Fic: The Love Gods [5/?]
Title: The Love Gods [5/?]
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A newly reconciled Burt and Finn set about finding the one thing that will make their new family complete: a boyfriend Kurt.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. The events within are entirely fictional.
Author's Notes: Thanks to abluegirl for her always helpful suggestions.
Word Count: 3493
Previous Parts: One, Two, Three, Four
They’re lining up for dessert when it happens. Kurt is standing behind Puck, who is in turn standing behind Mercedes. The woman who had given Mercedes the evil eye is serving now, and Kurt just knows she’s going to say something. For a moment Kurt considers shoving Puck out of the way so he can be closer to defend his girl, but it happens before Kurt has the chance to move. Mercedes holds out her plate for some cake, chatting tentatively with Puck in what Kurt assumes is some kind of show of support for his own attempt to get to know the jock better. The woman takes one look at Mercedes’ plate and frowns.
“Are you sure about that?” she asks doubtfully.
“Sure about what?” Mercedes asks, looking confused.
“It’s just that this cake is full of cream. Goes straight to the hips,” the woman replies. “And I wouldn’t want you to make it any harder on yourself than it already is.”
Kurt’s jaw drops, and Mercedes’ eyes narrow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Mercedes responds, schooling her face into a polite smile.
The woman looks pointedly at a group of wafer-thin girls dancing with their boyfriends. “The young men know what they like,” she says patronizingly. “If you know what I mean.”
Mercedes’ face falls and she sets her plate down on the table. Incensed, Kurt opens his mouth to give the woman a piece of his mind, only to close it again when he notices Puck’s arm sliding around Mercedes’ waist.
“Damn straight we know what we like,” Puck drawls, pulling Mercedes closer to his chest. “Right, babe?” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek.
Mercedes covers her surprise by turning her face towards Puck’s chest. The jock’s hand leaves her waist to pick up her plate, and he holds it out next to his.
“We’ll have two of the biggest pieces you can cut,” Puck says coolly. “And don’t skimp on the cream.”
Kurt can tell by the slightly defeated look on the woman’s face that she believes Puck’s little act. She cuts them both a piece of cake and dumps it on the plates before spooning on a generous helping of cream. Puck picks up both plates and hands them to Mercedes.
“I’m going to get us both a drink. Meet you back at the table?”
“Sure,” Mercedes says, smiling brightly now. “Don’t be too long, okay?” she adds, with a conspiratorial glance at Puck.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Puck replies, the corner of his mouth twitching. Satisfied, Mercedes nods and starts making her way back over to the Glee table.
When Mercedes is out of earshot, Puck turns back to the woman. “She’s beautiful,” he hisses fiercely. “If I hear you so much as hint at anything else I will make sure you regret it.”
With that, he stalks off towards the drinks table, leaving a stunned Kurt holding his own plate with trembling hands.
*
Kurt has to wait until dessert is over before he has a chance to speak to Puck. When Mike asks Mercedes to dance and the two of them disappear onto the dance floor, Kurt slides into the vacant seat next to Puck and elbows him gently.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “For Mercedes.”
Puck shrugs. “That woman was a bitch. And Aretha is way hotter than most of the sluts in this room.”
It’s the first time Kurt has heard Puck refer to sluts with anything other than a strange kind of reverence, but he chooses not to pull him up on it. “True. But you didn’t have to defend her like that, so thank you.”
“You’re not going to cry or anything, are you?” Puck asks, shooting Kurt a sideways look. “I mean, I know you’re not exactly used to people sticking up for you…” He actually looks somewhat guilty at that. “But that’s no reason to turn on the waterworks.
“I’m not going to cry, jerk,” Kurt replies, bemused rather than offended.
“Oh. Cool.”
They sit in silence for a moment, watching the couples out on the dance floor. Most of the Glee club is out there now, trying to copy Mike’s dance moves and, for the most part, failing miserably.
“Would you like to dance?” Kurt asks, immediately cursing whatever part of his brain decided that asking Noah Puckerman to dance was an acceptable thing to do. “With the guys,” he adds quickly, in an effort to make the suggestion seem less like a come on.
Puck looks his straight in the eye for what feels like an eternity, and then grins. “Will you break out some of those hot Gaga moves?” He waves his hands in front of his face in a reasonable recreation of Kurt’s Bad Romance choreography.
Relieved not to have been punched or verbally beaten down, Kurt laughs. “I will if you will.”
“It’s a deal,” Puck replies, pushing his chair back and waiting for Kurt to do the same.
Seconds later, they’re in the middle of the room with the rest of Glee club, singing along to The Lady is a Tramp and incorporating ridiculous Gaga gestures into their dancing.
Kurt has never minded being the centre of attention, but he likes to control how that attention is focused. Usually it’s on his expensive designer clothes, or his voice, or the graceful way he performs the Cheerios routines. He has become accustomed to carefully monitoring his actions whenever he is in the public gaze. Practice, he calls it, for when he’s a big star and the paparazzi are stalking him all over the country. The truth is, he likes to keep all the silly, immature, childish parts of Kurt Hummel locked away in his basement, presenting to the public as a mature, sophisticated adult rather than the teenage boy that he is. Without even trying, Puck has smashed the lock on silly Kurt’s box and let him loose for all to see. And Kurt has never had so much fun.
Those members of the club whose dancing isn’t quite up to Mike Chang’s standard, namely Finn, take to Puck and Kurt’s reinvention of the genre with enthusiasm, laughing as they compete to come up with the most absurd move. At one point Kurt actually has to stop dancing to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. He’s sure they’re probably spoiling the night for some of the older people at the dance, who have stopped their own dancing to watch the Glee clubbers, but after how rude that woman was to Mercedes he can’t bring himself to care. This is what Glee is supposed to be all about; a group of people coming together despite their differences and having fun. It’s cheesy, and he knows it, but in these rare moments of solidarity Kurt wishes it could be like this all the time.
He doesn’t realize how much trouble he’s in until Mercedes pulls him close, grins at him and tells him that maybe Puck isn’t such a bad idea after all.
*
When Finn first lays eyes on Sam Evans he is convinced that the blond is the solution to all of Finn’s problems. A new member for Glee, and the perfect boyfriend for Kurt. He’s a jock, he’s witty, and there’s no way he could have hair like that without being at least a little bit on the gay side, Finn is convinced of this. So he introduces himself to Sam and invites him round for video games and pizza at the end of Sam’s first week at McKinley. Sam seems pleased to be making a friend so quickly, and he accepts the invitation with a wide smile.
Finn leaves no stone unturned in his attempt to make it the perfect night. He makes sure they have some of Kurt’s favourite diet soda in the fridge and remembers to order a vegetarian pizza as well as the two meatball and pepperoni ones for himself and Sam. He puts Queen on the stereo and suggests they play Wii Bowling as it’s the one game Kurt will play without having to be bribed. He briefs Burt with what he’s managed to find out about Sam and makes sure that Burt knows that their target has changed. Kurt’s wearing one of his less-intimidating outfits, and he seems to be in a pretty good mood, so Finn allows himself a congratulatory soda before Sam arrives.
Finn and Burt decide that Burt should be the one to greet Sam. When the doorbell rings at 7:30pm, Burt opens the door to find a smiling blond on his doorstep with a bag of potato chips in his hand.
“Hi,” the kid says brightly, holding out his hand. “I’m Sam. Finn invited me over.”
“Burt Hummel,” Burt says, shaking the boy’s hand. “You get hungry on the way over or something?” he asks, nodding at the chips.
Sam laughs. “Nah. It just seemed rude to turn up with nothing, you know?”
Burt doesn’t know, but he suspects that Kurt would. “Come in,” he says, ushering Sam inside.
“Hey Sam!” Finn exclaims, appearing in the hall. “Glad you made it. Come on.”
When they’ve disappeared into the living room Burt allows himself a smile. He’s got a good feeling about this Sam kid.
“Hey Kurt, you’ve met Sam, right?” Finn says, looking between Sam and Kurt for any sign of attraction.
“Yes,” Kurt replies. “We have English and History together. How are you?” he asks politely.
“Great, thanks,” Sam replies, smiling again. “I brought chips.” He drops the bag on the table, where it is quickly snatched up by Kurt.
“Oven baked salt and balsamic vinegar? These are my favorite!” he says, clearly delighted.
“They’re great, aren’t they!” Sam responds, taking a chip from the bag Kurt has now opened. Finn smirks. Ten points to Sam and he hasn’t even been here five minutes yet.
By the time the first game of bowling is over, Sam’s points are off the charts. He and Kurt seem to agree on almost everything. And not just little things like which flavour chip is the best, but big things like who is the definitive Norma Desmond, whoever that is, and which neighborhood of New York City would be the best to live in. Finn’s face is almost split in two from all the smiling he’s been doing, and he has to resist the urge to run and tell Burt how well everything is going.
“So, you’re in Glee club too Kurt?” Sam asks over pizza.
Kurt nods. “Do you sing?”
“A little,” Sam admits. “In my bedroom or the shower mostly. I’ve never sung in public before.”
“You should audition,” Kurt encourages. “We need new members and most of the time it’s a lot of fun.”
“Most of the time?”
“Sometimes Mr. Schue’s song choices kinda suck,” Finn says, before Kurt has a chance to start bitching about Rachel. He loves his girlfriend, but he knows that she and Kurt don’t always see eye to eye.
“I don’t know…I think I’d be way too nervous,” Sam says.
“You get used to it,” Finn says reassuringly. “At least come and check it out.”
“Yeah, I might do that,” Sam replies, polishing off his last mouthful of pizza. “You ready for another game?” he asks, holding a controller out to Kurt.
*
“That was fun,” Kurt says later on, when he and Finn are taking out the trash.
“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Sam seems nice. It would be awesome if he joined Glee.”
“We do need new members now that Matt is gone,” Kurt murmurs. “Let’s hope he really can sing.”
“He’s kind of cute, right?” Finn says, avoiding Kurt’s gaze as he speaks.
Kurt freezes, his eyes bulging out of his head.
Realising how the statement must have sounded, Finn rushes to correct himself. “I mean…Rachel mentioned it the other day and I figured I’d get your opinion since you and her have kinda the same taste in guys.”
Kurt chooses to ignore the thinly veiled reference to his crush on Finn in favour of ending the conversation as soon as possible. “He could be worse.”
“Come on Kurt, you can do better than that,” Finn says. “I’m trying to be all understanding and cool with you being gay and shit, so it’s okay for you to talk to me about guys if you want.” He knows he’s pushing it now but he needs some kind of sign that Kurt is interested before he can put phase two of his plan into action.
Kurt fixes Finn with a suspicious look, and it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t wholly buy Finn’s explanation. He must not detect anything particularly dangerous in Finn’s face though, because he eventually he sighs and answers the question. “He’s not the least attractive guy I’ve ever seen but he’s not the most attractive either. He’s kind of generically good looking I guess. Of course, I’m kind of biased since I don’t really go for blonds. There, is that enough?”
“Cool,” Finn replies casually.
He waits until Kurt has gone inside before kicking the trashcan.
*
They’re doing Madonna again. Kurt knows he should be happy, ecstatic even, given that he’s got a solo in the group number. And he was at first. But then he somehow wound up standing behind Puck for their big dance routine. The jock might go and on about how Madonna’s music isn’t really for him, but he sure knows how to dance to it. His hips always seem to catch the beat and those strong arms pull Brittany to his chest only to spin her away again. Kurt has never wanted to be a girl as much as he does right now. If it’s true what they say about being able to tell how good a guy is bed by the way he dances then Puck must be fucking exquisite. He’s not exactly graceful like Kurt, but there’s an effortless charisma to his movements that Kurt has never been able to pull off. Next to Puck, Kurt feels like he looks like he’s trying too hard.
But more than the way he moves, it’s the look on Puck’s face that is doing strange things to Kurt’s insides. It’s that look that says he knows you’re watching him, and he loves it. It’s confidence that borders on arrogance, and it’s Kurt’s undoing. To his horror he feels a sharp stab of arousal in his belly, which only flares up when Puck meets his eyes and winks. Damn, Kurt thinks, Madonna hit the nail right on the head with this one.
How could it hurt you when it looks so good?
Kurt makes it to Wednesday before the near-constant waves of lust every time he looks at Puck become too much for him to bear. Their afternoon rehearsal was the last before their performance at Friday’s assembly, and their first in costume. Kurt had forgotten all about the decision to go for blue jeans and white sleeveless tops until the moment Puck walked in looking like the very definition of sex.
“Shit,” he groans softly.
“You okay?” Mercedes asks, resting a soft hand on his knee.
He plasters a smile on his face and nods. “Of course. We’re doing Madonna, girl! How could I not be okay?”
Mercedes frowns at him but doesn’t press the issue.
By the time rehearsal was over Kurt was dangerously close to coming in his jeans. It ought to be illegal for guys to be as hot as Puck. He barely managed to get through his solo because all he could think about was what it would feel like to have Puck’s warm weight bearing down on him. He’s reasonably sure he managed to hide his discomfort from everyone else. Rachel didn’t have anything bad to say about his performance, and if she didn’t notice then you could bet nobody else did. He makes a quick escape from the choir room, thanking the gods that Finn was having dinner at Rachel’s house and so wouldn’t be riding home with him. He knows Mercedes will probably worry and he makes a mental note to message her as soon as he gets home.
That plan flies out the window the moment he steps into the shower. He’d only intended to have a quick wash to freshen up before getting started on his math homework, but as soon as he felt the warm spray hit his back and realised how tense his muscles were he knew he wouldn’t be getting out any time soon. He closes his eyes and leans back against the walls, feeling the stress slowly seep out of his aching body. That proves to be a very bad idea, because in the absence of anything else to focus on Kurt’s brain conjures up the image of Puck on his knees from the routine they’d been rehearsing.
Before he can stop himself, he moans. One hand falls to his stomach, fingernails scraping lightly as his eyes trawl over the imaginary Puck. The thought of all that fire and passion kneeling before him taps into every control fantasy Kurt has ever had. And he knows Puck would be passionate; knows that the jock is probably up for anything when it comes to sex, and that just makes Kurt harder. Puck would have no problem standing naked before a lover. He wouldn’t be ashamed of his body. He’d revel in an appreciative gaze. He’d let himself be worshipped by lips and teeth and tongue and then he’d strip his lover down and do the same for them.
“Fuck,” Kurt gasps harshly, digging his fingernails into his inner thighs and moaning at the sensation. He’s rock hard now, and well past the point of caring whom it was that got him that way.
He rubs his fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the precome he finds there and using it to ease the slide of his hand as he curls it around his throbbing erection.
Dream Puck is standing now, pressing Kurt against a wall and licking his way up Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s got one leg hooked around Puck’s waist, desperately rubbing himself against Puck’s toned thigh. He runs his hands down Puck’s back, grabbing that fucking perfect ass and squeezing roughly. He’s rewarded by a muffled moan and a sharp nip to his pulse point.
Kurt’s hand moves faster on his cock, moving in time with the phantom slide of Puck’s tongue in and out of his mouth. He braces himself against the tiles, his legs trembling with the effort of staying upright.
“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh…fuck…so good….”
He whimpers as he pictures himself dropping to his knees in front of a smiling Puck, imagines running his hands over bare thighs and up to the treat between Puck’s legs. He has no real way to imagine giving a blowjob, having never received or given one before, but he’s pretty sure he’d love it. Just thinking about the heat and the weight of Puck on his tongue is enough to make him shudder. He’s close now, and even though his eyes are open it is still Puck’s face that he sees before him.
“Puck,” he cries. “Please, Puck.” He has no idea what he’s begging for, but he knows he wants Puck to give it to him.
In his mind, Puck yanks him up by the hair and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Their naked cocks brush together and it’s enough to send Kurt hurtling over the edge.
He comes with wild abandon, still moaning Puck’s name.
When he finally gathers himself together enough to move, he turns off the shower and wraps himself up in a fluffy white towel. Catching sight of himself in the mirror he notices that his face is still blushed, his lip swollen from where he’d been biting down on it. He feels positively filthy. He’s jerked off before. Hell, he’s tasted himself before; but he has never come as hard as that before. He still feels shaky even though five minutes have passed since his orgasm. He does a quick check of the shower to make sure that any and all incriminating evidence has been washed away and then retreats to his bedroom.
He’s in big trouble. His crush on Finn seems like a walk in the park compared to the situation he’s in now. All his fantasies as far as Finn were concerned revolved around shy, nervous kisses and longing looks; the truly sexual side of a relationship never really entered into it. Now after a few bonding moments with Puck he can hardly look at the boy without getting hard. It just doesn’t make sense.
Luckily for Kurt, he knows exactly what to do to cure him of whatever strange disease has addled his brain. It’s not going to be pretty, but he can’t go on like this. It’s pathetic, and Kurt Hummel doesn’t do pathetic.
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A newly reconciled Burt and Finn set about finding the one thing that will make their new family complete: a boyfriend Kurt.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. The events within are entirely fictional.
Author's Notes: Thanks to abluegirl for her always helpful suggestions.
Word Count: 3493
Previous Parts: One, Two, Three, Four
They’re lining up for dessert when it happens. Kurt is standing behind Puck, who is in turn standing behind Mercedes. The woman who had given Mercedes the evil eye is serving now, and Kurt just knows she’s going to say something. For a moment Kurt considers shoving Puck out of the way so he can be closer to defend his girl, but it happens before Kurt has the chance to move. Mercedes holds out her plate for some cake, chatting tentatively with Puck in what Kurt assumes is some kind of show of support for his own attempt to get to know the jock better. The woman takes one look at Mercedes’ plate and frowns.
“Are you sure about that?” she asks doubtfully.
“Sure about what?” Mercedes asks, looking confused.
“It’s just that this cake is full of cream. Goes straight to the hips,” the woman replies. “And I wouldn’t want you to make it any harder on yourself than it already is.”
Kurt’s jaw drops, and Mercedes’ eyes narrow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Mercedes responds, schooling her face into a polite smile.
The woman looks pointedly at a group of wafer-thin girls dancing with their boyfriends. “The young men know what they like,” she says patronizingly. “If you know what I mean.”
Mercedes’ face falls and she sets her plate down on the table. Incensed, Kurt opens his mouth to give the woman a piece of his mind, only to close it again when he notices Puck’s arm sliding around Mercedes’ waist.
“Damn straight we know what we like,” Puck drawls, pulling Mercedes closer to his chest. “Right, babe?” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek.
Mercedes covers her surprise by turning her face towards Puck’s chest. The jock’s hand leaves her waist to pick up her plate, and he holds it out next to his.
“We’ll have two of the biggest pieces you can cut,” Puck says coolly. “And don’t skimp on the cream.”
Kurt can tell by the slightly defeated look on the woman’s face that she believes Puck’s little act. She cuts them both a piece of cake and dumps it on the plates before spooning on a generous helping of cream. Puck picks up both plates and hands them to Mercedes.
“I’m going to get us both a drink. Meet you back at the table?”
“Sure,” Mercedes says, smiling brightly now. “Don’t be too long, okay?” she adds, with a conspiratorial glance at Puck.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Puck replies, the corner of his mouth twitching. Satisfied, Mercedes nods and starts making her way back over to the Glee table.
When Mercedes is out of earshot, Puck turns back to the woman. “She’s beautiful,” he hisses fiercely. “If I hear you so much as hint at anything else I will make sure you regret it.”
With that, he stalks off towards the drinks table, leaving a stunned Kurt holding his own plate with trembling hands.
*
Kurt has to wait until dessert is over before he has a chance to speak to Puck. When Mike asks Mercedes to dance and the two of them disappear onto the dance floor, Kurt slides into the vacant seat next to Puck and elbows him gently.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “For Mercedes.”
Puck shrugs. “That woman was a bitch. And Aretha is way hotter than most of the sluts in this room.”
It’s the first time Kurt has heard Puck refer to sluts with anything other than a strange kind of reverence, but he chooses not to pull him up on it. “True. But you didn’t have to defend her like that, so thank you.”
“You’re not going to cry or anything, are you?” Puck asks, shooting Kurt a sideways look. “I mean, I know you’re not exactly used to people sticking up for you…” He actually looks somewhat guilty at that. “But that’s no reason to turn on the waterworks.
“I’m not going to cry, jerk,” Kurt replies, bemused rather than offended.
“Oh. Cool.”
They sit in silence for a moment, watching the couples out on the dance floor. Most of the Glee club is out there now, trying to copy Mike’s dance moves and, for the most part, failing miserably.
“Would you like to dance?” Kurt asks, immediately cursing whatever part of his brain decided that asking Noah Puckerman to dance was an acceptable thing to do. “With the guys,” he adds quickly, in an effort to make the suggestion seem less like a come on.
Puck looks his straight in the eye for what feels like an eternity, and then grins. “Will you break out some of those hot Gaga moves?” He waves his hands in front of his face in a reasonable recreation of Kurt’s Bad Romance choreography.
Relieved not to have been punched or verbally beaten down, Kurt laughs. “I will if you will.”
“It’s a deal,” Puck replies, pushing his chair back and waiting for Kurt to do the same.
Seconds later, they’re in the middle of the room with the rest of Glee club, singing along to The Lady is a Tramp and incorporating ridiculous Gaga gestures into their dancing.
Kurt has never minded being the centre of attention, but he likes to control how that attention is focused. Usually it’s on his expensive designer clothes, or his voice, or the graceful way he performs the Cheerios routines. He has become accustomed to carefully monitoring his actions whenever he is in the public gaze. Practice, he calls it, for when he’s a big star and the paparazzi are stalking him all over the country. The truth is, he likes to keep all the silly, immature, childish parts of Kurt Hummel locked away in his basement, presenting to the public as a mature, sophisticated adult rather than the teenage boy that he is. Without even trying, Puck has smashed the lock on silly Kurt’s box and let him loose for all to see. And Kurt has never had so much fun.
Those members of the club whose dancing isn’t quite up to Mike Chang’s standard, namely Finn, take to Puck and Kurt’s reinvention of the genre with enthusiasm, laughing as they compete to come up with the most absurd move. At one point Kurt actually has to stop dancing to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. He’s sure they’re probably spoiling the night for some of the older people at the dance, who have stopped their own dancing to watch the Glee clubbers, but after how rude that woman was to Mercedes he can’t bring himself to care. This is what Glee is supposed to be all about; a group of people coming together despite their differences and having fun. It’s cheesy, and he knows it, but in these rare moments of solidarity Kurt wishes it could be like this all the time.
He doesn’t realize how much trouble he’s in until Mercedes pulls him close, grins at him and tells him that maybe Puck isn’t such a bad idea after all.
*
When Finn first lays eyes on Sam Evans he is convinced that the blond is the solution to all of Finn’s problems. A new member for Glee, and the perfect boyfriend for Kurt. He’s a jock, he’s witty, and there’s no way he could have hair like that without being at least a little bit on the gay side, Finn is convinced of this. So he introduces himself to Sam and invites him round for video games and pizza at the end of Sam’s first week at McKinley. Sam seems pleased to be making a friend so quickly, and he accepts the invitation with a wide smile.
Finn leaves no stone unturned in his attempt to make it the perfect night. He makes sure they have some of Kurt’s favourite diet soda in the fridge and remembers to order a vegetarian pizza as well as the two meatball and pepperoni ones for himself and Sam. He puts Queen on the stereo and suggests they play Wii Bowling as it’s the one game Kurt will play without having to be bribed. He briefs Burt with what he’s managed to find out about Sam and makes sure that Burt knows that their target has changed. Kurt’s wearing one of his less-intimidating outfits, and he seems to be in a pretty good mood, so Finn allows himself a congratulatory soda before Sam arrives.
Finn and Burt decide that Burt should be the one to greet Sam. When the doorbell rings at 7:30pm, Burt opens the door to find a smiling blond on his doorstep with a bag of potato chips in his hand.
“Hi,” the kid says brightly, holding out his hand. “I’m Sam. Finn invited me over.”
“Burt Hummel,” Burt says, shaking the boy’s hand. “You get hungry on the way over or something?” he asks, nodding at the chips.
Sam laughs. “Nah. It just seemed rude to turn up with nothing, you know?”
Burt doesn’t know, but he suspects that Kurt would. “Come in,” he says, ushering Sam inside.
“Hey Sam!” Finn exclaims, appearing in the hall. “Glad you made it. Come on.”
When they’ve disappeared into the living room Burt allows himself a smile. He’s got a good feeling about this Sam kid.
“Hey Kurt, you’ve met Sam, right?” Finn says, looking between Sam and Kurt for any sign of attraction.
“Yes,” Kurt replies. “We have English and History together. How are you?” he asks politely.
“Great, thanks,” Sam replies, smiling again. “I brought chips.” He drops the bag on the table, where it is quickly snatched up by Kurt.
“Oven baked salt and balsamic vinegar? These are my favorite!” he says, clearly delighted.
“They’re great, aren’t they!” Sam responds, taking a chip from the bag Kurt has now opened. Finn smirks. Ten points to Sam and he hasn’t even been here five minutes yet.
By the time the first game of bowling is over, Sam’s points are off the charts. He and Kurt seem to agree on almost everything. And not just little things like which flavour chip is the best, but big things like who is the definitive Norma Desmond, whoever that is, and which neighborhood of New York City would be the best to live in. Finn’s face is almost split in two from all the smiling he’s been doing, and he has to resist the urge to run and tell Burt how well everything is going.
“So, you’re in Glee club too Kurt?” Sam asks over pizza.
Kurt nods. “Do you sing?”
“A little,” Sam admits. “In my bedroom or the shower mostly. I’ve never sung in public before.”
“You should audition,” Kurt encourages. “We need new members and most of the time it’s a lot of fun.”
“Most of the time?”
“Sometimes Mr. Schue’s song choices kinda suck,” Finn says, before Kurt has a chance to start bitching about Rachel. He loves his girlfriend, but he knows that she and Kurt don’t always see eye to eye.
“I don’t know…I think I’d be way too nervous,” Sam says.
“You get used to it,” Finn says reassuringly. “At least come and check it out.”
“Yeah, I might do that,” Sam replies, polishing off his last mouthful of pizza. “You ready for another game?” he asks, holding a controller out to Kurt.
*
“That was fun,” Kurt says later on, when he and Finn are taking out the trash.
“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Sam seems nice. It would be awesome if he joined Glee.”
“We do need new members now that Matt is gone,” Kurt murmurs. “Let’s hope he really can sing.”
“He’s kind of cute, right?” Finn says, avoiding Kurt’s gaze as he speaks.
Kurt freezes, his eyes bulging out of his head.
Realising how the statement must have sounded, Finn rushes to correct himself. “I mean…Rachel mentioned it the other day and I figured I’d get your opinion since you and her have kinda the same taste in guys.”
Kurt chooses to ignore the thinly veiled reference to his crush on Finn in favour of ending the conversation as soon as possible. “He could be worse.”
“Come on Kurt, you can do better than that,” Finn says. “I’m trying to be all understanding and cool with you being gay and shit, so it’s okay for you to talk to me about guys if you want.” He knows he’s pushing it now but he needs some kind of sign that Kurt is interested before he can put phase two of his plan into action.
Kurt fixes Finn with a suspicious look, and it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t wholly buy Finn’s explanation. He must not detect anything particularly dangerous in Finn’s face though, because he eventually he sighs and answers the question. “He’s not the least attractive guy I’ve ever seen but he’s not the most attractive either. He’s kind of generically good looking I guess. Of course, I’m kind of biased since I don’t really go for blonds. There, is that enough?”
“Cool,” Finn replies casually.
He waits until Kurt has gone inside before kicking the trashcan.
*
They’re doing Madonna again. Kurt knows he should be happy, ecstatic even, given that he’s got a solo in the group number. And he was at first. But then he somehow wound up standing behind Puck for their big dance routine. The jock might go and on about how Madonna’s music isn’t really for him, but he sure knows how to dance to it. His hips always seem to catch the beat and those strong arms pull Brittany to his chest only to spin her away again. Kurt has never wanted to be a girl as much as he does right now. If it’s true what they say about being able to tell how good a guy is bed by the way he dances then Puck must be fucking exquisite. He’s not exactly graceful like Kurt, but there’s an effortless charisma to his movements that Kurt has never been able to pull off. Next to Puck, Kurt feels like he looks like he’s trying too hard.
But more than the way he moves, it’s the look on Puck’s face that is doing strange things to Kurt’s insides. It’s that look that says he knows you’re watching him, and he loves it. It’s confidence that borders on arrogance, and it’s Kurt’s undoing. To his horror he feels a sharp stab of arousal in his belly, which only flares up when Puck meets his eyes and winks. Damn, Kurt thinks, Madonna hit the nail right on the head with this one.
How could it hurt you when it looks so good?
Kurt makes it to Wednesday before the near-constant waves of lust every time he looks at Puck become too much for him to bear. Their afternoon rehearsal was the last before their performance at Friday’s assembly, and their first in costume. Kurt had forgotten all about the decision to go for blue jeans and white sleeveless tops until the moment Puck walked in looking like the very definition of sex.
“Shit,” he groans softly.
“You okay?” Mercedes asks, resting a soft hand on his knee.
He plasters a smile on his face and nods. “Of course. We’re doing Madonna, girl! How could I not be okay?”
Mercedes frowns at him but doesn’t press the issue.
By the time rehearsal was over Kurt was dangerously close to coming in his jeans. It ought to be illegal for guys to be as hot as Puck. He barely managed to get through his solo because all he could think about was what it would feel like to have Puck’s warm weight bearing down on him. He’s reasonably sure he managed to hide his discomfort from everyone else. Rachel didn’t have anything bad to say about his performance, and if she didn’t notice then you could bet nobody else did. He makes a quick escape from the choir room, thanking the gods that Finn was having dinner at Rachel’s house and so wouldn’t be riding home with him. He knows Mercedes will probably worry and he makes a mental note to message her as soon as he gets home.
That plan flies out the window the moment he steps into the shower. He’d only intended to have a quick wash to freshen up before getting started on his math homework, but as soon as he felt the warm spray hit his back and realised how tense his muscles were he knew he wouldn’t be getting out any time soon. He closes his eyes and leans back against the walls, feeling the stress slowly seep out of his aching body. That proves to be a very bad idea, because in the absence of anything else to focus on Kurt’s brain conjures up the image of Puck on his knees from the routine they’d been rehearsing.
Before he can stop himself, he moans. One hand falls to his stomach, fingernails scraping lightly as his eyes trawl over the imaginary Puck. The thought of all that fire and passion kneeling before him taps into every control fantasy Kurt has ever had. And he knows Puck would be passionate; knows that the jock is probably up for anything when it comes to sex, and that just makes Kurt harder. Puck would have no problem standing naked before a lover. He wouldn’t be ashamed of his body. He’d revel in an appreciative gaze. He’d let himself be worshipped by lips and teeth and tongue and then he’d strip his lover down and do the same for them.
“Fuck,” Kurt gasps harshly, digging his fingernails into his inner thighs and moaning at the sensation. He’s rock hard now, and well past the point of caring whom it was that got him that way.
He rubs his fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the precome he finds there and using it to ease the slide of his hand as he curls it around his throbbing erection.
Dream Puck is standing now, pressing Kurt against a wall and licking his way up Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s got one leg hooked around Puck’s waist, desperately rubbing himself against Puck’s toned thigh. He runs his hands down Puck’s back, grabbing that fucking perfect ass and squeezing roughly. He’s rewarded by a muffled moan and a sharp nip to his pulse point.
Kurt’s hand moves faster on his cock, moving in time with the phantom slide of Puck’s tongue in and out of his mouth. He braces himself against the tiles, his legs trembling with the effort of staying upright.
“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh…fuck…so good….”
He whimpers as he pictures himself dropping to his knees in front of a smiling Puck, imagines running his hands over bare thighs and up to the treat between Puck’s legs. He has no real way to imagine giving a blowjob, having never received or given one before, but he’s pretty sure he’d love it. Just thinking about the heat and the weight of Puck on his tongue is enough to make him shudder. He’s close now, and even though his eyes are open it is still Puck’s face that he sees before him.
“Puck,” he cries. “Please, Puck.” He has no idea what he’s begging for, but he knows he wants Puck to give it to him.
In his mind, Puck yanks him up by the hair and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Their naked cocks brush together and it’s enough to send Kurt hurtling over the edge.
He comes with wild abandon, still moaning Puck’s name.
When he finally gathers himself together enough to move, he turns off the shower and wraps himself up in a fluffy white towel. Catching sight of himself in the mirror he notices that his face is still blushed, his lip swollen from where he’d been biting down on it. He feels positively filthy. He’s jerked off before. Hell, he’s tasted himself before; but he has never come as hard as that before. He still feels shaky even though five minutes have passed since his orgasm. He does a quick check of the shower to make sure that any and all incriminating evidence has been washed away and then retreats to his bedroom.
He’s in big trouble. His crush on Finn seems like a walk in the park compared to the situation he’s in now. All his fantasies as far as Finn were concerned revolved around shy, nervous kisses and longing looks; the truly sexual side of a relationship never really entered into it. Now after a few bonding moments with Puck he can hardly look at the boy without getting hard. It just doesn’t make sense.
Luckily for Kurt, he knows exactly what to do to cure him of whatever strange disease has addled his brain. It’s not going to be pretty, but he can’t go on like this. It’s pathetic, and Kurt Hummel doesn’t do pathetic.