Fic: Fluff (30 Days of Puckurt) 1/2

[emoryems]

Author: emoryems

Rating: PG-R

Pairing/Character(s): Puck/Kurt

A/N: there is a total of ~8,700 words in the following angst ‘drabbles’. Each individual ‘drabble’ (honestly they came out a little longer than intended) contains its own rating, summary, and if applicable, warning. All of these were written for 30 Days of Puckurt Drabble over at puckurt .

Love Letters - (PG; 701)
Summary: Kurt’s been getting love letters.

Dumped - (PG; 646)
Summary: dumpsters are not Kurt’s favourite place for affairs.

Knap - (PG; 478)     
Summary: Puck’s thoughts on Kurt.

Bears - (PG; 168)
Summary: the boys babysit Sam’s siblings.

Layered - (PG-13/R; 434)
Summary: Puck discovers that he loves getting Kurt out of his layers.

Sleep - (PG; 622)
Summary: Puck falls in love at night.

Laid Bare - (R; 898)
Summary: the first time the boys see each other naked.

Pierced - (PG-13; 557)
Summary: Kurt surprises Puck.

Hidden Smiles - (PG; 480)
Summary: what the title says.

Pumpkin Pie - (PG; 469)
Summary: Kurt gets Puck to try pumpkin pie.

Guitar - (PG-13; 589)
Summary: Puck finds something in Kurt’s closet. Other than scarves.

Needle - (PG; 622)
Summary: Kurt and Puck get tattoos.

Home - (PG; 441)
Summary: Noah and Kurt’s first home together.

Different - (PG; 750)
Summary: Kurt wants to take a chance on something that is different.

Shaving - (PG; 433)
Summary: shaving mishaps.

Meetings - (PG; 165)
Summary: wherein Burt is Bowser.

Cemetery - (PG; 211)
Summary: Kurt takes Puck to meet his mom.


Love Letters

Summary: Kurt’s been getting love letters. (PG; 701)

~

Kurt grins as he opens his locker, the metal door swinging outward to reveal the organized and, he really must admit, coordinated décor of the small unit. But that isn’t what he is smiling about.

Halfway up the metal door, just below where his ‘courage’ collage still sticks, is a pink post-it note, the bright colour of it nearly glowing in the fluorescent lights of McKinley High’s hallways. On the top left corner it is labelled as ‘#17’ and in the middle, in black ink, is a sloppily written message. All it says is ‘the tilt of your nose’.

Blushing a little, Kurt lets a finger trace the words carefully. It is amazing how such a little thing can make him feel so good.

It all started almost two and a half weeks ago when he had been over at Puck’s house. They had been doing nothing more than talking and watching some TV, mundane things that wouldn’t garner a second look, when Kurt had let his secret slip.

Kurt has several secrets, but this one is different; it’s not held for anyone but himself, and it is at the root of many of his thoughts. It affects his everyday life, is something that he is ashamed of and tries to cover with clothes and concealer, a proud stance and sharp words.

The real truth about Kurt Hummel is that he really isn’t all that confident. Not about the things that he can’t help, not about his physical features or his less-preferable personality traits. The things that make him unique are also the things that he is the most self-conscious about.

The day after that conversation - short and one sided as it was - these notes started appearing in his locker. Each one is labelled with a number, one for each day (it amuses Kurt to no end that there are always three lined up on Mondays), and contains a short message informing him of something likable about himself.

Kurt has no doubts about who it is, knows it’s Puck not only because the teen is the only person who knows, but also because Kurt doesn’t know many other people who could easily go through the effort of breaking into his locker every school day without getting caught.

Giving the note one last look, Kurt grabs his books and closes his locker, walking to class with a smile on his face.

~

The day Kurt opens his locker and looks at the post-it note, #42, and reads ‘your ass’, he almost squeaks in shock. He then tries to calm down and let the blush that settles on his cheeks fade away, all the while wishing he had chosen to wear pants that were just a little looser that day.

By the time glee practice comes along, however, Kurt’s mind has switched from embarrassment to another perspective.

If he bends over just a little too far to pick up his dropped sheet music while standing right in front of Puck, the other boy doesn’t call him out on it.

~

By the time the numbers are reaching the seventies and eighties, Kurt is sure Puck will start running out of things to say. Write. Whatever.

But then they just keep coming, all the way through the nineties and into the hundreds, until the day that Kurt opens his locker and a post-it, the label ‘#108’ printed on the top, is waiting for him. People are milling around in the halls, the early morning rush of students who are anxious to meet up with friends before class swerving around those who are too tired to function.

As Kurt reads what is printing on the tiny pink piece of paper, the world falls away and he sinks into the warmth and contentedness that fills his chest. He never thought that he would find himself falling slowly and surely into love with a boy who used to bully him and who he barely knew before this year. But as he thinks of all of the little moments they have shared, the intimacies, he also thinks about the scrapbook he has at home filled with one hundred and seven post-it notes.

#108 will make a perfect addition.





Dumped

Summary: dumpsters are not Kurt’s favourite place for affairs. (PG; 646)

~

The morning is beautiful; the warm late-spring air whisks by in a light breeze that rustles leaves and catches on the wings of butterflies as they flutter about.  It is only typical that on this morning half of McKinley’s hockey team is waiting by the dumpsters. For him.

Kurt straightens his back and grips the strap of his messenger bag and keeps his stride at a perfect glide as he makes to walk by. He is stopped by three of the jocks breaking formation to block his path.

Tilting his head up and keeping his face as stoic as possible, Kurt raises his eyebrows and asks, “Must we do this, gentlemen?”

A murmur of chuckles sounds out around him and suddenly there are three sets of hands on him, gripping his arms and fumbling to grasp his legs.  Kurt struggles a little, but he knows better than to put up a real fight - that’s the point when the jock population deems it necessary to start throwing sucker punches.

The edge of the dumpster comes fast, and before he knows it he’s dropping down to land on a metal bottom, back connecting with a dull crack. His breath leaves his lungs momentarily, but a quick catalogue of his body tells him he isn’t hurt bad.

Kurt has just started to mentally coordinate a new outfit based on the limited options stored in his locker (because these pants were never meant to be creased, not like this. Ever.) when a scuffle sounds from the other side of the metal wall of the dumpster.

“What the hell was that, you douchbags! I thought we had an agreement: you leave my boy alone.”

Kurt cringes with hope or with dread, he’s not quite sure, and starts to lift his torso off of the dumpster bottom.  He moves just in time for a large body to come tumbling over the edge and land right on top of him, pressing him further into the metal floor below.

Groaning as the air is once again knocked out of him, Kurt tries not to wince too outwardly at the knee that is pressing hard into his inner thigh, leaving the muscles protesting. He allows himself to feel momentarily relieved that the knee didn’t land three inches higher.

“I’m going to kill those bastards,” hisses Puck from his position above Kurt.

Kurt closes his eyes as his thigh cramps under Puck’s continued pressure, and says, “Can you maybe think about getting off of me, and work on revenge later?” His voice comes out strong and steady, something for which he is proud. Opening his eyes and raising one eyebrow he continues, “You’re crushing me - not to mention my pants - now, would you be so kind as to get off?”

Rolling his eyes at Puck’s predictable smirk at Kurt’s use of the phrase ‘get off’, Kurt almost sighs with relief as the pressure on his leg lets up. He quickly goes back to glaring at the bigger boy when that is all Puck does; instead of getting up, Puck balances his bulk above Kurt and brings his face in close.

“Hey there.”

“I am not going to make out with you in a dumpster.”

Puck’s eyes are focused on Kurt’s lips, his breath brushing against Kurt’s skin from their closeness. “Aw come on princess; we’ve never done it here before. We can add it to our list.”

Kurt huffs and puts his hands on Puck’s shoulders, pushing him a little bit away. “And we never will,” he states firmly. “But if you get up so we can get out of here,” he says softly, bringing his lips up to brush over Puck’s, “maybe I’ll think about skipping English. You did want to check out the dimensions of the janitor’s closet in the science wing, didn’t you?”

Kurt has never seen his boyfriend move so fast before.


Knap

Summary: Puck’s thoughts on Kurt. (PG; 478)

~

Noah Puckerman isn’t stupid; he sees things that happen around him, watches the way people interact and react and draws a map of social queues from that. He might not get it right all of the time, and he might not always like what he sees, but he certainly uses it to his advantage.

In the world of high school politics where jocks and cheerleaders are at the top of the proverbial dung-heap and the nerds and social outcasts at the bottom, there are certain things that he has learned to expect of certain people. Take someone like Jacob Ben Israel for instance - the jocks and the people who rule the school can beat him into submission, have him grovelling if they want. He’s mouldable like clay.

But then there are people like Hummel.  At first he had thought that the little scrawny kid with fancy shoes and outlandish outfits would crumble under the pressure - would melt like butter under the intense heat of the social hierarchy. But he never did.

The thing about Hummel, and this took Puck a while to figure out, is that he is made of rock. The boy just bounces back from the hardest of hits and keeps on moving, keeping his shape and his head held high. But there are weaknesses in him; small and patterned in a way that only those who know what to look for can find. No matter how hard a clumsy hammer smashes at him - dumpster tosses and horrible slurs - they don’t damage him. They might leave a little scratch, but those can be polished away.

It’s the people who know how to wield their blows, know exactly where they need to hit Hummel to make him crack and split into pieces, which really get to him. And Puck has seen that happen only a few times - even then Hummel would come back all the stronger.

Puck has taken to thinking of Hummel as made of some kind of stone - chert or more specifically flint - breaking under the pressure of the world’s hate only to be shaped into something sharper, stronger, with every hit.

Something about it, about Hummel, stirs a kind of fascination in Puck’s chest; draws his eyes in interest and makes him want to be closer to the other boy.  It is the same kind of attraction that he felt to Lauren, to Santana, and Puck knows what it is the moment he clearly feels it for the first time.

He is attracted to Hummel’s strength, wants to be near it and with it - with him - and it makes Puck wish that he could find his own pit of strength to draw from. So that he could do something about it.

Puck’s not weak, he’s a freaking badass, and he knows that one of these days he’s gonna go for what he wants.


Bears

Summary: the boys babysit Sam’s siblings. (PG; 168)

~

Sam’s younger siblings are sitting in front of the TV, blonde hair reflecting the light from the screen. They are silent and enthralled, leaving Kurt and Puck their first moment of silence and ease all night.

“I can’t believe it.”

Kurt turns his head toward Puck, leaning into his shoulder as he asks, “Can’t believe what?”

Puck looks down at him, the pucker between his brows deepening as he contemplates what is on his mind. “That there are children in the world more fascinated by Winnie the Pooh than my sister.”

Kurt stifles a giggle into his hand and shakes his head in amusement. “Just be glad they aren’t trying to play with your hair anymore.”

Puck raises a hand and runs it over his mohawk as though to calm some imagined affront to its badassness.

The gesture is so stereotypical ‘Puck’ that Kurt can’t help but lean forward and brush his lips over his boyfriend’s cheek, loving the scratchy feel of late-evening scruff that he finds there.


Layered

Summary: Puck discovers that he loves getting Kurt out of his layers. (PG-13/R; 434)

~

“Don’t you dare pull on that button, Puckerman.”

Puck pauses in his attempt at popping the button of Kurt’s jeans, fingers clenched on the material and tongue delved deep into Kurt’s taut navel. He pulls away slowly, trailing his lips up a little to the sensitive spot just below Kurt’s ribs, watching and feeling the muscles there tremble from the stimulation.

“Like this?” he whispers as he jerks his hand, roughly releasing the metal button through the material.  The jeans are tight and when they open they spread, giving Puck a full view of Kurt’s thin boxer briefs.

Kurt throws his head back with a moan, hair mussed and haloed around his head, as Puck runs his hands over Kurt’s hips, thumbs brushing alongside his straining hardness. He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to complain at the rough treatment of his precious clothing.

The bed around them is littered with various articles of clothing; a scarf flung purposefully over Puck’s head is hanging over the edge, a jacket and two shirts curl together in a mass of well-matched colours.  Puck has taken his time stripping them away from Kurt’s body, eyes wandering every piece of skin that is exposed like a dehydrated man finding a clear, beautiful stream.

He can’t remember when he went from hating Kurt’s clothes to seeing them as an inconvenience. He certainly cannot remember when all of the layers, complicated and tied with so many different methods that Puck couldn’t list them if he tried, became the best part of foreplay.

But he will always remember the way that this time, as Kurt moans and writhes beneath him, hips straining up for friction and lips rounded into a perfect ‘o’, is the first time he does it on purpose. With purpose.

The sight of Kurt’s cloth-covered erection tenting toward him, the corresponding erection in his own underwear occasionally brushing against Kurt’s jean-clad thigh, is perfect. The way Kurt undulates under him, rolling his hips sinfully to let Puck pull his jeans down his hips, is so arousing, so invigorating, that Puck wishes he could re-dress the other boy and start again.

But then Kurt’s hands are on his shoulders, pulling him up into a kiss that is sloppy and filled with thrusting tongues and nipping teeth, moaning and panting as he starts a delicious rubbing against Puck.  Puck runs his hands everywhere he can reach, fingers dancing over the soft smooth skin exposed for him, and he knows that as much fun as getting here is, the best part is when he has all of Kurt to himself.


Sleep

Summary: Puck falls in love at night. (PG; 622)

~

Puck bunches his fingers into a fist and drives it into the mattress, frustration and annoyance flitting over him like a thousand crawling ants. He can’t sleep. He’s tired, has had a bad day, and he can’t sleep. All because his bed-partner is attempting to train for gold in the fidgeting Olympics.

Just as the thought passes through his mind Kurt makes a sudden turn and flops a hand down on Puck’s chest, the smack of his palm connecting with Puck’s skin echoing around the room.  The spot stings, and Puck resists the urge to push Kurt’s hand off of him, instead closing his eyes and counting to twenty. Ten’s never enough.

He’s been together with Kurt, meaning dating because Kurt doesn’t count sex, for a month and this is only the second time they’ve managed to spend the night together. Puck’s used to sleeping alone; despite having had many sexual affairs in his young life, he usually either left after, or was left. He doesn’t quite know what to do in this situation.

Kurt makes a little whining moan and whips his head toward Puck, his hair, free of product, splays out across the side of his face.  The thin boy is ethereally pale by the weak light of the moon, his long curling lashes shadowing the underneath of his eyes.

Puck takes the momentary stillness of his boyfriend to study his features; the strong jaw and well-defined cheekbones, the flawless skin and pink lips. He never thought he would find so much beauty in the features of another man, especially not someone like Kurt Hummel.

But he has. And as his eyes travel from perfectly-shaped eyebrows to the strong cut of a collarbone bared by the drooping of an overly-large shirt - his shirt - something warm lights in his chest. He’s been feeling this, this odd sensation of being content, for a while now, but it is building to be something he can’t ignore.

The peace is once again broken as Kurt rips away from Puck, body twisting the other way even as one of his legs kicks out, peeling the blanket off of both of them. The cool air raises a swath of goosebumps on Puck’s arms and chest, peaking his nipples and running down his spine.

Kurt’s back, now facing him, is bare where his shirt has ridden up, showing the slight curve of his waist and the dimple to the right of his spine low on his back. Puck loves running his fingers over that feature and its twin, delights in the moans Kurt lets out as he arches into the touch. It’s one of the most sensuous things that Puck has ever experienced, and it’s only a dimple.

Knowing that if this continues he won’t get any sleep, but not wanting to risk leaving Kurt alone, Puck looks over at Kurt appraisingly. And hopes his plan works.

Rolling so that he is close behind Kurt, Puck reaches his arms around Kurt, holding him across the chest and across the waist, and pulls him in tight against his chest. The other boy doesn’t react, continuing to be limp and malleable as he is manoeuvred to be plastered to Puck’s front.

For a moment, one where Puck stills and keeps tense, ready to move, Kurt shifts. Puck smirks and relaxes, resting his head on the pillow, when all Kurt does is curl his legs back to twine with Puck’s and snuggle deeper into the embrace.

Puck always thought he’d fall in love during the day.  Instead he has fallen in love during the night, wrapped around a twitchy man who has the ability to annoy him and bring him happiness. Who he can’t imagine leaving, horrible sleep-habits and all.


Laid Bare

Summary: the first time the boys see each other naked. (R; 898)

~

Kurt’s fingers shake as he reaches up to tug at the bowtie around his neck, anxiety shuddering through him and leaving him flushed and flustered. He can almost literally feel Puck’s eyes following his movements, tracing the lines of his fingers and wrists as he works to remove his clothes one article at a time.

Soon he is starting on his shirt, the light material soft against his skin, but oh so heavy in a way he can’t explain - in a way that cannot be measured anywhere but in his mind. The first button slides through the material smoothly, the top of the shirt spreading just enough to expose the dip and shadow of his collarbone.

When he moves to the next button he looks up, meeting Puck’s eyes from where he watches sprawled naked on the bed. His eyes are strangely intense, a kind of attention and interest in them that Kurt has never seen there before.

His shirt hangs over his chest and stomach loosely when the buttons are all undone, brushing over the tight material of his pants and the bulging line of his erection where it is trapped within. Kurt, despite the nervousness of soon being naked, laid out for Puck to see, feels spikes of arousal run through him with every glance he takes at Puck.

The other man, tanned skin glimmering with a light sheen of sweat and lip pulled between his teeth from his intense enthrallment, is beautiful. The strong lines of his muscles are etched into contours worthy of the most talented artist, his eyes two deep and mesmerizing points of desire even from across the room.

Kurt shrugs his shirt to rest at the edges of his shoulders, feels as the material starts to slip down his arms, and lets it slither to the ground, brushing over his skin as it goes. Once it is gone, once his chest is left uncovered, he licks his lips and glances out from under his lashes to see what Puck’s reaction is.

Kurt knows that Puck has seen many people before; tasted their flesh and experienced their bodies. But Kurt has never been naked in front of a sexual partner, someone who wants to be with him, and who he wants to be with, before. It is his, their, first time seeing each other at their most exposed.

The bed beneath Puck shifts, sheets crumpling with his movements, as he manoeuvres to the edge of the bed and stands. He keeps their eyes locked the entire time, face blank and soft, like he’s feeling too much all at once to settle on one emotion.

“Noah,” Kurt breathes out softly as the larger man stands before him, hands at his side. “Is this okay?” The words ring out in the room, wavering and untrue because what Kurt really means to say is: “Am I okay?”

Two hands come up to rest on Kurt’s upper arms, fingers grasping gently, just feeling, and Puck’s gaze drops down as he takes in Kurt’s upper body. Just as Puck starts to trail his hands downward, his right pointer finger pointed up and painting an imaginary design as it goes, he says, “Just right.”

The movement of Puck’s skin against his own sends tingles and shocks of pleasure throughout Kurt’s entire body, the simple friction of familiar hands moving over his arms more intimate than anything he’s experienced before. When the hands reach his wrists, fingers dancing over the bones there, they pull away.

Before disappointment can settle in Kurt’s chest they return, this time holding to Kurt’s hips just above the waist of his jeans, fingers tracing over his hipbones and abdomen. The juxtaposition between Puck’s hands, large and calloused with thick, blunt fingers, and Kurt’s body, pale and smooth, all long lines and lithe curves, strikes Kurt with a thrill of arousal.

Kurt doesn’t protest when Puck’s fingers find their way to the button and zip of his jeans, and leans into the hands as they slide under the band of his underwear and glide over his skin. Kurt imagines all of the places that Puck is touching as though lit up, the passing of his hands leaving exhilarating tingles of desire in their wake.

As Puck uses his hands, trapped under Kurt’s garments, to push the material down and over Kurt’s hips to pool at his feet, he lets out a moan. Kurt can’t see his face, not really, and he flushes as he realizes that Puck is look at him. All of him.

Any nervousness he may have felt is soon extinguished, though, as Puck takes to running his hands everywhere he can.  Up over his shoulders and down his sides, over the slight swell of his hips, fingers teasing the skin of Kurt’s buttocks, across the long lengths of his thighs and calves. The other boy leaves no skin untouched, but the way he is almost enthralled by what he sees, the way his hands move as though awed, tells Kurt all he needs to know.

When Puck is done his exploration, face a rictus of bliss, Kurt leans forward and mouths along his neck, sucking at his pulse-point and nibbling at the underside of his jaw, until he reaches Puck’s mouth.  They kiss lightly, not fevered or desperate, but with passion and the knowledge that they are each what the other desires.


Pierced

Summary: Kurt surprises Puck. (PG-13; 557)

~

Kurt walks up to where Puck is reclined on the couch, arms folded behind his head, and steps between his boyfriends’s spread legs. The worn, frayed and baggy pants contrast almost comically with Kurt’s skin-tight white skinny jeans.

Puck looks up at him, the beginning of a smirk playing at his lips, and tilts his head. “What’s up, babe?”

Raising one brow delicately and looking down at the bulkier man, Kurt leans forward until his lips nearly connect with Puck’s, angling his head so he can place a light kiss on the corner of them. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, voice uncharacteristically low and husky.

“Oh yeah?” Puck asks, hands unlatching from behind his head to rest on Kurt’s waist. “What’s that?”

Kurt pulls away and little, just enough to meet questioning brown eyes with his own, then moves forward, straddling Puck.  His knees rest on either side of Puck’s hips, spread wide, and his ass rests on Puck’s toned thighs.

“Here,” he says, threading a hand through Puck’s mohawk, tugging their lips together once again, “let me show you.”

Smirking against Puck’s lips, Kurt uses the tip of his tongue to trace around the other man’s mouth teasingly, delving deeper when the mouth he is circling opens to him.  He pulls back after a quick swipe of his tongue over Puck’s, and sucks Puck’s low lip into his mouth.

Puck groans and moves his hips in little upward thrusts, dropping his hands to cup Kurt’s ass in his palms.

As Puck squeezes his cheeks, pulling their groins tight together, Kurt releases Puck’s lip, knowing that there will be a little bruise there later.

“What,” Puck pants, “were you going to show me?”

Kurt nips Puck’s upper lip, and then soothes the area with a light kiss. “This.”

Bringing his other hand up to cup the side of Puck’s face, Kurt dives into the other boy’s mouth, tongue swiping a luxurious path over his answering tongue in a slick and familiar slide.

Puck gasps into the kiss and stills, pulling back a little to ask, “Is that -?”

“Yes,” Kurt breathes. Kurt licks his lips, tongue curling up, and moans deep in his throat at the feeling of his tongue piercing, his first piercing, caressing both his upper and lower lips.  Puck’s eyes follow the movement rabidly, surprise and self-satisfaction painting his face.

“You - I thought you said you would never get one.” Puck is smug as he speaks, his kiss-reddened mouth quirking up in one corner.

“Yeah, well,” Kurt begins, “I may have reconsidered that decision once I thought about how useful it could be.”

Eyes widening and a rush of arousal obviously peaking through his body, Puck grinds their hips together again, massaging Kurt’s ass rhythmically as he does so. Kurt is playing with the barbell now, letting the tiny plastic balls run over his own lips in patterns, as though demonstrating his skill for Puck.

Kurt looks down to where their groins are pressed together through layers of clothing, erections trapped in their respective pants, and says, “Why don’t we test out how useful it can be?”

Puck can’t even form an answer beyond a groan of appreciation as Kurt slides off of his lap to kneel in front of him, and thinks that this is possibly the best surprise ever.


Hidden Smiles

Summary: what the title says. (PG; 480)

~

Kurt sits in the back of the choir room, legs crossed and hands primly clasped over his knee.  His boots, black and reaching high on his calf, cover the bottoms of his grey skinny jeans, leaving his long and shapely legs on display.

Mercedes sits close to him on his right, occasionally looking over to share a smile with him as she talks with Tina, and Kurt absently listens to the various conversations occurring around the room. He is amused by Mercedes, Tina and Rachel, disturbed by Finn, Puck and Artie, and scarred for life by what Santana and Brittany are saying.

He really ought to know better than to eavesdrop, especially considering the rather interesting things that some of the glee members have to say, but it really can come in handy.

The conversation around him tapers to a stop as Mr. Shuester walks through the door, arms full of sheet music, and takes front and centre to introduce their weekly assignments.

As the teacher moves to the white board, a bounce of excitement in his step, Kurt reaches up and adjusts his scarf. He can’t help but take the opportunity to slide his fingers under the soft material and over the smooth skin of his neck. The contours where his tendons and muscles define the long, pale column are pocked by darkened marks.

Kurt was always careful before and didn’t let Noah bite and suck on his skin, skin which bruised beautifully, anywhere it couldn’t be easily covered. But last night, as they lay intertwined on Kurt’s bed, pillows flung around them and covers crumpled at their feet, Kurt hadn’t the mind to protest.

Pressing his pointer finger into one of the marks, feeling the heat of it, Kurt has never been happier to have let Noah have his way. This is the first time he’s dropped his compunctions and given in, and with how much he wishes he could signal Noah to follow him into the janitor’s closet at the moment, it won’t be the last.

Looking across the choir room to where Puck is sitting two rows down, Kurt finds the other boy staring at him. Staring at his neck, where Kurt’s fingers are caressing over hidden bruises.  Kurt feels a light flush of colour permeate his skin.

Puck notices his attention and winks, smirking at him in a self-satisfied way. Kurt wants to kiss the expression from his face.

As Mr. Shuester extols something about an age-old classic that he’d taken Regionals with during his time in glee, Kurt finds himself biting down just a little on his bottom lip and smiling back.

No one else in the room notices the moment, and before it can linger for very long, it is gone. Kurt turns his attention back to Mr. Shuester with a hint of a smile on his face and contentment in his chest.