Pairing: Kurt/Puck

Prompt: Puck begs Kurt to let him come on his face. First time ideally.

Words: ~1060

Kinks: Facial, cumplay, cum-swapping.


"...Please Kurt, please. Just let me- come on- just this once- please?" Puck pants above him, stroking his dick in quick ravenous strokes as Kurt gazes on, already spent from his own orgasm.

This isn't the first time Kurt's heard the other boy beg him for it, isn't the first time Puck pleads with him to let him come on his face – but it is the first time he lets himself wonder over just why Puck seems so hungry for it instead of just telling him no point-blank. It just seems so unhygienic – not to mention disgusting – and Kurt can't comprehend what makes Puck so willing to beg for it.

Puck never begs.

"Why do you want it?" Kurt finds himself asking, eyebrows raised lazily as he watches Puck more or less sob his pleasure out above him. His hands are stroking Puck's muscular thighs slowly where they're straddled over his waist, but his eyes are focused on his boyfriend's face, watching as Puck's mouth fall open into another moan as he fucks his own fist.

"Guh- fuck- would look so good with it- covered in it," Puck gasps out huskily, fist clamping down around the base of his cock to keep from coming as he thinks about it. "Fuck, you'd be so pretty- just wearing my come. Looking so beautiful- looking like mine. Wanna make you mine- can I? Please Kurt? Can I make you mine? Please- pretty pretty Kurt please can I make you mine? Wanna- wanna-"

And fuck, if it isn't making Kurt stupid with arousal hearing Puck beg like this. Hearing him wanting to claim Kurt like that... It's making his spent dick tingle with need to just harden again, even if it's been mere minutes since he came spurting down Puck's throat.

Why had he been so stupid and not asked his boyfriend why earlier? Why had he spent weeks telling his boyfriend no when the reason for Puck wanting it in the first place was so devestatingly hot?!

"Yeah?" Kurt smiles tiredly up at Puck. "You wanna make me yours? You wanna mark me? Make everyone know I'm yours?"

"Fuck- Kurt- yes, please god fucking yes please!" Puck swears above him, hips stuttering forward through his clenched fist. "Please- wanna- can I?"

It's not even a question in his mind anymore, Kurt just wants it to happen yesterday as he listens to Puck spew out every little pleading word from his mouth. The thought that just minutes before sounded positively distasteful now sounds nothing if not promising.

"Yeah, yes, come on," Kurt agrees, hands reaching around to clasp around Puck's ass and encourage him forward, closer.

"-Really?" Puck pants out, bewildered. His eyes are blown open wide and staring down at him, his hips stilled where before they'd fucked his thick furiously through his own fist. "You'll let me? I can- just- really?"

"Yes, come on," Kurt encourages, trying to drag him closer with his hands, "come on my face, come on, do it."

At first Puck just stares at him for a moment, not believing his ears, but then he's just pouncing, smashing his lips against Kurt desperately. Kurt don't even have the time to gather his bearings from the surprising attack before Puck is pulling back again, shuffling himself forward and yet agains stroking himself – only this time so much closer to Kurt and with his dick pointed towards Kurt's kiss-swollen lips instead of his own muscular stomach.

"Mpfh," Puck whines as his hand flies over his cock, needing to close his eyes tightly shut just so he won't die from how good it feels, from how gorgeous Kurt is under him. "Gonna paint you so beautifully, gonna make you look so pretty- gonna..." And then he comes; thick spurts of come shooting all over Kurt's gorgeous face.

Kurt can feel the first rope of it land on his cheek before he manages to clamp his eyes shut – and just in time too, because right after he can feel something hit his closed eyelid, and he shudders from how filthy it all is.

When Puck finally lets his shrinking dick fall from his hand, when he finally opens his eyes again he can't help but lose his breath for a moment.

Kurt is absolutely stunning.

There's come fucking everywhere; over both of his cheeks, covering his nose, his chin, his forehead – there's come hanging from his fucking eyelashes, and there's come smeared all over his beautiful red-bitten lips. Puck can't help but groan when he watches how Kurt licks across his bottom lip to gather the thick fluid, can't help but catch the boy in a dirtyhotwet kiss when he watches him swallow.

Cupping Kurt's jaws in his hands Puck can't help but play with the come on his boyfriend's cheeks with his thumbs, just smearing it all over the rosy-red skin before lapping it all up.

Kurt shudders when he feels a tongue lap over his face, and he moans when Puck kisses him again – sharing the salty come on his tongue with an all too eager Kurt. Digging his fingers into the hair on Puck's hair Kurt bucks his hips up into the empty air, coming again from just the sheer filthiness surrounding him.

"Did you just-?" Puck asks, and Kurt nods, spent. Puck grins. "Fucking awesome."

Kurt only rolls his eyes before weakly pushing his boyfriend over, snuggling himself close to the football-player.

"Does this means I can do that again?" Puck questions him smugly, hands running teasingly across Kurt's sensitive sides.

"It means you should get me a washcloth," Kurt responds, tiredly. He is more than ready for a nap. "I feel ridiculously dirty." There's sweat, come and other fluids caked all over him, but since Kurt doubts he can stay awake through an entire shower a washcloth will have to do.

"You are ridiculously dirty, and awesome," Puck grins teasingly, but obediently goes in search of said washcloth.

Kurt hums as Puck cleans him up, making grabby hands at the bigger boy when he throws the cloth over his shoulder, and sighs as he sinks back against Puck's body.

"But yes," Kurt says a few minutes later, when he's almost succombed to sleep. "We are definitely exploring this again."

He can feel Puck pump his arm beside him, but is already asleep before he can reprimand him.