Fic: If It's Not Rough, It Isn't Fun Part 1/?
Title: If It's Not Rough, It Isn't Fun (Part 1/?)
Author: janekrahe
Rating: NC-17 for bad language, homophobia, and graphic sex
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Warning: shades of dub-con (only if you're sensitive to the subject, really)
Spoilers: let's just say for every episode aired, to be safe
Disclaimer: Hmm, if I owned Glee... Puck would have given in to those naughty feelings about Kurt by now! As it is, I don't own them. And I'm certainly not getting paid for this. (sadly)
Author Notes: Um, so, I wish I could stop describing Kurt with words like “soft” and “sweet”, but that’s exactly what he is, so..... I fail at vocabulary. Also, violent abuse of italics and commas...
Summary: A chance encounter in the boys locker-room sends Kurt and Puck spiraling into a strange pattern of lust and denial.
Kurt flipped open his compact. Mercedes was at his shoulder, chatting away about some celebrity. Mr. Schuester was late, as usual, and everyone in Glee club was sprawled over the stands. Kurt rubbed his lips together - he was using a new lip gloss, and he wasn't too sure of it yet - then pulled them apart with a pop. Closing his compact, he locked eyes with Noah Puckerman, football player, homophobe, ladies man, and all around king of douchbaggery. He was staring at Kurt with an odd look on his face. Kurt gave him a "wtf?" face. Puck shook himself, then sneered at Kurt and turned away. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned back to Mercedes, wondering what had gotten the other gleek’s jockstrap in a twist.
“So, the wedding’s supposed to happen this weekend, all the biggest stars are going to be there, and - “
“What are you talking about?” Kurt asked.
“Were you not listening that last ten minutes, Boy George?”
“Not really, and George is way past his prime.” Kurt ran his tongue over his top lip. At least the gloss tasted good. Glancing around the room, he met Puck’s eyes again. This time, Puck turned red, glared daggers at Kurt, and turned around in his chair.
“What’s his problem?” Mercedes asked.
Kurt shook his head. “No clue.”
*****
After football practice, Kurt waited until all the boys left before getting in the shower. It wasn’t like he was all that attracted to any of them - except Finn, of course - nor was it because he had no self-control. He just didn’t want some Neanderthal peeking over the stall, trying to get a glimpse of the “fag". The showers were still filled with steam when Kurt chose a stall. He turned the shower on, sighing as the hot water poured over his sore muscles. Even though he didn’t do anything on the team but kick field goals, they still made him run drills with everyone else. If it wasn’t for Finn and his father, he’d probably quit.
It wasn’t for a few moments, which Kurt spent quietly moaning over the feel of the heat and steam running over his skin, that he realized the stall next to him was still occupied. He heard harsh, male breathing and froze, the bar of soap gripped in his hands. The panting continued, and after a moment, Kurt heard another sound; the slip-slap of skin on skin. Oh, God. Kurt moaned low in his throat as he realized what was going on. The guy in the next stall was jerking off.
Heat burned in Kurt’s face as his cock filled, and he leaned against the divider between the stalls. The panting was rough and oddly familiar. Kurt felt his own breath coming in quick, sharp gasps, and without thinking, he lowered his soapy hand down his stomach to curl over his cock. There was a thick red haze in his mind, and even though he knew that being caught jerking off to the sounds of another guy jerking off was a sure way to end up in traction, he couldn’t keep his hand from stroking and twisting. There was something inherently filthy in what he was doing, and Kurt could already feel his orgasm building, liquid heat pooling in his pelvis. His left hand searched out for something to grab onto, sliding over the wet tiles. He ended up gripping the edge of the top of the stall. It wasn't until large, callused fingers connected with his own that he realized what he'd done. Kurt gasped and tried to pull away, but the hand held on. Kurt had never orgasmed with anyone in the room, let alone touching someone. The thought made him whimper, and there was a responding moan from the other side, low and male, and so very familiar, and if Kurt could just think clearly he'd know who it was.
Kurt's hand moved faster, and the slapping sound on the other side sped up as well. Kurt could feel it coming, hurtling at him like a freight train, and - "Oh... oooh," Kurt moaned as hot come pulsed over his hand. The hand on Kurt's tightened, and he heard a responding moan, this one more like a growl, and what in gay hell, he knew instantly who it was.
Noah. Fucking. Puckerman.
Kurt wrenched his hand away from the other boy's, cold terror filling him, chasing away the afterglow and making him tremble. He leaned forward into the shower's spray, closing his eyes and letting the water wash over him. He heard the shower next to him turn off. Kurt held his breath, wondering when the first punch would come. The slapping of bare feet on wet linoleum stopped outside his stall, and he could feel Puck’s gaze burning into his back. Kurt was too scared to turn around, so he just stood under the water, shaking. Finally, the steps resumed, and Puck left the locker room.
Kurt waited another half hour to do the same.
*****
He wasn’t gay. Noah Puckerman was not. Fucking. Gay.
He’d bedded more desperate housewives than any other pool boy, he’d tapped most of the Cheerios, and he had a girl at every away game.
To reiterate: not gay.
So how to explain the incident with Kurt? Noah was having what he liked to call a BIG GAY PANIC because hello, not gay. But earlier that day, he’d jerked off to the sound of Kurt Hummel jerking off, and what the hell was up with that?
He’d been jerking off because he was horny. The Cheerios were denying him tail since he joined the Glee club, and the weather was too cold to be cleaning pools. He hadn’t gotten any in weeks, and he was starting to climb the walls. And when he’d caught himself staring at Kurt Hummel's lips in Glee that day, he decided he needed some Puck-time, before he started batting for the other team. It wasn’t his fault that the fairy had a girl’s mouth, or that he wore lip gloss, for Christ’s sake.
But then there’d been that sharp intake of breath in the shower, so soft and sweet, and it turned Puck on like nobody’s business, and when he’d seen that small white hand at the top of the stall, even though he’d known who it was, he couldn’t stop himself from grasping onto it and riding the lightning.
When he’d walked by the stall and looked in, Kurt was braced against the wall under the spray, his whole body shaking, and Puck had a momentary flash of lust, strong and dark, and it pissed him off royally. He’d wanted to beat Kurt’s face in, but the boy looked so scared, trembling and naked, that he’d just stomped away.
He didn’t think Kurt would tell anyone. Who would believe him? Noah Puckerman was a stud, everyone knew that. He wouldn’t be in the locker room, jerking off with another guy, except for how he did, but that fact could be easily ignored.
The next day in Glee, Kurt - dressed like one of those faggy runway guys, as usual - completely avoided Puck’s gaze. So Puck chalked the incident up to diminished mental capacity due to extreme horniness, and decided to never think of it again.
*****
It had been three weeks since the “incident”, as Kurt was thinking about it, and all had gone back to normal. He’d told no one but Mercedes, who’d promised silence on pain of death and bad hair, and had mostly managed to forget it. Sure, it was distracting when Puck pulled out a guitar, and those thick fingers strummed across the strings, but Kurt just reminded himself that Puck was the king of douchebaggery, and turned to stare longingly at Finn. Handsome, sweet, dumb Finn.
That day after practice, Kurt did the typical thing of waiting until everyone had left. He was a lot more thorough, checking each stall before settling in and beginning his shower. He hummed happily to himself, spreading his special, organic mint and oatmeal soap over his chest. He got so into it that he didn’t know anyone was there until he heard a very male someone clearing his throat.
Kurt froze, terror coursing through him. “Hey, there, Kurt.” Dear God, it was Puck, what the hell was he doing?
Kurt turned slowly, feeling like he was in the middle of a horror movie. Puck was standing at the opening of the stall, a towel slung low around his hips. “W-what do you want?” Kurt asked. He was surprised to notice that fear made his voice lower, not higher.
Puck undid the towel, tossing it to the side. Kurt’s eyes were drawn to the boy’s cock, half-hard and so big, and a mixture of fear and anticipation gripped Kurt. Kurt wrenched his eyes up, only to see a smirk on Puck’s face. “Like what you see, fairy?”
Kurt pressed his lips together. “Not hardly,” he replied, voice cold. He turned back to the hot stream, hoping the other boy would just get bored and walk away.
No such luck.
“Like you’ve had better.” Kurt gasped as he felt large, rough hands grip him by the hips. “I don’t think you’ve had any at all.” His hips were snapped backwards, and Kurt fell forward, hands catching himself on the wall in front of him. Water poured into his eyes and mouth, and he spluttered for a moment before being able to breathe.
“See that, Kurt? How easy you are? You bend so sweet.” Kurt felt Puck’s cock, now fully hard and leaking, sliding between his butt cheeks. And despite the fear rippling under his skin, arousal spiked through him. Kurt bit his lip to keep from moaning, but a whimper slipped out, and Puck ground his erection against him at the sound. "You know, Kurt, if you want to be fucked, all you gotta do is ask."
A thick hand grasped Kurt's cock, which seemed to have forgotten the whole "Puck is a madman and might kill me" thing, and was very much into the proceedings. Puck pumped once, twice, and oh God, Kurt was close to coming from just that. He'd never been touched by anyone so intimately before. But when he'd fantasized about it, pulled out that blue vibrator April Rhodes had sent him, and allowed himself to really think about it, he'd always imagined losing it to Finn.
Not Noah fucking Puckerman.
"L-let me go," Kurt managed around the water coursing over his face.
"Oh, Kurt, I don't think that's what you really want." Puck's voice was sing-song and teasing, and his fingers slid back, over Kurt's balls and perineum, which was so good that Kurt tried to squirm away. Puck held on, and Kurt lamented the fact that there'd be hand-shaped bruises on his perfect white hips, should he ever get out of this alive. “I bet this is exactly what you want.” A finger circled Kurt’s hole, and his muscles clenched in fear. There was a sharp smack to his ass, then a low chuckle. “If you don’t relax, this’ll hurt.”
The hand on his cock resumed its stroking, and despite himself, Kurt began rocking his hips, matching the movements. He was so close, so close...
The hand stopped, and Kurt pumped his hips in frustration a few times before whining high in his throat. Puck chuckled again. “Aww, what’s wrong? Is there something you need, Kurt?”
Kurt whined again, shame prickling hot across his back and neck. If he didn’t come soon he was going to explode, but was it worth his pride?
Puck thrust again, and the tip of his cock caught on that pink rim of muscle, and screw his pride. “Please,” Kurt said quietly. “Please... just get it over with.”
“Well, that’s not very flattering... but I’ll take it.” The hand returned, and Puck began thrusting, sliding wetly between Kurt’s white cheeks, which felt amazing, and Puck did this thing with his fingers, and there was a wrist flick, and Kurt’s orgasm caught him off guard, and his cock pulsed as he painted the wall in front of him.
Puck grunted and came a moment later, and the feeling of his cock pulsing against Kurt's skin, his come spreading hot over the boy's back, was almost enough to make Kurt want to go again. Puck released Kurt, who sank to the floor. Kurt had tears in his eyes, not because he was upset, but because it was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. He looked up through the shower. Puck was looking down at his own semen-covered hand. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave an experimental lick. “Huh,” he said, then rinsed off in the spray. Looking down at Kurt he said, “I’ll see you next time, kid.” Grabbing his towel, he walked away, whistling.
Kurt groaned. Next time? He barely survived the first. What the hell was up with Noah Puckerman?
Part 2