Land of Misfit Fics: Orphan #1 AU Masseuse Rom-Com
Title: Orphan #1
Rating: R
Genre: Rom-com
Author's note(s): First in a series of Puckurt fics that I've started, but been unable to finish. Up for adoption upon approval.
Summary: Noah Puckerman, corporate executive, had a standing appointment for a massage every Tuesday afternoon. What happens when his regular masseuse calls in sick?
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
Noah Puckerman sighed as he lifted his head from his arms and sat back in his desk chair. If anyone would have told him when he was a teenaged punk that he'd be spending seventy hours a week behind a desk during the prime years of his life, he would have laughed and flipped them off.
Beep-beep!
Noah jabbed the speakerphone button and coughed, "What, Artie? I'm still working on that presentation for tomorrow. I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone."
"Mr. Puckerman," Noah's receptionist chirped, his voice entirely too grating for - god, was it really two in the afternoon? Had he even remembered to eat lunch? "Your appointment is here to see you."
"What appointment?" Puck demanded, pulling up his calendar. "What day is it?"
"Tuesday, sir. Your standing Tuesday appointment?" Artie’s voice was entirely too amused, and Noah didn't even want to know why.
Tuesday... Tuesday afternoon... "The masseuse!" Noah remembered. God, a massage was really what he needed right now. It would be an hour away from his desk and away from the stress of trying to pitch a new music distribution platform to his bosses, and if Santana was up for it, he'd be able to get his rocks off, too. God, Noah hadn't gotten off since last Tuesday, when Santana earned a generous tip. "Yeah," he told Artie. "Send her in. And don't disturb me for-"
"An hour," Artie replied lightly, like he was about to start giggling. What the fuck was that about? "I know, sir."
Pushing away from his desk for the first time in four hours, Noah groaned and stretched, calling, "Come in!" when Santana knocked.
Only it wasn't Santana who opened the door. It was a man who was much taller than Santana, pale, with long, thin limbs, dark hair, and pretty, light-colored eyes. He was carrying a fold-up massage table, just like Santana's and he looked nervous, but like he was trying to cover it up with a serene expression.
"Who are you?" Noah asked, completely thrown off. He did not need this shit right now. "Where's Santana?"
"I'm Santana's replacement," the man replied, his voice oddly pitched, high and almost breathy. "Kurt Hummel. She's sick. She was supposed to call you and tell you..."
Shaking his head, Puck punched the speakerphone button again and growled through clenched teeth, "Artie! Did you take a message from my regular masseuse and fail to give it to me?"
There was no answer forthcoming, so Noah decided to kick his assistant to the curb. As soon as he had the time to train a new one, which at this rate was going to be never.
"I-" Kurt spoke up, pulling his dark pea coat closer against his frame, "I can go. I mean, I understand. No hard feelings, I'll just..."
Crap. The guy must have thought Noah was put off by his gender, rather than the fact that Kurt was another new person in Noah's life that he'd had to break in and get used to. Plus, even if the dude did practically scream 'gay' there was no way he'd agree to that happy ending Noah had been looking forward to.
"Nah, whatever," Noah said, waving the guy back as he headed for his bathroom to strip. "Stay. You're the same rate, right?"
"Yes," Kurt replied with a relieved sigh just before Noah nodded and closed the bathroom door, glad his robe was still hanging on the back of the door. Hey, there were some perks to practically living at work.
When Noah got back into his office, the door was closed and Kurt was waiting beside his table. He was wearing a mixture of white and beige, like Santana always did, but he'd made the pseudo-uniform his own with a linen scarf around his neck and a brown belt at the waist of his white skinny jeans. As much as Noah hated to admit it to himself, this dude knew how to dress, which was more shit Noah didn't really need to deal with right now.
This project that he'd brought down on himself, his mom's new boyfriend, Sarah's trouble with the cops because of said mom's boyfriend, and now questioning his sexuality because Noah had slept with one dude he met at a party about a month ago and now this guy, Kurt, shows up, looking hot and ready to touch Noah all over and he's supposed to keep it from getting hard? One man can only do so much.
"Oh, there you are," Kurt smiled, standing up a little straighter and shifting from foot to foot. "Would you lie down on the table? Please?"
"Jesus," Noah smirked as he approached the other side of the table, "what's got you so jumpy, man?"
"I just..." Kurt sighed, holding up the sheet and looking away so Noah could drop his robe and lay down under the sheet. "Santana gave me a rundown of all her clients but her description of you differs vastly from reality."
"Yeah?" Noah asked as he laid face down. "How's that?"
Kurt settled the sheet over Noah's lower back and legs, saying, "Oh, I guess I thought you'd be older, and not so... I thought you'd be older."
Turning to see Kurt's face, Noah was stoked to see that the guy was blushing. Yeah, that's right. Noah Puckerman was desirable goods, even if he wasn't putting his looks to good use lately. "Maybe I’m older than I look," he replied before settling down on the table, with his face in the hole at the top.
Noah was sure that Kurt said something under his breath, but then he breathed louder, "Let’s get started," and pulled the sheet gingerly down to expose Noah’s upper back. After the first few, hesitant touches, Kurt’s hands began to feel more like Santana’s - strong and sure against Noah’s tight muscles, easing away the pain and stress of living his life.
Kurt had just worked his way down one of Noah’s arms, and was switching to the other when Noah noticed that the guy was humming. The tune seemed familiar, but Noah was too relaxed to ask about it. Only when Kurt started on another song (and moved to Noah’s scalp with those awesome fingers) did Noah ask, "What are you humming?"
Pulling his hands away, Kurt squeaked, "Oh, was I? I’m sorry!"
"Don’t be," Noah insisted, pulling his head up to look at the guy. He really was attractive when he was blushing, wasn’t he? Crap. Noah wasn’t going to think these thoughts. Not at all. Music, that’s what he was going to ask about. "I just thought I recognized it."
"Oh, just an album my brother has been playing over and over again," Kurt insisted, moving closer, but still keeping his hands to himself like he couldn’t stand to touch Noah if he was going to watch. "I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s relaxing as long as you don’t know the lyrics. Otherwise, it’s depressing."
Noah laughed, grinning at Kurt before settling back down on the table. "You live with your brother?" he asked, face down in the table.
"For now," the masseuse replied, strong hands working the back of Noah’s neck. "I love him, but he’s kind of a tool. Plus, he always has his obnoxious girlfriend over and I’m getting sick of hearing her high notes, if you know what I mean."
Noah laughed again, really starting to like this guy. Which was a problem. A big problem. A hard problem, at the moment. Damn it.
"Alright, turn over," Kurt insisted, and Noah felt himself blush.
"Why?"
"Doesn’t … I mean, Santana said you wanted …"
"She told you about that?" Noah cried, surprised and more than a little nervous. He’d thought that shit was just between him and Santana - a little off-the-books employer-employee transaction.
"Getting the facial muscles, the sides, the … the pecs, the quads and the feet is included in the full-body price," Kurt explained, and Noah felt like the dumbest man on earth. And he’d shown his stupidity in front of this god damned beautiful guy. "But if you’re done, I can pack up a little early."
"No!" Noah cried, needing to keep Kurt from leaving so suddenly. "I’m … I guess Santana skimps or something. I’d like that." And then Noah remembered his problem. "But you might have to give me a minute." He flicked his eyes downward and Kurt’s mouth dropped open a little, that blush coloring his cheeks a little.
"Of course," Kurt nodded, turning around like he was afraid of seeing Noah tent the sheets. Or maybe he was afraid Noah would kick his ass for looking. "I mean, it’s perfectly common."
"Or so you’ve heard," Noah guessed, smiling when Kurt’s back shrugged at him. Yeah, he’d pegged Kurt as young, but maybe he was a little younger than Noah would have guessed, and if not virginal, then pretty damn close. Man, it was like the universe was dangling this bait in front of his face, and expecting Noah not to do anything about it. With a sigh, he arranged himself on his back, readjusting his junk so it wasn’t so obvious and glad he wasn’t one of those guys that stuck straight up when he was laying down. "Okay."
He watched Kurt take a deep breath before coming back to the table and putting some more oil on his fingers. "I’ll start with your face, if that’s okay."
"Yeah," Noah smiled, closing his eyes so the guy wouldn’t be so nervous. "That’s fine, Kurt."
Delicately, deft fingers worked themselves against Noah’s forehead, easing away the strain of staring at his computer for hours on end and making Noah less horny and more sleepy, thank god. Then Kurt moved around to work on the jaw muscles on either side of Noah’s face and Kurt said, "You know, you’ve got some dry skin here. I could recommend a good post-shave moisturizer to fix that up for you."
Noah opened his eyes to reply, but found Kurt’s face closer than he expected it to be. It made his heart beat in overtime as he met the guy’s eyes and his lungs catch a sharp breath, taking in Kurt’s scent, which Noah just realized was even more appealing than the blush mottled across his neck. "Sorry," Kurt whispered, backing away and clearing his throat. "I didn’t mean-"
"It’s cool," Noah whispered back, wanting to reach out and touch Kurt, hold him and kiss him and grind up into him until he couldn’t even remember his own name. But that sort of thing could net him a lawsuit if Kurt wasn’t interested in return. "Really. In case you didn’t notice, I need all the help I can get, skin-care wise."
Kurt took a few beats and then laughed, his smile wide as he nodded and moved down to Puck’s shoulder and bicep. Things got more difficult when Kurt moved his way up from Noah’s feet to his thighs. Shit, he was so close. Just a little further up, and Noah knew Kurt would get him to a happy place within a minute. He had such deft, strong fingers, and it was like Kurt knew exactly how to touch him to set Noah’s entire body on fire, all without touching the most important parts.
On Noah’s left quad, Kurt hit a knot of muscle that must have been there from his nervous tick of bouncing his leg during meetings, and the release of that tension made Noah do the worst. He let out a groan that was dirtier than he would have liked, and didn’t miss Kurt’s tiny gasp in response. Wondering how far he could push the guy, Noah growled, "Oh, that’s good. Right there," and peeked through his lashes to watch Kurt blush all the way from the neckline of his scarf to his scalp. "Mmmm."
"Old injury?" Kurt asked, working his thumbs deeper into the muscle and playing it like he wasn’t perfectly aware of what Noah’s groan had sounded like.
"Yeah," he replied, not even needing to fake the shallow breaths he was taking as Kurt followed the knotted muscle up and toward the inside of Noah’s leg. "Fuck," Noah swore, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the table, facing away from Kurt. "Sorry, dude. I… Jesus, just sorry. I can't ask you to... I know that’s not part of your job."
"It’s really not," Kurt replied softly behind him. "But my hour’s up and …" The guy took a big breath, letting it out slowly as Noah looked over his shoulder at the masseuse, "…I like you."
Noah smiled and grasped the sheet around his waist, standing up and circling the table, stopping just in front of the beautiful man in his office. "Let me take you out, then," he offered. "Tomorrow night. I’ve got this big presentation for work, and I’ll either want to celebrate or forget, and something tells me spending time with you would be good for either."
Smiling down at his hands, Kurt nodded. "That would be nice."
"So you’re single, then?" Noah asked, taking a chance and moving a little closer, finally giving in to the urge to touch Kurt and running one hand along the guy’s jaw line, ending with his fingers under Kurt’s chin, getting him to look up and truly appreciating how blue those baby blues were.
"Yeah," Kurt nodded, giving a surprised noise when Noah crumbled and kissed him.
"Sorry," Noah said, stepping away and hitting himself on the forehead with a closed fist. "I’m standing here practically naked and coming on way too strong. Say you forgive me."
Suddenly Noah had an armful of guy as Kurt wound his arms around the back of Noah’s neck and pulled him in for another, deeper kiss. "I forgive you," Kurt whispered, panting almost as heavily as Noah. "And I think I’m going to like you best practically naked."
Then, Kurt pressed a business card into Noah’s hand, gathered his things, and left, Noah still standing there stunned, in a sheet, staring at the cell phone number on the card, only looking up when someone cleared his throat at the doorway. Afraid it was one of his bosses, Noah clutched Kurt’s sheet closer and looked up, relieved to see it was only Artie, smirking at him.
"Shut up and close the door," Noah demanded, setting Kurt’s phone number down on his desk. He stalked over to his bathroom to take a shower with the sound of Artie’s laughter ringing in his ears.
~~**~~
When morning rolled around and Noah was getting ready for his nine a.m. presentation, the thought of Kurt’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket was almost too much to bear. Where should he take the guy? How were you supposed to date a guy in the first place? Would he want to be wooed, or would that be patronizing? How far would Kurt let him get on the first date? Had Santana been "sick" on purpose after he told her about that hook-up?
Noah’s boss, Will, nodded to him when he entered the meeting room five minutes early. "I looked it over last night," Will said, patting Noah on the back, "and it looks great. I’m sure Sue will love it."
"The last idea Sue liked was shooting Brittany Spears out a cannon to ‘set a trend," Noah pointed out dryly. "But it’s alright. If I go down in flames today, at least I know I’ve got a hot piece of ass waiting to go out with me tonight."
"You’re dating again?" Will cried with a wide smile and he knew the guy was thinking of Noah’s relationship with Quinn, which had imploded about a year ago. "That’s great, Noah! Wait, it’s not another married woman, is it?"
"No," Noah laughed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "It’s definitely not a married woman."
Then, Sue Sylvester, head of the entire company, showed up with her two assistants, Becky and Blaine, in tow. Noah was sure she kept them on because they had matching names and were both shorter than her, which was important to the dragon of a woman. "Alright, Puckerman," Sue sneered, taking a seat at the end of the table, Becky on her right hand and Blaine on her left, "show me what you’ve got."
When Noah finished his presentation, Will beamed, and Sue shrugged, "It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard," which Noah knew meant he was celebrating tonight. Just after Sue and her people left the room, Noah had a thought.
Taking long strides to hurry out of the room, Noah caught up and said, "Hey, Blaine? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Make it quick, boys," Sue nodded as she stepped onto the elevator. "I needs my ten o’clock latte, stat!"
Aftwr the elevator doors closed, Blaine scoffed,"Thanks. Now I have to be the one to get her coffee. What do you want, Puck?"
"Look," Noah said, ignoring his office nickname and pulling Blaine into the kitchenette where there was a little bit of privacy. "You’re like, the only gay dude I know."
"And?"
"I’m taking this guy out tonight, and I-"
"Guy?" Blaine laughed, shaking his head. "What? Weren’t you just bragging last week how you’ve slept with all the girls in the Marketing department?"
"So?" Noah shot back, annoyed. Blaine wasn’t his favorite person in the company. Not even close. But he needed some advice from an honest-to-god gay dude, and not his own mother. "I’ve got layers, man. Anyway, how do I treat him, you know? Do I open doors for him and pull back his seat, or do I let him do that shit for himself? C’mon, dude. Except for one hook up three weeks ago, I haven’t gotten laid in like, six months."
Shaking his head again, Blaine laughed. "I don’t get you at all, Puckerman. But to answer your question, just be nice. Hold open the door if you get there first, but don’t rush in front of him and make a big deal about it. Don’t pull back his chair. Don’t be an ass. You’ll be fine."
Noah sighed and nodded, "Thanks, man. I owe you one."
"No," Blaine smirked. "You owe Sue a grande, low-fat, two-pump vanilla, one-pump hazelnut, no whipped cream, scalding hot latte. Got that, or do you need me to write it down?"
Knowing he was fucked if he didn’t do this, because Blaine held the keys to the castle or whatever, Noah mumbled, "Write it down," and took the post-it Blaine gave him, wondering how close was the nearest Starbucks.
~~**~~
When Noah got to the restaurant bar where he was meeting Kurt, he almost turned back around and left. But then he thought about that kiss the guy had planted on him and the sinful things his hands could do and how much he wanted to grab Kurt’s hips and bury himself in that ass and, Jesus, calm down, Noah! It was just a date. He could do this.
Noah looked all over and didn’t see the man, so he sat at the bar and ordered a rum and coke, taking a painful, but refreshing bite out of the lime that came with it before knocking half of the drink back. He was about to down the rest when someone with a familiar scent sat down next to him and asked, "You’re not an alcoholic, are you?"
Choking on his drink a little, Noah shook his head, looking up to smile at Kurt, who looked really good in his dark teal button-down shirt and the dark gray vest that matched his pants. "No," Noah smiled. "Just nervous. Damn, you look hot."
"Thanks," Kurt smiled, blushing again and flagging down the bartender. "Appletini, please."
"I’ll need to see your ID, kid," the bartender, a thin Asian-looking guy, demanded.
"Seriously, Mike?" Kurt laughed, pulling a thin wallet out of his back pocket. Oh, Kurt knew the guy. "We’re the same age and you know it." Was he an ex or something?
"Gotta ask," Mike replied, nodding his head toward a husky woman at the other end of the bar. "The panther’s watching."
Kurt laughed, a sound that Noah absolutely loved, and said, "Oh, dear. Well, here you go, sweetie." After handing over his license, he met Noah’s eyes briefly before taking a sharp breath and asking Mike, "How’s Tina?"
"As big as a house," Mike replied, handing back the card and nodding at Noah, who felt entirely too relieved that this Mike guy appeared to be straight. "Who’s the stud?"
"That’s Noah," Kurt smiled, taking his hand and sending this incredible warmth up Noah’s arm. "My date."
Mike whistled approvingly and turned to his task making Kurt's drink. After he got it and took a sip, Noah's date looked at him over the brim and said, "Thanks for meeting me here. Finn's got my car, so walking-distance was a must."
"I could have picked you up," Noah insisted, trying to resist touching the guy and failing by taking his hand again. "Next time, I'm picking you up."
"There's already a next time, huh?" Kurt asked with an amused smile, taking another sip of his drink. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you, Mr. Puckerman?"
Noah put on his cockiest grin and replied, "Hell yeah. Once you get some of this, babe, you'll only want more."
Instead of swooning, Kurt laughed right in his face.
Rating: R
Genre: Rom-com
Author's note(s): First in a series of Puckurt fics that I've started, but been unable to finish. Up for adoption upon approval.
Summary: Noah Puckerman, corporate executive, had a standing appointment for a massage every Tuesday afternoon. What happens when his regular masseuse calls in sick?
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
Noah Puckerman sighed as he lifted his head from his arms and sat back in his desk chair. If anyone would have told him when he was a teenaged punk that he'd be spending seventy hours a week behind a desk during the prime years of his life, he would have laughed and flipped them off.
Beep-beep!
Noah jabbed the speakerphone button and coughed, "What, Artie? I'm still working on that presentation for tomorrow. I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone."
"Mr. Puckerman," Noah's receptionist chirped, his voice entirely too grating for - god, was it really two in the afternoon? Had he even remembered to eat lunch? "Your appointment is here to see you."
"What appointment?" Puck demanded, pulling up his calendar. "What day is it?"
"Tuesday, sir. Your standing Tuesday appointment?" Artie’s voice was entirely too amused, and Noah didn't even want to know why.
Tuesday... Tuesday afternoon... "The masseuse!" Noah remembered. God, a massage was really what he needed right now. It would be an hour away from his desk and away from the stress of trying to pitch a new music distribution platform to his bosses, and if Santana was up for it, he'd be able to get his rocks off, too. God, Noah hadn't gotten off since last Tuesday, when Santana earned a generous tip. "Yeah," he told Artie. "Send her in. And don't disturb me for-"
"An hour," Artie replied lightly, like he was about to start giggling. What the fuck was that about? "I know, sir."
Pushing away from his desk for the first time in four hours, Noah groaned and stretched, calling, "Come in!" when Santana knocked.
Only it wasn't Santana who opened the door. It was a man who was much taller than Santana, pale, with long, thin limbs, dark hair, and pretty, light-colored eyes. He was carrying a fold-up massage table, just like Santana's and he looked nervous, but like he was trying to cover it up with a serene expression.
"Who are you?" Noah asked, completely thrown off. He did not need this shit right now. "Where's Santana?"
"I'm Santana's replacement," the man replied, his voice oddly pitched, high and almost breathy. "Kurt Hummel. She's sick. She was supposed to call you and tell you..."
Shaking his head, Puck punched the speakerphone button again and growled through clenched teeth, "Artie! Did you take a message from my regular masseuse and fail to give it to me?"
There was no answer forthcoming, so Noah decided to kick his assistant to the curb. As soon as he had the time to train a new one, which at this rate was going to be never.
"I-" Kurt spoke up, pulling his dark pea coat closer against his frame, "I can go. I mean, I understand. No hard feelings, I'll just..."
Crap. The guy must have thought Noah was put off by his gender, rather than the fact that Kurt was another new person in Noah's life that he'd had to break in and get used to. Plus, even if the dude did practically scream 'gay' there was no way he'd agree to that happy ending Noah had been looking forward to.
"Nah, whatever," Noah said, waving the guy back as he headed for his bathroom to strip. "Stay. You're the same rate, right?"
"Yes," Kurt replied with a relieved sigh just before Noah nodded and closed the bathroom door, glad his robe was still hanging on the back of the door. Hey, there were some perks to practically living at work.
When Noah got back into his office, the door was closed and Kurt was waiting beside his table. He was wearing a mixture of white and beige, like Santana always did, but he'd made the pseudo-uniform his own with a linen scarf around his neck and a brown belt at the waist of his white skinny jeans. As much as Noah hated to admit it to himself, this dude knew how to dress, which was more shit Noah didn't really need to deal with right now.
This project that he'd brought down on himself, his mom's new boyfriend, Sarah's trouble with the cops because of said mom's boyfriend, and now questioning his sexuality because Noah had slept with one dude he met at a party about a month ago and now this guy, Kurt, shows up, looking hot and ready to touch Noah all over and he's supposed to keep it from getting hard? One man can only do so much.
"Oh, there you are," Kurt smiled, standing up a little straighter and shifting from foot to foot. "Would you lie down on the table? Please?"
"Jesus," Noah smirked as he approached the other side of the table, "what's got you so jumpy, man?"
"I just..." Kurt sighed, holding up the sheet and looking away so Noah could drop his robe and lay down under the sheet. "Santana gave me a rundown of all her clients but her description of you differs vastly from reality."
"Yeah?" Noah asked as he laid face down. "How's that?"
Kurt settled the sheet over Noah's lower back and legs, saying, "Oh, I guess I thought you'd be older, and not so... I thought you'd be older."
Turning to see Kurt's face, Noah was stoked to see that the guy was blushing. Yeah, that's right. Noah Puckerman was desirable goods, even if he wasn't putting his looks to good use lately. "Maybe I’m older than I look," he replied before settling down on the table, with his face in the hole at the top.
Noah was sure that Kurt said something under his breath, but then he breathed louder, "Let’s get started," and pulled the sheet gingerly down to expose Noah’s upper back. After the first few, hesitant touches, Kurt’s hands began to feel more like Santana’s - strong and sure against Noah’s tight muscles, easing away the pain and stress of living his life.
Kurt had just worked his way down one of Noah’s arms, and was switching to the other when Noah noticed that the guy was humming. The tune seemed familiar, but Noah was too relaxed to ask about it. Only when Kurt started on another song (and moved to Noah’s scalp with those awesome fingers) did Noah ask, "What are you humming?"
Pulling his hands away, Kurt squeaked, "Oh, was I? I’m sorry!"
"Don’t be," Noah insisted, pulling his head up to look at the guy. He really was attractive when he was blushing, wasn’t he? Crap. Noah wasn’t going to think these thoughts. Not at all. Music, that’s what he was going to ask about. "I just thought I recognized it."
"Oh, just an album my brother has been playing over and over again," Kurt insisted, moving closer, but still keeping his hands to himself like he couldn’t stand to touch Noah if he was going to watch. "I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s relaxing as long as you don’t know the lyrics. Otherwise, it’s depressing."
Noah laughed, grinning at Kurt before settling back down on the table. "You live with your brother?" he asked, face down in the table.
"For now," the masseuse replied, strong hands working the back of Noah’s neck. "I love him, but he’s kind of a tool. Plus, he always has his obnoxious girlfriend over and I’m getting sick of hearing her high notes, if you know what I mean."
Noah laughed again, really starting to like this guy. Which was a problem. A big problem. A hard problem, at the moment. Damn it.
"Alright, turn over," Kurt insisted, and Noah felt himself blush.
"Why?"
"Doesn’t … I mean, Santana said you wanted …"
"She told you about that?" Noah cried, surprised and more than a little nervous. He’d thought that shit was just between him and Santana - a little off-the-books employer-employee transaction.
"Getting the facial muscles, the sides, the … the pecs, the quads and the feet is included in the full-body price," Kurt explained, and Noah felt like the dumbest man on earth. And he’d shown his stupidity in front of this god damned beautiful guy. "But if you’re done, I can pack up a little early."
"No!" Noah cried, needing to keep Kurt from leaving so suddenly. "I’m … I guess Santana skimps or something. I’d like that." And then Noah remembered his problem. "But you might have to give me a minute." He flicked his eyes downward and Kurt’s mouth dropped open a little, that blush coloring his cheeks a little.
"Of course," Kurt nodded, turning around like he was afraid of seeing Noah tent the sheets. Or maybe he was afraid Noah would kick his ass for looking. "I mean, it’s perfectly common."
"Or so you’ve heard," Noah guessed, smiling when Kurt’s back shrugged at him. Yeah, he’d pegged Kurt as young, but maybe he was a little younger than Noah would have guessed, and if not virginal, then pretty damn close. Man, it was like the universe was dangling this bait in front of his face, and expecting Noah not to do anything about it. With a sigh, he arranged himself on his back, readjusting his junk so it wasn’t so obvious and glad he wasn’t one of those guys that stuck straight up when he was laying down. "Okay."
He watched Kurt take a deep breath before coming back to the table and putting some more oil on his fingers. "I’ll start with your face, if that’s okay."
"Yeah," Noah smiled, closing his eyes so the guy wouldn’t be so nervous. "That’s fine, Kurt."
Delicately, deft fingers worked themselves against Noah’s forehead, easing away the strain of staring at his computer for hours on end and making Noah less horny and more sleepy, thank god. Then Kurt moved around to work on the jaw muscles on either side of Noah’s face and Kurt said, "You know, you’ve got some dry skin here. I could recommend a good post-shave moisturizer to fix that up for you."
Noah opened his eyes to reply, but found Kurt’s face closer than he expected it to be. It made his heart beat in overtime as he met the guy’s eyes and his lungs catch a sharp breath, taking in Kurt’s scent, which Noah just realized was even more appealing than the blush mottled across his neck. "Sorry," Kurt whispered, backing away and clearing his throat. "I didn’t mean-"
"It’s cool," Noah whispered back, wanting to reach out and touch Kurt, hold him and kiss him and grind up into him until he couldn’t even remember his own name. But that sort of thing could net him a lawsuit if Kurt wasn’t interested in return. "Really. In case you didn’t notice, I need all the help I can get, skin-care wise."
Kurt took a few beats and then laughed, his smile wide as he nodded and moved down to Puck’s shoulder and bicep. Things got more difficult when Kurt moved his way up from Noah’s feet to his thighs. Shit, he was so close. Just a little further up, and Noah knew Kurt would get him to a happy place within a minute. He had such deft, strong fingers, and it was like Kurt knew exactly how to touch him to set Noah’s entire body on fire, all without touching the most important parts.
On Noah’s left quad, Kurt hit a knot of muscle that must have been there from his nervous tick of bouncing his leg during meetings, and the release of that tension made Noah do the worst. He let out a groan that was dirtier than he would have liked, and didn’t miss Kurt’s tiny gasp in response. Wondering how far he could push the guy, Noah growled, "Oh, that’s good. Right there," and peeked through his lashes to watch Kurt blush all the way from the neckline of his scarf to his scalp. "Mmmm."
"Old injury?" Kurt asked, working his thumbs deeper into the muscle and playing it like he wasn’t perfectly aware of what Noah’s groan had sounded like.
"Yeah," he replied, not even needing to fake the shallow breaths he was taking as Kurt followed the knotted muscle up and toward the inside of Noah’s leg. "Fuck," Noah swore, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the table, facing away from Kurt. "Sorry, dude. I… Jesus, just sorry. I can't ask you to... I know that’s not part of your job."
"It’s really not," Kurt replied softly behind him. "But my hour’s up and …" The guy took a big breath, letting it out slowly as Noah looked over his shoulder at the masseuse, "…I like you."
Noah smiled and grasped the sheet around his waist, standing up and circling the table, stopping just in front of the beautiful man in his office. "Let me take you out, then," he offered. "Tomorrow night. I’ve got this big presentation for work, and I’ll either want to celebrate or forget, and something tells me spending time with you would be good for either."
Smiling down at his hands, Kurt nodded. "That would be nice."
"So you’re single, then?" Noah asked, taking a chance and moving a little closer, finally giving in to the urge to touch Kurt and running one hand along the guy’s jaw line, ending with his fingers under Kurt’s chin, getting him to look up and truly appreciating how blue those baby blues were.
"Yeah," Kurt nodded, giving a surprised noise when Noah crumbled and kissed him.
"Sorry," Noah said, stepping away and hitting himself on the forehead with a closed fist. "I’m standing here practically naked and coming on way too strong. Say you forgive me."
Suddenly Noah had an armful of guy as Kurt wound his arms around the back of Noah’s neck and pulled him in for another, deeper kiss. "I forgive you," Kurt whispered, panting almost as heavily as Noah. "And I think I’m going to like you best practically naked."
Then, Kurt pressed a business card into Noah’s hand, gathered his things, and left, Noah still standing there stunned, in a sheet, staring at the cell phone number on the card, only looking up when someone cleared his throat at the doorway. Afraid it was one of his bosses, Noah clutched Kurt’s sheet closer and looked up, relieved to see it was only Artie, smirking at him.
"Shut up and close the door," Noah demanded, setting Kurt’s phone number down on his desk. He stalked over to his bathroom to take a shower with the sound of Artie’s laughter ringing in his ears.
~~**~~
When morning rolled around and Noah was getting ready for his nine a.m. presentation, the thought of Kurt’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket was almost too much to bear. Where should he take the guy? How were you supposed to date a guy in the first place? Would he want to be wooed, or would that be patronizing? How far would Kurt let him get on the first date? Had Santana been "sick" on purpose after he told her about that hook-up?
Noah’s boss, Will, nodded to him when he entered the meeting room five minutes early. "I looked it over last night," Will said, patting Noah on the back, "and it looks great. I’m sure Sue will love it."
"The last idea Sue liked was shooting Brittany Spears out a cannon to ‘set a trend," Noah pointed out dryly. "But it’s alright. If I go down in flames today, at least I know I’ve got a hot piece of ass waiting to go out with me tonight."
"You’re dating again?" Will cried with a wide smile and he knew the guy was thinking of Noah’s relationship with Quinn, which had imploded about a year ago. "That’s great, Noah! Wait, it’s not another married woman, is it?"
"No," Noah laughed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "It’s definitely not a married woman."
Then, Sue Sylvester, head of the entire company, showed up with her two assistants, Becky and Blaine, in tow. Noah was sure she kept them on because they had matching names and were both shorter than her, which was important to the dragon of a woman. "Alright, Puckerman," Sue sneered, taking a seat at the end of the table, Becky on her right hand and Blaine on her left, "show me what you’ve got."
When Noah finished his presentation, Will beamed, and Sue shrugged, "It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard," which Noah knew meant he was celebrating tonight. Just after Sue and her people left the room, Noah had a thought.
Taking long strides to hurry out of the room, Noah caught up and said, "Hey, Blaine? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Make it quick, boys," Sue nodded as she stepped onto the elevator. "I needs my ten o’clock latte, stat!"
Aftwr the elevator doors closed, Blaine scoffed,"Thanks. Now I have to be the one to get her coffee. What do you want, Puck?"
"Look," Noah said, ignoring his office nickname and pulling Blaine into the kitchenette where there was a little bit of privacy. "You’re like, the only gay dude I know."
"And?"
"I’m taking this guy out tonight, and I-"
"Guy?" Blaine laughed, shaking his head. "What? Weren’t you just bragging last week how you’ve slept with all the girls in the Marketing department?"
"So?" Noah shot back, annoyed. Blaine wasn’t his favorite person in the company. Not even close. But he needed some advice from an honest-to-god gay dude, and not his own mother. "I’ve got layers, man. Anyway, how do I treat him, you know? Do I open doors for him and pull back his seat, or do I let him do that shit for himself? C’mon, dude. Except for one hook up three weeks ago, I haven’t gotten laid in like, six months."
Shaking his head again, Blaine laughed. "I don’t get you at all, Puckerman. But to answer your question, just be nice. Hold open the door if you get there first, but don’t rush in front of him and make a big deal about it. Don’t pull back his chair. Don’t be an ass. You’ll be fine."
Noah sighed and nodded, "Thanks, man. I owe you one."
"No," Blaine smirked. "You owe Sue a grande, low-fat, two-pump vanilla, one-pump hazelnut, no whipped cream, scalding hot latte. Got that, or do you need me to write it down?"
Knowing he was fucked if he didn’t do this, because Blaine held the keys to the castle or whatever, Noah mumbled, "Write it down," and took the post-it Blaine gave him, wondering how close was the nearest Starbucks.
~~**~~
When Noah got to the restaurant bar where he was meeting Kurt, he almost turned back around and left. But then he thought about that kiss the guy had planted on him and the sinful things his hands could do and how much he wanted to grab Kurt’s hips and bury himself in that ass and, Jesus, calm down, Noah! It was just a date. He could do this.
Noah looked all over and didn’t see the man, so he sat at the bar and ordered a rum and coke, taking a painful, but refreshing bite out of the lime that came with it before knocking half of the drink back. He was about to down the rest when someone with a familiar scent sat down next to him and asked, "You’re not an alcoholic, are you?"
Choking on his drink a little, Noah shook his head, looking up to smile at Kurt, who looked really good in his dark teal button-down shirt and the dark gray vest that matched his pants. "No," Noah smiled. "Just nervous. Damn, you look hot."
"Thanks," Kurt smiled, blushing again and flagging down the bartender. "Appletini, please."
"I’ll need to see your ID, kid," the bartender, a thin Asian-looking guy, demanded.
"Seriously, Mike?" Kurt laughed, pulling a thin wallet out of his back pocket. Oh, Kurt knew the guy. "We’re the same age and you know it." Was he an ex or something?
"Gotta ask," Mike replied, nodding his head toward a husky woman at the other end of the bar. "The panther’s watching."
Kurt laughed, a sound that Noah absolutely loved, and said, "Oh, dear. Well, here you go, sweetie." After handing over his license, he met Noah’s eyes briefly before taking a sharp breath and asking Mike, "How’s Tina?"
"As big as a house," Mike replied, handing back the card and nodding at Noah, who felt entirely too relieved that this Mike guy appeared to be straight. "Who’s the stud?"
"That’s Noah," Kurt smiled, taking his hand and sending this incredible warmth up Noah’s arm. "My date."
Mike whistled approvingly and turned to his task making Kurt's drink. After he got it and took a sip, Noah's date looked at him over the brim and said, "Thanks for meeting me here. Finn's got my car, so walking-distance was a must."
"I could have picked you up," Noah insisted, trying to resist touching the guy and failing by taking his hand again. "Next time, I'm picking you up."
"There's already a next time, huh?" Kurt asked with an amused smile, taking another sip of his drink. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you, Mr. Puckerman?"
Noah put on his cockiest grin and replied, "Hell yeah. Once you get some of this, babe, you'll only want more."
Instead of swooning, Kurt laughed right in his face.