[NYADA is everything, but Puckerman doesn't know that. And even if he did, it wouldn't necessarily matter. It's all relative, and all that matters is how Rachel feels about it and what that means for him and for life itself (and that's so fucking Zen of him), regardless of what exactly NYADA is. It sounds like a bad STD, and if it was Santana saying something about NYADA, he'd point-blank ask if she picked up an ointment for that. He's not really a guy with goals, short of getting the fuck out of Lima and fucking as many chicks as he can in the process (because he's a stud and there's no reason not to, okay?). He doesn't have a plan because nobody ever believed in him and he never really believed in himself, never really believed he ever had anything worth a damn to give the world except for the eight thick inches between his thighs and a daughter who's being raised by the biological mother of the hot Jewgirl woman who stands in front of him. College? He hadn't even applied. What was the fucking point? He could just work a trade or something, go work at Hummel's Tire and Lube with Finn or clean pools or whatever. It didn't fucking matter.]
[Her hands in his, he can actually feel the fabric of the dress slip down her body, her bare skin pressing hot against his forearms until the only things separating them are her bra and the clothes he wears. He drops her wrists (her body is so warm), his callused palms sliding over her ribs - fuck, she's tiny - and up her back, his fingertips sliding along the band of her bra as her arms curve around his neck to hold him as she presses her lips to his.] Mmmm, babe. [He murmurs against her lips, his eyes closing the remainder of the way as he blindly unfastens her bra, his hands drawing the fabric around to the front of her body and dropping the bra as he cups her breasts in his hands, his thumbs finding her nipples and drawing circles around them slowly. She stands naked before him, his kisses persistent and soft, his touches gentle and reassuring. He means to work her up, wanting her to beg him for reasons other than wanting to just forget the feeling of rejection.] Beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful, B. You know that, right? People don't tell you that shit, but it's true.
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hot Jewgirlwoman who stands in front of him. College? He hadn't even applied. What was the fucking point? He could just work a trade or something, go work at Hummel's Tire and Lube with Finn or clean pools or whatever. It didn't fucking matter.][Her hands in his, he can actually feel the fabric of the dress slip down her body, her bare skin pressing hot against his forearms until the only things separating them are her bra and the clothes he wears. He drops her wrists (her body is so warm), his callused palms sliding over her ribs - fuck, she's tiny - and up her back, his fingertips sliding along the band of her bra as her arms curve around his neck to hold him as she presses her lips to his.] Mmmm, babe. [He murmurs against her lips, his eyes closing the remainder of the way as he blindly unfastens her bra, his hands drawing the fabric around to the front of her body and dropping the bra as he cups her breasts in his hands, his thumbs finding her nipples and drawing circles around them slowly. She stands naked before him, his kisses persistent and soft, his touches gentle and reassuring. He means to work her up, wanting her to beg him for reasons other than wanting to just forget the feeling of rejection.] Beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful, B. You know that, right? People don't tell you that shit, but it's true.