Never again (Quinntana)

Chapter 33 - Puck, again

Warning: mature content. Possible triggers. Viewer's discretion is advised. List of TW below.

A summary of this chapter can be found at the beginning of the next one if you'd like to skip it <3

I apologize, as I should have done this a long time ago, but here I go. There are possible triggers in this chapter, including mentions of sexual intercourse, r*pe parallels, self-harm.
As mentioned above, a summary of this chapter can be found at the beginning of the next one if you would like to skip it <3

******

Santana reached Puck's house in ten minutes. She didn't go right in, though. 

A cold sense of dread started filling her stomach as she realized what she was about to do. 

This wasn't the first time she had run to Puck. She had been doing it a lot in the past weeks. 

Too often. 

Too many times to count, almost. But she had counted. That would be the tenth time she fucked with Puck.

Ten times. 

Her stomach heaved. She leaned against the wall, her hands on her knees.

Every time she went, she became number, and number. Every time she went, she became more and more disgusted with herself. Good, she thought.

The thought of Quinn, of what could have been, of what still could be, was unbearable. What she did with Puck- it made it go away. It kept her feelings at bay, her mind numb, her body tired. It didn't matter that it made her feel sick. It didn't matter that it made her hate herself even more. She deserved it. 

Santana swallowed the ball in her throat. You want this, she thought. Ten minutes, and it will be done. Come on.

She forced her feet to move forward. One foot ahead of the other, until she found herself in front of Puck's doorway. She tried to lift her arm. It felt like she was moving through jelly. Again, she strengthened her resolve. 

The doorbell rang. Santana's hand rested on the button. She couldn't remember how or when she had gotten it there.

The door opened, revealing a smiling Puck, dressed in jeans and a tank top. "Come in, beautiful."

Santana refrained the urge to gag. She forced a smile, walking in before she could run away.

"Hi, Puck." 

The raven-haired girl made her way to the kitchen, as Puck closed the door behind her. She opened the top cabinet to get the whiskey bottle. Liquid courage, they called it.

She downed her first glass, was pouring her second when Puck appeared behind her.

"You like whiskey that much, eh?"

Santana shrugged. This kind of remark didn't deserve an answer.

"Pour me a glass?" Puck asked, handing her his glass.

Santana complied, subtly using the opportunity to get around him and put some distance between them.

Throwing him a glance, she walked to the couch.

The urge to gag overwhelmed her again. Don't look behind you. 

She closed her eyes when Puck's hands settled on her hips, preventing her from sitting down. She kept them closed as she felt Puck's experienced hands turning her to face him and unzipping her fly, kept them closed when she heard the zip of Puck's pants. Her hands gripped his shirt reflexively, balling the fabric into her fists. If he noticed, he no doubt took it for a reflection of Santana's excitement.

With a growl, he grabbed Santana's butt, pulling her to him. Santana gasped as she felt him enter her. Her nails dug into her palms as he rocked against her, his hands still groping her from behind.

Gasps of pain escaped her mouth. She managed to make them seem like sounds of pleasure. Couldn't see how anyone would buy it.

Her eyes stayed closed as Puck half-moaned, half-growled, coming inside her yet again. She didn't even know if he'd used protection. 

Eventually Puck moved Santana away from him, breaking contact. Only then did Santana open her eyes. Immediately her hands flew to her jeans, buttoning and zipping them up as fast as she could.

Puck's ritual phrase echoed in the air. "Good fuck, eh?" 

This time, Santana didn't have the strength to answer. Her hand reached for the door, and in less than a second she found herself on the street, the door slamming shut behind her. 

I can't breathe. 

Panic started welling up inside her at the thought.

I can't breathe. 

She tried to inhale. All she managed was a wheeze of agony. 

I need to- I need to move. I can't breathe. I can't breathe!

Just like that her feet started moving, each stride more powerful than the first.

Thump. Thump.

I can't- 

Thump thump. Thump thump.

Faster. I need to get out of here- 

She willed her legs to speed up. 

Clank. 

She nearly tripped when her first heel snapped against the pavement, hindering her run.

No- No, I can't stop. Not now. No- I- 

Without thinking, she slammed her other foot against the ground. 

The second heel broke with a satisfying snap, evening out her footing. Santana picked up her pace again.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

Nothing mattered but her run now. Her vision went blurry as she let her body take the lead. 

Thump thump. 

I need to get away, I need to get away, I need to-

Puck's face flashed in her mind.

Suddenly the ball in her throat grew exponentially, cutting off her oxygen.

NO! No- Not him- 

She bit the inside of her cheek until blood flooded her mouth.

Thump thump.

Not him. 

Another picture flashed through her mind. 

Green eyes. Green, worried, comforting eyes.

Santana bit the inside of her cheek even harder.

Thump thump.

On and on, she ran.

A.N.

Hold on, Santana. You'll be okay. 

This chapter gives me anxiety, and I wrote it. So I apologize for putting you through that. Don't worry, we're almost out of the woods now. More Quinntana to come 😊

Have a nice evening,

Love,

Alya