A/N: I'm taking part in the 30 Days of Drabble in June over at the Puckurt community. My theme is 30 Songs. If you have a song you'd like to see turned into a Puckurt story, just drop it in a comment or message!
I like you so much better when you're naked,
I like me so much better when you're naked.
Kurt had tried copious times to give a meaning to what had been happening for months now. If he were to pint-point the moment when exchanging insults had turned into exchanging scorching kisses, he wouldn't have been able to do it.
Every time they got to the end of whatever it was they were doing, a million ways to break it up came on the point of Kurt's tongue, but the problem was that Puck had the habit of going from infuriating to sweet in the matter of a second. It was irritating. It was frustrating. It was also nice and it made Kurt forget all his clever come-backs.
Kurt's eyes kept turning to stare at Puck while he got dressed no matter how hard Kurt tried to divert his gaze to anything else in the room. Finally, he huffed and squeezed them shut. Then he turned to his nightstand and moved around the magazines to get to the packet of cigarettes at the bottom.
"I didn't know you smoked," Puck commented, glancing briefly at Kurt from over his shoulder, his hands busy tying his shoelaces.
Kurt shrugged. The truth was that, just like many other things, Kurt only did that because of Puck. Too much pressure and too much desire to forget how incapable of saying no he was, too much feelings that kept up a steady battle inside him.
He still wondered how it had all began or why it kept going on for that matter. Puck was hot, sure, but was that really what it was all about? And what about the times Puck asked him to come over for dinner, why did he accept?
With his brow furrowed, he put out his cigarette and pulled himself up on his knees making his way to the edge of the bed where Puck was sitting. His hands rested on Puck's shoulders and then slowly slid down to undo the buttons of the shirt Puck had just finished doing. "Take them off," he whispered, because he liked Puck so much better when he was naked, he liked himself so much better when Puck was naked. In some contorted way, it was all easier because Kurt could pretend that that was all it was between them. Physical research of pleasure, that was all, really.