Disclaimer: We Are Not Associated with Glee or Fox, nor do we profit from it.

The more sex he has with Rachel, the easier it is to tune Quinn out.

He realized it during lunch on Wednesday. Quinn was perched in the plastic chair beside him at their usual table yapping about winter break. It started in one week. He couldn't be more excited. He loved getting time off from school and snow and pine trees and everything that had to do with Christmas. Secretly, he was terrible anxious to get away from Quinn for a couple of week.

Not to mention he wanted to use the two weeks of freedom to fool around with Rachel as much as possible. She was Jewish. Hannukah was over. She wouldn't have anything to do.

It wasn't a crime to want to get his holly jollies off with his girl.

Well, Puck's girl, technically.

He stabbed his piece of red and green sprinkled cake. He was doing a really good job of ignoring Quinn's chatter, but then his ear caught wind of a few of her words, and he almost choked on the dry dessert.

Quinn insisted on Finn attending mass with her on Christmas Eve. She smacked his back twice, which only made his chest feel tighter. He chugged his milk and took a deep breath when his windpipe cleared.

Collecting his thoughts, he asserted, "I always spend Christmas Eve with my mom."

They had traditions – hot chocolate with sugar cookies, watching It's a Wonderful Life, opening one present before they went to bed. Sure, maybe it was kind of lame, but it made him feel good. His mom always made Christmas special even though it was just the two of them.

Quinn was the last person he was going to let ruin it.

She brushed off his comment with a simple roll of her eyes, "Bring her, too, silly."

No fucking way. "No."

"What?"

"My mom doesn't go to church."

Honestly, his mom had issues with God. He didn't totally understand, but it had a lot to do with him not helping his dad. That's what she told him when he was little. He didn't know how god was supposed to help him in war, but he accepted it. Church wasn't for everyone.

Quinn's face turned sour, but she put on a fake smile. "Well, what better time to start going? A lot of people who don't go to church come on Christmas. I'm sure you could convince her."

Why won't she just accept that no meant no? Wasn't that hammered into girl's heads when they went through puberty?

Not wanting to get into an argument in the middle of the cafeteria, he sighed, "I'll talk to her," and went back to his cake. He could just ignore her phone calls on the 24th.

She got back on her tangent about the holiday, which led into another tangent about Coach Sylvester trying to get the cheerios to practice during the break. It was really easy to ignore her at that point.

He finished his cake, so he had nothing left to do for the next ten minutes of lunch. His eyes started to wander around the cafeteria. It only took a moment for him to spot Rachel on the opposite side of the room. She was seated at one of the smaller tables with Puck. The area in front of her was littered with trash. Some jocks must have blocked his view of her earlier.

When his eyes locked on her face, Quinn's voice silenced. He sat up straighter in his seat. Rachel was upset. Her eyes were sad and the skin between her brows was tugged into a distressed little fold. There was barely any distance between her and the mohawked moron while they murmured back and forth. Their voices were low; he could tell from here.

Puck scoffed at something. Rachel's eyes narrowed. She spit something back in his direction - vicious words apparently from the look on Puck's face. Rachel looked proud of herself until Puck leaned in and said something short, but powerful enough to break's Rachel's smile. He saw her eyes grow. Her pouty lips parted. The bottom one trembled painfully. Puck went back to his burger and didn't even look up when Rachel stood up and marched away.

Before his brain could consider it, his legs lifted him out of his chair.

Quinn pulled back in surprise. He looked down at her. She looked small. "I gotta go. I forgot I have to meet Ms. Neilson early to go over my test from Monday."

She nodded, obviously annoyed, and told him to call her after school. He dumped his tray and hurried out.

There was no sign of her when he stepped into the main hallway. He walked the path to her locker, but he didn't find her there. He knew she rode to school with Puck that morning. He remembered the sickness in his stomach when he saw them roll into the parking lot and kiss in the front seat of his truck until the late bell rang.

He checked for her in the girl's bathroom in between her locker and the cafeteria. No luck. He checked the two janitor's closet they'd marked as their territory a few times. Nothing.

He didn't know what possessed him to check the auditorium. They didn't use it often. It was out of the way, and the acoustics always made him paranoid. Someone hearing Rachel's moans bouncing off the curved walls was the last way he wanted them to get caught.

Not that he wanted them to be caught. But, you know, he imagined it a few times. It was a much hotter as a fantasy than it would be as a consequence of them boning on the stage between classes.

She was in the back row of seats – legs curled, head bowed against her knees, arms wrapped tightly around her body. He ascended the stairs and slinked into the seat next to her softly calling her name. He heard her breath back her tears.

"What do you want?"

"Checking on you," he answered reaching for her shoulder. She shrugged it off. Sighing, he posed, "Are you okay? I saw you fighting with Puck."

"He's an idiot," she snapped.

Hope sparked in his chest. Rachel was finally going to see what he saw in Puck. Maybe she'd finally dump him. And then, well, he didn't know what would happen then, but he really wanted to watch her kick Puck to the curb.

He hid his smile well. "What'd he do?"

She pulled her hair over one shoulder. His eyes focused on the tender skin on her neck. He imagined the sounds she'd make when he sucked on it in the back of his mind.

"Just talking out of his ass again. He's pissed that I won't sleep with him. He said I have no right to walk around with my attitude and not give it up. He said there are other girls he could be getting it from."

"He does get it from other girls."

"Santana's been holding out on him. I think she's sick of being his whore on the side."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Good for her." He waited all of twenty seconds before asking, "So, are you going to dump him?"

His optimism fizzled when she negatively shook her head and casted off his suggestion. "I'll let him get bored without me. He'll apologize after a couple days."

His face twisted. His spine straightened. There was no way he heard her right. "Are you serious?" Her eyes widened at his bitter tone. "He's a fucking asshole! You don't even like him! Why the fuck are you with him?"

He didn't realize how loud he was until his echo bounced off the walls.

Rachel's eyes narrowed into angry slits. "I can do whatever I want. You should know that by now."

He scoffed, "Well you should know you do a lot of stupid shit."

"Don't call me stupid!"

"I didn't call you stupid. I said what you do is stupid."

"There's no difference!"

"Stop being so fucking sensitive. I'm trying to help you!"

"By insulting me?"

"It works for Puck!"

He never saw her hand fly towards his face. One second he was staring her down and the next his head flew to the side, his cheek pulsing with pain. Rachel sucked in a quick breath and pulled her hand back like she'd just touched a flame. He held the side of his face and stretched his jaw from side to side.

The silence was thick.

He didn't give her the chance to change it. He pushed himself out of the chair and marched out of the auditorium swearing that he was done with her – done with all of it.

Four days passed without a word of communication on his end. She ignored him for the first two. On day three, Monday, she tried making eye contact in the hall. On the forth day, she called and even attempted to coax him to her with a dirty text.

He deleted it.

When this thing started between them, it was meant to make them feel better, and lately she only made him feel like shit. He felt dumb. And used. He felt like there was a bigger picture Rachel was going to reveal, and he knew that it would break him.

He wasn't going to let that happen. He had it cut it off before she cut him off.

Rachel wasn't worth it. He repeated the mantra to himself over and over, in the morning, in the shower, at school and after.

He almost believed it.

She had the nerve to ambush him on Friday - the final day of school before winter break. He had stayed after for extra math help. Stats were fucking hard, but his teacher was cool about his holiday being an hour shorter and let him correct a quiz. He added twenty-one points to his grade, and was finally done with school for that calendar year, so he was smiling for the first time in days.

Until he found Rachel sitting in the bed of his truck, her fist propping her chin up on the tailgate.

"About time," she groaned. "It's freezing out here."

Her jacket and jeans were thin. The voice in the back of his head told him to offer her his coat, but his ego quickly regained control, reminding him of the way her hand felt against his cheek.

"What are you doing in there?"

"I was going to sit in the truck, but you locked it," she spoke as if he was guilty of something. "We live in a cow town. No one locks doors."

"What are you doing here?" He growled through clenched teeth. It was so easy to be angry with her. It felt natural, like he was supposed to.

Her expression softened. She sat up on her knees and scooted against the tailgate. She put both hands on the edge. The height from the truck allowed her to look him straight in the eye. He didn't like it. He was comfortable with his tallness.

"You didn't answer my calls."

"Why should I?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out. He stumped her. He wasn't obligated to her. She closed her mouth and refocused.

"Don't you miss me?"

More than he's willing to admit. "No."

"Liar."

He shook his head and reached for the latch keeping the tailgate closed. He tugged, yanking it away from her hands, and lowered it. He stepped aside. "Get out."

Her eyes glazed over, and her voice went soft. "What?"

"You heard me."

"But-"

"Get the fuck out of my truck!"

She reared back like he'd slapped her. The feelings were probably similar. She slid her legs over the truck's edge. Her face was still pale from the shock of his words. She moved slowly. He didn't have the energy to rush her.

Once she was far enough from the vehicle, he pushed the tailgate up and stalked to the driver side door. He got in quickly and made sure she was out of the way before firing up the engine and pulling out of his space.

He drove on autopilot out of the parking lot with her figure shrinking in the rearview mirror.

That night, he was still reeling from the confrontation he had with Rachel in the parking lot earlier that afternoon. He couldn't get the image of her face out of his head. She stared back at him with teary eyes every time he closed him. It was torture. He wanted to hate her. It was easy to be mad at her, but he couldn't take that final step. Whenever he thought he was close, he'd remember something – her lips, her hands, her hair and the way it tickled his neck, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed at his dumb jokes.

It scared him that sex was the last thing he thought about.

He didn't miss it.

No, that was a lie. He missed it. He just missed her more, and he wanted to hate her for that more than anything.

He moved robotically around his house that night almost wishing that his mom were there to at least boss him around. He'd rather do chores or sit through one of her lifetime movies than be alone.

It was just past ten when he fell into bed, showered and wearing a pair of boxers, ready for the day to end.

He was woken up from a restless sleep almost two hours later.

The door creaked open. Light from the hallway streamed against his eyes. He turned his head away from it. He heard soft footsteps, but he couldn't be sure. Then, a moment later, he felt a rush of cool air. Something – no, someone – slipped into his bed.

He rose from his sleepy state and opened his eyes in just enough time to see Rachel tucking herself in next to him.

The drowsiness clouded his judgment. She didn't give him an opportunity. Her body pressed against his. He felt so much of her warm skin. If she was wearing anything, it wasn't much. Her arm snaked across his chest. Her leg followed suit hooking itself around his hips until she was partly on top of him. Hot breath fanned against his neck. Her boobs flattened between their chests.

She felt incredible, but he made a promise to himself. This couldn't happen.

His hand curled around her wrist. She fought against it and begged, "Please."

The watery tone of her voice alerted him. He reached blindly through the darkness for her cheek. His fingertips made contact with damp skin. He heard her breathing back tears.

He murmured her name. She whimpered. It was the first time he'd said it in days.

"Don't make me go away."

He wasn't. "Tell me why you're crying."

She tightened her legs around him and pressed her cheek over his heart. Her hands were clinging to him like she wanted to crawl under his skin. "I was so mad at you," she began. "After you left I went to see Noah. I couldn't be alone. It hurt too much. I had to be with someone, and I was going to do it." She let out a broken little sob that made his heart hurt. "I was going to sleep with him."

He knew she wouldn't be in his bed if she had.

"But I couldn't do it. I tried, and it seemed fine. He was so happy, but I froze."

"Why?"

"He wasn't you," she strained as if he should already know. She balled her hand into a tiny fist and pressed it against his ribs. "Don't you understand? I only want you. Even when I'm with him, even when he makes me mad, I'm still thinking of you, wishing I was with you. And I hate it. I hate this feeling. I don't want it. I hate you for giving it to me."

His hand slid into the back of her hair. He felt the tension in her body loosen when he finally gave in and touched her. "I know that feeling."

Her hand traveled over both their bodies like she was memorizing the way they fit. "We're so good together."

"Too good."

"I don't like it when you don't talk to me."

"I didn't know what to say."

"I'm sorry I hit you," she apologized and added a kiss to his chest for emphasis. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry I yelled," he returned.

"I deserved it."

"No, you didnt't." He followed the line of her spine to the small of her back with his fingers. He stroked the skin right above her curves. He'd missed doing that. "That's why it makes me so mad when he makes you upset. You don't deserve to have someone like him hurt you. He shouldn't have that right."

"He keeps me safe."

Her words scared him more than they should. "What do you mean?"

"Before Noah, I was tortured every day. People would be so cruel. Then I met Noah. I saw the way people were afraid of him. He was so easy to convince. All I had to do was flirt and pretend. I knew what he'd want in a girlfriend. I played the part perfectly. When word got around, the bullying stopped. Noah actually became my friend. I started caring about him, but he ran around with other girls and it hurt. I was afraid that people would catch on. They'd think I was a loser again, and I was so upset and scared, I just wanted to feel good again."

"And that's when we met."

She nodded. "You were so nice to me that day. I had to do something to keep you."

"That's why we-"

"Yes."

Her confession hung heavily in the air above them.

"Are you angry?" She tempted the fates by asking. She couldn't handle another rejection.

He let his final walls crumble. There was no reason to stay hidden behind them anymore. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. I did it for the same reason. I mean, I'm only with her to be someone. At least, I was before. Now I'm with her because…I don't even know anymore. It's gone so far."

"You can't see your way out."

"No," he sighed and tipped his head down to kiss the top of her head. "But I see you."

"And?"

"I want to kiss you."

He felt her smile against his skin. She looked up at him and traced his jaw. "Then kiss me."

He did, and it felt like the air was breathed back into his lungs. The weight holding him down, the dark cloud above him vanished the moment their lips touched.

It escalated quickly from there.

Her tongue pushed between his lips, reclaiming his mouth. He moaned at the taste. She was sweeter than she'd ever been. She brought his hand to her left breast and held it there until her nipple was hard under his touch. He squeezed and commanded her to sit up. He tugged her waist higher on his stomach, and forced himself not to whimper from the sensation of her wet panties sliding against his skin.

Once her chest was close, he caught her vulnerable breast in his mouth and latched onto her with skilled, quick sucks. Whining, she ran her hand through the back of his hair forcing him closer. She was so desperate. He could barely breath. He rolled her nipple between his teeth just so she'd flinch away.

"Don't bite," she smiled through her warning.

He kissed her nipple. "Let me breathe."

She scoffed and arched her back so he'd restart. "You can breathe just…" He slid his hand between her legs and circled her with his tongue before flipping them. Her back hit the mattress, and she gasped, "Oh."

He thumbed her clit through her underwear until her words melted into a stream of his favorite noises. When he pulled back, she reached for him. He pushed his boxers down. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He lifted one of her legs and kissed from her ankle to the inside of her thigh. Her soaked slit was visible through the cotton. His tongue traced it once before yanking the underwear away. Her legs parted instantly for him.

His thought snapped back to what she confessed several minutes before. His finger stroked the soft skin between her legs. She tossed her head back on his pillow as he probed her core. She titled her hips silently asking for more. He pushed one finger into her and husked, "How did you think you could give this to him?"

She made a pathetic little noise. "I couldn't."

"Tell me why."

"I already-"

He silenced her with a swift lick and murmured against her folds, "Tell me again." He followed his command with another lick and swirl of his tongue.

She clutched at the sheets, writhing against his mouth. He knew it was impossible for her to speak while he did this, but it felt too good to stop. He wanted to hear her say it again, naked, begging, with his mouth working her into places she couldn't get to with anyone else. "Not…you," she panted and tugged on his hair.

Satisfied, he brought her to a quick orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while she rode out the pleasure on his tongue. He lips were coated with her taste when he crawled up her body. She knew this and still brought his mouth to hers for a deep kiss.

She wasn't turned on by tasting herself. She was turned on by tasting herself on him.

He didn't let another moment pass. He stroked his stiff cock, muttering how he fucking needs her right now. She widened her legs and anchored her hands on his shoulders. Squeezing, she whispered, "Please," and he rocked himself into her.

His eyes fell shut when they found their rhythm. She was in his ear chanting his name and the lord's and a stream of yes yes yes.

He buried his face against her neck and told her how tight, how hot, how good she was. She kissed his ear, and he kneaded her hip.

Eventually, when he knew he couldn't take much more, he pressed his hand back between her legs. She came with his name falling off her tongue, and he followed immediately stuttering hers.

Afterwards, her body was still buzzing. He blinked lazily and caressed her cheek with his nose. Silently, he was counting down the seconds until she pulled away just like every other time.

When she finally did, he thought he was going to cry.

But instead of her normal routine, she crawled around on the floor until she found his shirt. She slid it over her body and ran her hands over the worn cotton. It dwarfed her. He would have laughed if he wasn't stunned.

She crawled back into bed and snuggled her face into his pillow. Her hand snaked down his torso, and she ran a single finger over his flaccid length. "Put your boxers back on. I don't want that bare thing poking me in the morning."

He swallowed his fear. "In the morning?"

She curled both her arms around his and kissed his shoulder. "Will we get in trouble if I stay?"

"N-no."

"Then let's go to sleep. I'm tired."

He found his underwear and covered himself before making himself comfortable against her. He didn't know how much he'd wished she'd stay in his bed until she finally insisted on it. His arm hooked around her waist, and he knew she was smiling. With a final kiss to the back of her head, he rested his head on his pillow and let himself enjoy the feeling of sharing his bed with his favorite person.