Fic: Making Mountains (Glee, Puck/Kurt, R)
Title: Making Mountains
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: hard R? light NC17? Let's just say it's not for kids.
Word count: 2430
Series: Trains
Summary: Puck's always had a thing about his mohawk. Kurt, not so much.
A/N: Part two of the little post-Trains trilogy. The kink this time is 'service', with a side of 'washing/cleaning' and 'shaving'.
It’s Kurt’s third day of classes when he comes home to find Puck standing in their bathroom, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. He’s still wearing the jeans he wore to his landscaping job that morning, a sleeveless undershirt stretched across his chest and his work boots still on.
Kurt’s been tripping over Puck’s work boots nearly every day since Puck started working for Artie’s uncle, so the fact that Puck hasn’t already kicked them off in the middle of their bedroom is Kurt’s first clue that something’s wrong. Then there’s the fact that Puck doesn’t even look up when Kurt leans against the bathroom door to watch him frowning at his own reflection, occasionally reaching up to run a hand along his mohawk.
“Everything all right?”
At the sound of his voice Puck does look up, but when he sees Kurt he lets out a sigh and turns back to the mirror. “Babe, you dig the ‘hawk, right?”
Kurt bites his lip as he considers the question. The truth is he’s always thought Puck’s mohawk was sort of…well, stupid. But it’s so much a part of him that Kurt can’t imagine him without it; he knows Puck had shaved it off once a few years ago, but at the time Kurt hadn’t really been paying much attention to what Puck was doing.
“Why do you ask?” he says, and okay, maybe he’s avoiding the question a little.
“I think the guys at work were making fun of it today.” Puck frowns in the mirror again, turning his head one way, then the other, as though he’s seeing it for the first time. “I mean, they were mostly talking in Spanish, so I couldn’t really understand them, but I could tell.”
“Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like Schue ever taught us anything we could use.”
Kurt rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. Instead he pushes himself off the door frame and crosses to the sink, stopping next to Puck to take in their reflections in the mirror.
“You know I love you no matter what,” Kurt says, his gaze following the path of Puck’s fingers through his mohawk. “If you like your mohawk, it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks. But now that you mention it, maybe a change would lend a certain…gravitas to your appearance.”
For a second Puck just looks at him in the mirror, then he frowns and looks at his mohawk again. “Wait, so you don’t like it?”
Kurt lets out a breath, then he turns away from the mirror to face Puck. “All I’m saying is that they might take you more seriously without it.”
He reaches up and runs his fingers along the edge of Puck’s mohawk at the base of his skull, stroking until Puck’s head drops a little and he starts to relax. When he pushes back into Kurt’s hand, Kurt smiles in spite of himself and lets his fingers trail down to rest on the back of Puck’s neck.
“You know as well as I do that you’d be attractive no matter what your hair looked like.”
Puck smirks at him in the mirror, and Kurt rolls his eyes and wills himself not to blush. When Puck turns to face him Kurt expects a crude proposition, and he’s fully prepared to take Puck up on it, schoolwork or no, but instead Puck’s hands land on his waist and he levels a serious look at Kurt.
“It’s just that I’ve always kind of thought of the ‘hawk as being my superpower, you know? I shaved it off once back in high school and totally lost my mojo.”
“I imagine that had more to do with spending less time on random acts of bullying and more time on Glee,” Kurt says, hands sliding up the front of Puck’s undershirt to flatten against his chest. “Besides, as your husband I can attest that your superpower has nothing to do with your hair.”
That gets him another grin, then Puck’s hands slide down his back to cup his ass. “Oh, yeah?”
“Definitely,” Kurt answers, arms sliding around Puck’s neck and easing him forward for a kiss. His fingers slide along the bottom of Puck’s mohawk while they kiss, stroking the soft hairs and the smooth skin of his scalp.
“But you think I should shave it off,” Puck says when they come up for air, and Kurt can tell it’s actually bothering him, so he doesn’t laugh. Instead he runs his hand across Puck’s scalp, fingers tracing the thin strip of hair, and he’s certainly not going to admit it to Puck, but he might actually miss it a little.
“I’m not opposed to the idea.”
“Okay.” Puck takes a deep breath, as though he’s trying to convince himself as much as Kurt. “What the hell, right? Not like it won’t grow back.”
He lets go of Kurt and reaches for the hem of his undershirt, then he pulls it up and off. Kurt’s eyes glaze over a little at the sight, and when Puck smirks at him Kurt knows he didn’t miss it.
“You want to stick around and help, or do you have too much homework?”
“It can wait,” Kurt answers, because the truth is he has a lot of homework, but they’ve only been living on their own for a few weeks, and as far as he’s concerned the fact that they’re still newlyweds means he’s supposed to blow off his responsibilities for sex. He’s fairly sure his father wouldn’t agree, but then again, this is one of those topics he’d just as soon never discuss with his father.
Puck’s hands are already on him, at any rate, working open his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. “I’m not sure why shaving your mohawk necessitates me taking my clothes off.”
“Shower first, then shave,” Puck answers, grinning as he pops open the button on Kurt’s pants. And Kurt can live with that, so he helps Puck get the rest of their clothes off before he turns on the shower.
It’s not the first time they’ve showered together since they moved into the apartment. If Puck had his way they’d share a shower every morning, but they both know if they did they’d never get anywhere on time. So Kurt lets Puck pull him into the shower on weekends, but this is the first time Puck’s done it on a weekday.
Kurt lets himself be steered under the warm spray, back against cool tiles and his arms sliding around Puck’s waist to pull him close. Puck kisses him slow, hands on the sides of Kurt’s neck and his thumbs stroking along Kurt’s jaw. He’s pressed against Kurt from his chest to his knees, warm and solid and even after all this time, Kurt still can’t believe he gets to come home to this every night.
His hands come up to cover Puck’s, fingers sliding together and then Puck’s pulling his arms over his head and pressing them against the tile too. Puck’s thumb finds Kurt’s ring, sliding across warm metal the way he’s done a thousand times. Kurt jokes that he’s going to wear right through it one of these days, but the truth is his heart still picks up speed every time Puck does it.
He arches off the wall, one leg wrapping around Puck’s thigh in an effort to pull him even closer. He’s making needy noises in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t try to stop them, because he wants Puck to know exactly how much he wants this. How much he wants Puck, with or without his mohawk.
Puck’s mouth leaves his to work his way down Kurt’s neck, mouth open and teeth grazing his skin. He’s breathing hard, hot puffs of breath warming Kurt’s neck and sending little shivers of want down his spine. He’s rocking against Kurt, hips moving in slow, distracting circles, and Kurt moans and squeezes the hands that are still wrapped around his.
Puck pulls back to look at him, eyes dark and it’s all Kurt can do to keep from pushing forward to kiss him again. His hands are still pressed against the tiles, but a second later Puck lets go and reaches for the shampoo. When he straightens up again Kurt reaches out, closing a hand around Puck’s wrist.
“Let me.”
The only answer he gets is an arched eyebrow and then a little shrug, but Puck lets Kurt pull the shampoo out of his grip. He turns around so his back is to Kurt, then he leans back and lets Kurt work shampoo through his mohawk and along his scalp.
They’ve done this before too, and usually Puck just laughs and reminds Kurt that there’s not much worth washing up there. But this time he just closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward, shoulders relaxed and giving himself over to the sensation of Kurt massaging his scalp.
He moans low in his throat, the sound going straight to Kurt’s cock, but he ignores it and focuses on digging his thumbs into the knot of tension at the top of Puck’s spine. “Rough day?”
Puck hums in reply, then he turns his head just far enough to catch a glimpse of Kurt. “Better now.”
He lets Kurt wash them both off, hands moving restlessly on whatever parts of Kurt he can reach while he lets Kurt work. Once they’re both rinsed off Kurt turns off the water, then he takes the towel Puck holds out for him and wraps it around his waist. He watches while Puck runs his own towel over his scalp, then down his chest before he finally wraps it around his waist.
When Kurt looks up again Puck’s watching him, smirk firmly in place and Kurt feels himself blush as he turns away to dig Puck’s razor out of the cabinet. Hands land on his back, sliding down to his waist just above his towel, then he’s being pulled back into the solid warmth of Puck’s chest.
“It’s kind of hot that you still get all embarrassed about checking me out, babe.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Kurt lies, but his ears are turning red now too, and Puck lets out a chuckle and plants a kiss on the side of Kurt’s neck.
Kurt turns in his grip and reaches up to run a hand over Puck’s scalp, fingers tracing the edge of Puck’s mohawk for a moment before he looks at Puck again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Puck shrugs, and Kurt knows him well enough to know that means he’s still worried about losing his mojo somehow just by cutting his hair. It’s a little ridiculous, but he knows it’s important to Puck, so instead of laughing Kurt just lets his hand rest on the back of Puck’s neck while he waits for an answer.
“I’m sure,” Puck finally answers, then he takes a deep breath and lets go of Kurt. “But you better do it, babe.”
Kurt nods and leaves the bathroom long enough to retrieve the chair from his desk, setting it in the center of the cramped bathroom and pushing Puck down onto it. He plugs in the razor and sets it on the sink, then he runs his hand down the center of Puck’s scalp again. When Puck leans back into the touch Kurt smiles and doesn’t make a joke about big, dumb dogs. Because that’s sort of what Puck looks like at the moment, leaning back to let Kurt pet him, but he’s not dumb, and anyway Kurt knows this is a big step for him.
The actual haircut doesn’t take long. There’s not much hair to cut, after all, and all it takes is a few passes of Puck’s razor and his mohawk is just a memory. When Kurt’s finished he sets the razor down and runs his hand along Puck’s newly shorn scalp, fingers stroking the soft skin as he brushes stray hairs off Puck’s head.
He expects Puck to stand up and look in the mirror, maybe to go back to frowning at his reflection and forget all about what they started in the shower. Instead Puck reaches for Kurt’s hand where it’s still brushing at his shoulders, tugging until Kurt takes the hint and steps in front of him. Puck’s hands land on his thighs, pushing up under his towel to trace distracting little patterns on his skin.
“So?”
“So I was right, naturally,” Kurt answers. He reaches up to slide his fingers over Puck’s scalp again, watching the way Puck’s eyelids flutter at his touch. “People will take you much more seriously like this. It’s less pop-punk wannabe and more heavy metal.”
“Yeah?” Puck asks, and the way his voice lifts tells Kurt that he’s said the right thing. He figured a music analogy would go over better than big words like ‘gravitas’, anyway, and really all he needs is for the rest of his landscaping crew to stop thinking of him as some kid. Losing the mohawk may or may not do the trick, but it certainly won’t hurt.
“Definitely,” Kurt answers. He lets Puck slide his hands further up his thighs, pushing his towel off to pool on the floor. He glances down at Kurt’s erection, reaching out to close a hand around it and stroke while he raises an eyebrow at Kurt.
“So does this mean you still think I’m hot without the ‘hawk?”
“As though you could be anything less,” Kurt answers, his voice breaking a little as he rocks up into Puck’s touch.
Puck huffs a laugh and tightens his grip, thumb sliding over the tip of Kurt’s cock and dragging a breathy moan out of him. His hands are on Puck’s shoulders, knees locked and his legs shaking with the effort to hold himself up.
“Noah…”
“What do you want, Kurt? Tell me,” he says, and when Kurt looks down and sees the look in Puck’s eyes, his legs start to give out.
He’s not sure what Puck wants to hear, exactly, if he’s just trying to coax Kurt into talking dirty or if he’s looking for something else. But he knows what the truth is, so Kurt reaches up again, running one hand across Puck’s newly shorn scalp before he answers.
“Just for the record, the answer to that question is always going to be ‘you’.”
“Good,” Puck says, and when he stands up and steers Kurt out of the bathroom and toward their bed, Kurt doesn’t put up a fight.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: hard R? light NC17? Let's just say it's not for kids.
Word count: 2430
Series: Trains
Summary: Puck's always had a thing about his mohawk. Kurt, not so much.
A/N: Part two of the little post-Trains trilogy. The kink this time is 'service', with a side of 'washing/cleaning' and 'shaving'.
It’s Kurt’s third day of classes when he comes home to find Puck standing in their bathroom, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. He’s still wearing the jeans he wore to his landscaping job that morning, a sleeveless undershirt stretched across his chest and his work boots still on.
Kurt’s been tripping over Puck’s work boots nearly every day since Puck started working for Artie’s uncle, so the fact that Puck hasn’t already kicked them off in the middle of their bedroom is Kurt’s first clue that something’s wrong. Then there’s the fact that Puck doesn’t even look up when Kurt leans against the bathroom door to watch him frowning at his own reflection, occasionally reaching up to run a hand along his mohawk.
“Everything all right?”
At the sound of his voice Puck does look up, but when he sees Kurt he lets out a sigh and turns back to the mirror. “Babe, you dig the ‘hawk, right?”
Kurt bites his lip as he considers the question. The truth is he’s always thought Puck’s mohawk was sort of…well, stupid. But it’s so much a part of him that Kurt can’t imagine him without it; he knows Puck had shaved it off once a few years ago, but at the time Kurt hadn’t really been paying much attention to what Puck was doing.
“Why do you ask?” he says, and okay, maybe he’s avoiding the question a little.
“I think the guys at work were making fun of it today.” Puck frowns in the mirror again, turning his head one way, then the other, as though he’s seeing it for the first time. “I mean, they were mostly talking in Spanish, so I couldn’t really understand them, but I could tell.”
“Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like Schue ever taught us anything we could use.”
Kurt rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. Instead he pushes himself off the door frame and crosses to the sink, stopping next to Puck to take in their reflections in the mirror.
“You know I love you no matter what,” Kurt says, his gaze following the path of Puck’s fingers through his mohawk. “If you like your mohawk, it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks. But now that you mention it, maybe a change would lend a certain…gravitas to your appearance.”
For a second Puck just looks at him in the mirror, then he frowns and looks at his mohawk again. “Wait, so you don’t like it?”
Kurt lets out a breath, then he turns away from the mirror to face Puck. “All I’m saying is that they might take you more seriously without it.”
He reaches up and runs his fingers along the edge of Puck’s mohawk at the base of his skull, stroking until Puck’s head drops a little and he starts to relax. When he pushes back into Kurt’s hand, Kurt smiles in spite of himself and lets his fingers trail down to rest on the back of Puck’s neck.
“You know as well as I do that you’d be attractive no matter what your hair looked like.”
Puck smirks at him in the mirror, and Kurt rolls his eyes and wills himself not to blush. When Puck turns to face him Kurt expects a crude proposition, and he’s fully prepared to take Puck up on it, schoolwork or no, but instead Puck’s hands land on his waist and he levels a serious look at Kurt.
“It’s just that I’ve always kind of thought of the ‘hawk as being my superpower, you know? I shaved it off once back in high school and totally lost my mojo.”
“I imagine that had more to do with spending less time on random acts of bullying and more time on Glee,” Kurt says, hands sliding up the front of Puck’s undershirt to flatten against his chest. “Besides, as your husband I can attest that your superpower has nothing to do with your hair.”
That gets him another grin, then Puck’s hands slide down his back to cup his ass. “Oh, yeah?”
“Definitely,” Kurt answers, arms sliding around Puck’s neck and easing him forward for a kiss. His fingers slide along the bottom of Puck’s mohawk while they kiss, stroking the soft hairs and the smooth skin of his scalp.
“But you think I should shave it off,” Puck says when they come up for air, and Kurt can tell it’s actually bothering him, so he doesn’t laugh. Instead he runs his hand across Puck’s scalp, fingers tracing the thin strip of hair, and he’s certainly not going to admit it to Puck, but he might actually miss it a little.
“I’m not opposed to the idea.”
“Okay.” Puck takes a deep breath, as though he’s trying to convince himself as much as Kurt. “What the hell, right? Not like it won’t grow back.”
He lets go of Kurt and reaches for the hem of his undershirt, then he pulls it up and off. Kurt’s eyes glaze over a little at the sight, and when Puck smirks at him Kurt knows he didn’t miss it.
“You want to stick around and help, or do you have too much homework?”
“It can wait,” Kurt answers, because the truth is he has a lot of homework, but they’ve only been living on their own for a few weeks, and as far as he’s concerned the fact that they’re still newlyweds means he’s supposed to blow off his responsibilities for sex. He’s fairly sure his father wouldn’t agree, but then again, this is one of those topics he’d just as soon never discuss with his father.
Puck’s hands are already on him, at any rate, working open his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. “I’m not sure why shaving your mohawk necessitates me taking my clothes off.”
“Shower first, then shave,” Puck answers, grinning as he pops open the button on Kurt’s pants. And Kurt can live with that, so he helps Puck get the rest of their clothes off before he turns on the shower.
It’s not the first time they’ve showered together since they moved into the apartment. If Puck had his way they’d share a shower every morning, but they both know if they did they’d never get anywhere on time. So Kurt lets Puck pull him into the shower on weekends, but this is the first time Puck’s done it on a weekday.
Kurt lets himself be steered under the warm spray, back against cool tiles and his arms sliding around Puck’s waist to pull him close. Puck kisses him slow, hands on the sides of Kurt’s neck and his thumbs stroking along Kurt’s jaw. He’s pressed against Kurt from his chest to his knees, warm and solid and even after all this time, Kurt still can’t believe he gets to come home to this every night.
His hands come up to cover Puck’s, fingers sliding together and then Puck’s pulling his arms over his head and pressing them against the tile too. Puck’s thumb finds Kurt’s ring, sliding across warm metal the way he’s done a thousand times. Kurt jokes that he’s going to wear right through it one of these days, but the truth is his heart still picks up speed every time Puck does it.
He arches off the wall, one leg wrapping around Puck’s thigh in an effort to pull him even closer. He’s making needy noises in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t try to stop them, because he wants Puck to know exactly how much he wants this. How much he wants Puck, with or without his mohawk.
Puck’s mouth leaves his to work his way down Kurt’s neck, mouth open and teeth grazing his skin. He’s breathing hard, hot puffs of breath warming Kurt’s neck and sending little shivers of want down his spine. He’s rocking against Kurt, hips moving in slow, distracting circles, and Kurt moans and squeezes the hands that are still wrapped around his.
Puck pulls back to look at him, eyes dark and it’s all Kurt can do to keep from pushing forward to kiss him again. His hands are still pressed against the tiles, but a second later Puck lets go and reaches for the shampoo. When he straightens up again Kurt reaches out, closing a hand around Puck’s wrist.
“Let me.”
The only answer he gets is an arched eyebrow and then a little shrug, but Puck lets Kurt pull the shampoo out of his grip. He turns around so his back is to Kurt, then he leans back and lets Kurt work shampoo through his mohawk and along his scalp.
They’ve done this before too, and usually Puck just laughs and reminds Kurt that there’s not much worth washing up there. But this time he just closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward, shoulders relaxed and giving himself over to the sensation of Kurt massaging his scalp.
He moans low in his throat, the sound going straight to Kurt’s cock, but he ignores it and focuses on digging his thumbs into the knot of tension at the top of Puck’s spine. “Rough day?”
Puck hums in reply, then he turns his head just far enough to catch a glimpse of Kurt. “Better now.”
He lets Kurt wash them both off, hands moving restlessly on whatever parts of Kurt he can reach while he lets Kurt work. Once they’re both rinsed off Kurt turns off the water, then he takes the towel Puck holds out for him and wraps it around his waist. He watches while Puck runs his own towel over his scalp, then down his chest before he finally wraps it around his waist.
When Kurt looks up again Puck’s watching him, smirk firmly in place and Kurt feels himself blush as he turns away to dig Puck’s razor out of the cabinet. Hands land on his back, sliding down to his waist just above his towel, then he’s being pulled back into the solid warmth of Puck’s chest.
“It’s kind of hot that you still get all embarrassed about checking me out, babe.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Kurt lies, but his ears are turning red now too, and Puck lets out a chuckle and plants a kiss on the side of Kurt’s neck.
Kurt turns in his grip and reaches up to run a hand over Puck’s scalp, fingers tracing the edge of Puck’s mohawk for a moment before he looks at Puck again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Puck shrugs, and Kurt knows him well enough to know that means he’s still worried about losing his mojo somehow just by cutting his hair. It’s a little ridiculous, but he knows it’s important to Puck, so instead of laughing Kurt just lets his hand rest on the back of Puck’s neck while he waits for an answer.
“I’m sure,” Puck finally answers, then he takes a deep breath and lets go of Kurt. “But you better do it, babe.”
Kurt nods and leaves the bathroom long enough to retrieve the chair from his desk, setting it in the center of the cramped bathroom and pushing Puck down onto it. He plugs in the razor and sets it on the sink, then he runs his hand down the center of Puck’s scalp again. When Puck leans back into the touch Kurt smiles and doesn’t make a joke about big, dumb dogs. Because that’s sort of what Puck looks like at the moment, leaning back to let Kurt pet him, but he’s not dumb, and anyway Kurt knows this is a big step for him.
The actual haircut doesn’t take long. There’s not much hair to cut, after all, and all it takes is a few passes of Puck’s razor and his mohawk is just a memory. When Kurt’s finished he sets the razor down and runs his hand along Puck’s newly shorn scalp, fingers stroking the soft skin as he brushes stray hairs off Puck’s head.
He expects Puck to stand up and look in the mirror, maybe to go back to frowning at his reflection and forget all about what they started in the shower. Instead Puck reaches for Kurt’s hand where it’s still brushing at his shoulders, tugging until Kurt takes the hint and steps in front of him. Puck’s hands land on his thighs, pushing up under his towel to trace distracting little patterns on his skin.
“So?”
“So I was right, naturally,” Kurt answers. He reaches up to slide his fingers over Puck’s scalp again, watching the way Puck’s eyelids flutter at his touch. “People will take you much more seriously like this. It’s less pop-punk wannabe and more heavy metal.”
“Yeah?” Puck asks, and the way his voice lifts tells Kurt that he’s said the right thing. He figured a music analogy would go over better than big words like ‘gravitas’, anyway, and really all he needs is for the rest of his landscaping crew to stop thinking of him as some kid. Losing the mohawk may or may not do the trick, but it certainly won’t hurt.
“Definitely,” Kurt answers. He lets Puck slide his hands further up his thighs, pushing his towel off to pool on the floor. He glances down at Kurt’s erection, reaching out to close a hand around it and stroke while he raises an eyebrow at Kurt.
“So does this mean you still think I’m hot without the ‘hawk?”
“As though you could be anything less,” Kurt answers, his voice breaking a little as he rocks up into Puck’s touch.
Puck huffs a laugh and tightens his grip, thumb sliding over the tip of Kurt’s cock and dragging a breathy moan out of him. His hands are on Puck’s shoulders, knees locked and his legs shaking with the effort to hold himself up.
“Noah…”
“What do you want, Kurt? Tell me,” he says, and when Kurt looks down and sees the look in Puck’s eyes, his legs start to give out.
He’s not sure what Puck wants to hear, exactly, if he’s just trying to coax Kurt into talking dirty or if he’s looking for something else. But he knows what the truth is, so Kurt reaches up again, running one hand across Puck’s newly shorn scalp before he answers.
“Just for the record, the answer to that question is always going to be ‘you’.”
“Good,” Puck says, and when he stands up and steers Kurt out of the bathroom and toward their bed, Kurt doesn’t put up a fight.