Kurt, bets and tape (NC-17)
Title: Kurt, bets and tape.
Rating: NC17
Summary: Puck looses a bet and Kurt is an amateur filmaker
Genre: Smut
Spoilers: None
Warning: None
Disclaimer: All this belong to Ryan Murphy, FOX and other big guys. I mean no harm by this little fic.
Word Count: 1719
Notes: This was written as response to this glee_kink prompt. Betaed by the wonderful lezi , once again, she edited this in such a wonderful fashion that I feel bad for being the one posting it; she‘s the best beta anyone can have. Tons of love, baby. All mistakes are mine. Bear in mind that I wrote this on the beach, so I was lazy.
“This is so stupid!” Puck groaned from the bed.
“You lost the bet, Noah, so now you have to do exactly what I tell you to. And I told you to stroke, so stroke.”
“C’mon, babe.” He smirked, because pulling the Nickname Card? Worked like a charm on Kurt. “Why don’t you come over here and do it yourself, huh?”
“Because…” Kurt sighed in his theatrical, Kurt Hummel way, “you lost, I won. That means you take orders from me, without question. Do you want me to use dolls to explain this complicated process to you?”
Damn Hummel and his smug self! Puck knew he shouldn’t have accepted that bet, because he was well aware that there was no point in arguing with Kurt’s instincts. But he just couldn’t believe that Santana and Brittany were together--not that it turned him off or anything, but there was no way in hell that Santana would start liking chicks after being with him. He was the embodiment of masculinity. Hello, how could you not see his guns?
So, when Kurt had declared (in that matter-of-fact tone that made Puck want to kiss him till he stuttered) that the two Cheerios were at the very least having sex, Puck made a wager with Kurt.
He lost rather spectacularly after finding the two girls making out in the rehearsal room, so Puck had resigned to be in Kurt’s hand. He hadn’t been too concerned at the time--what was the worst thing he would end up doing? Take Kurt to the movies? Endure “Gone with the Wind” (again)? Give Kurt the blowjob of his life? Puck was badass. There was nothing, nothing that girly little Hummel could come up with that he wouldn’t do.
Of course, Kurt had decided right at that moment to be completely unpredictable--not to mention, kinky--and requested porn.
That had been a shocker: Puck couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought of the other boy searching for porn, let alone actually getting off on it. Puck’s mind rationalized that Kurt was like a girl, and girls--they just didn’t do that kind of stuff. And then there’s the part of the whole scenario he could’ve gone without examining. Picturing the small gleek, his small gleek, jerking off thinking of someone not named Noah Puckerman, admiring other dudes’ bodies, fantasizing about being thoroughly fucked by someone else (or worse--by Finn)…
Even though common sense rationalized he was batshit insane for thinking so, Puck had figured Kurt had never even thought of sex before him.
But with his luck, it turned out Kurt was very fond of porn. He also had a very vivid imagination.
And that was how Puck found himself sprawled out on the boy’s soft bed, in the direct viewpoint of a high-tech video recorder that would make techies wet themselves. The soprano manned it, perched comfortably on one of his many white chairs as he fucking directed Puck. That superior little smirk seemed permanently etched onto his face as he told Puck to stroke, and he didn’t even attempt to hide his disappointment when he was refused by his practically-boyfriend.
“I thought you would be more willing to participate in this, Noah. You know, considering how much of a stud you claim you are.” Kurt snorted in teasing derision. “I guess I was wrong if that…” He made a vague, encompassing hand gesture to Puck’s crotch, wrinkling his nose ever-so-slightly. “If that is the best you can come up with.” His laughter was soft.
“It’s weird, man, alright? And why do you want this, anyway?”
“First of all, Noah, don’t you “man” me.“ He scowled at Puck, blue eyes glinting like flint. “It’s a painful reminder of your unadorned vocabulary--more so when you direct it at me. I resent your poor language choices, especially when they are directed to me.
“And what do you think I want to do with a video of a gorgeous man, such as yourself, masturbating? Especially when you’re doing it all under my orders, on my bed!” He huffed, but Puck didn’t miss the thinly veiled fondness that tugged at the corners of Kurt’s pretty little mouth. “Honestly, I think I might have to review my attraction to dumb jocks.” Before Puck even opened his mouth to interject with something profound like “WTF, mate?”, Kurt held up a hand. “Figure of speech--there’re no other jocks, so calm down. Look, this is all just a fantasy of mine. Okay?“
Kurt got up and walked over to sit next to Puck on the bed. “I’ve spent so many nights, so many years…“ The gleek gently caressed Puck’s cheek and visibly shivered at the erogenous sensation of stubble against his fingers. “I’ve dreamt of a moment where I had someone willing to pleasure me, someone I knew wouldn‘t run away--someone like you.” He planted soft, purposeful kisses onto the tan chest next to him, painting a picture only he could envision. “And because I have you now, I want to make it so that I’ll have you, forever.”
Puck had to admit that it was goddamn flattering, what Kurt had just said. That, combined with those hands, soft on his skin, and those lips, wet and sweet as they met his--it was all he needed to man up, so to speak. Kurt was enough for him to abandon any reservations about this. He was inspired to let it flow, to surrender himself to whatever it was Kurt wanted of him because to Puck, being a porn star exclusively for Kurt, it would hopefully say what he usually didn’t--that he cared.
Kurt was behind the camera in a flash, his greedy eyes glued onto the screen as he adjusted a few of the settings. He looked back up at the real thing and sighed shakily: this had been a long-shot dream of his, and now it was coming true right before his eyes. Literally.
His throat felt like sawdust as he swallowed. “Stroke, Noah… slowly, please. Yes, just like that…”
Puck let his hand slide up and down his hardened shaft as he tossed his head back, his eyes sliding shut. This Voyeur-Kurt was beyond hot, and the new persona made him see kaleidoscopes of color behind his closed lids. Just thinking about Kurt when he watched this video afterward… He moaned low and deep in the back of his throat.
“Faster, twist your hand around the head--that’s right, the way I do it.” He was painfully hard, just from watching Noah and those mouth-watering, rippling muscles that twitched with every stroke. It was, in embarrassingly modest terms, an amazing sight to behold. Kurt was glad he went with the quality camera--it meant that Noah’s hitched, uneven breathing--music to Kurt‘s ears--would be captured perfectly.
“Do you like what you see, pretty boy?” Puck’s voice was husky with lust, and he shot the smaller teen a predatory grin.
“Yes-yes, I do. Very much. That’s why I’m taping it, silly.“ He closed his eyes for a moment. “Now, rub your thumb against the slit, like that… good boy.“ He paused and tilted his head to the side. He reminded Puck of a Siamese cat. “What? What was that, Noah?”
“Kurt--ah!” His hips canted off the bed from a particularly wicked pull. “I said… Kurt.”
“I thought so. Are you thinking of me doing this to you, Noah? Are you?” Kurt stood up and took the camera from the tripod and stalked towards Puck, still rolling all the while.
“Yes, Kurt, yes! I think of you… always think of you…” He murmured in-between moans. “C’mon, please Kurt--need you to touch me!” The jock made a grab for the brunette, but Kurt just edged backwards and grinned mischievously.
“No, no, we can’t have that, can we? I want to watch you, not help you along.”
Puck hissed in frustration. “Evil fucking tease!”
“In the flesh. Now, touch your balls, Noah. Do it how you like it.“ Kurt murmured, in a daze as he watched Puck do as he was told. “Mmm, yes...”
Puck felt his cock twitch in interest when Kurt unzipped his jeans, the sound unnaturally loud in the almost-silent basement. He could hear the Kurt gripping and pumping his own dick, and he grinned as he opened his eyes to watch. The boy was on his knees, one hand holding the camera steady while the other stroked himself. His face was prettily flushed, and those green-blue eyes were wide and warm.
Puck sighed reverently and started tugging at his cock once more. The gleek whimpered, biting his bottom lip as he rambled. “Noah--so beautiful… Fasterfastergofaster! Want to come… with you--please--Noah!”
Puck followed Kurt’s orders (which would not become a habit, because he didn‘t do whipped) and started pumping as fast as he could. He ignored his aching wrist--the pain was hardly there, lost in a sea of tense, sexual energy. He was so close… Puck used his free hand to dart low and grab his balls, roughly massaging them in a pathetic imitation of how Kurt did it. It was good enough to make him come, though, and within seconds he was shooting warm liquid strings onto his chest, coating his hand.
“Noah… ohgodyes!” Kurt was right with Puck, his own come splattering on that tan chest and mixing with Puck‘s semen. Ever the good cameraman, he fought to keep his hand steady even as he bucked and yelled his release.
Kurt collapsed onto the bed, a weak noodle. He still held the recording camera, though. Puck reached over and got it without much fuss, turning the focus to point onto Kurt. “Guess you liked that, babe?” Puck’s voice was still slightly breathless, but smug nonetheless.
His diva made a cute little face at the camera. “Well, it was an admirable performance, Noah. But don’t you think we’ll need to do a few… ah, retakes?” Puck felt his spent cock stir at Kurt’s sultry whisper. Kurt flicked his gaze downwards for a split second and smirked. “You of all people know how hard to please I am.”
Rating: NC17
Summary: Puck looses a bet and Kurt is an amateur filmaker
Genre: Smut
Spoilers: None
Warning: None
Disclaimer: All this belong to Ryan Murphy, FOX and other big guys. I mean no harm by this little fic.
Word Count: 1719
Notes: This was written as response to this glee_kink prompt. Betaed by the wonderful lezi , once again, she edited this in such a wonderful fashion that I feel bad for being the one posting it; she‘s the best beta anyone can have. Tons of love, baby. All mistakes are mine. Bear in mind that I wrote this on the beach, so I was lazy.
“This is so stupid!” Puck groaned from the bed.
“You lost the bet, Noah, so now you have to do exactly what I tell you to. And I told you to stroke, so stroke.”
“C’mon, babe.” He smirked, because pulling the Nickname Card? Worked like a charm on Kurt. “Why don’t you come over here and do it yourself, huh?”
“Because…” Kurt sighed in his theatrical, Kurt Hummel way, “you lost, I won. That means you take orders from me, without question. Do you want me to use dolls to explain this complicated process to you?”
Damn Hummel and his smug self! Puck knew he shouldn’t have accepted that bet, because he was well aware that there was no point in arguing with Kurt’s instincts. But he just couldn’t believe that Santana and Brittany were together--not that it turned him off or anything, but there was no way in hell that Santana would start liking chicks after being with him. He was the embodiment of masculinity. Hello, how could you not see his guns?
So, when Kurt had declared (in that matter-of-fact tone that made Puck want to kiss him till he stuttered) that the two Cheerios were at the very least having sex, Puck made a wager with Kurt.
He lost rather spectacularly after finding the two girls making out in the rehearsal room, so Puck had resigned to be in Kurt’s hand. He hadn’t been too concerned at the time--what was the worst thing he would end up doing? Take Kurt to the movies? Endure “Gone with the Wind” (again)? Give Kurt the blowjob of his life? Puck was badass. There was nothing, nothing that girly little Hummel could come up with that he wouldn’t do.
Of course, Kurt had decided right at that moment to be completely unpredictable--not to mention, kinky--and requested porn.
That had been a shocker: Puck couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought of the other boy searching for porn, let alone actually getting off on it. Puck’s mind rationalized that Kurt was like a girl, and girls--they just didn’t do that kind of stuff. And then there’s the part of the whole scenario he could’ve gone without examining. Picturing the small gleek, his small gleek, jerking off thinking of someone not named Noah Puckerman, admiring other dudes’ bodies, fantasizing about being thoroughly fucked by someone else (or worse--by Finn)…
Even though common sense rationalized he was batshit insane for thinking so, Puck had figured Kurt had never even thought of sex before him.
But with his luck, it turned out Kurt was very fond of porn. He also had a very vivid imagination.
And that was how Puck found himself sprawled out on the boy’s soft bed, in the direct viewpoint of a high-tech video recorder that would make techies wet themselves. The soprano manned it, perched comfortably on one of his many white chairs as he fucking directed Puck. That superior little smirk seemed permanently etched onto his face as he told Puck to stroke, and he didn’t even attempt to hide his disappointment when he was refused by his practically-boyfriend.
“I thought you would be more willing to participate in this, Noah. You know, considering how much of a stud you claim you are.” Kurt snorted in teasing derision. “I guess I was wrong if that…” He made a vague, encompassing hand gesture to Puck’s crotch, wrinkling his nose ever-so-slightly. “If that is the best you can come up with.” His laughter was soft.
“It’s weird, man, alright? And why do you want this, anyway?”
“First of all, Noah, don’t you “man” me.“ He scowled at Puck, blue eyes glinting like flint. “It’s a painful reminder of your unadorned vocabulary--more so when you direct it at me. I resent your poor language choices, especially when they are directed to me.
“And what do you think I want to do with a video of a gorgeous man, such as yourself, masturbating? Especially when you’re doing it all under my orders, on my bed!” He huffed, but Puck didn’t miss the thinly veiled fondness that tugged at the corners of Kurt’s pretty little mouth. “Honestly, I think I might have to review my attraction to dumb jocks.” Before Puck even opened his mouth to interject with something profound like “WTF, mate?”, Kurt held up a hand. “Figure of speech--there’re no other jocks, so calm down. Look, this is all just a fantasy of mine. Okay?“
Kurt got up and walked over to sit next to Puck on the bed. “I’ve spent so many nights, so many years…“ The gleek gently caressed Puck’s cheek and visibly shivered at the erogenous sensation of stubble against his fingers. “I’ve dreamt of a moment where I had someone willing to pleasure me, someone I knew wouldn‘t run away--someone like you.” He planted soft, purposeful kisses onto the tan chest next to him, painting a picture only he could envision. “And because I have you now, I want to make it so that I’ll have you, forever.”
Puck had to admit that it was goddamn flattering, what Kurt had just said. That, combined with those hands, soft on his skin, and those lips, wet and sweet as they met his--it was all he needed to man up, so to speak. Kurt was enough for him to abandon any reservations about this. He was inspired to let it flow, to surrender himself to whatever it was Kurt wanted of him because to Puck, being a porn star exclusively for Kurt, it would hopefully say what he usually didn’t--that he cared.
Kurt was behind the camera in a flash, his greedy eyes glued onto the screen as he adjusted a few of the settings. He looked back up at the real thing and sighed shakily: this had been a long-shot dream of his, and now it was coming true right before his eyes. Literally.
His throat felt like sawdust as he swallowed. “Stroke, Noah… slowly, please. Yes, just like that…”
Puck let his hand slide up and down his hardened shaft as he tossed his head back, his eyes sliding shut. This Voyeur-Kurt was beyond hot, and the new persona made him see kaleidoscopes of color behind his closed lids. Just thinking about Kurt when he watched this video afterward… He moaned low and deep in the back of his throat.
“Faster, twist your hand around the head--that’s right, the way I do it.” He was painfully hard, just from watching Noah and those mouth-watering, rippling muscles that twitched with every stroke. It was, in embarrassingly modest terms, an amazing sight to behold. Kurt was glad he went with the quality camera--it meant that Noah’s hitched, uneven breathing--music to Kurt‘s ears--would be captured perfectly.
“Do you like what you see, pretty boy?” Puck’s voice was husky with lust, and he shot the smaller teen a predatory grin.
“Yes-yes, I do. Very much. That’s why I’m taping it, silly.“ He closed his eyes for a moment. “Now, rub your thumb against the slit, like that… good boy.“ He paused and tilted his head to the side. He reminded Puck of a Siamese cat. “What? What was that, Noah?”
“Kurt--ah!” His hips canted off the bed from a particularly wicked pull. “I said… Kurt.”
“I thought so. Are you thinking of me doing this to you, Noah? Are you?” Kurt stood up and took the camera from the tripod and stalked towards Puck, still rolling all the while.
“Yes, Kurt, yes! I think of you… always think of you…” He murmured in-between moans. “C’mon, please Kurt--need you to touch me!” The jock made a grab for the brunette, but Kurt just edged backwards and grinned mischievously.
“No, no, we can’t have that, can we? I want to watch you, not help you along.”
Puck hissed in frustration. “Evil fucking tease!”
“In the flesh. Now, touch your balls, Noah. Do it how you like it.“ Kurt murmured, in a daze as he watched Puck do as he was told. “Mmm, yes...”
Puck felt his cock twitch in interest when Kurt unzipped his jeans, the sound unnaturally loud in the almost-silent basement. He could hear the Kurt gripping and pumping his own dick, and he grinned as he opened his eyes to watch. The boy was on his knees, one hand holding the camera steady while the other stroked himself. His face was prettily flushed, and those green-blue eyes were wide and warm.
Puck sighed reverently and started tugging at his cock once more. The gleek whimpered, biting his bottom lip as he rambled. “Noah--so beautiful… Fasterfastergofaster! Want to come… with you--please--Noah!”
Puck followed Kurt’s orders (which would not become a habit, because he didn‘t do whipped) and started pumping as fast as he could. He ignored his aching wrist--the pain was hardly there, lost in a sea of tense, sexual energy. He was so close… Puck used his free hand to dart low and grab his balls, roughly massaging them in a pathetic imitation of how Kurt did it. It was good enough to make him come, though, and within seconds he was shooting warm liquid strings onto his chest, coating his hand.
“Noah… ohgodyes!” Kurt was right with Puck, his own come splattering on that tan chest and mixing with Puck‘s semen. Ever the good cameraman, he fought to keep his hand steady even as he bucked and yelled his release.
Kurt collapsed onto the bed, a weak noodle. He still held the recording camera, though. Puck reached over and got it without much fuss, turning the focus to point onto Kurt. “Guess you liked that, babe?” Puck’s voice was still slightly breathless, but smug nonetheless.
His diva made a cute little face at the camera. “Well, it was an admirable performance, Noah. But don’t you think we’ll need to do a few… ah, retakes?” Puck felt his spent cock stir at Kurt’s sultry whisper. Kurt flicked his gaze downwards for a split second and smirked. “You of all people know how hard to please I am.”