tana. I’m really fucking sorry.”
She hadn't realized she'd said it until she was in the shower, frozen under the spray like a deer in the headlights. It had been so easy to revert back to the playful Santana and Puck that it seemed like the past didn't exist and they were right back in her college apartment. It was scary how easy it had been to just call him the same nickname she'd been calling him for ages, not even realizing that part of the reason he'd left had been because he truly had become her life. Her heart jumped in to her throat, waiting for him to bolt, to take off and pretend this night didn't exist because she'd shown too much emotion in two freaking words. To her surprise, he still got in the shower, wrapping her in his arms. “Sorry for what, Puck?” She asked, trying to not go back to pet names.
It was a simple question with a complicated answer. What wasn’t Puck sorry for? He was sorry he broke her heart, sorry he’d made her a single mother, sorry that Finn was more of a father figure to Mateo than Puck had been, sorry that she’d had to give up her hopes and dreams for the wellbeing of their son. The list went on and on, Puck’s brain trying to mush all of his regrets into a single response. He felt her stiffen, the air around them a little thicker and heavier than before. There was a long pause while Puck tried to find the right answer, his hands sliding down her front slowly. “I’m sorry for not believing that we had a chance to be something great. You knew. You’ve always known. I’m sorry that I’m just realizing it now.” He settled his chin on her shoulder before turning his face to kiss her neck softly. It was true; Puck was so skeptical of any sort of long term relationship that he’d failed to see what was right in front of him three years ago: a genuinely happy life with Santana filled with love and untapped potential.
It was like all the air had been sucked out of the shower, and she was struggling to breathe through the hot water and the hot skin pressed to her back. She was scared of how he might answer that question, scared of what would be said in the shower and how it would be once they stepped outside of it. His answer made her let out a shaky breath, her legs feeling like jelly. She felt the tears on her cheeks, grateful that he couldn't see her so she could blame it on the spray. Hearing that he was realizing everything they could've been felt like a knife to the heart. She'd spent so much time imagining what their life would've been like, it tore her apart to realize that they'd wasted three years. So much could've been done. “Yeah. I knew.” Santana didn't know what else to say. Her hands held his against her skin, taking a deep breath. “I guess it wasn't meant to be before.”
They stood quietly, their bodies pressed together as the hot water made their skin redden and swell. There was a tone of regret in Santana’s voice, her words wilting. Puck instinctively hugged her closer, his arms tightening around her as if she might actually disappear into the steam itself. “Really? I think it was more because I was just too much of an idiot to realize what you already knew.” He was trying to bring a little levity between them, both of their emotions running high. “You always were smarter than me.” Puck smiled against her then, his lips dragging along her skin. “I'm just thankful that our son has you to teach him all that stuff. Like not to be scared of loving someone.”
She wasn't sure what to say anymore. Why was he bringing this up? What was she supposed to say to that? She knew they could be amazing, she knew he would've been a great father, a great husband. “You learned the hard way. Everyone makes mistakes.” Her eyes closed to try and rein in the emotions swirling through her, making it harder for her to breathe. “That's why he loves you so hard. He knows to give it freely.” She didn't know how to put what she wanted to say, so instead, she turned in his arms to bury her face against his neck. It was too hard to meet his eyes still, unsure of what was happening between them. “You still have a chance to teach him to love freely. You can still show him what it takes to be a good man, to do what's right.”
What started out as a spontaneous kiss and urgent physical connection had morphed into something much deeper. Puck was willing to admit his failures and take whatever anger and resentment Santana harbored. He nodded as she spoke, his body reacting to having her pressed against him. “That's exactly why I'm staying,” he agreed, his hand rubbing up and down her back firmly. There was a moment of silence when Puck wanted to ask her if she wanted him to leave, but he swallowed the question out of fear she might actually say yes. Instead, he tilted her head up again, briefly looking into her eyes before capturing her lips in a slow deep kiss.
Santana felt a little lost, feeling like her past and future were colliding, with her in the middle. He had been her everything, her world. He had meant so much, had hurt her so much. And their son? Their son was her future, her whole life, the person she lived for now. Could she carve out a space for him? Or would tearing out the old scar tissue hurt too much? Kissing him felt amazing, her hands sliding in his wet hair. When her lungs started to burn, she pulled back, breathing heavily as she finally looked up at him. “Noah, if you're only interested in sex, or you have some feeling of obligation to me, then we can't do this. I don't want you to think you have to have feelings for me, or you have to sleep with me because I'm the mother of your son. I want this to be organic, something you truly want. If it's not, then let's get out right now.”
As Santana pulled back, a muffled groan of protest was staunched in Puck’s throat. Her words made his stomach queasy, his brows furrowing above his hazel eyes. “If this wasn't something I wanted, I wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't be willing to see my son on a visitation schedule or sit through the most awkward family dinner to have ever taken place.” He knew her walls were building back up and he couldn't help his own defensiveness from rearing. “I'm not fucking you because you're Mateo’s mom. I'm fucking you because you're Santana. The woman who drew a dick on my face when I passed out at Finn and Kate's first New Year's Eve party. The woman who unfortunately knows all my friggin tickle spots. The woman whose heartbeat is like the most beautiful damn song I've ever heard. I'm here, right now, because I can't be anywhere else. I can't. Because even thousands of miles away and years spent apart, no one has made me feel half of what I feel for you. If that's not organic, I dunno what is.” His chest rose and fell rapidly, his defense having been spoken with little room for breathing. “I don't need you doubting me at every turn though. I know you're entitled to because I fucked up, but it fucking sucks.”
It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest, the thundering noise in her ears nearly drowning out what he was saying. Hearing his walk down memory lane and his fierce defense of his feelings made Santana crumble. She wanted this to be real, she wanted to hear that even though he slept his way across the country, all he could think about was her. She wanted him to tell her how much he loved her and tell her she needed to love him in return. It was such a cheesy romance novel want, but she couldn't help it. She ran her hands over her face, noticing the temperature of the water starting to drop. It was true, she didn't fully trust him. She didn't know how to trust him after he left, but she was sure she could learn. He'd have to be patient, but she would try. “Look, I know you regret leaving, and I know it will always be a sensitive subject between us. I’ll be honest, I want to trust you more than anything, but I'm scared. I don't think you'll leave but there's this little voice in the back of my head saying to wait, that it'll happen. Noah, I don't want to think that. I know that I can trust you again, but it's gonna take time. But I won't treat you like I'm the judge, jury, and executioner. I just need you to understand when I have my moments.” She reached behind her to shut off the freezing water, shaking slightly. “I've spent three years missing you. I just wanted to make sure this was as real for you as it is for me. Me and you again.”
The water that had started to run frigid, along with Santana’s words, sobered him up. Puck wiped his hand over his face. All he wanted to do was pull Santana closer and put this conversation off for another day, but instead he stepped back and created more space between them. “I'm not trying to rush or force anything here, Santana. It just happened. And it feels fucking amazing...at least it did for me.” Questions started to creep into the back of his mind that he tried to swat away. “I get that you need time and shit. Trust me when I say I didn't anticipate tonight happening,” he defended, his body shivering from the evaporating water on his skin. “If that little voice is telling you not to trust me, then you're right...we can't do this. And I don't blame that little voice, honestly. It's not like I have a great track record when it comes to sticking around.” Puck was realizing how twisted all of this was and he started to distance himself more from her. “We should really focus on Mateo. We can work through our shit a little at a time.”
Santana could feel the divide between the two of them getting wider as she got colder. She stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself to fight off the goosebumps starting to cover her skin. She could feel all the excitement of earlier start to fade, making her stomach clench as her anxiety ramped up. To calm her nerves and give her a moment to decide what to say next, she grabbed another towel, wrapping it around Puck’s waist, her fingers holding on to the waist as she took a deep breath. “I feel amazing. This is exactly what I want, what I've wanted for years. I don't want to just focus on Mateo. I want to focus on us too, work on us, because really, there's no one else but you.” Santana pressed her forehead to his chest, sighing. “Don’t pull away from me. Stay. Stay the night with me.”
As Puck watched Santana exit the shower, his own nerves started wreaking havoc on his stomach; he felt nauseous, like he'd just swallowed pop rocks and chugged a liter of Pepsi. The excitement and adrenaline from earlier had worn off and now they were left with the reality of their situation. Puck kept his eyes on her, unable to look away as she wrapped herself in a towel. And when he was sure she'd head towards the bedroom and leave him dripping on the tilel, Santana turned to secure a towel around his waist. The fizz in his stomach relaxed then, his breathing evening out as she pressed her forehead against his chest. Puck’s fingers found their way into Santana’s wet hair, his other arm looping around her and pulling her close again. “I told you...I'm not going anywhere,” he hushed, Santana’s words settling into his bones. “I wanna work on us too. Not just for Mateo...but for us.”
She pressed a kiss against his chest, hands sliding over his cool skin to slide over his back. “Good. Let's do it. Let's work on us. For Mateo and for us.” Tilting her head up, she kissed him, arms tightening around him. “Come on. I'm fucking freezing and I want your body heat.” Just like that, the panic started to ease, making her feel infinitely better. He wanted this again, he wanted to try. That was good enough. They could figure it all out. Santana pulled away from him, running the towel over her body quickly before hanging it up. Once she wrapped her hair up, she walked in to her bedroom, pulling an old larger t-shirt out of the drawer to put on. “Fuck, winter is so fucking cold. Even with the heater on.”
With just a simple kiss Puck’s anger and frustration dissolved. The way that Santana clutched onto him made his arms tighten around her and pull her flush against his body, only letting go when she shifted away from him. “Just using me for my meat and my heat? I see how it is,” Puck teased, his eyes falling to Santana’s ass while he followed her back into the bedroom. As she opened up one of her drawers to pull on a shirt, Puck dried himself off and tossed the wet towel onto the floor. He was about to pick up his boxers again when Santana’s shirt caught his eye. “That’s my Bengals jersey,” he pointed out, the orange and black shirt hanging down to Santana’s knees. He had looked for that jersey everywhere when he left town and had figured he’d either lost it along the way or had left it at home. The fact that Santana still wore it, let alone kept it, made Puck blush. “Thanks for taking good care of it,” he added, stepping closer to her until his hands could smooth down over the material. “I don’t think you’ll be needing it though.” Puck gripped the hem of the jersey and tugged it up and off of her easily, dropping it on the floor at the foot of the bed. A new wave of affection started to swell within him, the urge to feel her skin against his own making Puck more aggressive. “I’ll keep you warm.”
“That's the only thing you're good for,” she joked, smiling. It made her smile how easy it was to be serious with him, but how they could flip a switch and be fun again. She looked down at the shirt she'd put on, chewing on her lip a little. Yeah, she'd kept the shirt, mostly because she loved how big and roomy it was, and partially because she'd missed him so much. “Washed and loved by me for years. It's been through some shit.” She pouted a little, watching the shirt fall to the floor, taking some of her warmth away. “You better,” she warned, sliding her arms around his neck again. “Please?”
“Well...since you asked so nicely,” Puck hummed, backing Santana up to the bed before pushing her down onto the mattress. He soon followed, trapping her beneath his body to give her the heat she’d demanded from him earlier. They shuffled around for a moment, Puck huffing and puffing as he tugged at the covers until they were within a cocoon of sheets and blankets. “There. Tell me that that jersey is better than this and I’ll call you liar.” Puck smiled down at her in the dark, her legs cradling his hips. He was starting to stiffen, the familiar soft scent of her soap and skin making blood rush to his groin. “You sure you’re okay with me staying?”
She laughed as he worked to cocoon them in blankets, his body heat already spreading over her skin, warming her up. Her thighs tightened around his hips, fingers sliding up his sides to caress his back slowly. “The jersey is shit compared to this. Yeah, I'm okay with you staying. In fact, it would've been weird if you didn't stay. I'm not about the pump and dump anymore.” Lifting her head, she pressed her lips to his shoulder before traveling over his chest and up his neck. “Plus I can feel you're pretty damn excited to stay too.”
Despite the fact that their past was rife with quickies and casual sex, Puck didn’t see this as some general hook up. He’d missed Santana for years and her willingness to let him back into her life made him grab at any chance to reignite what they once had. “Can you blame me?” he asked, heat crawling up the back of his neck as Santana’s lips meandered across his chest. Puck closed his eyes and let the soft ministrations along his back and neck build him up, his heart beating fast and hard as his body reacted to the woman beneath him. “I meant what I said before...I wanna make you come at least a couple more times.” He looked down at her, hips rocking forward toward her wet heat, as his eyes locked with her dark brown ones. “Unless you’re too worn out,” he teased, knowing full well that any jab to her endurance would rile her up.
Santana couldn't get enough of his body, her hands moving over his skin as she traced every little scar and freckle she'd seen a million times. She'd missed the way he felt, missed how soft his skin was even when he was all hard muscle. “I sure can't,” she smiled, letting her head drop back to the pillow as she settled her hands on his hips again. “If you think that a few years of me not getting fucked every night slowed me down, think again. I can still keep up with you Puckerman. Show me what you've got.” Her hand moved to cup the back of his neck, her lips crashing against his to kiss him hard and deep as she rocked against him teasingly. Her free hand reached to stroke him slowly, guiding him between her folds to let him feel how wet she'd become. “See? I'm ready.”
She had challenged him, something that would typically cause Puck to bark back with bravado. But before Puck could even think of something to say to boost his own ego, Santana’s lips were crashing against his own and his tongue swept eagerly into her mouth. The taste of her tongue drove him wild as her hips lifted fervently toward his pelvis. A groan rumbled its way through his chest as her fingers curled and squeezed around his member. “Fuck,” he breathed, his jaw clenching as Santana guided his head along her sopping folds. It always made Puck preen when Santana’s body reacted so easily to him. “Yeah you are,” Puck agreed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he pushed forward. A shiver ran down his spine the moment his head sunk into her, a familiar jolt that made him stall briefly before snapping his hips forward and bottoming out inside her in one strong stroke. Despite the way Santana clenched around him, Puck pulled back until he almost slipped out before filling her again. He took slow, hard strokes to keep them both built up without tipping over the edge too soon. “Think you can handle a whole night?” Puck huffed, his mouth dropping next to her ear as he sheathed himself within her, as deep as he could reach.
She knew she was playing with fire by teasing him like this. It used to drive him crazy when she'd let him slip against her, but not let him enter her. It felt too good to not pull the same stunt this time. As much as she wanted to tease, she wanted to be fucked just as badly. Before, on the couch, they'd been frantic, desperate to touch one another after so long. Now, he was torturing her, building her up slowly with thrusts she felt through her entire body. Each snap of his hips had her whining, her hands clutching at his back as he hit deep and hard. “Fuck, yes, give me a whole night. Don't stop.” She let her eyes close for a moment before opening them to look between them, a moan escaping as she watched him move.
The desperation in Santana’s voice matched the ache in the pit of Puck’s own stomach. They both wanted this. They both needed this. He watched her eyes close and reopen, her focus shifted to the joining of their bodies. A wolfish grin tugged onto Puck’s lips as he pulled back and slipped out of her. As badly as he wanted to just fuck Santana into exhaustion, there was another part of him that needed more than that. His mouth carved a path down her body, stopping to suck and bite near her navel and hip bone. It was only when his mouth was poised above her sex that Puck looked up from between her legs. “Don’t come,” he warned, the scent of her arousal making him leak. Puck knew he didn’t have much longer before he’d reach his own limits, but challenging each other in bed had always been something they were damn good at. He slipped his fingers through her, spreading her before his tongue teased around the swollen bud of her clit.
Of course he'd stopped when she'd demanded that he didn't. She wanted to force his hips, make him continue to fuck her like he’d been, but it wouldn't matter, he'd continue to tease her. Watching him move down her body had her catching her bottom lip between her teeth, her hands sliding up his arms to pull lightly on his hair before he pulled out of reach. His words had her pushing up on her elbows to protest, but the minute his tongue touched her clit, she couldn't seem to form words. Don't come? He had to be insane. She lifted her hips, body moving against his mouth to find friction even though he told her she couldn't find release. “You're evil. Let me come, I wanna come so badly.”
While Puck had intended to drag out this round, Santana’s eager hips and urgent tone had him sliding back up her body before she could come on his tongue. His pulse was racing, his heart drumming against his ribs as he pushed inside of her hard and fast. They were past the point of build up; teasing strokes and light touches were replaced by rough, erratic thrusts. He was fucking Santana into the mattress, his hand bracing the headboard to keep from making too much noise and waking up Mateo. In the past they had been known for their less than subtle sexcapades, but Puck wasn’t about to scar his kid for life. Plus keeping their kid asleep meant more time just to indulge in each other. Sweat broke out along Puck’s back and thighs as he let himself have her, his lungs begging for air as he focused all of his energy on sending them both into the tailspin of orgasm. “Fucking. Come,” he demanded through gritted teeth, his voice nearing a growl as Santana’s walls fluttered around him. He could practically taste the moment she let go, her back arching, sending him deep as she squeezed around him so hard it was borderline painful. But Puck didn’t focus on the pain; his mind was wiped into nothingness as he poured into her. He felt stupid, completely brainless, as practically all of the blood in his body seemed to be coursing between his legs. “Okay...yeah.” They were the only two words he could think of, his ability to form a coherent sentence thwarted by the way Santana still rippled around his softening cock.
Puck’s recovery period had always been relatively quick and even though he wasn’t a teenager anymore, he’d retained that biological gift. So after a quick cool down, which included two glasses of water and half a granola bar, they were tangled together again in sex-scented sheets. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night completely devoted to sex. In the back of his mind he knew things could get messy real quick, but when it came to Santana he was weak. Which was how he found himself rolling off of her, drenched and exhausted, at 6:30 in the morning; they’d taken marathon sex to a whole new level. Puck’s eyes squinted at the clock on Santana’s nightstand, a breath humming from his chest. “Fuck, babe. The sun’s gonna be up in less than an hour.” He stretched out in her bed, shifting to wrap his arm over her middle as he yawned. “I can go before Mateo wakes up. If that’s what you want.” As badly as Puck wanted to stay, he knew that it was Santana’s call.
Santana hadn't been this exhausted since she was in labor. Those thirteen hours were intense and grueling, and she had wanted to sleep for days after. This exhaustion was so much better. Even though her bones felt like jelly and her skin felt raw from friction and kisses, she was a puddle of smiles. Curling up against his chest, she sighed, not willing to let him go. He was warm, she was tired, and she was sure someone would end up scolding her that she let him drive home on such little sleep. Her hands smoothed over his chest, fingers moving until she could wrap her arms around his neck to keep him as close as possible. “As much as I don't want to let you out of this bed, I know I should make you go. If Mateo comes in and sees this, he might expect it, and I don't want him to read too much in to anything yet.” She held on for a few minutes longer before sitting up to stretch.
Her hands pushed her hair in to a messy bun on top of her head, trying to tame how gross it probably looked from being rubbed against the sheets all night. “Plus, I need a nap. I have to deal with a small child on no sleep. Why did you keep me up all night?” Laughing, she crawled out of bed to get dressed again. “Come on. I'll make you a cup of coffee to go. She knew spending the night with him changed quite a few things, especially after the talk they had, and now that it wasn't just them wrapped up in each other, things would be hard. But instead of dwelling on what might happen, she pulled his old shirt on and kissed him quickly before heading out to the kitchen to make him coffee.
Santanasnaps Throwback to this weekend when I shot an amazing wedding at this lodge! The place was literally a winter wonderland. I can’t wait to finish their wedding album up. Plus, I was feelin like a total hot mama! yaaaaas! (posted via Instagram)
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