The reception at Finn's mom's and Kurt's dad's wedding gets old pretty fast. There's an open bar, but the bartender is a real hard-ass when it comes to minors. He actually tries to confiscate Puck's fake ID! (He doesn't succeed, luckily. Puck paid a fortune for that thing!)
After the boys' last song, the girls have to sing one more before the New Directions are officially off the clock. Not that they're getting paid. Puck stands next to Sam while they watch. "This blows, dude."
"What are you talking about, man? They sound fine."
"Not the song. This party."
Sam looks away from the girls on stage for the first time. "What, weddings don't make you all mushy and gooey inside?"
Puck laughs. "Weddings have two things going for them: booze and sex. Neither one is on the table here tonight." Even Santana turned him down. Twice.
"Tell me about it," Sam says, trying to catch Quinn's eye. She danced with him earlier a couple times. She fussed over his black eye a little. But he's pretty sure now that she's done with him for the night.
"I think there's booze at my house," Puck says. "If you feel like taking off."
After one more failed attempt to make eye contact with Quinn, Sam says, "Sure. Why not?"
The only problem is, there isn't actually booze at Puck's house.
He rummages through all the cupboards, muttering, "Goddamn it! I know I saw some whiskey!"
"Don't worry about it," Sam says. He started having second thoughts on the drive over anyway. He doesn't actually drink that much and isn't sure he wants Puck to see what a lightweight he is. Like, what if he puked or something? That would be totally humiliating.
"I have a fake ID, but I'm totally broke. You got any money? We could make a liquor store run..."
"Nah, I'm broke too," Sam says despite the forty bucks in his wallet. "It's really not a big deal."
But it's still early and neither of them has anything else to do, so Sam stays. He teaches Puck some Johnny Cash songs on the guitar. Puck teaches him some KISS songs. He didn't think Sam would recognize the significance of "Beth," but he does. "That was really brave of you and Quinn," Sam says.
"Dude, what are you talking about?"
"Beth," Sam says. "You know, your daughter. How you—"
"Pfft. That wasn't brave. That was just..." Puck can't really talk about Beth yet, he just can't. Why he had to go and sing that song in the first place he has no idea, but he definitely wants to kick himself for it. "You know what's brave?" he asks. "Finn. Singing to Kurt and dancing with him in front of all those people."
"Mmm..." Sam considers. "I guess it was sorta brave." Too little, too late, in Sam's opinion.
"What do you mean sorta? A lot of people would see that and think he was gay."
"Maybe, but not the people who were actually there. He did it in front of his mom and Kurt's dad's friends and us. We all know he's not gay."
"Yeah, we know that, but—"
"And he didn't actually do anything gay. I mean, dancing: big deal."
"Oh, like you would dance with a dude."
Sam springs to his feet. "I'll dance with you right now."
"You wanna dance with me?"
Sam shrugs. "Unless you're scared to because it's too gay."
Puck scoffs. "Please."
And so they end up waltzing around the living room to the classical music station. Sam leads.
"There, you happy now?" Puck asks when the song ends. "I notice you were too chicken to dance the girl's part."
"Only because you probably don't know how to lead. Public schools don't teach ballroom dancing." Unlike the private school Sam went to before McKinley.
"Yeah, well my nana taught me," Puck informs him. They dance again, this time with Puck leading. He's at least as good as Sam at it.
"This is nothing, though," Sam says. "There isn't even anyone watching."
It's true, Puck's mom and sister are out for the night. Thank god. "Yeah, well, if I knew you had a gay exhibitionism kink I would've danced you around at the reception."
"No, you wouldn't've," Sam challenges him. "I bet you can't even handle this." He presses himself up against Puck while they continue to dance. He's not sure what he expected—honestly it's not a move he planned in advance—but he's surprised by how warm Puck feels against him. Warm, but not soft. And they're about the same height, so that's weird too—having his face right next to someone's. A dude's.
"You seriously misunderestimate me if you think this is anything I can't handle," Puck says. He lowers his hands so they're cupping Sam's ass. It doesn't feel that different from a girl's ass—not over the clothes anyway. "Oh, sorry. This doesn't freak you out, does it?"
"Not at all," Sam assures him. He's had guys slap him on the butt before, after all. True, none has ever left his hands there prolongedly like this. But what's to be freaked out about? Nothing. Not that it won't probably freak Puck out, he thinks as he slides his hands down onto Puck's ass and gives him a squeeze.
But Puck doesn't freak out. Well, not so that Sam could notice—he doesn't yelp or pull away or anything. Just keeps swaying to the music with Sam, holding him close and squeezing his ass back.
Sam frowns to himself. He was expecting some kind of reaction.
"This is nice," Puck says. "I could dance like this all night."
His mouth is super close to Sam's, which gives Sam an idea. "I guess you wouldn't mind if I kissed you then."
Puck eyes Sam's ginormous lips. "Why would I—" He doesn't even get a chance to finish his sentence before those lips are on his. They definitely feel weird—and not just because they're so plump and cushiony—but he'll be damned if he's going to tell Evans that. Instead he parts his own lips and probes at Sam's with his tongue.
Puck is trying to french him! Well, fine. If that's the way he wants it. Sam opens wide and frenches him right back. Puck is an aggressive kisser, it turns out; soon Sam feels his tongue getting tired just from trying to keep up.
Sam's not backing down; Puck was sure he would. Girls never even let him kiss them this hard—except Santana, and only when she's angry. (Anger sex with Santana is the best.) He needs a different approach. The opposite approach, in fact. Soft and "romantic." He starts moving his tongue and lips tenderly. He slides a hand up Sam's back and strokes his hair and the back of his neck.
It's not what Sam was expecting at all. He removes his hands from Puck's butt and applies them to his shirt instead. He gets the top three buttons undone before he pulls his mouth away from Puck's so he can whisper in his ear, "This is still okay, right? Not too much for you?"
Too much for him, right. Puck scoffs as he unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way. He takes it off and lets it fall to the floor. "Have at me, bro. Unless it's too gay for you."
Sam takes just half a second to look. It's not that he's apprehensive. True, he's never especially wanted to touch another guy's chest before, but if he's going to—which, apparently, he is—he could do a lot worse than Puck's. It's a nice chest, for a guy's. Objectively. Puck, like, works out and shit. Also it's not real hairy, which Sam appreciates. And...he has a nipple ring! Sam flicks it with his finger.
"Easy!" Puck gasps.
Sam smirks at him. He brushes over it with his thumb—lightly. "Too gay for you?"
"It's not too gay. It's just...really sensitive there."
"Kind of the point of a nipple piercing, yeah?"
"You just surprised me, okay? But it's fine." The ringed nipple is really sensitive, and now that Sam knows that, he's not going to leave it alone. Puck steels himself and adds, "Like I said, have at me." He thrusts his chest out defiantly.
Sam goes for it, like he expected. First with just his fingers, which isn't too bad. And then he's squeezing the other nipple, the unpierced one, which Puck didn't expect, and then his mouth is on the pierced one, which Puck really didn't expect but probably should have. He's flicking at the piercing with his tongue, and then he's sucking on the nipple. "Fuck," Puck mutters. It actually feels really good. He semiunconsciously grips the back of Sam's head by the hair.
Then Sam stops and looks up at him questioningly. Like he's caught Puck actually getting into and doesn't know how to deal with that. Puck's not getting into it, not really, but if Sam thinking so will mean that he wins... "Need to call all this off, Evans?"
Sam thinks maybe he should call it all off, maybe he's in over his head. But just for a split second. He's not about to give Puck that satisfaction. "You wish."
"So...no second thoughts?"
"None," Sam says, not even hesitating.
"See, you say that, but I can't help but notice that your shirt is still on. So that makes me think you're bashful around me for some reason..."
Sam looks Puck right in the eye as he removes not just his shirt but his pants as well. "Now who's bashful, Puckerman?"
Puck just laughs—because, seriously, no one has ever accused him of being too bashful—as he drops his own trousers and kicks them over to the pile where Sam's clothes are. The boys silently look each other up and down for a moment. Sam eyes Puck's black briefs and Puck eyes Sam's Captain America boxers. Without any discussion each boy peels off his underwear.
And now they're naked except their socks, just standing there looking at each other. Sam looks right at Puck's dick. Normally it's the last place he'd look, but he doesn't want Puck to notice him avoiding looking. He's never really looked at another guy's dick before—not for more than, like, half a second. It's not noticeably bigger than his own, he's somewhat relieved to see. Well, not noticeably longer. It's a little thicker, he thinks. Not that his own is thin or anything! Puck's is just...yeah, wow. Pretty damn thick.
He glances up, hoping to catch Puck looking somewhere other than at his dick. No such luck: Puck's full-on staring at him. "You can touch it," Sam tells him. "You know, unless..."
Yeah, yeah, unless he's too chicken. Puck really thought Sam would have backed down by now. But since he hasn't...
He watches his own hand as it moves toward Sam's dick. He doesn't think it's actually moving in slow motion, but it kind of seems that way. But then it feels very sudden when he realizes he's actually touching another dude's dick! Like, it's right there, and he makes himself not move his hand away but actually wrap his fingers around it.
Sam kind of can't believe that Puck is just holding his cock. And then he's not just holding it, he's sort of stroking it. And damn if his cock isn't responding by stiffening. Hopefully that will scare Puckerman off, at least. Because if it doesn't...well, Sam isn't actually sure how far he's willing to take this.
Shit, Sam likes it. He's getting hard right in Puck's hand—you can't fake that that shit. Puck is totally in over his head. He doesn't know what to do, so he strokes harder. He does it like he strokes himself, even brushing over the balls now and then and rubbing his thumb over the slit. Sam is totally boned in no time. And then he realizes what he's done and he drops his hand. But before Sam can use that against him he says, "I guess one of us wasn't too chicken to give the other one a hard-on."
So, obviously, it's Sam's move. He closes his eyes as his hand lunges for Puck's dick. He grabs it roughly and hears Puck yelp in...surprise? He didn't grab it hard enough to hurt him, did he? He opens his eyes to look at Puck—at his face, not his dick—and the guy doesn't seem to be in pain. The expression on his face definitely looks more like surprise than anything else. Surprise and...a bit of pleasure. Well, Puck's only human. Hopefully he'll be hard in as little time as Sam was.
Turns out it takes even less time. Maybe it's because Sam is jerking harder than Puck jerked him. Maybe Puck just has even more of a hard-on hair trigger than Sam does. Or maybe, maybe, Puck is actually gay and all this is an elaborate trick to make Sam mess around with him.
But Sam doesn't let himself think that for more than a second or two before dismisses the idea. It's obviously ridiculous.
Once he's got Puck hard, Sam realizes he can't just stop there; he has to take things a step further than Puck took them. What's the next step? he wonders. Well, actually he knows perfectly well what the next step is, he's just trying to think of something less momentous that he could do instead. However, he can't think of anything. And so, looking Puck right in the eye, he takes a deep breath and lowers himself onto his knees. He carefully studies Puck's cock, now about eye-level, and looks up at him one more time.
"Oh, fuck," Puck says. "Are you really gonna?"
"Not if you don't want me to."
Fuck that. Puck has never turned down a BJ offer in his life. He's never actually had a guy offer one before, but that detail bothers him very little at the moment. Not even, like, it bothers him but he doesn't want Sam to know that—no, it legit bothers him very little. Very, very little. Maybe because he's already so hard. "Do it," he says.
Right. Sam is just gonna do it. True, he's never sucked anyone's dick before. Obviously. Truth be told, he's never...well, he's already gone farther with Puck than he ever has with a girl. This isn't exactly how he envisioned his first time doing...anything. But there's a point to be proved, damn it. He sticks his tongue out and moves his head forward, centimeter by centimeter, until...he tastes something. Puck's dick. He can totally taste Puck's dick, because it's now touching his tongue.
It doesn't taste that bad, actually. It doesn't have that strong a flavor one way or another. Of course, his tongue is right in the middle of the shaft, where there's no risk of precome.
Also, he hasn't really even licked yet, just sort of dabbed his tongue against it. So. He needs to fix that. He backs up half an inch, flattens his tongue out, and licks a solid stripe starting at Puck's balls and extending not quite to the head. (He's still not ready to find out what another dude's precome tastes like.) It does have a flavor, he discovers, but it's not one he could easily describe. It's not super gross—that's the important thing. What actually strikes him more than the taste is the scratchy feel of Puck's pubic hair on his tongue. But then, a girl would have that too—not the girls in porn, but a real-life girl, probably—so...no big deal, really.
"Fuck," Puck says. He's a little surprised that Evans is doing this at all. And even though it's not exactly a good blowjob—which really would have surprised him—he hasn't had one at all in kind of a long time. Santana's been flat-out refusing to do it for, like, months now, even though Puck totally still goes down on her. And it's not pool season anymore, so it's been a while since he had a really good cougar hookup either.
Plus, there's just something about that kid's mouth. If only it were actually wrapped around his cock...
Sam looks up at him. He's not looking so confident at the moment. "Too much for you?" he asks, sort of hopefully.
"Too much for me?" Puck asks. "Hardly. I'm not the one too chicken to put the whole thing in his mouth."
"You wish I was too chicken," Sam replies. Wait, shouldn't Puck have to do the next thing? But, no, Puck just called Sam chicken, so...so apparently Sam has to put the whole thing in his mouth now. He rubs his palm over the slit a few times just to be safe...takes a deep breath...forms an O with his lips...and slides Puck's cock into his mouth.
Oh wow, oh Jesus, this is really...He doesn't think that technically the whole thing is in his mouth, but as much as will fit is. The tip is actually bumping up against his uvula, and he has to fight to suppress his gag reflex. And his whole mouth is just full of cock, and it's not even close to anything he expected to be experiencing tonight.
"Fuck," Puck says again. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was right, that mouth is totally made for sucking cock. Puck has to be really careful not to thrust—if he makes Sam actually gag it'll probably all be over. On the other hand, no matter how awesome Sam's mouth is, just having his dick sit inside it isn't really going to do it for him. "Fuck, that's awesome. Now just...suck a little, baby." Baby? Puck can't believe he just called Sam baby—where the fuck did that even come from?
Oh, but who cares? Because he's doing it—he's actually sucking now! And for an obvious first-timer, and one who's probably not really into dicks anyway, he's kind of a natural at it. "Oh god, baby," Puck mutters under his breath.
This isn't actually so bad, Sam thinks. Yeah, his mouth is producing a lot of spit and he's sort of drooling a bit, but at least he doesn't feel like gagging anymore. And, you know, the only thing that's actually touching the inside of his mouth is someone else's skin. It's like, would it be super gross to suck on someone else's elbow? A little weird and uncomfortable, maybe, but not super gross.
And then Puck's hips start moving, and Puck is sort of thrusting, and Sam is reminded that what he's doing is way, way different than sucking someone's elbow! Elbow indeed, what was he even thinking? And, oh Jesus, what if Puck comes in his mouth!? He lets Puck's dick fall out of his mouth and scoots backward a foot or two.
"Why'd you stop?" Puck asks, though of course he realizes his mistake. "Are you too—"
"Don't even," Sam says. "It doesn't take much bravery to let someone suck your dick, even if it's a guy. So don't even try to act like I'm the one who has to prove anything right now."
"Fine."
"Fine."
They stare at each other. Sam wipes the spit off his face with the back of his hand. "So I take it this ends now?" he says. "Since it would freak you out too much to—"
"Fuck that," Puck says. "The only thing that freaks me out is...those stupid socks."
Sam blinks at him mutely. "What?" he finally manages. Whatever he was expecting Puck to say, it wasn't that.
"I'm not blowing a guy who's wearing stupid black socks. Take them off."
"Uh." Sam looks at his socks, then at Puck's, which are pretty much identical and also still on. He had no idea that blowing someone who's wearing socks was some kind of gay faux pas, but okay. He takes them off and tosses them to the side. "Better?"
"Shit." Puck doesn't know if he was hoping Sam would have cold feet—like, literally cold, so he wouldn't want to take his socks off—or exactly what half-formed idea in the back of his head made him say what he did, but it obviously didn't work. So now he just has to suck it up. Again, literally. "Lay down," he tells Sam.
Sam lies down on his back. This feels incredibly weird—and he didn't think the removal of his socks would make him feel a thousand times more naked than he already did, but actually it makes sense because before he wasn't actually totally naked and now he is—but he also feels more blood rushing to his dick and he realizes that part of him is expecting this to be pretty damn good.
Puck sees his dick actually twitch. Well, maybe that's a good sign. Maybe that means it'll be over quickly. Because, unlike certain giant pussies, he's determined to see this through to the end. As in...the end. He's never given a blowjob before, but he's received enough to have a pretty good idea what can get a guy to the end quickly. He kneels on the floor next to Sam and wraps his hand around the base of his cock. It's just a meat lollipop, he tells himself. No big deal. A meat lollipop with a hot, gooey surprise at the end, oh god.
Still, Sam did it to him—though not, Puck notes, with the gooey surprise at the end—so it can't be that difficult. Unless, of course, Sam is actually gay...which actually wouldn't surprise Puck now that he can see how hard he is. Not only that, he can actually feel his dick throbbing. But then, it could just be Puck's animal magnetism. He can get just about anyone's loins a-throbbing.
Sam lies there waiting. It looks like Puck's not going to do it, which is just...that is, he's happy to win, he guesses, but it seems like kind of a hollow victory if he doesn't get a blowjob out of it. "I knew you wouldn't be able to do it," he says, just a little bitterly.
"All right, all right," Puck says testily. He's gotta just do it.
And that's just what he does, sucking the thing way back in his mouth. It's a bit of a shock, but he doesn't let himself think about anything but getting Sam off as quickly as possible.
Oh...oh, fuck. Puck basically went straight from doing nothing to doing everything. He's sucking super hard for one thing, which would be plenty on it's own because it's fucking amazing. But he's also, like, doing this thing to the head with his tongue, and he's pumping the base with one hand, and he's rubbing Sam's balls with the other hand. Sam—if he were able to think at all—would probably be wondering if Puck has done this before.
But Sam can't think at all, just feeling everything is totally overwhelming. The suction is totally amazing. You can't get that with your hand—at least Sam's never managed to get anything close to it. But even better is just having his cock inside someone's mouth. Like, it totally feels like a mouth—the heat, the wetness, the tongue, even the teeth (as long as they're not biting him, which they're not). It couldn't be mistaken for anything else in the world.
Puck gets a pretty good rhythm going. He's sucking, he's bobbing his head up and down, he's stimulating every part of the cock and balls. He probably wouldn't go so far as to say that he's enjoying giving head, but...well, like, Sam really likes it. That's so obvious. His hips keep bucking up, and he's gasping and moaning like crazy. And Puck does enjoy being good at sex stuff. So, yeah, in that sense this is pretty hot.
He does a flicking thing to the head with his tongue. He does a tickling thing to the balls with his fingers. Oh—they're getting tight. It looks like this is it. Puck's as ready for it as he'll ever be.
Oh god. Sam suddenly realizes that he could totally come in Puck's mouth. In fact...in fact...
And he's erupting before he even has a chance to shout a warning or anything. Oh Jesus, his dick is pulsing and pulsing and unloading right inside Puck's mouth, jizz shooting right down his throat, it's the best feeling ever even if Puck is going to kill him in one minute, but for now he just rides out his epic release.
Puck resists the urge to point Sam's cock away from himself or even just let it fall out of his mouth, and he tries not to gag. It's not easy, because Evans is spewing a ton, and it's shooting out really forcefully, and some of it is hitting that ticklish spot at the back of his throat, but he mostly succeeds. He tries not to dwell on the taste, which is not the most pleasant. He's not going to take it personally the next time a chick won't let him come in her mouth. Still, he prides himself on not spitting it out into his dirty t-shirt until he's certain Sam is done.
After scrubbing his tongue clean with the cotton undershirt, he sees that Sam is still just lying there on his back, eyes closed. The little fucker better not have fallen asleep. Puck climbs right on top of him, straddling his chest. His hard cock rests against Sam's clavicle. "You were saying? Something about me not being able to do something or other?"
Without opening his eyes, Sam admits, "You were able to do it, though."
"Damn right," Puck agrees. "Now it's your turn." He taps the side of Sam's neck with his dick. "If you're man enough, that is."
Sam opens his eyes and glances down, but he can't see Puck's cock from the position he's in. He can feel it, though, and he remembers what it felt like briefly in his mouth. And the thought of Puck coming in his mouth...like, it was awesome being the comer, but he doesn't think he can handle being the comee. The very thought of it just squicks him the fuck out. He knows he has to do it, though...
Unless...
He makes a hasty decision. "Sucking me off was nothing," he says. "I'll take you in my ass."
Puck just stares at him for several beats. Then: "Seriously?"
"Damn right."
The lingering aftertaste of spunk in his mouth suddenly seems more than worth it because...damn! Puck loves anal, and it's nearly impossible to find chicks who are willing, at least ever since Mrs. Botwin moved to California. He scrambles off Sam and runs upstairs to his room, hoping like hell that he can find his lube and that it hasn't dried up or something. It takes him a few minutes, but he finds it in his desk drawer under some unfinished homework from the first week of school, and it's still liquid! He runs back down the stairs to see Sam with his boxers back on, buttoning up his shirt. "What the hell, Evans? You said you were serious."
Sam freezes. "I thought...you ran away, so I thought..."
"You thought I was the one backing out?" Puck asks incredulously.
"Yeah," Sam says. He should have realized it was too good to be true.
"I just went to get lube. Are you backing out?"
"No, I...No." He silently removes the shirt again and steps out of the boxers. Puck is just watching him, like he thinks he won't go through with it if he takes his eyes away for a second. So Sam is determined not to even hesitate. Not visibly anyway. He kicks his clothes out of the way and gets down on his hands and knees. "Do me," he says.
Fuck yeah, Puck is going to do him. Fuck yeah. He kneels behind Evans and squirts some lube on his fingers. But before he goes for the hole he rubs his lube-free hand over Sam's ass. It's a pretty muscular ass, and all those muscles feel really tense. He asks, "Have you ever done this before?"
"No!"
"Okay, okay, just relax. I mean, like...actually relax. It'll help make it not hurt." That's something he learned from Mrs. Botwin—when he told her about how Santana (not that he used her name) wouldn't let him do her in the ass anymore because she said it hurt too bad, Mrs. B. said it was probably because she wasn't relaxing. Well, that or Puck wasn't getting her ready right, which she helpfully taught him how to do.
Sam tries to relax. He's all for anything that'll help make it not hurt, after all—though he's skeptical about whether that's really possible. (Is it too late to just blow Puck? Yeah, totally. Damn it.) The thing is, though—it's not that easy to relax when you're in this situation.
This situation, holy shit. He can't actually believe he's really, truly in this situation and that they are really, truly doing this. He's really naked on Puck's living room floor, on his hands and knees; Puck is really about to stick his dick in him. How the fuck did this happen, anyway? He seriously has no idea how he ended up here.
And suddenly Puck's dick is poking at his asshole! No. No, wait, it's just his finger. It's covered in something cold and slimy—which must be the lube, he realizes. The cold, slimy finger circles the rim of his hole, and it feels weird but not bad. Like, he could imagine sort of enjoying it, under different circumstances. But when that finger pierces through his barrier and intrudes inside his ass...no, not enjoyable, just wrong. Because, like, it feels so foreign, and...and things just aren't supposed to go up there.
Not that he can give Puck the satisfaction of seeing how wrong he feels about it. He bites his lip to make sure he doesn't say anything, though an occasional muffled grunt comes out thanks to Puck's relentless prodding. He really has no idea why Puck doesn't just get it over with. Is this supposed to be foreplay or something? He'd say something but he doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he just bites down harder on his lip and tries to hold still while he takes it.
Puck is trying his best to be patient and thorough, but he's actually pretty damn excited now. And yet the weird thing is...well, everything about this is still pretty weird, but an additional weird thing is that he can't, like, talk dirty to Sam about what they're about to do. Or maybe the weird thing is that he even wants to. But, Jesus, Sam really does have a nice ass, and this sweet, tight little hole that Puck is about to be the first person to ever penetrate, and he really wants to say something about how it's actually really fucking hot. But he feels like talking, of all things, would be going too far.
Sam's being mostly quiet, at least until Puck has a couple fingers in him and starts working him open a little more vigorously. That's when Sam starts to get a bit noisier. And they don't exactly sound like pain noises, but just to be sure Puck asks, "You all right, man?"
In response, Sam lets out a sound that's halfway between a gasp and a laugh.
"What does that mean?" Puck asks. He honestly has no idea.
Sam takes a couple deep breaths to steady his voice before answering. The breaths don't actually help that much, though, and he has to kind of spit out his answer. "It means you wish I'd say I'm not." He pauses for another breath and adds, "You're the one who doesn't seem to want to get on with it."
Okay, fine. If that's how Sam is gonna be about it. He's probably ready enough. His hole isn't as tight as it was a few minutes ago. Still plenty fucking tight, though, for this to feel amazing. He grabs the base of his cock, covers it in lube, and rubs the head up the crack of Sam's ass.
Oh, god, this is it. That's definitely not a finger poking at his hole. Sam doesn't know how to brace himself, so he just squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about it.
And then it's in! Just the bulbous head, but still—there's a cock in his ass! And how the hell did he expect to be able to not think about it!? And he hears Puck groan, and Jesus Christ, Puck is enjoying this! Oh, fuck, what has Sam gotten himself into? There's a cock in his ass and it's slowly pushing its way deeper and deeper!
Puck watches, mesmerized, as his cock forces that ring of muscles further and further open, as it slowly disappears inside. This is pretty much his favorite thing in the whole world, and he's able to not be bothered in the slightest by the fact that the sweet, tight hole he's sinking into is attached to a dude. Because who can even care about that kind of shit when it feels this good?
Sam's not breathing. Oh fuck, he's not breathing, he's forgotten how to breathe! How do you breathe when someone's shoving his dick up your ass? He's gonna die, he's really gonna die like this! And his dad will find out and his mom and his little brother and sister who used to look up to him!
Except he doesn't die. His breathing starts up again, just like that, just like it's something you don't need to think about. And so he stops thinking about breathing and starts thinking about his ass. About his ass and how it doesn't actually hurt that bad. It hurts a little, but it's not unbearable. It's not as bad as, like, getting tackled in football. And he doesn't actually mind getting hurt in football that much because there's kind of this high from endorphins or adrenaline or whatever that counteracts the pain.
And his current situation is...actually kind of similar. Beneath the pain—or maybe even above it—there's something there that actually...feels kind of good? Maybe?
And after a while of Puck repeatedly pulling out and slowly pushing in just a little farther than the last time, he finds himself kind of wishing Puck would go faster—not to get things over with, but because he thinks he might like it a little faster. And maybe just a tiny bit harder? He tries not to let his voice betray any neediness when he finally tells Puck, "I can take more than that, you know."
Oh, thank god. Puck's been holding back just out of thoughtfulness (and, yes, he can be thoughtful) and he knows Sam probably just wants him to hurry up and come, but since the dude asked for it...He pulls most of the way out, grips Sam firmly by the hips, and reburies himself in one swift and powerful movement.
"Fuck!" Sam cries.
"Too much?"
It's a lot, but Sam doesn't think it's too much. He wouldn't admit it anyway even if he did. "You wish."
"Fine," Puck says, pulling out and slamming in again. "I was just checking, but since it apparently offends you, I'll stop." He slams in again, more forcefully than the last time. "You want this to stop, you gotta speak up."
"I don't want it to stop until we come." Sam wasn't expecting to say we. He wasn't expecting to be hard again, but he is. He kind of really wants to jerk himself off while Puck fucks him, but he's afraid he'll fall over without both arms holding himself up.
Puck doesn't notice that Sam said we, but not stopping until he comes is totally fine with him. What Sam doesn't know is that Puck can keep going pretty much as long as he wants to. He's had a lot of practice strictly following the "ladies first" rule when it comes to orgasms. That doesn't apply now, obviously—not only because Sam's not a lady, but also because he already came—but Sam is being kind of a dick, which doesn't make Puck real inclined to finish too quickly and let him off the hook.
Not that he wants to keep going just out of spite. There's also the fact that it feels totally incredible.
Puck keeps fucking him steadily, and after not too long it doesn't hurt at all anymore. Not only that, but there's this one spot that Puck hits occasionally that feels really good. Like, all of it feels good now, but this one spot is just...wow. It's just frustrating that he's hitting it only sporadically. After several thrusts that miss the spot followed by one that nails it just perfectly, Sam blurts out, "God, right there!"
"Yeah?" Puck asks. He had no idea Sam was liking any of this at all. Man, if he can fuck a straight guy and make him like it, then he's an even bigger stud than he realized. He tries to replicate his last move. "There?"
"Fuck!" Sam gasps. Realizing that's not an answer and desperately wanting Puck to keep doing exactly what he's doing, he clarifies: "Yeah!"
But then, instead of just continuing to nail him over and over in that same spot, Puck shifts to a whole new position behind him. "What...?" Oh, but now Puck's hand is wrapped around his cock, and that's...yeah, he's not about to complain about that.
Jesus, Puck was going to see if he could get Sam hard again—he can't believe Sam is already hard. Just from Puck fucking him! Puck is a sex god. Now if he can only find that spot again that the guy likes so much...
It takes a minute or so of trial thrusts, but soon he gets another "Yeah! There!" out of Sam. And now that it seems like a real possibility, he's determined to make Sam come before he does, which...yeah, there's getting to be some urgency about that.
Sam's groans are really doing it for him. Puck wants to come really bad now. He won't yet—he can still totally hold that in as long as he needs too (as long as it's not too long), but the other thing he's been holding back he just has to let go. "Fuck, your ass feels good," he says. This elicits a louder groan, so Puck continues. "Just look at you, man. You're so fucking hot, just taking my cock and loving it."
"Oh god!" It's true, he does love it. And hearing Puck say it out loud like that does something to him, gives him this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he doesn't quite understand, but...
Sam's gasping now and thrusting hard into Puck's fist, so Puck's comments didn't apparently kill the mood. He keeps going: "You love it so much, you're totally gonna come with a big dick up your ass.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He is, he's totally coming, right now, with a big dick up his ass, and it still feels super wrong but that also somehow makes it feel super good. Puck is still fucking him hard, and he screams out his release as he pumps jerkily into his fist, hot white spunk spewing everywhere.
Puck know he's a goner as soon as those already tight walls clamp down on his cock when Evans starts to come. He manages to hold it in just long enough to fuck him through his orgasm, but the second Sam's dick is starting to soften, Puck's is flaring inside his channel. His whole body seizes up, only his dick surging impossibly deep and whitewashing Sam's insides with his thick, gooey come.
Sam can still feel Puck inside him even after he pulls out. His spunk is still in there, for one thing, feeling warm and sticky and uncomfortable and all kinds of weird. But he can still feel the cock itself, like a reminder of where it was. A reminder he's not sure he's going to want when he goes home and tries to sleep in his own bed like nothing just happened and he's the same person he was this morning.
Puck stretches out on his back and takes a minute to catch his breath. Sam isn't saying anything, and he feels like maybe he's supposed to. The best he can come up with is, "So. That happened."
"Yeah," Sam agrees. He crawls over to his pile of clothes and pulls his boxers back on.
"It's not a big deal or anything," Puck says.
"No," Sam agrees, but only outwardly. Because he's pretty sure it is a big deal that he just lost his virginity, that he just let a guy fuck him up the ass and he really liked it. He's not homophobic or anything—which he's just gone to extraordinary lengths to prove, if that was the point (which he's totally not sure about now)—but he's pretty sure he's going to have to think about what this means for him, like if it means he's actually gay, and what he needs to do about it if he is, and all kinds of other shit he's never even thought about and isn't especially looking forward to thinking about but the questions seem kind of unavoidable now.
"So, uh." Puck starts putting his clothes back on too. "You wanna learn another KISS song?"
"Sure." Sam pulls on his jeans and feels the wallet in his pocket. He takes it out and looks inside. "Oh, hey," he says, trying to sound surprised. "I guess I have some money after all. You still wanna make that liquor store run?" Because if he can not start thinking about stuff until tomorrow, that'll be just fine.