The GaGa Collection: I Like It Rough
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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Is it 'cause you don't mean it
Or because I don't feel it
Unless it's rough?
Lady GaGa
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Puck, star of the football field, stud of the bedroom, had had it up to here with Finn. 'Look at me I'm going to be a Dad' Finn, 'Thick as two short planks fell for the hot tub excuse' Finn. And Puck could tell no-one he was the real father – couldn't rub it in the Quarterback's face and watch him as he squirmed in pain on the floor.
Not that he was especially nasty, but he and the other boy had been friends like forever and from sharing toys they had moved on to sharing girlfriends and now they were lumped with sharing a parental responsibility neither of them really wanted. And the crunch of it was of course that eventually Finn would be able to walk away from the whole mess whereas Puck would be stuck with a bastard child for the remainder of his life. A child who, loath as he was to admit it, would probably fair better if Finn had been the father. Hoping she got her mother's brains of course; we all know Finn wasn't exactly the brightest costume on the stage now don't we?
Even going after Rachel hadn't worked – sure Puck would do anything for an excuse to make out, but the girl tended to talk all the time; and dude, that was too much drama. There were better uses for a mouth. But Finn had wanted her so Puck had taken her: taken his revenge. But it hadn't been enough and his blood still pulsed with the betrayal of Quinn; with the fact she had chosen the Quarterback over him, regardless of his rights. But he couldn't lash out at Quinn – she was pregnant for God's sake – so he was going to have it out with Finn. Not that he was allowed to tell him what was going on or anything, but he could still punch him cold and hard on his jaw to wipe that smile off his face.
The locker room was deserted when Puck decided to launch his attack. He leant against the lockers listening as Finn showered behind the wall – he always waited until everyone had left so he could practice for Glee in private. He guessed it was something to do with the acoustics in there, whatever the hell they were. Puck clenched his knuckles into a fist down by his sides, straining from the muscles in his shoulders. He listened as the water stopped running and the sound of wet plodding feet approached.
Considering how agile Finn could be on the field, he really was just a big lumbering oaf when walking around on his two feet. He wouldn't have looked out of place dragging his knuckles along the ground; and they called me a Neanderthal, Puck's brain spat out at him.
"Hey, Daddy boy!" He hollered, watching as Finn spun slowly round to face him, his skin flushed from the heat of the water, the small towel tight where it was hitched around his waist, nipping at the skin of his belly.
"Practising your lullabies?" Puck asked, pushing himself off the locker. He didn't give Finn time to respond, instead using those monster fists to push Finn against the lockers opposite, grabbing handfuls of the boy's upper arms to hold him in place.
"Puck – what are u-?" He had barely formed the question when Puck kneed him in the balls, letting Finn go so he could fall to the damp, hard ground.
"You think you're so fucking lucky," Puck towered over him, ignoring the confusion that was building in his friend's eyes. "You have all the stardom, all the good looks and the voice of a bloody angel."
Not to mention you have claim to MY fucking baby.
But because he couldn't say this out loud, he shot his foot forward into Finn's abdomen, attacking him again and again. Fuck, the guy was actually crying, sobbing into the floor, the towel having slipped from his lap. Puck flung it across the room.
"Shut up!" He yelled, crouching down and turning Finn over to face him, landing punches across his skin.
"Do you know," Punch, "What I would give," Punch, "To be you, mother-fucking you?" Punch punch punch. The blood was dripping down from Finn's nose into his mouth. With a rough arm Puck brushed it from the boy's face, causing Finn to wimp at the contact.
It wasn't enough. Years of envy, jealousy, were bubbling to the surface and Puck feared he was going to run out of energy before he would have the chance to finally express them. Puck knelt with one knee between Finn's legs, pushing it up to suffocate Finn's limp, defenceless cock, feeling the body beneath his pulse in pain. The blood was again beginning to crawl down Finn's face, his eyes never leaving Puck's, full of tears and pain and betrayal; teeming with confusion.
Puck dug his fingers into Finn's thighs, his short rough fingers leaving marks on his skin, his grip clamping the boy around his knee, heat radiating from his fingertips and palms. Using the only resource he had spare, Puck bashed his head forward into Finn's forehead, feeling it thud but not crack. Then, already in the vicinity, bit the bridge of that bleeding nose, scraping Finn down further towards him with his inconsiderate fingers, and then scratching his teeth down across Finn's cheek to bite at the skin of his neck, flavoured with blood and salt tears.
By now Finn was trying to push him off, but Puck was heavy and the resistance only made him fight harder. He sprang his hands from Finn's legs and wrapped them round the boy's neck, strong enough to cause discomfort without suffocation, moving his knee aside now to straddle Finn, his ass firmly pressed down against the taller boy's aching thighs.
Using the throat grip as an anchor, Puck manoeuvred himself down so that he was biting the skin of Finn's collarbone, searing teeth-marks into the tender flesh of Finn's nipple; hot and reacting despite the cold floor. Something in Finn flipped as Puck leant forward to attack the pink bud, his cotton covered stomach pressing down against Finn's groin. Finn's heart sped up to match the rhythm of Puck's rocks against his upper thighs and hips.
Moving onto the other nipple, biting and then swirling with his tongue, one hand leaving the safety of Finn's throat to slid down between them and get lost in Finn's dark pubic hairs, Puck's long fingers squeezed down hard on the balls and scratched the length of the shaft, until finally he was wrapped completely around it; pumping Finn's cock until it was as hard as his own. Fuck! When had he gone from wanting what Finn had, to just wanting Finn?
He rolled off him in shock, hands in the air like they had been burned. Before he could get up Finn rolled over on top of him, his obscene erection pressing down into the dip of Puck's toned belly. And while Puck was still trying to collect himself together, Finn punched him in the face and then the gut, harder and harder; the tears running down his face and dripping onto the cotton of the shirt Puck was wearing beneath him.
Sliding his hand behind Puck's head he lifted it and then crashed it back onto the tiles of the floor, the hollow thud echoing round the walls. Puck grimaced through the pain, taking it as deserved – deserved for being filthy and perverted, deserved for wanting to jam all of Finn into his mouth; wanting to taste his pre-come on his tongue.
Then Finn yanked Puck's head up again, but instead of dropping it back down, smashed it instead up into Finn's open mouth, the taller boy biting down on Puck's red lip and clashing his tongue with his teeth, delving into Puck's mouth so far and so fast he nearly choked. Puck forced himself back, using his free hands to pull Finn down closer to him, leaving scratches all over the boy's bare back – his nails planting memories into the skin.
It wasn't a love affair. It wasn't nice, kind or considerate. It was lust-ridden and painful. Maybe it wasn't real if it hurt.
Puck collided with Finn's mouth again, revelling in the taste of foreign blood against his lips, of the hand that was reaching down to roughly free him from his jeans.
Maybe it only hurt when it was real.