Fic: Evidence of Things Unseen (Glee, Puck/Kurt, NC17)
Title: Evidence of Things Unseen
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: NC17
Word count: 2200
Series: none
AO3 link: here
Summary: Puck never figured Kurt for a biter.
A/N: For jengeorge's prompt at kink bingo, since she is the only one who took pity on me and left me any prompts. Also she is feeling poorly so I thought I would try to distract her for a few minutes. I feel as though this is part of something much bigger, but ~2000 words is what I have time for. Unbetaed; enter at your peril etc.
There’s a fading bruise at the base of Puck’s neck, yellow around the edges and a weird purplish color in the center. It still hurts a little when he presses on it, but now it’s more of a dull pain than the sharp, insistent burst when it was still fresh.
The one at the top of his bicep is still blue and angry-looking, and Puck presses his thumb into the center and lets out a hiss. Anybody who happened to see it in would think it was from sports or maybe Fight Club, but he traces the shape with his fingertip, pictures the mouth that left it there and feels the blood rush to his dick.
And the thing is, Puck’s never really been the type to get off on pain. Sure, he’s gotten hard at Fight Club once or twice, but at the time he just wrote it off as adrenaline or whatever. He can’t blame this on adrenaline, though, not the rush he got the first time he saw the marks Kurt left on his skin, or the fact that he keeps going back for more.
Sometimes he thinks it’s not the pain so much as the fact that it’s Kurt marking him, Kurt’s teeth sinking into his skin and surprising a harsh gasp out of him every damn time, like he hasn’t done it a dozen times already. More than that, probably, but he still hasn’t gotten used to it, and maybe that’s the part Puck likes best.
He presses his thumb into the bruise on his arm again, lip caught between his teeth and watching himself in the mirror until the sting starts to fade.
He’s alone in the only bathroom of the shitty apartment he and Finn have shared since they graduated and none of them made good on their vows to get the hell out of this town. The mirror’s way past needing to be cleaned, but he can see well enough to make out the shape of Kurt’s mouth on his skin, the darker spots where Kurt’s perfect teeth sank in and hung on for a few seconds before he let go. He runs his hand over the older bruise again, then he reaches down to tug his t-shirt over his head and looks down at the pattern of blue-black and green marks covering his stomach.
He pushes his fingers against the biggest one, sucks in a breath at the sudden burst of pain and pictures Kurt on his knees in front of Puck, teeth scraping along Puck’s hip bone and biting down hard. He’d followed it up with the best blow job of Puck’s life, and he still isn’t sure if it was because Kurt was awesome at it, or because he could feel the sting of Kurt’s bite the entire time.
The apartment door opens and Puck swears under his breath as he reaches for his shirt. Finn’s not supposed to be home already, and Puck was counting on the time alone to relive the memory of Kurt’s mouth on him while he jerked off. Not that he can’t go jerk off in his bedroom; it wouldn’t be the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
But ever since Kurt started marking him, Puck has a thing about watching himself in the mirror, seeing every mark and picturing Kurt leaving it there. And he’s always liked how he looks just fine, but ever since this thing with Kurt started, he can’t get enough of his own reflection.
He’s pulling his shirt over his head when he hears footsteps coming down the hall, softer than Finn’s and his heart starts to pound when he hears a familiar voice say, “Leave it off.”
Puck tugs the shirt back off and looks over at Kurt, takes in pale skin and bright blue eyes and those perfect red lips of his. They’re not dating or anything, so Puck’s never really sure when he’s going to see Kurt next. Not often enough, he catches himself thinking, frowns at the thought but when Kurt raises an eyebrow he just says, “Finn’ll be back soon.”
Kurt shakes his head and edges his way into the bathroom, and as soon as he’s close enough to touch Puck reaches out without even thinking and pulls him close. His hands slide under Kurt’s coat to tug his shirt out of his jeans, then further down to cup his ass as he leans in to open his mouth against Kurt’s neck.
He doesn’t leave marks of his own, mainly because Kurt still lives with his folks, and his dad’s a lot more liable to ask questions than Puck’s mom ever was. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it, though, and sometimes he thinks Kurt might even let him.
“I just left him at home,” Kurt answers, but his voice is a little breathier than it was a second ago. “Carole was feeding him; chances are he’ll be there for hours.”
Kurt’s hands are moving on Puck’s bare chest as he talks, fingers brushing the marks he’s left behind. He never presses on them the way Puck does, and once or twice when they’re both spent and lying tangled in the center of Puck’s bed he’s caught Kurt frowning at Puck’s skin like maybe he feels a little bad about it.
But Puck doesn’t; in fact, he’s starting to wonder how he ever got off without this, without the hot press of Kurt’s mouth and the scrape of his teeth on whatever part of Puck he can reach.
There’s still a chance Finn will come home while Kurt’s still here. There’s always a chance, though, and sometimes Puck thinks that’s the part Kurt gets off on. Whatever the reason, Kurt’s willing to take the risk, and Puck’s not about to turn him down. He grips Kurt’s hips and steers him out of the bathroom, leaning in to kiss him hard as Puck pushes him down the short hall to his bedroom.
When they get there he kicks the door shut, then he gets to work getting Kurt out of his clothes. It’s a lot of fucking work - way more than he’s ever done with any girl, even - but Puck knows it’s worth it, so he doesn’t complain. Kurt has to help him a couple times, but between the two of them they finally get the rest of their clothes off.
Puck pushes Kurt down onto his bed, taking a second to admire the view of all that pale, unmarked skin before he crawls over Kurt and presses their lips together again. Their teeth click and even that makes Puck’s cock twitch, and he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t too busy trying to get as close to Kurt as possible.
He fumbles for the lube and pushes slick fingers inside Kurt, up on one elbow to watch Kurt’s eyes squeeze shut and his forehead wrinkle, like maybe it hurts a little. But he grinds down onto Puck’s hand anyway, trying to get him even deeper, and Puck knows that means he loves it.
Before long Kurt’s talking, saying Puck’s name over and over, and Puck’s pretty sure he doesn’t know he does that. But he does it every single time, like he’s been thinking about this just as much as Puck has, wondering when it will happen again and maybe even why they keep waiting so long before they give in.
Puck never asks, mostly because he’s still not sure he wants to hear the answer. But he knows he doesn’t want to give this up, Kurt with his back arched and his eyes closed, fingers pressing into Puck’s biceps and he probably doesn’t know he’s doing it, but his thumb’s pressed right against the center of the bite mark he left there just a few days ago. If he did know he’d probably stop, so Puck bites back the hiss at the fresh burst of pain and pulls his fingers out of Kurt.
It only takes a couple seconds to slick himself up, but Kurt’s already restless, hands still on his arms and his leg hooked around Puck’s waist to dig his heel into Puck’s spine. And he must be losing it, because even that feels good, but nothing compares to the moment when Puck bottoms out inside Kurt and he feels blunt teeth sink into his shoulder.
He lets out a surprised grunt and thrusts forward even harder, rolling his hips with each thrust and Kurt’s just hanging on, teeth digging into Puck’s skin hard enough that he wonders if Kurt will actually break it this time. It’s definitely going to leave a mark, maybe the biggest one yet, and just the thought of how it’s going to look makes Puck pick up speed.
He pushes up until he’s braced above Kurt, hands on the mattress on either side of him and snapping his hips forward in a steady pattern. He can still feel Kurt’s mouth on his shoulder even though it’s not there anymore, and when Kurt reaches up and runs his fingers over the bite mark Puck thrusts forward one last time and comes.
He wonders sometimes, when he’s alone with nothing but the mirror and his bruises, if Kurt ever marked Blaine this way. It’s hard to imagine a guy like that being into it, but then again, maybe that’s why they broke up. Maybe Kurt needed something Blaine couldn’t give him, something he found with Puck, and there was no way anybody saw that coming.
But Puck never asks if Kurt’s ever marked anybody else the way he marks Puck, partly because he doesn’t want to have to picture it, and partly because they’re not boyfriends, so it’s none of his business. They’re just…he doesn’t really know what they are. Friends, yeah, but whenever Puck tries to come up with a different label for it his stomach starts to tremble like it used to when he drank too much Jager.
So he tries not to think about it, but it’s hard when Kurt’s naked and still hard and running his fingers over Puck’s bruises like he’s kind of scared to touch. Puck turns into him and presses their mouths together, tongue pushing past Kurt’s teeth and his hand closing around Kurt’s dick to stroke hard and fast. Kurt’s panting against him, hips coming up off the bed and when Puck’s thumb slides across the tip of Kurt’s cock he breaks the kiss to scrape his teeth along the bottom of Puck’s chin.
It’s a weird place for Kurt to bite him, but it turns out Puck’s into weird, so he doesn’t complain. Instead he moves his hand a little faster, and when Kurt breathes a soft, “Puck,” and comes in his hand, Puck’s stomach does the trembling thing again.
He waits until Kurt stops shaking before he lets go, then he wipes his hand on the sheet and stretches out to press their shoulders together. Still touching, even though he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t want to. He’s pretty sure he could tell Kurt thanks, but he’s got stuff to do, and Kurt would get up and get dressed without an argument. But that’s the last thing Puck wants, even if he’d never say so out loud.
“How’d you get in here, anyway?”
“Finn gave Carole the spare key, just in case of emergency. Though I think by ‘emergency’, he meant in case she wanted to stop by and stock your fridge.”
Puck snorts a laugh at that, because yeah, that sounds like Finn. Not that he’d complain if Mrs. H wanted to come around with a homemade meal every once in awhile, but he’d rather Kurt let himself in.
“So do you want to hang out for awhile?” Puck asks, and as soon as he says it he wants to take it back, but he can’t. Instead he does his best to look like he doesn’t care one way or the other, turning his head and glancing at Kurt’s profile. “Finn hooked up the Playstation.”
He half expects Kurt to say no, to make up some excuse about needing to be somewhere or having homework or something. Because they’ve hung out together plenty of times, but Finn’s usually around, and if it’s just the two of them it feels more like…something.
“What if Finn comes home?”
“What the fuck does it matter?” Puck asks, and he knows he sounds kind of pissed, but he doesn’t try to hide it. “We can’t hang out or something?”
Kurt pushes up on one elbow to face him, just looking for a few beats, and Puck figures he’s about to get blown off. But then Kurt reaches out and runs his fingers over the bruise on Puck’s collar bone, shaking his head before he looks at Puck again. “I can stay, if you like.”
“So stay,” Puck says, even though his stomach’s doing that thing again. He catches Kurt’s hand where it’s still tracing the shape of his own mouth, lifts Kurt’s fingers to his lips and brushes a kiss across his palm. He’s not sure what makes him do it, but when Kurt’s eyes go kind of wide, Puck doesn’t try to take it back.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: NC17
Word count: 2200
Series: none
AO3 link: here
Summary: Puck never figured Kurt for a biter.
A/N: For jengeorge's prompt at kink bingo, since she is the only one who took pity on me and left me any prompts. Also she is feeling poorly so I thought I would try to distract her for a few minutes. I feel as though this is part of something much bigger, but ~2000 words is what I have time for. Unbetaed; enter at your peril etc.
There’s a fading bruise at the base of Puck’s neck, yellow around the edges and a weird purplish color in the center. It still hurts a little when he presses on it, but now it’s more of a dull pain than the sharp, insistent burst when it was still fresh.
The one at the top of his bicep is still blue and angry-looking, and Puck presses his thumb into the center and lets out a hiss. Anybody who happened to see it in would think it was from sports or maybe Fight Club, but he traces the shape with his fingertip, pictures the mouth that left it there and feels the blood rush to his dick.
And the thing is, Puck’s never really been the type to get off on pain. Sure, he’s gotten hard at Fight Club once or twice, but at the time he just wrote it off as adrenaline or whatever. He can’t blame this on adrenaline, though, not the rush he got the first time he saw the marks Kurt left on his skin, or the fact that he keeps going back for more.
Sometimes he thinks it’s not the pain so much as the fact that it’s Kurt marking him, Kurt’s teeth sinking into his skin and surprising a harsh gasp out of him every damn time, like he hasn’t done it a dozen times already. More than that, probably, but he still hasn’t gotten used to it, and maybe that’s the part Puck likes best.
He presses his thumb into the bruise on his arm again, lip caught between his teeth and watching himself in the mirror until the sting starts to fade.
He’s alone in the only bathroom of the shitty apartment he and Finn have shared since they graduated and none of them made good on their vows to get the hell out of this town. The mirror’s way past needing to be cleaned, but he can see well enough to make out the shape of Kurt’s mouth on his skin, the darker spots where Kurt’s perfect teeth sank in and hung on for a few seconds before he let go. He runs his hand over the older bruise again, then he reaches down to tug his t-shirt over his head and looks down at the pattern of blue-black and green marks covering his stomach.
He pushes his fingers against the biggest one, sucks in a breath at the sudden burst of pain and pictures Kurt on his knees in front of Puck, teeth scraping along Puck’s hip bone and biting down hard. He’d followed it up with the best blow job of Puck’s life, and he still isn’t sure if it was because Kurt was awesome at it, or because he could feel the sting of Kurt’s bite the entire time.
The apartment door opens and Puck swears under his breath as he reaches for his shirt. Finn’s not supposed to be home already, and Puck was counting on the time alone to relive the memory of Kurt’s mouth on him while he jerked off. Not that he can’t go jerk off in his bedroom; it wouldn’t be the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
But ever since Kurt started marking him, Puck has a thing about watching himself in the mirror, seeing every mark and picturing Kurt leaving it there. And he’s always liked how he looks just fine, but ever since this thing with Kurt started, he can’t get enough of his own reflection.
He’s pulling his shirt over his head when he hears footsteps coming down the hall, softer than Finn’s and his heart starts to pound when he hears a familiar voice say, “Leave it off.”
Puck tugs the shirt back off and looks over at Kurt, takes in pale skin and bright blue eyes and those perfect red lips of his. They’re not dating or anything, so Puck’s never really sure when he’s going to see Kurt next. Not often enough, he catches himself thinking, frowns at the thought but when Kurt raises an eyebrow he just says, “Finn’ll be back soon.”
Kurt shakes his head and edges his way into the bathroom, and as soon as he’s close enough to touch Puck reaches out without even thinking and pulls him close. His hands slide under Kurt’s coat to tug his shirt out of his jeans, then further down to cup his ass as he leans in to open his mouth against Kurt’s neck.
He doesn’t leave marks of his own, mainly because Kurt still lives with his folks, and his dad’s a lot more liable to ask questions than Puck’s mom ever was. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it, though, and sometimes he thinks Kurt might even let him.
“I just left him at home,” Kurt answers, but his voice is a little breathier than it was a second ago. “Carole was feeding him; chances are he’ll be there for hours.”
Kurt’s hands are moving on Puck’s bare chest as he talks, fingers brushing the marks he’s left behind. He never presses on them the way Puck does, and once or twice when they’re both spent and lying tangled in the center of Puck’s bed he’s caught Kurt frowning at Puck’s skin like maybe he feels a little bad about it.
But Puck doesn’t; in fact, he’s starting to wonder how he ever got off without this, without the hot press of Kurt’s mouth and the scrape of his teeth on whatever part of Puck he can reach.
There’s still a chance Finn will come home while Kurt’s still here. There’s always a chance, though, and sometimes Puck thinks that’s the part Kurt gets off on. Whatever the reason, Kurt’s willing to take the risk, and Puck’s not about to turn him down. He grips Kurt’s hips and steers him out of the bathroom, leaning in to kiss him hard as Puck pushes him down the short hall to his bedroom.
When they get there he kicks the door shut, then he gets to work getting Kurt out of his clothes. It’s a lot of fucking work - way more than he’s ever done with any girl, even - but Puck knows it’s worth it, so he doesn’t complain. Kurt has to help him a couple times, but between the two of them they finally get the rest of their clothes off.
Puck pushes Kurt down onto his bed, taking a second to admire the view of all that pale, unmarked skin before he crawls over Kurt and presses their lips together again. Their teeth click and even that makes Puck’s cock twitch, and he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t too busy trying to get as close to Kurt as possible.
He fumbles for the lube and pushes slick fingers inside Kurt, up on one elbow to watch Kurt’s eyes squeeze shut and his forehead wrinkle, like maybe it hurts a little. But he grinds down onto Puck’s hand anyway, trying to get him even deeper, and Puck knows that means he loves it.
Before long Kurt’s talking, saying Puck’s name over and over, and Puck’s pretty sure he doesn’t know he does that. But he does it every single time, like he’s been thinking about this just as much as Puck has, wondering when it will happen again and maybe even why they keep waiting so long before they give in.
Puck never asks, mostly because he’s still not sure he wants to hear the answer. But he knows he doesn’t want to give this up, Kurt with his back arched and his eyes closed, fingers pressing into Puck’s biceps and he probably doesn’t know he’s doing it, but his thumb’s pressed right against the center of the bite mark he left there just a few days ago. If he did know he’d probably stop, so Puck bites back the hiss at the fresh burst of pain and pulls his fingers out of Kurt.
It only takes a couple seconds to slick himself up, but Kurt’s already restless, hands still on his arms and his leg hooked around Puck’s waist to dig his heel into Puck’s spine. And he must be losing it, because even that feels good, but nothing compares to the moment when Puck bottoms out inside Kurt and he feels blunt teeth sink into his shoulder.
He lets out a surprised grunt and thrusts forward even harder, rolling his hips with each thrust and Kurt’s just hanging on, teeth digging into Puck’s skin hard enough that he wonders if Kurt will actually break it this time. It’s definitely going to leave a mark, maybe the biggest one yet, and just the thought of how it’s going to look makes Puck pick up speed.
He pushes up until he’s braced above Kurt, hands on the mattress on either side of him and snapping his hips forward in a steady pattern. He can still feel Kurt’s mouth on his shoulder even though it’s not there anymore, and when Kurt reaches up and runs his fingers over the bite mark Puck thrusts forward one last time and comes.
He wonders sometimes, when he’s alone with nothing but the mirror and his bruises, if Kurt ever marked Blaine this way. It’s hard to imagine a guy like that being into it, but then again, maybe that’s why they broke up. Maybe Kurt needed something Blaine couldn’t give him, something he found with Puck, and there was no way anybody saw that coming.
But Puck never asks if Kurt’s ever marked anybody else the way he marks Puck, partly because he doesn’t want to have to picture it, and partly because they’re not boyfriends, so it’s none of his business. They’re just…he doesn’t really know what they are. Friends, yeah, but whenever Puck tries to come up with a different label for it his stomach starts to tremble like it used to when he drank too much Jager.
So he tries not to think about it, but it’s hard when Kurt’s naked and still hard and running his fingers over Puck’s bruises like he’s kind of scared to touch. Puck turns into him and presses their mouths together, tongue pushing past Kurt’s teeth and his hand closing around Kurt’s dick to stroke hard and fast. Kurt’s panting against him, hips coming up off the bed and when Puck’s thumb slides across the tip of Kurt’s cock he breaks the kiss to scrape his teeth along the bottom of Puck’s chin.
It’s a weird place for Kurt to bite him, but it turns out Puck’s into weird, so he doesn’t complain. Instead he moves his hand a little faster, and when Kurt breathes a soft, “Puck,” and comes in his hand, Puck’s stomach does the trembling thing again.
He waits until Kurt stops shaking before he lets go, then he wipes his hand on the sheet and stretches out to press their shoulders together. Still touching, even though he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t want to. He’s pretty sure he could tell Kurt thanks, but he’s got stuff to do, and Kurt would get up and get dressed without an argument. But that’s the last thing Puck wants, even if he’d never say so out loud.
“How’d you get in here, anyway?”
“Finn gave Carole the spare key, just in case of emergency. Though I think by ‘emergency’, he meant in case she wanted to stop by and stock your fridge.”
Puck snorts a laugh at that, because yeah, that sounds like Finn. Not that he’d complain if Mrs. H wanted to come around with a homemade meal every once in awhile, but he’d rather Kurt let himself in.
“So do you want to hang out for awhile?” Puck asks, and as soon as he says it he wants to take it back, but he can’t. Instead he does his best to look like he doesn’t care one way or the other, turning his head and glancing at Kurt’s profile. “Finn hooked up the Playstation.”
He half expects Kurt to say no, to make up some excuse about needing to be somewhere or having homework or something. Because they’ve hung out together plenty of times, but Finn’s usually around, and if it’s just the two of them it feels more like…something.
“What if Finn comes home?”
“What the fuck does it matter?” Puck asks, and he knows he sounds kind of pissed, but he doesn’t try to hide it. “We can’t hang out or something?”
Kurt pushes up on one elbow to face him, just looking for a few beats, and Puck figures he’s about to get blown off. But then Kurt reaches out and runs his fingers over the bruise on Puck’s collar bone, shaking his head before he looks at Puck again. “I can stay, if you like.”
“So stay,” Puck says, even though his stomach’s doing that thing again. He catches Kurt’s hand where it’s still tracing the shape of his own mouth, lifts Kurt’s fingers to his lips and brushes a kiss across his palm. He’s not sure what makes him do it, but when Kurt’s eyes go kind of wide, Puck doesn’t try to take it back.