Fic: 'Cock-Block Couture'
Title: Cock-Block Couture
Fandom: Glee
Pairings/Characters: Puckurt
Rating: PG (very slightly, for Puck's F-bombs and that's it. This is fluffy like chinchilla fluff)
Word Count: 2270
Genre: Fluff
Copyright: I don't own Glee. If I did, Kurt would wear those gold pants all the freakin' time. And he'd only stop making-out with Puck to throw bitchy one-liners at Will or sing another Remarkably Emotional Song.
Summary: The first time Puck gets Kurt out of (some of) his layers. This actually started out all smoulderingly-hot and sexy, and then it just descended into boys being embarrassed and faily. Sorry :(.
So, the thing with Kurt... He's into all this designer shit. Now, it's not like Puck didn't know that-- boy name-drops like nobody's business-- but he'd never realised his kind-of-boyfriend's(?) fetish for designer-wear would turn out to be such an enormous cock-block.
Like, say, those skinny jeans? (don't pretend you haven't noticed them). The skinny jeans that Kurt is always wearing? The skinny jeans that make his ass look entirely grabbable and might be single-handedly responsible for Puck getting into this mess in the first place? Yeah, turns out they're like impossible to take off.
What. The actual. Fuck?
And those shirts with the covered buttons? Fiddly as hell. And it turns out, Kurt likes buttons, so he's always got every single one fastened, all the way up to his throat, all the way down to his wrists, and y'know what? That makes nibbling on skin really kinda difficult.
Also? Ties, bowties, scarves, braces, skinny braces, vests, layers... All these things, all Kurt's obsessive accessorising that makes him look totally delicious but renders him completely untouchable.
Seriously, Puck is totally re-considering his celibacy club membership.
*
Kurt hums contentedly against Puck's lips, turning his head to press their mouths more closely together, and Puck eagerly tightens his grip on the other boy's belt-loops, tugging him in harder against his crotch. It's kinda difficult, what with Kurt already sitting in his lap and everything- but it seems like Kurt is all for it, tightening his lithe cheerio thighs around Puck’s hips, goading him on like he's a bucking bronco or something.
It’s not a bad metaphor. Puck’s totally a bronco.
"Easy babe," Puck murmurs, mainly just so he can feel Kurt's cheeks heat up with embarrassment and how he tries to cover it by getting even more enthusiastic with the kissing.
(He's a freakin’ good kisser by the way. Not that you need to know that).
Puck nips playfully at Kurt's sweet, full bottom lip as he lets one of his hands wander down the length of other boy's back, palm flat against tight muscles. Puck can feel the heat of Kurt's body radiating heat from under that thin covering of fwoofy lilac fabric and god, it feels good. It feels like something Puck wants to get his hands on, like, yesterday.
Puck grazes his fingertips along the curving indent of Kurt's spine and grins a totally pants-conquering grin as the other boy twitches to get away from the ticklishness, pressing closer into Puck's own very welcoming torso.
"Stop tickling me." He complains.
"I'm not." Puck denies.
"You most definitely are."
Puck smirks against his mouth: "I like making you squirm."
Puck moves his other hand to join the first, and Kurt makes an adorable little whining noise, leaning in to attack Puck's lips again.
Luckily, Puck's a freaking good kisser too. He's so freaking good at it he can multi-task.
Keeping Kurt's mouth occupied, Puck lets his hands drift again, smoothing his palms across every inch of that toned, limber, not-so-delicate body, feeling the heat of it, imagining the softness of Kurt's pale, obsessively-moisturised skin under his hands. He wonders if it’ll feel any different to a girl’s; if Kurt’s got freckles, or maybe, like, some totally unexpected freaky tattoos. That’d be hot. Puck tugs experimentally at the bunching of fabric around the other boy's hips- but Kurt's shirt-tails are tucked into his ridiculously tight pants and so obviously this is not gonna be a blink-and-you-miss-it 'oh-where-did-my-shirt-go?' type of moment.
Kurt's tongue grazes the inside of Puck's upper lip and Puck can't help growling a little bit and letting his hand jump to tangle tight in the back of Kurt's hair.
He can feel Kurt smirking against his lips.
Well smirk away Hummel: Puckzilla’s other hand has found what it's looking for.
Now, Puck has no fucking idea why Kurt's shirt needs a buckle on its shoulder, but hell-he's got to start somewhere. His too-large fingers fiddle blindly at the tiny catch of metal, pulling at lilac fabric until the little tongue of cotton is slid out from the under the first bar of the buckle, out of the hook, and he just needs to work it--
"Puck…"
Kurt breathes against his mouth, hand curling loosely around his, stopping him mid-unfasten.
Shit.
Puck forces his eyes open.
Kurt's gazing back at him, pink high on his otherwise perfect porcelain cheekbones, lips slightly parted, red and swollen from kissing, and so, so appetising looking...
"Puck."
"That's right baby..."
"No, Puck..."
Kurt twists his mouth away, amusement filling his eyes as he meets Puck's sulky gaze. He pats the back of the hand still fighting with the buckle on his shirt.
"That one actually doesn't, unfasten anything." he informs him, a bit sheepishly. "It's just meant to be, y'know, a bit snazzy." he gives a sparkly little grin on the word 'snazzy', and Puck scrunches his forehead up, shooting an incredulous look at Kurt's outerwear, then back at his boyfriend.
"Seriously?” he deadpans “It's like... a decoy?" Puck glowers at the treacherous little piece of metal. "Hummel, how much do you not wanna get laid?"
Kurt chuckles kind of awkwardly, gaze slipping to his legs wrapped tightly around Puck's hips. Then, he twines his fingers more securely with Puck's and guides them across a little, brushing the fabric of his stupid deceitful designer shirt, until Puck can feel warm, smooth plastic of actual buttons under his fingertips.
"...These ones work just fine." Kurt supplies quietly.
Immediately Puck glances up, and Kurt's cheeks flare pink again under his scrutiny.
Game. On.
Kurt's tongue flicks over his lips: "Although they're pretty snazzy too, actually, see the little miniature skull detail--"
Puck swallows his words down, taking advantage of Kurt's open mouth to push his tongue inside and reclaim those delicious lips for his own.
He lets his hands fall between them, once again curling in Kurt's shirt and tugging until the tails are out of his waistband. He can feel how Kurt's breathing speeds up and his kissing becomes less coordinated, nerves starting to get to him. Puck pulls away a bit so there's enough space between them for him to undo the first couple of buttons at Kurt's throat with well-practiced fingers.
Kurt's breath catches a little and he covers it with one of those embarrassed little giggles he used to do whenever Finn smiled in his direction.
His clammy hands fist in Puck's t-shirt:
"You are aware I don't have breasts?" he whispers, gazing at Puck entirely seriously.
Puck raises an eyebrow at him as he undoes the next one: "...Shut up."
He kisses him again to make sure he does, as his fingers continue travelling downwards. He gets to button four and can't help sliding his fingertips down the warm, teasing sliver of torso he's exposed.
Kurt twists his mouth away from Puck's, pressing his nose into Puck's cheek instead.
"I don't..."
"What?" Puck forces his hands to stop, cupping Kurt's jaw with one and brushing his thumb across his cheek. He's impatient sure, but he's not a total dickhead.
"Don't laugh at me." Kurt murmurs.
"Why would I laugh at you?" Puck replies, genuinely a bit stumped. And man, he'd thought dating guys would bypass the whole self-esteem issues thing.
Kurt rolls his eyes, but it doesn't manage to deflect from his blushes.
"Well in case you hadn't noticed, you're like Mr Ab-tastic 2010, and I'm... I'm not even--"
"Oh my god seriously. Kurt. You're like… sex on a stick, ok? A bite-size portion of crunchy awesome home-grown sexy sexiness. On a stick."
It’s Kurt's turn to look incredulous. And more than a bit confused.
"I'm... really not. It's just a lot of clever layering... And oh my God, what does that even mean?"
Puck grins, totally lecherous: “Sex. On a stick.” He thrusts his pelvis for emphasis, and Kurt gives a totally not-elegant laugh-snort and grasps hold of Puck’s tee so he isn’t tipped off by the other boy’s antics.
When the giggling calms down Puck holds his boyfriend's gaze for a moment before he lets his hands move again. This time, Kurt doesn't kiss him. He just watches, eyelashes a dark smudge across his cheekbones as Puck carefully slides the last two buttons out of their holes.
Puck slips his hands under the fabric, curling easily around the slight indent of Kurt's waist. He spreads his fingers out, slowly, savouring the fabric-warmed heat of Kurt's skin against his own cool, calloused fingertips.
Kurt's breathing has got heavier again; hot shivers of air against Puck's cheek.
Slightly mesmerised, Puck draws one thumb slowly down the centre of Kurt's abdominals. His skin is so pale. Like, seriously. Puck wonders if he's like allergic to sunlight or something. It looks really nice next to Puck's weather-beaten tan.
"...Puck?"
Puck realises he must have been staring. Belatedly, he grips Kurt tighter, leaning in close to press his lips to the throbbing pulse in Kurt's neck, and Kurt sounds as if he's trying to keep from moaning, again. His hands drop back to either side of his thighs, and Puck takes advantage, moving to slide the loosened shirt away from the other boy's slender shoulders.
Puck keeps sucking at Kurt's neck, but he can feel the other boy twisting his head ever-so slightly away from him. Abruptly, Puck sits back, and Kurt's eyes do that deer-in-headlights thing.
"Hi?" he chirps brightly.
"You totally wanna go hang your shirt up, don't you?"
Kurt scrunches up his face, looking almost mortified but mostly defiant.
"Little bit." He admits.
"Figured."
"It crushes really easily--"
"Whatever. Fine."
Kurt slides out of Puck's lap, grabbing his shirt back from the other boy and carefully shaking the creases out, before he plucks a hanger out of his bigger-than-Puck's-bedroom closet and hangs the shirt up on the door handle.
Puck really wishes he could be more pissed at him. But honestly; it's all kind of adorable.
Puck leans back on his elbows, stretching out a bit on top of the covers:
"You done?"
Kurt wipes his palms across the hips of his jeans. Then, out of nowhere, the tentative nervous expression on his face turns into a brilliant smile.
"Sure."
"Then get on over here before I have to tackle you."
Kurt flicks the hair out of his eyes and tilts his head a bit. "Sounds like fun--argh!"
Kurt yelps as Puck grabs a wrist and yanks him back down on top of him. Honestly, the boy weighs like eight pounds or something.
It takes a couple of minutes before Kurt relaxes again, but the feel of the Puckerone's palms enthusiastically tracing every line and curve and dip of his exposed torso manage it eventually.
Puck breaks away, letting his mouth slide down Kurt's neck until he finds the soft skin at the ridge of his collarbone. He licks slowly across and Kurt lets out a little breathy noise against his ear and his hands are suddenly under the hem of Puck's t-shirt, pushing it upwards and away from his lower back.
Puck pulls back so he can see Kurt' face: caught in the act.
He looks cutely self-conscious, nibbling his bottom lip even as he arches a weirdly perfect eyebrow at Puck's sex-shark grin and pulls the cotton away from the other boy’s body. Puck shivers as Kurt's fingers spread across the sensitive skin of his back, and is kind of surprised at how much he suddenly wants to feel Kurt's hands all over him.
"So..." Kurt's kiss-bruised lips drag the word out: "Can I..?"
Puck tilts his head; presses a hard kiss to his boyfriend's mouth:
"Go on then." He urges, just a hint of a growl.
Kurt glances at him; then, carefully, almost holding his breath, he gets a proper grip and tugs the fabric of Puck’s tee up the other boy’s body and over his head. He goes to turn it back the right way out again but Puck plucks the shirt out of his hands and tosses it over his shoulder onto the carpet.
"Stop pretending you don't wanna look at me." Puck grins-- which is not exactly what he meant to say, but it makes Kurt smile a bit anyway. And it makes him blush, which is hilarious and yeah, kind of gorgeous.
"It's nothing special Puckerman." Kurt drawls quietly, even as his fingers stroke tentatively along the ridges of Puck's abs "it's not like I've never seen you naked before. Being on the football team had at least one benefit."
Puck leans in, nuzzling at Kurt's mouth until their lips meet again, hot and sweet. Geez, he can practically feel Kurt's heart pounding. Boy has been seriously deprived.
"C'mere." Puck murmurs, curling his hands around the indent of Kurt's waist and into the dip of his spine, pulling their bodies flush, holding him close as Puck lets himself fall back onto the bed, Kurt a very welcome, warm, eager weight on top of him.
Oh god and there he goes, thinking about Kurt on top of him. Damn.
Kurt wriggles a little bit, getting comfortable, his hands wandering down Puck's sides despite his earlier hesitance, kneading at the skin as his tongue explores Puck's mouth. Puck tries not to groan, 'cos it's such a newbie noise-but really, this is his first time with a guy, it is pretty new-- and Kurt is all hot and pliable and wow, it's amazing the difference being half-naked makes, 'cos that's way closer to being totally naked.
Oh god, more nakedness. Kurt probably has gorgeous thighs...
Yeah. Clothing is totally overrated.
Fandom: Glee
Pairings/Characters: Puckurt
Rating: PG (very slightly, for Puck's F-bombs and that's it. This is fluffy like chinchilla fluff)
Word Count: 2270
Genre: Fluff
Copyright: I don't own Glee. If I did, Kurt would wear those gold pants all the freakin' time. And he'd only stop making-out with Puck to throw bitchy one-liners at Will or sing another Remarkably Emotional Song.
Summary: The first time Puck gets Kurt out of (some of) his layers. This actually started out all smoulderingly-hot and sexy, and then it just descended into boys being embarrassed and faily. Sorry :(.
So, the thing with Kurt... He's into all this designer shit. Now, it's not like Puck didn't know that-- boy name-drops like nobody's business-- but he'd never realised his kind-of-boyfriend's(?) fetish for designer-wear would turn out to be such an enormous cock-block.
Like, say, those skinny jeans? (don't pretend you haven't noticed them). The skinny jeans that Kurt is always wearing? The skinny jeans that make his ass look entirely grabbable and might be single-handedly responsible for Puck getting into this mess in the first place? Yeah, turns out they're like impossible to take off.
What. The actual. Fuck?
And those shirts with the covered buttons? Fiddly as hell. And it turns out, Kurt likes buttons, so he's always got every single one fastened, all the way up to his throat, all the way down to his wrists, and y'know what? That makes nibbling on skin really kinda difficult.
Also? Ties, bowties, scarves, braces, skinny braces, vests, layers... All these things, all Kurt's obsessive accessorising that makes him look totally delicious but renders him completely untouchable.
Seriously, Puck is totally re-considering his celibacy club membership.
*
Kurt hums contentedly against Puck's lips, turning his head to press their mouths more closely together, and Puck eagerly tightens his grip on the other boy's belt-loops, tugging him in harder against his crotch. It's kinda difficult, what with Kurt already sitting in his lap and everything- but it seems like Kurt is all for it, tightening his lithe cheerio thighs around Puck’s hips, goading him on like he's a bucking bronco or something.
It’s not a bad metaphor. Puck’s totally a bronco.
"Easy babe," Puck murmurs, mainly just so he can feel Kurt's cheeks heat up with embarrassment and how he tries to cover it by getting even more enthusiastic with the kissing.
(He's a freakin’ good kisser by the way. Not that you need to know that).
Puck nips playfully at Kurt's sweet, full bottom lip as he lets one of his hands wander down the length of other boy's back, palm flat against tight muscles. Puck can feel the heat of Kurt's body radiating heat from under that thin covering of fwoofy lilac fabric and god, it feels good. It feels like something Puck wants to get his hands on, like, yesterday.
Puck grazes his fingertips along the curving indent of Kurt's spine and grins a totally pants-conquering grin as the other boy twitches to get away from the ticklishness, pressing closer into Puck's own very welcoming torso.
"Stop tickling me." He complains.
"I'm not." Puck denies.
"You most definitely are."
Puck smirks against his mouth: "I like making you squirm."
Puck moves his other hand to join the first, and Kurt makes an adorable little whining noise, leaning in to attack Puck's lips again.
Luckily, Puck's a freaking good kisser too. He's so freaking good at it he can multi-task.
Keeping Kurt's mouth occupied, Puck lets his hands drift again, smoothing his palms across every inch of that toned, limber, not-so-delicate body, feeling the heat of it, imagining the softness of Kurt's pale, obsessively-moisturised skin under his hands. He wonders if it’ll feel any different to a girl’s; if Kurt’s got freckles, or maybe, like, some totally unexpected freaky tattoos. That’d be hot. Puck tugs experimentally at the bunching of fabric around the other boy's hips- but Kurt's shirt-tails are tucked into his ridiculously tight pants and so obviously this is not gonna be a blink-and-you-miss-it 'oh-where-did-my-shirt-go?' type of moment.
Kurt's tongue grazes the inside of Puck's upper lip and Puck can't help growling a little bit and letting his hand jump to tangle tight in the back of Kurt's hair.
He can feel Kurt smirking against his lips.
Well smirk away Hummel: Puckzilla’s other hand has found what it's looking for.
Now, Puck has no fucking idea why Kurt's shirt needs a buckle on its shoulder, but hell-he's got to start somewhere. His too-large fingers fiddle blindly at the tiny catch of metal, pulling at lilac fabric until the little tongue of cotton is slid out from the under the first bar of the buckle, out of the hook, and he just needs to work it--
"Puck…"
Kurt breathes against his mouth, hand curling loosely around his, stopping him mid-unfasten.
Shit.
Puck forces his eyes open.
Kurt's gazing back at him, pink high on his otherwise perfect porcelain cheekbones, lips slightly parted, red and swollen from kissing, and so, so appetising looking...
"Puck."
"That's right baby..."
"No, Puck..."
Kurt twists his mouth away, amusement filling his eyes as he meets Puck's sulky gaze. He pats the back of the hand still fighting with the buckle on his shirt.
"That one actually doesn't, unfasten anything." he informs him, a bit sheepishly. "It's just meant to be, y'know, a bit snazzy." he gives a sparkly little grin on the word 'snazzy', and Puck scrunches his forehead up, shooting an incredulous look at Kurt's outerwear, then back at his boyfriend.
"Seriously?” he deadpans “It's like... a decoy?" Puck glowers at the treacherous little piece of metal. "Hummel, how much do you not wanna get laid?"
Kurt chuckles kind of awkwardly, gaze slipping to his legs wrapped tightly around Puck's hips. Then, he twines his fingers more securely with Puck's and guides them across a little, brushing the fabric of his stupid deceitful designer shirt, until Puck can feel warm, smooth plastic of actual buttons under his fingertips.
"...These ones work just fine." Kurt supplies quietly.
Immediately Puck glances up, and Kurt's cheeks flare pink again under his scrutiny.
Game. On.
Kurt's tongue flicks over his lips: "Although they're pretty snazzy too, actually, see the little miniature skull detail--"
Puck swallows his words down, taking advantage of Kurt's open mouth to push his tongue inside and reclaim those delicious lips for his own.
He lets his hands fall between them, once again curling in Kurt's shirt and tugging until the tails are out of his waistband. He can feel how Kurt's breathing speeds up and his kissing becomes less coordinated, nerves starting to get to him. Puck pulls away a bit so there's enough space between them for him to undo the first couple of buttons at Kurt's throat with well-practiced fingers.
Kurt's breath catches a little and he covers it with one of those embarrassed little giggles he used to do whenever Finn smiled in his direction.
His clammy hands fist in Puck's t-shirt:
"You are aware I don't have breasts?" he whispers, gazing at Puck entirely seriously.
Puck raises an eyebrow at him as he undoes the next one: "...Shut up."
He kisses him again to make sure he does, as his fingers continue travelling downwards. He gets to button four and can't help sliding his fingertips down the warm, teasing sliver of torso he's exposed.
Kurt twists his mouth away from Puck's, pressing his nose into Puck's cheek instead.
"I don't..."
"What?" Puck forces his hands to stop, cupping Kurt's jaw with one and brushing his thumb across his cheek. He's impatient sure, but he's not a total dickhead.
"Don't laugh at me." Kurt murmurs.
"Why would I laugh at you?" Puck replies, genuinely a bit stumped. And man, he'd thought dating guys would bypass the whole self-esteem issues thing.
Kurt rolls his eyes, but it doesn't manage to deflect from his blushes.
"Well in case you hadn't noticed, you're like Mr Ab-tastic 2010, and I'm... I'm not even--"
"Oh my god seriously. Kurt. You're like… sex on a stick, ok? A bite-size portion of crunchy awesome home-grown sexy sexiness. On a stick."
It’s Kurt's turn to look incredulous. And more than a bit confused.
"I'm... really not. It's just a lot of clever layering... And oh my God, what does that even mean?"
Puck grins, totally lecherous: “Sex. On a stick.” He thrusts his pelvis for emphasis, and Kurt gives a totally not-elegant laugh-snort and grasps hold of Puck’s tee so he isn’t tipped off by the other boy’s antics.
When the giggling calms down Puck holds his boyfriend's gaze for a moment before he lets his hands move again. This time, Kurt doesn't kiss him. He just watches, eyelashes a dark smudge across his cheekbones as Puck carefully slides the last two buttons out of their holes.
Puck slips his hands under the fabric, curling easily around the slight indent of Kurt's waist. He spreads his fingers out, slowly, savouring the fabric-warmed heat of Kurt's skin against his own cool, calloused fingertips.
Kurt's breathing has got heavier again; hot shivers of air against Puck's cheek.
Slightly mesmerised, Puck draws one thumb slowly down the centre of Kurt's abdominals. His skin is so pale. Like, seriously. Puck wonders if he's like allergic to sunlight or something. It looks really nice next to Puck's weather-beaten tan.
"...Puck?"
Puck realises he must have been staring. Belatedly, he grips Kurt tighter, leaning in close to press his lips to the throbbing pulse in Kurt's neck, and Kurt sounds as if he's trying to keep from moaning, again. His hands drop back to either side of his thighs, and Puck takes advantage, moving to slide the loosened shirt away from the other boy's slender shoulders.
Puck keeps sucking at Kurt's neck, but he can feel the other boy twisting his head ever-so slightly away from him. Abruptly, Puck sits back, and Kurt's eyes do that deer-in-headlights thing.
"Hi?" he chirps brightly.
"You totally wanna go hang your shirt up, don't you?"
Kurt scrunches up his face, looking almost mortified but mostly defiant.
"Little bit." He admits.
"Figured."
"It crushes really easily--"
"Whatever. Fine."
Kurt slides out of Puck's lap, grabbing his shirt back from the other boy and carefully shaking the creases out, before he plucks a hanger out of his bigger-than-Puck's-bedroom closet and hangs the shirt up on the door handle.
Puck really wishes he could be more pissed at him. But honestly; it's all kind of adorable.
Puck leans back on his elbows, stretching out a bit on top of the covers:
"You done?"
Kurt wipes his palms across the hips of his jeans. Then, out of nowhere, the tentative nervous expression on his face turns into a brilliant smile.
"Sure."
"Then get on over here before I have to tackle you."
Kurt flicks the hair out of his eyes and tilts his head a bit. "Sounds like fun--argh!"
Kurt yelps as Puck grabs a wrist and yanks him back down on top of him. Honestly, the boy weighs like eight pounds or something.
It takes a couple of minutes before Kurt relaxes again, but the feel of the Puckerone's palms enthusiastically tracing every line and curve and dip of his exposed torso manage it eventually.
Puck breaks away, letting his mouth slide down Kurt's neck until he finds the soft skin at the ridge of his collarbone. He licks slowly across and Kurt lets out a little breathy noise against his ear and his hands are suddenly under the hem of Puck's t-shirt, pushing it upwards and away from his lower back.
Puck pulls back so he can see Kurt' face: caught in the act.
He looks cutely self-conscious, nibbling his bottom lip even as he arches a weirdly perfect eyebrow at Puck's sex-shark grin and pulls the cotton away from the other boy’s body. Puck shivers as Kurt's fingers spread across the sensitive skin of his back, and is kind of surprised at how much he suddenly wants to feel Kurt's hands all over him.
"So..." Kurt's kiss-bruised lips drag the word out: "Can I..?"
Puck tilts his head; presses a hard kiss to his boyfriend's mouth:
"Go on then." He urges, just a hint of a growl.
Kurt glances at him; then, carefully, almost holding his breath, he gets a proper grip and tugs the fabric of Puck’s tee up the other boy’s body and over his head. He goes to turn it back the right way out again but Puck plucks the shirt out of his hands and tosses it over his shoulder onto the carpet.
"Stop pretending you don't wanna look at me." Puck grins-- which is not exactly what he meant to say, but it makes Kurt smile a bit anyway. And it makes him blush, which is hilarious and yeah, kind of gorgeous.
"It's nothing special Puckerman." Kurt drawls quietly, even as his fingers stroke tentatively along the ridges of Puck's abs "it's not like I've never seen you naked before. Being on the football team had at least one benefit."
Puck leans in, nuzzling at Kurt's mouth until their lips meet again, hot and sweet. Geez, he can practically feel Kurt's heart pounding. Boy has been seriously deprived.
"C'mere." Puck murmurs, curling his hands around the indent of Kurt's waist and into the dip of his spine, pulling their bodies flush, holding him close as Puck lets himself fall back onto the bed, Kurt a very welcome, warm, eager weight on top of him.
Oh god and there he goes, thinking about Kurt on top of him. Damn.
Kurt wriggles a little bit, getting comfortable, his hands wandering down Puck's sides despite his earlier hesitance, kneading at the skin as his tongue explores Puck's mouth. Puck tries not to groan, 'cos it's such a newbie noise-but really, this is his first time with a guy, it is pretty new-- and Kurt is all hot and pliable and wow, it's amazing the difference being half-naked makes, 'cos that's way closer to being totally naked.
Oh god, more nakedness. Kurt probably has gorgeous thighs...
Yeah. Clothing is totally overrated.