HSN Exchange Fic: less than a feelin' (more than everything else), for zephyrprince
Title: less than a feelin' (more than everything else)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Finn
Warnings: N/A
Word count: ~7,000
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: It happens sometimes, guys accidentally checking out the goods in the locker room, and most of the time it's standard operating procedure to ignore the entire thing. Pretend like it never even happened, and definitely never bring it up.
A/N: Thank you to my lovely, lovely beta, who shall remain anon so as to not unanon me. You saved my life, bb.
Running laps sucks hardcore.
Puck doesn't know why he always gets forced into doing them. Most of the time he's not even responsible. At all. Jimmy Walker totally asks for it whenever Puck gets the urge to pants him, and it's totally not his bad that Coach says stupid things and he just has to mouth off. He tells himself to be cool and control his impulses, but, seriously, people need to stop providing him with opportunities because then Puck won't have to worry about it.
If, you know, he actually cared or anything.
It's totally Finn's fault this time. Tanaka seems to have burst an artery or something, getting pissy over the littlest things. Puck doesn't know what's up with that. So they had a thing for Glee and were late to practice. Doesn't mean that they should have to run laps. Yeah, the club's run by the dude that's slipping it to Coach's ex-fiance, and Tanaka's had it out for Puck ever since he chose Glee over football, but it's not like it's because of Puck that they were late.
Coach doesn't stick around for the entire thing. He doesn't trust them to do all the laps, but it's two for one happy hour nachos at the dive bar down the road. Tanaka isn't about to miss that. Hell, Puck wouldn't miss them either, if his fake ID could still get him in the door.
They do about half of them before Puck slows to a walk, falling out of step with Finn. He pulls his shirt away from his chest, waiting until Finn realizes that he's running alone and does a double-take, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Puck grins.
"Dude, what are you -"
"Tanaka always tells us to do twice as many laps because he knows we'll always half-ass it." He brushes past Finn on his way to the locker room. If Finn wants to keep running laps, that's his problem. Not Puck's.
He smiles when Puck hears Finn tromp after him. Puck's never had too much difficulty getting Finn to do what he wants anyway. Most of the time, that is. Some things, like getting him over that whole Quinn thing, just seems to take forever.
They're on opposite sides of the showers because they're dudes, and Puck doesn't have any interest in seeing Finn naked. Really. No thanks. Besides, Finn sings in the shower, like, all the time now, and it's annoying. He used to at least try to hide it, but now, when he's alone or Finn knows that it's just Puck in the furthest stall away, he just belts it out, like it's Glee club and Rachel Berry's sitting right in front of him with those wide, adoring, please take me now eyes.
When Puck realizes he's humming along, he turns the cold up higher and flinches when it's cooler than he wanted it. He's in Glee, and he actually kind of likes Glee, but naked singing time in the showers is not how he plans on spending his time. On his way out, towel wrapped around his hips, he throws what's left of his bar of soap at Finn, missing and hitting the wall three feet to the left. Finn jumps and almost loses his balance, arms windmilling, so it's totally worth it.
He towels off in the locker room, listening to Finn croon the final bars of the latest Glee duet he's supposed to sing with Rachel. It's not a bad song, but Puck's kind of sick of hearing it. Finn's still humming when he leaves the showers, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, and he tosses the bar of soap, hitting Puck in the back. Puck leaves it on the floor where it lands, and he pulls his jeans on. They're unbuttoned and the fly's open, sliding down his hips when he knocks his deodorant out of his locker. He crouches down to get it, and that's when he realizes that he's eye level with Finn's dick. Almost, anyway. Finn's a tall dude.
Whatever. He is not staring at his best friend's junk.
Okay, maybe he is, but it's not like he's actually looking or anything. You don't check out other guys in the locker room. That's the unwritten rule every guy learns at a young age, and it's the one rule Puck follows religiously. He doesn't need to compare or feel better about his tool. He's a stud.
Besides, Puck's got a hot cock, no lie.
He looks away, focusing on his Old Spice instead, picking it up and definitely not looking back at Finn's package. He rolls some on and tosses it into his locker. It clangs against the back wall before rebounding into Puck's hands. He can't help it; it makes him smile. That sound is probably one of his favorite things, like that first hit of really good pot or simple angry sex without the involvement of girly emotions.
It's one of the reasons he likes his cougars so much. They don't want anything but sex from him, and all the high school girls that want more are just exhausting. Puck wishes he could go back to when all he had to worry about was himself and maybe sometimes Finn, and Finn -
Puck can't help it; he glances over. Finn's staring at him. It's not the hungry cougar look, or Finn's normal confused look, like he has no idea what's going on, but shit. Puck's totally caught.
It happens sometimes, guys accidentally checking out the goods in the locker room, and most of the time it's standard operating procedure to ignore the entire thing. Pretend like it never even happened, and definitely never bring it up. It doesn't really matter, but it's still uncomfortable.
It's worse because it's Finn. Puck's always had a problem keeping most things from him with the sole exception of the baby thing, but that doesn't count. Taking a chick's virginity trumps anything. Puck has no idea why Finn doesn't see that. They're mostly okay now, but Finn's still a little off balance, like he suspects that Puck's going to stab him in the back when he's not looking.
Finn's still staring at him, and Puck wants to shrug it off. He wants to pretend that he didn't just do what Finn thinks he did, that Finn didn't even notice at all. It'd be way easier than actually dealing with it, Puck has that feeling whenever he knows he's not going to be able to control his impulses, no matter what and it's kind of like when Mrs. H goes down on him and does that thing with her tongue, and Puck's helpless to stop himself from fucking her face. He just can't not do it.
"Sorry, man. Got distracted by how tiny your dick is." It's actually kind of a lie, but whatever. Puck's not going to go around praising the size of someone else's dick. Especially not Finn's.
Finn glares. "What, shut up."
"I'm serious. I don't think I've ever seen a dick that tiny."
Finn scowls and yanks his boxers up and then tries to get his jeans on. They catch because his skin is still wet, tiny beads of water on his legs, and Puck stares as all that skin disappears, miles and miles of it.
He says, "Like yours is any better."
Puck laughs. He wonders when he forgot how fun it is to rile Finn up like this. He arches an eyebrow. "You look at my dick a lot?"
"No!"
Puck pulls on his shirt, still laughing.
Finn's mom won't let him drive all that often, so Puck offers to take him home, and then he just never really leaves. They play X-Box, and he totally kicks Finn's ass, of course. Finn's a button masher, no coordination and overenthusiastic elbow jabbing into Puck's side whenever he thinks he's about to get a hit.
It's annoying. Each jab makes Puck twitch a little, and it totally pulls him out of the zone. Finn's not smart enough to plan things like that, and Puck should be prepared for it, but it still catches him off guard, pulling his attention away from the television screen to slide down the lines of Finn's profile. He's chewing on his lower lip, like he does sometimes, eyes intent on the game. It takes him a moment to realize he's still staring at Finn, like it's going to help him win or get him laid or something crazy like that.
They're sitting pretty close, but that's because there's only the bed and not really anywhere else to sit in Finn's room. Puck would shift away, but he's got the best angle to the TV right now. He's not going to give up that advantage, even if Finn's generating heat like a solar flare, hot where they're touching at their sides. Puck shifts a little, jostling Finn with his shoulder and pretending he did it by accident.
Puck's distracted by the click of his controller's buttons. Finn jerks forward, his elbow clipping him in his side, throwing Puck for a loop, and that's when Finn gets a head shot out of nowhere. Shit. Puck punches him in the arm, shoving him a little off balance. It doesn't matter though. Finn's still grinning like an idiot, and Puck rolls his eyes, fighting to keep himself from returning the grin.
"This is lame," Puck says, tossing the controller on the floor. He's always down for video games, but right now he doesn't want to deal with anything. Finn's sitting too close, and Puck scratches at an itch on his lower back that's not really there, like it'll stop this crazy thing curling up his spine that he doesn't even understand.
Puck gets up and heads for the door. He doesn't even stop when Finn says something, just waves at him over his shoulder, a sharp what the fuck do you want gesture. It's not like he's actually going anywhere. He just needs to get out of that room for a while. Get some air. He could totally go for some dip or a cigarette, but he's out and has been for awhile.
There's barely any food in the fridge, just fruits, vegetables and some green paste thing that must be Kurt's. Puck smells it and puts it back almost immediately. He stands there with the door of the fridge hanging wide open. The cool air feels good. Puck doesn't get why he's so warm. It's not even that hot out, barely edging into warmer days of spring and not quite the stifling heat of summer yet.
Puck wonders what Finn's doing up in his room. Playing the game all by himself or being a giant girl and thinking about Puck. Maybe about summer camp a few years ago, or maybe the Quinn thing. He's probably thinking about whatever girl is throwing herself at him this week. Whatever crazy mojo Finn's got, it sure attracts the ladies. It doesn't make any sense to Puck, but whatever.
He stares into the open fridge; Finn's mom rarely drinks, but her taste in booze has gotten a lot better lately, or maybe it's just because of Kurt's dad. He stocks the fridge with the good kind of beer and not that Natty Light stuff either, but the kind that comes in actual bottles. People don't buy him this kind of beer when he stands on the corner, looking as pathetic as he can on Friday nights.
He takes the entire case with him to Finn's room and half a bag of Doritos that he found in the cupboard. He tosses the chips at Finn, but they fall on the floor anyway because Finn can't catch worth shit, too busy staring at the booze in Puck's hands.
"You can't drink that. It's Burt's."
Like Puck even cares. He doesn't know Burt at all, and it's not going to be Puck's fault when the beer's all gone. It's probably bullshit because Finn's mom knows him, and knows that it's usually Puck getting them in trouble, despite his protests otherwise, but that's later. He doesn't care about later. Puck's got the beer now.
"Whatever." Puck uses his belt buckle to pop off the top. He flicks it at Finn and then takes a drink. It's more bitter than he's used to, but it's beer so Puck's not going to complain. Booze is hard enough to come by anyway, and Puck's not about to turn down an opportunity like this.
He hands the bottle to Finn, watching him hold it like he doesn't know what to do with it. Just like his dick, Puck thinks, and nearly drops the other bottle he just opened. Thinking about Finn handling his dick is not a good idea right now.
Or ever.
"C'mon, don't be a pussy." He sits on the bed and leans back against the headboard, waiting until Finn takes a drink before he downs half of his own bottle. It's not like it's the first time Finn's been drunk. They took care of that first when they were fourteen. Took care of a lot of firsts that summer. It's not something Puck actively thinks about because it's not like it was actually anything anyway, but there it is, that feeling he gets when he's totally going to follow his impulses.
"Hey, you ever think about that thing a couple summers ago?" He asks, as casually as he can, picking at the label on his bottle.
Finn gets really still, gripping his beer tightly, like he's trying not to think too hard. It's not an unusual Finn look - most of the time, Finn's default setting is not thinking - but it's different, somehow. It's too aware, too knowing even if Finn doesn't want to know. Maybe he doesn't, and he's trying to think of a way to avoid the question.
Puck really doesn't think about it all the time. Just sometimes, like when he's really drunk or high and he doesn't have to acknowledge the thing that always follows immediately after when he's sober enough, wondering what it all means.
Puck's a dude so he's not down with that kind of thing. At all. Except lately his impulses are making him do stupid not-fun things instead of the fun awesome things, like toss people in dumpsters or fly Israel's underwear from the flag pole. He thinks that Beth and Quinn did this to him, made him softer and more like a chick than he should be. It's not something he wants to focus on, either. That entire thing is over and done with. It's out of his life and there's nothing he can do about it.
But Finn? Finn is here, and lately Puck's learned too much about losing things he didn't even know mattered.
"I do. Sometimes." It's not as painful as he'd thought it'd be, admitting it, but Puck peels the label away from the bottle like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever done in his life. He glances over, but he doesn't get any higher than Finn's knee before he looks away again. Finn's bottle hangs loosely in his grip; if he's not careful he's going to get beer all over the sheets.
"You-"
"Yeah."
Finn sets his bottle on the floor between his feet, and Puck watches him wipes his hands on his jeans. Puck has no idea why he's just sitting there, staring at Finn and waiting for either of them to do something, anything.
He doesn't know where his balls went, but he'd like them back.
Finn's a dude, and it should be as simple as getting to the point. Puck finishes his beer and sets the bottle on Finn's nightstand, knocking over that lame statue Finn keeps there. It makes Finn look over, and somehow that kicks Puck's ass into gear.
He reaches over and pops open the button on Finn's pants before flattening his hand over the fly. Finn's mostly hard, just like Puck suspected. He presses down with his palm, rubbing in a circular pattern. Finn's staring at him, blinking like he doesn't know what to do. It's completely ridiculous. Puck knows that Finn's not completely stupid when it comes to this. Maybe with girls, but it's not like they've never done this before.
Puck shifts closer, getting a better angle and pressing his hand down harder until Finn jerks, arching towards him and knocking their foreheads together, a starburst of pain and the clatter of teeth and the sharp sting of a bitten tongue. Puck throws out a hand to steady himself, pushing against Finn's stomach. The tremor there startles him, and Puck watches him blink.
What the hell? What just happened? Finn is still shaking, panting a little, like he just ran a marathon or something, like he -
Oh.
"Huh." Puck leans back to look at Finn. "Really?"
Finn's face is all red, blotchy and sweaty, and he won't look at Puck. Yeah, Puck would be embarrassed too. Good thing he doesn't have that problem. What the hell. Finn never had that issue before. He grins a little, thinking about all the material he's got now.
Finn is never going to live this down. Not that that's important right now because Puck hasn't come yet, and he opens his mouth to say something about it. This is prime material here, and he's going to drag it out for months.
"I thought you said that you didn't have that problem. Wow, Finn, no wonder you -"
"Shut up."
Puck grins. "When did that start, by the way? You never -"
Finn reaches out and shoves Puck back, like it'll actually do much more than knock him off balance. He doesn't even look at Puck to do it, just stares straight ahead at the wall, like he's got x-ray vision and there are two hot chicks doing it on the other side.
Puck stares at the unhappy line of his shoulders, like Finn knows what's coming. He should say something more about his staying power or how hot he clearly finds Puck, but nothing comes out. He tries again, licking his lips, staring at Finn's fingers, clenched on his knees.
"Shit."
Finn just sits there, tense and totally not doing anything about Puck's hard on, but pulling his shirt down over the front of his pants, and whatever. Whatever. Puck rolls his eyes. Lame. He lays back and reaches for a new beer from the case on the floor, throwing the cap at the far wall. This sucks. Puck just wants to get laid, and it seems like Finn's not going to be much help on that front. Which is the most messed up thing ever.
He takes a drink and scowls at nothing in particular.
"Uh. Should we -"
Something tells him that Finn's not going to ask if they should fuck, so Puck just looks at him, waiting for him to get to the point.
"You know," Finn says, and makes a gesture that Puck's brain wants to interpret as code for blowjob, but he's pretty sure that's not the case. He stares at him and the slowly fading color on Finn's cheeks.
"No. I don't know."
Finn swallows and still doesn't look at him. "Talk?"
Puck shoves the bottle at him. "No. Absolutely not."
"Right."
Finn's sitting up and looking straight ahead, like maybe if he ignores Puck entirely, this entire thing will have just disappeared. Puck stares sullenly at him for a moment before he lets his head fall back against the bed frame, staring at the green paint on Finn's walls. Puck kind of misses the ridiculous cowboy wallpaper, even if it was lame.
He rests his hand high on his thigh and runs his fingers teasingly over the front of his pants. He's gonna have to get some alone time in soon because blue balls suck. If he left for the bathroom, Finn would totally know what's up - he's dumb, but he's not that stupid - but whatever. Puck is not willing to let his cock suffer. Maybe he could even come all over Kurt's face products. His smirk falters. Maybe he'd be into that, so no. Not a good idea.
He watches Finn fidget out of the corner of his eye. He's not thinking about Finn's junk, he's not thinking about how it's gotta be getting gross right now, cooling and gelling in his pants, or about how his hand grips the bottle, slipping from the condensation.
Puck drinks. He just almost -
With Finn.
Finn.
It's been almost two years, and they never talked about it since, ignored the entire thing when school started in the fall. This is Lima, and Puck's a stud, and that sort of thing just wasn't kosher.
Finn clears his throat and finally looks at him. Puck blinks when his eyes drop down to the front of Puck's pants, lingering, and then Puck remembers that his fingers are still there, pressing over his dick. He swallows - his throat is way too dry to have much of an effect, but Puck does it anyway - and strokes his fingers down and then back up, god, it's not enough. No way. He does it again, watching the part of Finn's mouth, and then Finn makes this sound, choked off and completely not hot at all, except that it totally makes Puck's dick twitch under his hand.
It's not really important who makes the first move. What's important is that Puck's in control. Finn's got a pretty good grip on his biceps, but Puck jerks his leg to the left, knocking Finn's knee to the side and his leverage off, and it's easy for Puck to roll them - thanking the sex gods that Finn got a bigger bed in exchange for moving in - and shoves Finn to the mattress.
He's about to make some comment about Finn being his bitch, but then Finn twists his leg and it brushes against Puck's cock, and Puck kind of forgets to do it. He grinds down on Finn, and Puck's balance falters, nearly making him topple over. Finn grapples at his hips, muttering something; whatever, it's not important. Puck doesn't care what Finn's saying, he doesn't care if he pulls a Finn and comes in his pants right now. He just wants to get off.
And the easiest way to do that? Skin. Puck yanks his shirt over his head, and it's pretty easy to get Finn's off, even if he struggles a little bit until Puck rolls his eyes and helps him, tossing Finn's shirt over his shoulder, and reaching for the front of his pants. Finn's hands are in the way, fumbling with the buckle of his belt. It feels like it takes forever, getting clothing out of the way so Finn can get Puck's cock out. Puck lets his head roll back. It's so much better, especially when Finn takes him in hand like he used to, a little clumsy, a little too eager, but pretty much awesome. Puck leans forward, and his jeans slide down his hips.
Puck reaches out and pulls down the zipper of Finn's pants carefully. Finn lifts his hips, helping Puck tug down his pants and boxers, and then he curls his fingers around Finn's dick and tugs a few times. He's already half hard again and kind of sticky from his come.
Puck smirks. "I guess it's not so tiny now."
"Dude, shut up."
"Ah, c'mon, Finn. Lots of guys have tiny dicks."
"You look at - shit - a lot of guys' dicks?"
Puck makes a face. The only dick he looks at is his own. And sometimes Finn's, but it's not like that actually counts. He slides his thumb down the length of Finn's cock. The foreskin is loose and sort of wrinkly. Puck doesn't know what to do about it; it's not like he's ever spent a lot of time learning how to jerk another guy off, that summer withstanding.
"Mine is totally bigger," he says.
"What? It is not." It totally is. He gets that Finn wouldn't want to admit it, but Puck's cock is amazing.
"Yeah? You wanna bet?"
"Bet?" Finn asks warily. Puck wonders if Finn's remembering that Puck plays dirty. It's gotta be something big. Something he's pretty sure he'd never offer or ask for in the first place. Not from another dude. No way.
"How 'bout a blowjob?"
Finn stares at him. "A - a blowjob?"
"Yeah. Smaller dick has to go down on the bigger dick." Puck grins. There's no way he's going to lose this. His cock is awesome.
Finn looks at him with narrowed eyes, like he doesn't trust him on this. Puck would be offended, except Finn's totally got a point. He wouldn't trust himself either.
"You won't back out?"
"Dude. I'm not going to need to."
Finn doesn't look entirely convinced, but he asks, "How are we going to measure? I think there's a ruler downstairs."
Puck thinks about that. Downstairs is not here and that requires moving. It'd be pretty funny if the Hummel's and Finn's mom came home while he was wandering around downstairs naked, except he doesn't need Kurt lusting after him. He's got enough to do just dealing with chicks.
And Finn.
"C'mon, we'll just -" Puck shifts forward and angles his dick against Finn's. He thinks they're both a little distracted by the slide of his cock against Finn's, all skin and a little sweat. Puck thinks about how it'd feel with a little lube, how good it'd probably be and -
Finn's longer. By like, half an inch, but he's longer.
Shit.
"Ha," Finn says, and then grins at him. Puck just stares. Maybe the angle's all fucked up because, because -
No way. This is not happening to him. This is like those stupid tragedies Rachel's always going on about. The ones where some dude lost his balls, tries to find his balls and can't find his balls. Except that this is totally worse.
"I don't do shit like that." Puck backs away a little bit.
"We made a bet," Finn says.
"So?"
Like that even matters. There's no way this is happening.
"So, you said you wouldn't-"
"I say a lot of things, Finn. Doesn't mean I mean them."
Finn frowns at him, but Puck doesn't care. He doesn't care. There's absolutely no way this is -
Finn says, "Unless you're scared or something. I mean, it is kind of -"
Shit.
The asshole.
That's totally not going to fly. Puck's not afraid of anything, least of all sucking dick.
"Shut up," Puck says, shoving Finn down to the bed and yanking both their jeans all the way off. He can't believe he's about to do this. He hasn't even had more than three beers, and this kind of gay action is only legit after at least six. Maybe seven. Puck fists his hand around Finn's cock, thinking maybe if he gets Finn off with his hand before he actually has to do this, then he won't actually have to do this.
"Puck," Finn says, gripping his wrist.
Puck's a sex shark, so clearly he's going to be awesome at this. Really. He hesitates, staring at Finn's dick. This is the moment he knows he can't come back from. If he does this, if he actually does this, Puck's pretty sure that it's it. He'll never be able to have sex again without thinking about this again.
Finn's dick.
Touching it is one thing, but putting it in his mouth? Yeah, not what he ever thought he'd be doing. He closes his eyes, and knows he can't back down now, not when he's got a prime opportunity to get off, and if that summer's anything to go by, getting off with Finn is a lot more fun than Puck had ever suspected before that. Finn makes a whining sound or maybe it's supposed to be encouragement, but Puck's not so certain about that.
He can't look at Finn. He's not really sure he wants to look at Finn's dick either, but looking him in the eyes might be too much. Puck's pretty sure he doesn't want to know what Finn's thinking, and his face reads like a slutty chick's legs. Wide open and totally not capable of hiding anything. He can usually tell that Finn's lying about something, and he's always known when Finn's mental vagina is showing. Puck does not need to see that.
It's not because Puck doesn't want Finn to see something that's not there at all. Finn's like a giant girl most of the time anyway. He'd be all over that emotional shit and Puck's pretty much not interested.
Even if it is Finn.
He closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out, leaning forward, and the head of Finn's cock slides against Puck's cheek, skin catching against skin. Shit. Puck turns his head and corrects his angle. He's not thinking about what he's doing, gripping the base and teasing the head with slow, careful licks. It's salty, and hot and the foreskin shifts under his tongue.
From the sounds Finn's making, Puck wonders if anyone's ever done this for him. Is this Finn's first blowjob? Did Quinn ever try to sleep with him after Puck knocked her up? They'd never done more than handjobs when they were younger; they've never talked about that summer after school started, and Santana suddenly grew boobs. Hell, Puck's barely even thought about it since. Hardly ever.
Shut up.
He slips his tongue under the foreskin to get at the slit, wondering what it feels like for Finn, if it's different than when a hot cougar goes down on him. He uses his hand for a moment, pushing the foreskin around a little with his thumb. Puck pulls back the hood so he can actually get at the head, lick the slit and do his best to ignore the taste. It's not that bad, not really, but it's not like Puck's going to admit that. Maybe -
He grips the base of Finn's cock and sucks on the foreskin, trying it out. Finn jerks a little, stomach clenching. The second time Puck does it, sucking a little harder than before, Finn accidentally smacks Puck in the back of his head, and Puck nearly gags on his cock. There's a pretty awful moment with teeth, and Puck's suddenly very, very cold. The idea of doing that to another dude is just so not on. Puck's had chicks that had uncontrollable limb function, but Finn's like, dangerous.
He pulls away and glares up at him. "Hey. You want your dick sucked or what?"
Finn opens his mouth like he's trying to say something, and it sort of twitches, like he's on crack or a big dumb fish. Puck rolls his eyes - what a moron - and takes Finn's wrists and pushes them to the bed, using his fingers to curl Finn's in the bedspread.
"Keep 'em there. Or I stop."
Finn's eyes get big. His nostrils flare, and he grips the quilt until his knuckles turn white. Yeah, Puck would totally stop. This is a one time thing. After this, he's going back to his cougars and maybe high school chicks, if he can convince them to start putting out on a more regular basis and figure out a way to not knock them up. He's pretty sure he doesn't want that to happen ever again.
He rolls his neck, listening to the crack of his vertebrae, waiting until his mouth isn't quite so dry, using saliva to help slick the way down Finn's cock. He takes more of it in, and thinks about Mrs. H, and how she always does that thing with her tongue that makes him lose his shit. Puck twists his tongue, trying to mimic it. Finn's thighs tense beneath his forearms, and when Puck does it again, he sees Finn's hand jerk forward out of the corner of his eye.
Puck pulls almost all the way off and glares up at him because if Finn's about to do something completely stupid, then Puck's not going to be caught off guard again. It settles on his shoulder, kneading restlessly and slipping a little from the sweat. There's no pattern to it, but Puck starts to follow it, sucking when Finn clenches his shoulder, licking when Finn's hand relaxes. When he pulls off and sucks on just head, tonguing the foreskin, Finn makes a sound, high pitched and cracking.
B flat.
He thrusts up in his mouth, sharp and sudden, hitting the back of Puck's throat, and Finn's fingers dig in unexpectedly. Puck jerks away; that fucking hurt.
"What the hell, dude?" He asks, rubbing his shoulder. Finn doesn't say anything, panting harshly and reaching for Puck, trying to push him back down. He resists because yeah, he's a dude and he can take it, but damn. Damn.
Finn's knee rubs against Puck's side, ribs to hip, twitching a little.
"C'mon, Puck -"
Puck grins at him until Finn's shoulders curl in a little, defensive. He looks at Finn's dick and thinks about Finn's hands, still on his shoulders. He's not about to put himself in that position again.
Puck shifts up on his knees, straddling Finn's knees and reaching for his cock. He wonders why he's doing all the work, here. Puck twitches his thumb, pushing the skin forward a little bit, and Finn's fingers dig into his arm, right below his elbow. "What, what're you -"
"Shut up." Puck does it again, watching how Finn's stomach clenches. "I know what I'm doing."
He really, really doesn't.
He's jerked Finn off before, sure, but always frantic and fast in the dark, never this slow examination of another guy's dick, and he's definitely never rolled the foreskin under his thumb like this before tonight. He's never put his own against another dick, never felt that slick, sweet slide of sweat and skin and precome. It makes his breath catch in his throat unexpectedly, words stumbling out of his mouth, barely coherent and probably not something Puck wants to remember saying in the first place.
Fuck.
Puck shifts to his knees, pushing at Finn's hip.
"C'mon." Puck keeps pushing until Finn shifts backwards, sitting up straighter and leaning against the headboard. He straddles Finn's thighs, and Puck has no idea where this is coming from, this inspiration. It feels like he stuck his dick in a light socket (a really big one), but he can't stop -
It's gotta be just like doing a chick. Just the tip; see how it feels. This is insane. Shit like this can't actually work, but Puck's got this idea and he can't let it go. Finn's gonna leave marks, gripping Puck's arm like that, more so than any of his cougars ever have, and that's totally cool. Puck'll take marks.
He gets a hold of himself, slicks all the way up to right below the head, gripping tightly, and reaches out for Finn's dick with his other hand. He plays with the foreskin until Finn's got his head arched back, and he's not looking at what Puck's doing. That's when he lines up their dicks and pulls on the skin on Finn's; this is going to be so awesome, he can't even -
Finn flails, and his knee comes up, knocking Puck off balance.
"Ow! What're you, what-"
There's sweat on his chest, and Puck's hand slips, trying to hold him down. He's got - this is going to be good. Puck doesn't really know how he knows that, but he just does. He's being guided by the sex ninja in his head, and Puck always listens to it when it starts telling him to do something.
"Dude, trust me. It'll be awesome."
He'd do something crazy, like kiss him to distract him, but Puck's concentrating as much as he can on this. He tries again, gentler this time, but his fingers fumble and Finn won't stay still and Puck wonders if he's going to have to pin him down to do this. Maybe if he pushes instead of pulls. And maybe -
"Puck, I don't-"
"Finn, focus. Lube?"
Finn stares at him blankly, blinking a few times.
"What d'you whack off with?"
He points to the drawer. Puck leans over to dig in it, ignoring the way Finn runs his hand up and then down Puck's side.
Puck squeezes the lube all over his fingers. It's cool, a little too much, but whatever. Puck slicks them up, paying special attention to the foreskin on Finn's dick. He gets the head of his dick pressed right up against Finn's, cupping them both in one hand. He doesn't care about the death grip Finn has on his arm, just what he's doing with his other hand, starting at the base and sliding up slowly, pushing the foreskin forward.
It doesn't work. Not the first time, not the second time, not even the third time. He can feel the tremble of Finn's thighs beneath his own, or maybe Puck's shaking and he just doesn't realize it. He'd believe it right now. He's kind of lost contact with anything that isn't this idea in his head and this insane, frenzied focus.
"Don't come." He says it to Finn, but maybe he's saying it to himself too. His hands are shaking a little when he tries again, just a little more, and then he's -
This is -
"Oh my god," Finn says. Puck nods because his tongue's to thick to work. Not like it matters. He doesn't know what he'd say anyway, and fuck, fuck.
He keeps his hands wrapped around the heads of their dicks, because he's pretty sure one wrong move would totally ruin the entire thing. He twitches his hips forward, just a little; Puck's never been good at denying himself what he wants. He can't resist.
"Does it hurt?"
Finn nods, wide, crazy eyes staring at their dicks. "Little bit."
"Hold still," Puck says. It's probably unnecessary. Finn's staring up at him stupidly, fingers restless on Puck's hip.
Puck starts at the base of Finn's dick, sliding his fist all the way down to the base of his own, doing it again with shaking hands, twisting carefully over the heads. It feels good enough that he stops thinking and leans forward to press his mouth against Finn's, because his brain's broken, or because it doesn't really matter or because it's hot, insanely hot, and what should have been a kiss ends up being a weird sort of off-center thing that neither of them care enough to correct.
Not that it matters. Puck can't really think right now. He rubs his forehead against Finn's, slipping, mouth stutter skipping over Finn's cheekbone. He rocks his hips, and their dicks slip away from each other, and shit. Shit.
"No, no, put it back!" Finn jerks the same time Puck does, reaching out. They're a tangle of hands, knocking together and getting the way of each other, until Finn wraps his hands around Puck's wrists and yanks them away.
He pauses for a split second, holding Puck's wrists down and then he reaches down and grips Puck's cock a little too tightly. Puck jerks forward, balls tightening, and then he's coming all over Finn's hands and wrists. Their cocks and everything else are just collateral damage.
He leans forward against Finn because otherwise he's going to slide right off the bed. Holy shit. Shit, they're going to need to clean the sheets.
Finn can do it. His bed, his responsibility.
Puck reaches between them and slicks his hand over Finn's cock once, twice, three times. Finn pants against Puck's shoulder, thighs twitching under him, and then he turns his head and kisses Puck. Puck lets him, lets him roll him onto his back, and thrust against his thigh, cock still slick with lube and sweat and come.
Finn's heavy, hot and sweaty, but Puck's too sex drunk to care. He props his knee up and lets it fall open so Finn can actually get between his legs. He doesn't think about what that means, but whatever. It's not like he's actually doing much thinking anyway because then Finn makes his ridiculous O-face and comes hot and sticky against Puck's inner thigh.
Puck pushes Finn off him and onto his back, propping his feet up on the pillows. Finn'll probably start bitching about it later, but that's his problem, not Puck's. Besides, Puck doesn't think he's going to be moving anytime soon. Like, at all.
He scratches idly at his stomach, closing his eyes; damn, he could go for a nap right now. In fact, why the hell not? He's pretty sure that the Hummels and Mrs. H won't be home for at least a few more hours, whatever they're doing, and there's nothing Finn can say to get Puck to move.
He can practically hear Finn's brain work as he shifts beside him. It's distracting, and setting off little alarms in his head. Finn had better not want pillow talk. Puck doesn't do that shit. Still, he smacks him on the thigh. "Dude, stop thinking so much."
"I didn't know you could do that," Finn says finally.
Puck cracks open an eye and stares at the ceiling. Neither did Puck, but he's not about to tell Finn that. It'd totally destroy his rep as a sex wizard, and he doesn't want Finn to think otherwise.
"Yeah, it's pretty hot."
"How did you - "
"Spit it out, Hudson."
"You - you're sleeping with other guys?" Finn asks, fake casual even though his voice cracks. Puck's too beat to rib him about that. Maybe after a nap, he'll totally give Finn hell.
He rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Finnessa."
He doesn't know what Finn's thinking about that, and Puck doesn't really care all that much. He's quiet and Puck's trying not to think too hard, even if Finn still totally is. Whatever. He closes his eyes and starts to drift away, thinking that it's pretty great that he's not in the wet spot.
"Puck?"
Puck seriously thinks about reaching over and shoving a sock in Finn's mouth. He doesn't remember Finn talking this much before. But he's still a little orgasm stupid, so he just asks, "Yes?"
"Do you think girls can do that?"
-
LJ name: zephyrprince
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): puck, finn, will, artie, matt, mike
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: nc-17, the more explicit the better
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1. Being a Jew, Puck is circumcised but Finn is is not. The two boys start comparing their penises in the locker room, which eventually leads to a sleepover involving a lot of sweaty man-sex, foreskin sucking, and attempted docking.
2. Finn grapples with self-hatred over wanting to get dominated and fucked rough, hard and deep. Will struggles with his feelings for his student, but the two negotiate their anxieties and desires and anxieties together.
3. Artie gets his first blowjob but it comes from an unexpected source - Finn. The two find themselves sixty-nining and rimming on the floor of their room. Artie keeps his bowtie on.
4. Underwear party. The hetero Glee boys (mike, matt, artie, puck, finn) and Mr. Schue have a guy's night pizza party on the auditorium stage. Discussion turns to underwear and the boys discuss their preferences. Some like briefs or boxer-briefs for the support. Some find them gay and like boxers. Eventually everyone strips down. Then penis size comes up, comparisons ensue, and circle jerking results.
Things you DON’T want in your story (kinks or sex acts that gross you out, characters you despise, etc.): Would prefer no forced feminization, no male crossdressing. Would prefer no vagina, but it wouldn't be a deal breaker.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Finn
Warnings: N/A
Word count: ~7,000
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: It happens sometimes, guys accidentally checking out the goods in the locker room, and most of the time it's standard operating procedure to ignore the entire thing. Pretend like it never even happened, and definitely never bring it up.
A/N: Thank you to my lovely, lovely beta, who shall remain anon so as to not unanon me. You saved my life, bb.
Running laps sucks hardcore.
Puck doesn't know why he always gets forced into doing them. Most of the time he's not even responsible. At all. Jimmy Walker totally asks for it whenever Puck gets the urge to pants him, and it's totally not his bad that Coach says stupid things and he just has to mouth off. He tells himself to be cool and control his impulses, but, seriously, people need to stop providing him with opportunities because then Puck won't have to worry about it.
If, you know, he actually cared or anything.
It's totally Finn's fault this time. Tanaka seems to have burst an artery or something, getting pissy over the littlest things. Puck doesn't know what's up with that. So they had a thing for Glee and were late to practice. Doesn't mean that they should have to run laps. Yeah, the club's run by the dude that's slipping it to Coach's ex-fiance, and Tanaka's had it out for Puck ever since he chose Glee over football, but it's not like it's because of Puck that they were late.
Coach doesn't stick around for the entire thing. He doesn't trust them to do all the laps, but it's two for one happy hour nachos at the dive bar down the road. Tanaka isn't about to miss that. Hell, Puck wouldn't miss them either, if his fake ID could still get him in the door.
They do about half of them before Puck slows to a walk, falling out of step with Finn. He pulls his shirt away from his chest, waiting until Finn realizes that he's running alone and does a double-take, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Puck grins.
"Dude, what are you -"
"Tanaka always tells us to do twice as many laps because he knows we'll always half-ass it." He brushes past Finn on his way to the locker room. If Finn wants to keep running laps, that's his problem. Not Puck's.
He smiles when Puck hears Finn tromp after him. Puck's never had too much difficulty getting Finn to do what he wants anyway. Most of the time, that is. Some things, like getting him over that whole Quinn thing, just seems to take forever.
They're on opposite sides of the showers because they're dudes, and Puck doesn't have any interest in seeing Finn naked. Really. No thanks. Besides, Finn sings in the shower, like, all the time now, and it's annoying. He used to at least try to hide it, but now, when he's alone or Finn knows that it's just Puck in the furthest stall away, he just belts it out, like it's Glee club and Rachel Berry's sitting right in front of him with those wide, adoring, please take me now eyes.
When Puck realizes he's humming along, he turns the cold up higher and flinches when it's cooler than he wanted it. He's in Glee, and he actually kind of likes Glee, but naked singing time in the showers is not how he plans on spending his time. On his way out, towel wrapped around his hips, he throws what's left of his bar of soap at Finn, missing and hitting the wall three feet to the left. Finn jumps and almost loses his balance, arms windmilling, so it's totally worth it.
He towels off in the locker room, listening to Finn croon the final bars of the latest Glee duet he's supposed to sing with Rachel. It's not a bad song, but Puck's kind of sick of hearing it. Finn's still humming when he leaves the showers, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, and he tosses the bar of soap, hitting Puck in the back. Puck leaves it on the floor where it lands, and he pulls his jeans on. They're unbuttoned and the fly's open, sliding down his hips when he knocks his deodorant out of his locker. He crouches down to get it, and that's when he realizes that he's eye level with Finn's dick. Almost, anyway. Finn's a tall dude.
Whatever. He is not staring at his best friend's junk.
Okay, maybe he is, but it's not like he's actually looking or anything. You don't check out other guys in the locker room. That's the unwritten rule every guy learns at a young age, and it's the one rule Puck follows religiously. He doesn't need to compare or feel better about his tool. He's a stud.
Besides, Puck's got a hot cock, no lie.
He looks away, focusing on his Old Spice instead, picking it up and definitely not looking back at Finn's package. He rolls some on and tosses it into his locker. It clangs against the back wall before rebounding into Puck's hands. He can't help it; it makes him smile. That sound is probably one of his favorite things, like that first hit of really good pot or simple angry sex without the involvement of girly emotions.
It's one of the reasons he likes his cougars so much. They don't want anything but sex from him, and all the high school girls that want more are just exhausting. Puck wishes he could go back to when all he had to worry about was himself and maybe sometimes Finn, and Finn -
Puck can't help it; he glances over. Finn's staring at him. It's not the hungry cougar look, or Finn's normal confused look, like he has no idea what's going on, but shit. Puck's totally caught.
It happens sometimes, guys accidentally checking out the goods in the locker room, and most of the time it's standard operating procedure to ignore the entire thing. Pretend like it never even happened, and definitely never bring it up. It doesn't really matter, but it's still uncomfortable.
It's worse because it's Finn. Puck's always had a problem keeping most things from him with the sole exception of the baby thing, but that doesn't count. Taking a chick's virginity trumps anything. Puck has no idea why Finn doesn't see that. They're mostly okay now, but Finn's still a little off balance, like he suspects that Puck's going to stab him in the back when he's not looking.
Finn's still staring at him, and Puck wants to shrug it off. He wants to pretend that he didn't just do what Finn thinks he did, that Finn didn't even notice at all. It'd be way easier than actually dealing with it, Puck has that feeling whenever he knows he's not going to be able to control his impulses, no matter what and it's kind of like when Mrs. H goes down on him and does that thing with her tongue, and Puck's helpless to stop himself from fucking her face. He just can't not do it.
"Sorry, man. Got distracted by how tiny your dick is." It's actually kind of a lie, but whatever. Puck's not going to go around praising the size of someone else's dick. Especially not Finn's.
Finn glares. "What, shut up."
"I'm serious. I don't think I've ever seen a dick that tiny."
Finn scowls and yanks his boxers up and then tries to get his jeans on. They catch because his skin is still wet, tiny beads of water on his legs, and Puck stares as all that skin disappears, miles and miles of it.
He says, "Like yours is any better."
Puck laughs. He wonders when he forgot how fun it is to rile Finn up like this. He arches an eyebrow. "You look at my dick a lot?"
"No!"
Puck pulls on his shirt, still laughing.
Finn's mom won't let him drive all that often, so Puck offers to take him home, and then he just never really leaves. They play X-Box, and he totally kicks Finn's ass, of course. Finn's a button masher, no coordination and overenthusiastic elbow jabbing into Puck's side whenever he thinks he's about to get a hit.
It's annoying. Each jab makes Puck twitch a little, and it totally pulls him out of the zone. Finn's not smart enough to plan things like that, and Puck should be prepared for it, but it still catches him off guard, pulling his attention away from the television screen to slide down the lines of Finn's profile. He's chewing on his lower lip, like he does sometimes, eyes intent on the game. It takes him a moment to realize he's still staring at Finn, like it's going to help him win or get him laid or something crazy like that.
They're sitting pretty close, but that's because there's only the bed and not really anywhere else to sit in Finn's room. Puck would shift away, but he's got the best angle to the TV right now. He's not going to give up that advantage, even if Finn's generating heat like a solar flare, hot where they're touching at their sides. Puck shifts a little, jostling Finn with his shoulder and pretending he did it by accident.
Puck's distracted by the click of his controller's buttons. Finn jerks forward, his elbow clipping him in his side, throwing Puck for a loop, and that's when Finn gets a head shot out of nowhere. Shit. Puck punches him in the arm, shoving him a little off balance. It doesn't matter though. Finn's still grinning like an idiot, and Puck rolls his eyes, fighting to keep himself from returning the grin.
"This is lame," Puck says, tossing the controller on the floor. He's always down for video games, but right now he doesn't want to deal with anything. Finn's sitting too close, and Puck scratches at an itch on his lower back that's not really there, like it'll stop this crazy thing curling up his spine that he doesn't even understand.
Puck gets up and heads for the door. He doesn't even stop when Finn says something, just waves at him over his shoulder, a sharp what the fuck do you want gesture. It's not like he's actually going anywhere. He just needs to get out of that room for a while. Get some air. He could totally go for some dip or a cigarette, but he's out and has been for awhile.
There's barely any food in the fridge, just fruits, vegetables and some green paste thing that must be Kurt's. Puck smells it and puts it back almost immediately. He stands there with the door of the fridge hanging wide open. The cool air feels good. Puck doesn't get why he's so warm. It's not even that hot out, barely edging into warmer days of spring and not quite the stifling heat of summer yet.
Puck wonders what Finn's doing up in his room. Playing the game all by himself or being a giant girl and thinking about Puck. Maybe about summer camp a few years ago, or maybe the Quinn thing. He's probably thinking about whatever girl is throwing herself at him this week. Whatever crazy mojo Finn's got, it sure attracts the ladies. It doesn't make any sense to Puck, but whatever.
He stares into the open fridge; Finn's mom rarely drinks, but her taste in booze has gotten a lot better lately, or maybe it's just because of Kurt's dad. He stocks the fridge with the good kind of beer and not that Natty Light stuff either, but the kind that comes in actual bottles. People don't buy him this kind of beer when he stands on the corner, looking as pathetic as he can on Friday nights.
He takes the entire case with him to Finn's room and half a bag of Doritos that he found in the cupboard. He tosses the chips at Finn, but they fall on the floor anyway because Finn can't catch worth shit, too busy staring at the booze in Puck's hands.
"You can't drink that. It's Burt's."
Like Puck even cares. He doesn't know Burt at all, and it's not going to be Puck's fault when the beer's all gone. It's probably bullshit because Finn's mom knows him, and knows that it's usually Puck getting them in trouble, despite his protests otherwise, but that's later. He doesn't care about later. Puck's got the beer now.
"Whatever." Puck uses his belt buckle to pop off the top. He flicks it at Finn and then takes a drink. It's more bitter than he's used to, but it's beer so Puck's not going to complain. Booze is hard enough to come by anyway, and Puck's not about to turn down an opportunity like this.
He hands the bottle to Finn, watching him hold it like he doesn't know what to do with it. Just like his dick, Puck thinks, and nearly drops the other bottle he just opened. Thinking about Finn handling his dick is not a good idea right now.
Or ever.
"C'mon, don't be a pussy." He sits on the bed and leans back against the headboard, waiting until Finn takes a drink before he downs half of his own bottle. It's not like it's the first time Finn's been drunk. They took care of that first when they were fourteen. Took care of a lot of firsts that summer. It's not something Puck actively thinks about because it's not like it was actually anything anyway, but there it is, that feeling he gets when he's totally going to follow his impulses.
"Hey, you ever think about that thing a couple summers ago?" He asks, as casually as he can, picking at the label on his bottle.
Finn gets really still, gripping his beer tightly, like he's trying not to think too hard. It's not an unusual Finn look - most of the time, Finn's default setting is not thinking - but it's different, somehow. It's too aware, too knowing even if Finn doesn't want to know. Maybe he doesn't, and he's trying to think of a way to avoid the question.
Puck really doesn't think about it all the time. Just sometimes, like when he's really drunk or high and he doesn't have to acknowledge the thing that always follows immediately after when he's sober enough, wondering what it all means.
Puck's a dude so he's not down with that kind of thing. At all. Except lately his impulses are making him do stupid not-fun things instead of the fun awesome things, like toss people in dumpsters or fly Israel's underwear from the flag pole. He thinks that Beth and Quinn did this to him, made him softer and more like a chick than he should be. It's not something he wants to focus on, either. That entire thing is over and done with. It's out of his life and there's nothing he can do about it.
But Finn? Finn is here, and lately Puck's learned too much about losing things he didn't even know mattered.
"I do. Sometimes." It's not as painful as he'd thought it'd be, admitting it, but Puck peels the label away from the bottle like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever done in his life. He glances over, but he doesn't get any higher than Finn's knee before he looks away again. Finn's bottle hangs loosely in his grip; if he's not careful he's going to get beer all over the sheets.
"You-"
"Yeah."
Finn sets his bottle on the floor between his feet, and Puck watches him wipes his hands on his jeans. Puck has no idea why he's just sitting there, staring at Finn and waiting for either of them to do something, anything.
He doesn't know where his balls went, but he'd like them back.
Finn's a dude, and it should be as simple as getting to the point. Puck finishes his beer and sets the bottle on Finn's nightstand, knocking over that lame statue Finn keeps there. It makes Finn look over, and somehow that kicks Puck's ass into gear.
He reaches over and pops open the button on Finn's pants before flattening his hand over the fly. Finn's mostly hard, just like Puck suspected. He presses down with his palm, rubbing in a circular pattern. Finn's staring at him, blinking like he doesn't know what to do. It's completely ridiculous. Puck knows that Finn's not completely stupid when it comes to this. Maybe with girls, but it's not like they've never done this before.
Puck shifts closer, getting a better angle and pressing his hand down harder until Finn jerks, arching towards him and knocking their foreheads together, a starburst of pain and the clatter of teeth and the sharp sting of a bitten tongue. Puck throws out a hand to steady himself, pushing against Finn's stomach. The tremor there startles him, and Puck watches him blink.
What the hell? What just happened? Finn is still shaking, panting a little, like he just ran a marathon or something, like he -
Oh.
"Huh." Puck leans back to look at Finn. "Really?"
Finn's face is all red, blotchy and sweaty, and he won't look at Puck. Yeah, Puck would be embarrassed too. Good thing he doesn't have that problem. What the hell. Finn never had that issue before. He grins a little, thinking about all the material he's got now.
Finn is never going to live this down. Not that that's important right now because Puck hasn't come yet, and he opens his mouth to say something about it. This is prime material here, and he's going to drag it out for months.
"I thought you said that you didn't have that problem. Wow, Finn, no wonder you -"
"Shut up."
Puck grins. "When did that start, by the way? You never -"
Finn reaches out and shoves Puck back, like it'll actually do much more than knock him off balance. He doesn't even look at Puck to do it, just stares straight ahead at the wall, like he's got x-ray vision and there are two hot chicks doing it on the other side.
Puck stares at the unhappy line of his shoulders, like Finn knows what's coming. He should say something more about his staying power or how hot he clearly finds Puck, but nothing comes out. He tries again, licking his lips, staring at Finn's fingers, clenched on his knees.
"Shit."
Finn just sits there, tense and totally not doing anything about Puck's hard on, but pulling his shirt down over the front of his pants, and whatever. Whatever. Puck rolls his eyes. Lame. He lays back and reaches for a new beer from the case on the floor, throwing the cap at the far wall. This sucks. Puck just wants to get laid, and it seems like Finn's not going to be much help on that front. Which is the most messed up thing ever.
He takes a drink and scowls at nothing in particular.
"Uh. Should we -"
Something tells him that Finn's not going to ask if they should fuck, so Puck just looks at him, waiting for him to get to the point.
"You know," Finn says, and makes a gesture that Puck's brain wants to interpret as code for blowjob, but he's pretty sure that's not the case. He stares at him and the slowly fading color on Finn's cheeks.
"No. I don't know."
Finn swallows and still doesn't look at him. "Talk?"
Puck shoves the bottle at him. "No. Absolutely not."
"Right."
Finn's sitting up and looking straight ahead, like maybe if he ignores Puck entirely, this entire thing will have just disappeared. Puck stares sullenly at him for a moment before he lets his head fall back against the bed frame, staring at the green paint on Finn's walls. Puck kind of misses the ridiculous cowboy wallpaper, even if it was lame.
He rests his hand high on his thigh and runs his fingers teasingly over the front of his pants. He's gonna have to get some alone time in soon because blue balls suck. If he left for the bathroom, Finn would totally know what's up - he's dumb, but he's not that stupid - but whatever. Puck is not willing to let his cock suffer. Maybe he could even come all over Kurt's face products. His smirk falters. Maybe he'd be into that, so no. Not a good idea.
He watches Finn fidget out of the corner of his eye. He's not thinking about Finn's junk, he's not thinking about how it's gotta be getting gross right now, cooling and gelling in his pants, or about how his hand grips the bottle, slipping from the condensation.
Puck drinks. He just almost -
With Finn.
Finn.
It's been almost two years, and they never talked about it since, ignored the entire thing when school started in the fall. This is Lima, and Puck's a stud, and that sort of thing just wasn't kosher.
Finn clears his throat and finally looks at him. Puck blinks when his eyes drop down to the front of Puck's pants, lingering, and then Puck remembers that his fingers are still there, pressing over his dick. He swallows - his throat is way too dry to have much of an effect, but Puck does it anyway - and strokes his fingers down and then back up, god, it's not enough. No way. He does it again, watching the part of Finn's mouth, and then Finn makes this sound, choked off and completely not hot at all, except that it totally makes Puck's dick twitch under his hand.
It's not really important who makes the first move. What's important is that Puck's in control. Finn's got a pretty good grip on his biceps, but Puck jerks his leg to the left, knocking Finn's knee to the side and his leverage off, and it's easy for Puck to roll them - thanking the sex gods that Finn got a bigger bed in exchange for moving in - and shoves Finn to the mattress.
He's about to make some comment about Finn being his bitch, but then Finn twists his leg and it brushes against Puck's cock, and Puck kind of forgets to do it. He grinds down on Finn, and Puck's balance falters, nearly making him topple over. Finn grapples at his hips, muttering something; whatever, it's not important. Puck doesn't care what Finn's saying, he doesn't care if he pulls a Finn and comes in his pants right now. He just wants to get off.
And the easiest way to do that? Skin. Puck yanks his shirt over his head, and it's pretty easy to get Finn's off, even if he struggles a little bit until Puck rolls his eyes and helps him, tossing Finn's shirt over his shoulder, and reaching for the front of his pants. Finn's hands are in the way, fumbling with the buckle of his belt. It feels like it takes forever, getting clothing out of the way so Finn can get Puck's cock out. Puck lets his head roll back. It's so much better, especially when Finn takes him in hand like he used to, a little clumsy, a little too eager, but pretty much awesome. Puck leans forward, and his jeans slide down his hips.
Puck reaches out and pulls down the zipper of Finn's pants carefully. Finn lifts his hips, helping Puck tug down his pants and boxers, and then he curls his fingers around Finn's dick and tugs a few times. He's already half hard again and kind of sticky from his come.
Puck smirks. "I guess it's not so tiny now."
"Dude, shut up."
"Ah, c'mon, Finn. Lots of guys have tiny dicks."
"You look at - shit - a lot of guys' dicks?"
Puck makes a face. The only dick he looks at is his own. And sometimes Finn's, but it's not like that actually counts. He slides his thumb down the length of Finn's cock. The foreskin is loose and sort of wrinkly. Puck doesn't know what to do about it; it's not like he's ever spent a lot of time learning how to jerk another guy off, that summer withstanding.
"Mine is totally bigger," he says.
"What? It is not." It totally is. He gets that Finn wouldn't want to admit it, but Puck's cock is amazing.
"Yeah? You wanna bet?"
"Bet?" Finn asks warily. Puck wonders if Finn's remembering that Puck plays dirty. It's gotta be something big. Something he's pretty sure he'd never offer or ask for in the first place. Not from another dude. No way.
"How 'bout a blowjob?"
Finn stares at him. "A - a blowjob?"
"Yeah. Smaller dick has to go down on the bigger dick." Puck grins. There's no way he's going to lose this. His cock is awesome.
Finn looks at him with narrowed eyes, like he doesn't trust him on this. Puck would be offended, except Finn's totally got a point. He wouldn't trust himself either.
"You won't back out?"
"Dude. I'm not going to need to."
Finn doesn't look entirely convinced, but he asks, "How are we going to measure? I think there's a ruler downstairs."
Puck thinks about that. Downstairs is not here and that requires moving. It'd be pretty funny if the Hummel's and Finn's mom came home while he was wandering around downstairs naked, except he doesn't need Kurt lusting after him. He's got enough to do just dealing with chicks.
And Finn.
"C'mon, we'll just -" Puck shifts forward and angles his dick against Finn's. He thinks they're both a little distracted by the slide of his cock against Finn's, all skin and a little sweat. Puck thinks about how it'd feel with a little lube, how good it'd probably be and -
Finn's longer. By like, half an inch, but he's longer.
Shit.
"Ha," Finn says, and then grins at him. Puck just stares. Maybe the angle's all fucked up because, because -
No way. This is not happening to him. This is like those stupid tragedies Rachel's always going on about. The ones where some dude lost his balls, tries to find his balls and can't find his balls. Except that this is totally worse.
"I don't do shit like that." Puck backs away a little bit.
"We made a bet," Finn says.
"So?"
Like that even matters. There's no way this is happening.
"So, you said you wouldn't-"
"I say a lot of things, Finn. Doesn't mean I mean them."
Finn frowns at him, but Puck doesn't care. He doesn't care. There's absolutely no way this is -
Finn says, "Unless you're scared or something. I mean, it is kind of -"
Shit.
The asshole.
That's totally not going to fly. Puck's not afraid of anything, least of all sucking dick.
"Shut up," Puck says, shoving Finn down to the bed and yanking both their jeans all the way off. He can't believe he's about to do this. He hasn't even had more than three beers, and this kind of gay action is only legit after at least six. Maybe seven. Puck fists his hand around Finn's cock, thinking maybe if he gets Finn off with his hand before he actually has to do this, then he won't actually have to do this.
"Puck," Finn says, gripping his wrist.
Puck's a sex shark, so clearly he's going to be awesome at this. Really. He hesitates, staring at Finn's dick. This is the moment he knows he can't come back from. If he does this, if he actually does this, Puck's pretty sure that it's it. He'll never be able to have sex again without thinking about this again.
Finn's dick.
Touching it is one thing, but putting it in his mouth? Yeah, not what he ever thought he'd be doing. He closes his eyes, and knows he can't back down now, not when he's got a prime opportunity to get off, and if that summer's anything to go by, getting off with Finn is a lot more fun than Puck had ever suspected before that. Finn makes a whining sound or maybe it's supposed to be encouragement, but Puck's not so certain about that.
He can't look at Finn. He's not really sure he wants to look at Finn's dick either, but looking him in the eyes might be too much. Puck's pretty sure he doesn't want to know what Finn's thinking, and his face reads like a slutty chick's legs. Wide open and totally not capable of hiding anything. He can usually tell that Finn's lying about something, and he's always known when Finn's mental vagina is showing. Puck does not need to see that.
It's not because Puck doesn't want Finn to see something that's not there at all. Finn's like a giant girl most of the time anyway. He'd be all over that emotional shit and Puck's pretty much not interested.
Even if it is Finn.
He closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out, leaning forward, and the head of Finn's cock slides against Puck's cheek, skin catching against skin. Shit. Puck turns his head and corrects his angle. He's not thinking about what he's doing, gripping the base and teasing the head with slow, careful licks. It's salty, and hot and the foreskin shifts under his tongue.
From the sounds Finn's making, Puck wonders if anyone's ever done this for him. Is this Finn's first blowjob? Did Quinn ever try to sleep with him after Puck knocked her up? They'd never done more than handjobs when they were younger; they've never talked about that summer after school started, and Santana suddenly grew boobs. Hell, Puck's barely even thought about it since. Hardly ever.
Shut up.
He slips his tongue under the foreskin to get at the slit, wondering what it feels like for Finn, if it's different than when a hot cougar goes down on him. He uses his hand for a moment, pushing the foreskin around a little with his thumb. Puck pulls back the hood so he can actually get at the head, lick the slit and do his best to ignore the taste. It's not that bad, not really, but it's not like Puck's going to admit that. Maybe -
He grips the base of Finn's cock and sucks on the foreskin, trying it out. Finn jerks a little, stomach clenching. The second time Puck does it, sucking a little harder than before, Finn accidentally smacks Puck in the back of his head, and Puck nearly gags on his cock. There's a pretty awful moment with teeth, and Puck's suddenly very, very cold. The idea of doing that to another dude is just so not on. Puck's had chicks that had uncontrollable limb function, but Finn's like, dangerous.
He pulls away and glares up at him. "Hey. You want your dick sucked or what?"
Finn opens his mouth like he's trying to say something, and it sort of twitches, like he's on crack or a big dumb fish. Puck rolls his eyes - what a moron - and takes Finn's wrists and pushes them to the bed, using his fingers to curl Finn's in the bedspread.
"Keep 'em there. Or I stop."
Finn's eyes get big. His nostrils flare, and he grips the quilt until his knuckles turn white. Yeah, Puck would totally stop. This is a one time thing. After this, he's going back to his cougars and maybe high school chicks, if he can convince them to start putting out on a more regular basis and figure out a way to not knock them up. He's pretty sure he doesn't want that to happen ever again.
He rolls his neck, listening to the crack of his vertebrae, waiting until his mouth isn't quite so dry, using saliva to help slick the way down Finn's cock. He takes more of it in, and thinks about Mrs. H, and how she always does that thing with her tongue that makes him lose his shit. Puck twists his tongue, trying to mimic it. Finn's thighs tense beneath his forearms, and when Puck does it again, he sees Finn's hand jerk forward out of the corner of his eye.
Puck pulls almost all the way off and glares up at him because if Finn's about to do something completely stupid, then Puck's not going to be caught off guard again. It settles on his shoulder, kneading restlessly and slipping a little from the sweat. There's no pattern to it, but Puck starts to follow it, sucking when Finn clenches his shoulder, licking when Finn's hand relaxes. When he pulls off and sucks on just head, tonguing the foreskin, Finn makes a sound, high pitched and cracking.
B flat.
He thrusts up in his mouth, sharp and sudden, hitting the back of Puck's throat, and Finn's fingers dig in unexpectedly. Puck jerks away; that fucking hurt.
"What the hell, dude?" He asks, rubbing his shoulder. Finn doesn't say anything, panting harshly and reaching for Puck, trying to push him back down. He resists because yeah, he's a dude and he can take it, but damn. Damn.
Finn's knee rubs against Puck's side, ribs to hip, twitching a little.
"C'mon, Puck -"
Puck grins at him until Finn's shoulders curl in a little, defensive. He looks at Finn's dick and thinks about Finn's hands, still on his shoulders. He's not about to put himself in that position again.
Puck shifts up on his knees, straddling Finn's knees and reaching for his cock. He wonders why he's doing all the work, here. Puck twitches his thumb, pushing the skin forward a little bit, and Finn's fingers dig into his arm, right below his elbow. "What, what're you -"
"Shut up." Puck does it again, watching how Finn's stomach clenches. "I know what I'm doing."
He really, really doesn't.
He's jerked Finn off before, sure, but always frantic and fast in the dark, never this slow examination of another guy's dick, and he's definitely never rolled the foreskin under his thumb like this before tonight. He's never put his own against another dick, never felt that slick, sweet slide of sweat and skin and precome. It makes his breath catch in his throat unexpectedly, words stumbling out of his mouth, barely coherent and probably not something Puck wants to remember saying in the first place.
Fuck.
Puck shifts to his knees, pushing at Finn's hip.
"C'mon." Puck keeps pushing until Finn shifts backwards, sitting up straighter and leaning against the headboard. He straddles Finn's thighs, and Puck has no idea where this is coming from, this inspiration. It feels like he stuck his dick in a light socket (a really big one), but he can't stop -
It's gotta be just like doing a chick. Just the tip; see how it feels. This is insane. Shit like this can't actually work, but Puck's got this idea and he can't let it go. Finn's gonna leave marks, gripping Puck's arm like that, more so than any of his cougars ever have, and that's totally cool. Puck'll take marks.
He gets a hold of himself, slicks all the way up to right below the head, gripping tightly, and reaches out for Finn's dick with his other hand. He plays with the foreskin until Finn's got his head arched back, and he's not looking at what Puck's doing. That's when he lines up their dicks and pulls on the skin on Finn's; this is going to be so awesome, he can't even -
Finn flails, and his knee comes up, knocking Puck off balance.
"Ow! What're you, what-"
There's sweat on his chest, and Puck's hand slips, trying to hold him down. He's got - this is going to be good. Puck doesn't really know how he knows that, but he just does. He's being guided by the sex ninja in his head, and Puck always listens to it when it starts telling him to do something.
"Dude, trust me. It'll be awesome."
He'd do something crazy, like kiss him to distract him, but Puck's concentrating as much as he can on this. He tries again, gentler this time, but his fingers fumble and Finn won't stay still and Puck wonders if he's going to have to pin him down to do this. Maybe if he pushes instead of pulls. And maybe -
"Puck, I don't-"
"Finn, focus. Lube?"
Finn stares at him blankly, blinking a few times.
"What d'you whack off with?"
He points to the drawer. Puck leans over to dig in it, ignoring the way Finn runs his hand up and then down Puck's side.
Puck squeezes the lube all over his fingers. It's cool, a little too much, but whatever. Puck slicks them up, paying special attention to the foreskin on Finn's dick. He gets the head of his dick pressed right up against Finn's, cupping them both in one hand. He doesn't care about the death grip Finn has on his arm, just what he's doing with his other hand, starting at the base and sliding up slowly, pushing the foreskin forward.
It doesn't work. Not the first time, not the second time, not even the third time. He can feel the tremble of Finn's thighs beneath his own, or maybe Puck's shaking and he just doesn't realize it. He'd believe it right now. He's kind of lost contact with anything that isn't this idea in his head and this insane, frenzied focus.
"Don't come." He says it to Finn, but maybe he's saying it to himself too. His hands are shaking a little when he tries again, just a little more, and then he's -
This is -
"Oh my god," Finn says. Puck nods because his tongue's to thick to work. Not like it matters. He doesn't know what he'd say anyway, and fuck, fuck.
He keeps his hands wrapped around the heads of their dicks, because he's pretty sure one wrong move would totally ruin the entire thing. He twitches his hips forward, just a little; Puck's never been good at denying himself what he wants. He can't resist.
"Does it hurt?"
Finn nods, wide, crazy eyes staring at their dicks. "Little bit."
"Hold still," Puck says. It's probably unnecessary. Finn's staring up at him stupidly, fingers restless on Puck's hip.
Puck starts at the base of Finn's dick, sliding his fist all the way down to the base of his own, doing it again with shaking hands, twisting carefully over the heads. It feels good enough that he stops thinking and leans forward to press his mouth against Finn's, because his brain's broken, or because it doesn't really matter or because it's hot, insanely hot, and what should have been a kiss ends up being a weird sort of off-center thing that neither of them care enough to correct.
Not that it matters. Puck can't really think right now. He rubs his forehead against Finn's, slipping, mouth stutter skipping over Finn's cheekbone. He rocks his hips, and their dicks slip away from each other, and shit. Shit.
"No, no, put it back!" Finn jerks the same time Puck does, reaching out. They're a tangle of hands, knocking together and getting the way of each other, until Finn wraps his hands around Puck's wrists and yanks them away.
He pauses for a split second, holding Puck's wrists down and then he reaches down and grips Puck's cock a little too tightly. Puck jerks forward, balls tightening, and then he's coming all over Finn's hands and wrists. Their cocks and everything else are just collateral damage.
He leans forward against Finn because otherwise he's going to slide right off the bed. Holy shit. Shit, they're going to need to clean the sheets.
Finn can do it. His bed, his responsibility.
Puck reaches between them and slicks his hand over Finn's cock once, twice, three times. Finn pants against Puck's shoulder, thighs twitching under him, and then he turns his head and kisses Puck. Puck lets him, lets him roll him onto his back, and thrust against his thigh, cock still slick with lube and sweat and come.
Finn's heavy, hot and sweaty, but Puck's too sex drunk to care. He props his knee up and lets it fall open so Finn can actually get between his legs. He doesn't think about what that means, but whatever. It's not like he's actually doing much thinking anyway because then Finn makes his ridiculous O-face and comes hot and sticky against Puck's inner thigh.
Puck pushes Finn off him and onto his back, propping his feet up on the pillows. Finn'll probably start bitching about it later, but that's his problem, not Puck's. Besides, Puck doesn't think he's going to be moving anytime soon. Like, at all.
He scratches idly at his stomach, closing his eyes; damn, he could go for a nap right now. In fact, why the hell not? He's pretty sure that the Hummels and Mrs. H won't be home for at least a few more hours, whatever they're doing, and there's nothing Finn can say to get Puck to move.
He can practically hear Finn's brain work as he shifts beside him. It's distracting, and setting off little alarms in his head. Finn had better not want pillow talk. Puck doesn't do that shit. Still, he smacks him on the thigh. "Dude, stop thinking so much."
"I didn't know you could do that," Finn says finally.
Puck cracks open an eye and stares at the ceiling. Neither did Puck, but he's not about to tell Finn that. It'd totally destroy his rep as a sex wizard, and he doesn't want Finn to think otherwise.
"Yeah, it's pretty hot."
"How did you - "
"Spit it out, Hudson."
"You - you're sleeping with other guys?" Finn asks, fake casual even though his voice cracks. Puck's too beat to rib him about that. Maybe after a nap, he'll totally give Finn hell.
He rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Finnessa."
He doesn't know what Finn's thinking about that, and Puck doesn't really care all that much. He's quiet and Puck's trying not to think too hard, even if Finn still totally is. Whatever. He closes his eyes and starts to drift away, thinking that it's pretty great that he's not in the wet spot.
"Puck?"
Puck seriously thinks about reaching over and shoving a sock in Finn's mouth. He doesn't remember Finn talking this much before. But he's still a little orgasm stupid, so he just asks, "Yes?"
"Do you think girls can do that?"
-
LJ name: zephyrprince
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): puck, finn, will, artie, matt, mike
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: nc-17, the more explicit the better
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1. Being a Jew, Puck is circumcised but Finn is is not. The two boys start comparing their penises in the locker room, which eventually leads to a sleepover involving a lot of sweaty man-sex, foreskin sucking, and attempted docking.
2. Finn grapples with self-hatred over wanting to get dominated and fucked rough, hard and deep. Will struggles with his feelings for his student, but the two negotiate their anxieties and desires and anxieties together.
3. Artie gets his first blowjob but it comes from an unexpected source - Finn. The two find themselves sixty-nining and rimming on the floor of their room. Artie keeps his bowtie on.
4. Underwear party. The hetero Glee boys (mike, matt, artie, puck, finn) and Mr. Schue have a guy's night pizza party on the auditorium stage. Discussion turns to underwear and the boys discuss their preferences. Some like briefs or boxer-briefs for the support. Some find them gay and like boxers. Eventually everyone strips down. Then penis size comes up, comparisons ensue, and circle jerking results.
Things you DON’T want in your story (kinks or sex acts that gross you out, characters you despise, etc.): Would prefer no forced feminization, no male crossdressing. Would prefer no vagina, but it wouldn't be a deal breaker.