The GaGa Collection: Summerboy
This is part of a series of one-shots based around Lady GaGa lyrics and about Finn/Puck.
They are all slash. They aren't all nice. You have been warned.
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Don't be sad when the sun goes down
You wake up and I'm not around
Lady GaGa
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Puck practiced the 'first available flat surface' method of fucking. And he certainly didn't stick around afterwards. It just so happened that on this particular occasion the first available flat surface was Finn's bed and Finn seemed to be the only warm body within easy reach.
A perfectly logical conclusion as far as Puck was concerned, but unfortunately for him Finn wasn't sharing his train of thought, and nearly leapt to the other side of the room when Puck paused the game they were playing to reach over and slide his hand up the inside of Finn's thigh.
"What the-?" Finn tried to ask, batting the hand away and wondering if his friend had been replaced when he wasn't looking. I mean, Finn would be the first to admit he didn't exactly fire on all cylinders and sometimes things did just pass him by without him noticing.
"C'mon Hudson, don't be such a prude." Puck gathered his bottom lip in his mouth, knowing this was a sexy look on him and, moving onto his hands and knees, started to crawl over to where Finn was backing away.
Unfortunately the football star could only travel so far backwards on his bottom before hitting a wall, and was soon trapped between the plaster and an extremely worrying version of Puck.
He wondered whether there had been signs he should have been reading – he wondered if by punching the daylights out of him Puck might revert back to normal and stop sliding his way up Finn's body, hovering in the air somewhere above Finn's lap. Puck ran his tongue across his lips and Finn gave a rather large gulp.
"Why, why don't I call Santana, she might be free – I'm sure she'd love to hook up." He suggested, clutching at straws.
"Dude, I couldn't deal with the drama of all that." He had one hand up Finn's shirt, his head nuzzling into the side of Finn's neck.
Finn was thinking this was already dramatic enough, but didn't know how to get out of the situation without ruining their friendship. Puck had just had a few beers; usually he was a cool guy to be around.
There was nothing cool about the tongue that was lapping at his skin, gathering hold of his earlobe. Nothing cool about the hand that had found one of Finn's nipples and was squeezing hard.
Finding sudden strength, Finn leapt up, throwing Puck from him and moved hastily backwards across the room, realising too late he probably should have headed in the direction of the door. Or a cricket bat.
"Why don't we talk about this?" He suggested as Puck swaggered towards him.
"What's there to talk about? I'm horny and you are not bad looking."
For a minute Finn was put out, "What do you mean 'not bad looking', other people think I'm gorgeous – why don't you?" But then Puck had slipped up close to him again and, putting just one hand on Finn's chest, managed to topple him over and onto the bed. Puck clambered on top of him, pushing up the boy's t-shirt and beginning to trail kisses along Finn's exposed waist.
Finn looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. Usually Puck would have sobered up by now; it had never got this far before. He took a sharp intake of breath as he felt a warm tongue being dipped into the hole of his belly button.
"Puck..." He tried again, sitting up in protest. But Puck just took this as an invitation to fully remove Finn's t-shirt, muffling the boy's voice of distain as the material passed over his head. As soon as Finn's mouth was again free, Puck attacked it with his own, kissing one corner and then the next, wrapping his muscled legs around Finn as he sat down firmly in his lap.
Finn should have known better than to open his mouth again because in doing so he allowed Puck to press his parted lips to it once again, this time drawing out Finn's tongue into his own mouth and sucking on it desperately.
This was about the point when Finn gave in.
He slid his hands round to Puck's back and clawed at the material there, pulling the shirt up and away from Puck's body a lot less eloquently than his had been removed. While it was still caught up in one of Puck's arms, he laid siege to Finn again, this time trailing the kisses down Finn's jugular, his collarbones, swirling his tongue along his nipples. He lifted his head and moved his eye-line south to watch as he undid the button on Finn's jeans, smirking as his fingers came in contact with the zipper; feeling Finn's bulge beneath the material.
Muttering something inconclusive about a mailman, Finn lifted his hips up off the bed, feeling his pants being slipped down his legs and off the end of his feet. He bit down hard on his lip, not daring to look down at his friend in case the very sight of him so close made him come. He had a habit of getting it over and done with before the party had really started, if you get my drift.
He waited in anticipation of warm hands grabbing him, stroking him. Waited for the feel of a wet tongue; feeling very disappointed, despite himself, when it didn't come.
He was certain this was not a good time for Puck to suddenly sober up.
Feeling movement, he glance down the length of himself, watching in awe as a fully naked Puck made his way back up Finn's body; marking his path with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.
Finn took fistfuls of the bed sheets in his hands beneath him as Puck lowered himself once again, groin to groin, feeling the waves of unknown pubic hair brush against his shaft. Arching his back up off of the bed as Puck kissed him and grabbed Finn's cock and his own in his hands; caressing them together. Finn seized Puck's hips between his hands, reaching round to his arse and pulling him up and closer. Moaning into his wet mouth.
Finn felt ashamed at how quick he came, coating both of them, his eyes rolling back into his head. The sound that accompanied this was enough to send Puck over the edge, almost painfully – his whole body shuddering with the act.
Finally he collapsed down on Finn, his eyes hazy and his body limp. Finn gathered all his strength and wrapped his arms around Puck holding his within his larger frame.
Rolling over slightly, Puck grabbed the clean sheets from where there were crumpled up next to him and threw them over them both. Alcohol catching up with him, he fell into a deep sleep. Finn lay awake for a while, running his fingers through Puck's Mohawk, committing to memory the shape of the body next to his, the heat it radiated, and the butterflies it released.
But upon waking up in the morning, Puck was gone. Finn cursed into his pillow, wondering why he was surprised; the dip in the mattress beside him long since cold.
He showered and dressed, grabbing toast on the way out of the door; conscious of the bruises on his neck and chest. The hickies on his belly. When he got to school his attention was quickly drawn by Puck and his homies throwing that Kurt guy into a dumpster. Finn dipped his head and grabbed hold of his bag straps, looking up only when Puck's shadow started to pass him by.
"What?" Puck asked with a smirk, "That's what we do to queers." And he punched Finn on the arm in a friendly way, his eyes cold and threatening, before heading back into the building. Finn took one sharp glance back at the dumpster and then followed.
What happened last night would never be acknowledged, he knew that.
He also knew it would damn well be repeated. And he already had the beers to prove it.