Smoky Eyes 1/?
Written for this prompt in the Glee Kink Meme: AU. To support his kid Puck joined the military. Years later he's at out with friends at a drag bar/caberet type place and sees Kurt performing. They hook up.
Puck in his boots and camos, ripped and gorgeous, Kurt all sexy eye make up and fuck me pumps.
Dog tags play a prominent role.
As smutty or angsty as you please (Don't Ask Don't Tell)
They’re laughing and joking as they tumble out of the car, hauling Puck along. He tries to tell them that he doesn’t go for drag queens. They tell him to shut up and enjoy his birthday.
Inside the club, blue-tinted lights cut swathes through the smoke that softens every line in the place. Puck is shoved into the chair closest to the stage and his buddies pile in around the table. They rib at him good naturedly until the lights go down, a single brilliant beam swinging to light an empty stage.
“Never know how much I love you…”
The low, sultry voice curls through the smoky air, thrumming somewhere low in Puck’s stomach. He can’t see the singer, still hidden behind the velvet curtain. He wants to.
“Never know how much I care.”
A long, stocking-clad leg arches into view, bent with a ballerina’s grace. The delicate foot is strapped into a red stiletto heel. Puck swallows. The rest of the singer sashays out onto the stage and Puck’s eyes focus on sheer black skirt over satin boy shorts and milky thighs. The singer sways, hips curving into the gleam of the spotlights and Puck wants to wrap his hands around them and feel that fragile arch of bone under his palms.
“When you put your arms around me, you give me fever that’s so hard to bare.”
That voice is amazing, smooth and dark with just a hint of the soaring high notes he is sure it's capable of. It pulls at half-forgotten memories of another boy with a voice like a bell, clear and oh so sweet. Perfect, scarlet-stained lips curve around the words and Puck’s tongue flicks out to wet his own lips as his mouth goes dry.
“You give me fever…”
Gloved fingers snap.
“…When you kiss me. Fever when you hold me tight.”
Finally tearing his gaze from those delicious lips, Puck looks up into shockingly familiar eyes. Eyes like pools, clear and blue-green, lined with black in sharp curves that slant them like a cat’s. Startled by the recognition, he pulls back to take in the singer’s face.
“Fever in the morning. Fever all through the night.”
With that upturned nose to set it off, the generous mouth is suddenly familiar. That’s Kurt Hummel on that stage. Fucking Kurt Hummel. Puck rubs a discreet hand over the growing bulge in his fatigues. Kurt Hummel prancing around in fuck-me pumps and a red velvet corset.
It really turns him on.
Puck in his boots and camos, ripped and gorgeous, Kurt all sexy eye make up and fuck me pumps.
Dog tags play a prominent role.
As smutty or angsty as you please (Don't Ask Don't Tell)
They’re laughing and joking as they tumble out of the car, hauling Puck along. He tries to tell them that he doesn’t go for drag queens. They tell him to shut up and enjoy his birthday.
Inside the club, blue-tinted lights cut swathes through the smoke that softens every line in the place. Puck is shoved into the chair closest to the stage and his buddies pile in around the table. They rib at him good naturedly until the lights go down, a single brilliant beam swinging to light an empty stage.
“Never know how much I love you…”
The low, sultry voice curls through the smoky air, thrumming somewhere low in Puck’s stomach. He can’t see the singer, still hidden behind the velvet curtain. He wants to.
“Never know how much I care.”
A long, stocking-clad leg arches into view, bent with a ballerina’s grace. The delicate foot is strapped into a red stiletto heel. Puck swallows. The rest of the singer sashays out onto the stage and Puck’s eyes focus on sheer black skirt over satin boy shorts and milky thighs. The singer sways, hips curving into the gleam of the spotlights and Puck wants to wrap his hands around them and feel that fragile arch of bone under his palms.
“When you put your arms around me, you give me fever that’s so hard to bare.”
That voice is amazing, smooth and dark with just a hint of the soaring high notes he is sure it's capable of. It pulls at half-forgotten memories of another boy with a voice like a bell, clear and oh so sweet. Perfect, scarlet-stained lips curve around the words and Puck’s tongue flicks out to wet his own lips as his mouth goes dry.
“You give me fever…”
Gloved fingers snap.
“…When you kiss me. Fever when you hold me tight.”
Finally tearing his gaze from those delicious lips, Puck looks up into shockingly familiar eyes. Eyes like pools, clear and blue-green, lined with black in sharp curves that slant them like a cat’s. Startled by the recognition, he pulls back to take in the singer’s face.
“Fever in the morning. Fever all through the night.”
With that upturned nose to set it off, the generous mouth is suddenly familiar. That’s Kurt Hummel on that stage. Fucking Kurt Hummel. Puck rubs a discreet hand over the growing bulge in his fatigues. Kurt Hummel prancing around in fuck-me pumps and a red velvet corset.
It really turns him on.