Title: You've Got Red On You
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Puck / Kurt
Spoilers: nothing that counts
Warnings: slushies, masturbation
Word Count: ~ 1000
Summary: An explanation as to why Puck would have drilled the peep hole he'd mentioned to Rachel in the girl's bathroom.
A/N – I don't own Glee or anything related to it. Title comes from the movie "Shawn of the Dead.'' Reviews are appreciated, but if you feel the need to flame, at least make it funny.
Puck took a nervous sip of the slushy in his hand, just enough coat his tongue with the overly sweet cherry flavor. His cock was already half hard in his jeans, anticipating where the rest of his drink would end up. He'd been patient, waiting for his opportunity, and the time had come.
'Slushy Facials' were something Puck enjoyed dishing out to losers on a regular basis, but this mess wasn't intended for just anyone. This was for someone he couldn't get out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Someone whose very presence left Puck distracted during the day and haunted his dreams at night, the very thought of them enough to make Puck come hard over his own fist as he writhed, panting and sweaty in his sheets at night. This was the slushy Puck had been planning out the delivery of for weeks.
Puck stood by his locker, blending in with the crowd and casually watching, waiting for his target to be alone, unsuspecting, vulnerable. He seized his opportunity, walking up behind them with a stealth someone could only learn from years of avoiding a girl's father or a married woman's husband coming home too early. As his target turned to face him, he raised his cup and fired. Puck continued walking down the hall, dropping the empty cup into a trash bin as he passed. He heard the gasp and knew his aim was good, hitting his mark dead on, and he didn't look back. He didn't have to. He knew a better show was about to start, just waiting for him, and he didn't want to waste a minute of it.
As soon as he turned the corner, he broke out in full sprint. He didn't want to miss anything. It only took him a minute or so before he was tucked away in the storage closet, eyes wide in the dark as he gazed through the peephole he had drilled earlier that week. It gave him a full view inside the girls' bathroom.
Kurt Hummel was already inside, leaning over one of the sinks, frantically trying to rinse the stinging syrup from his he could see clearly, he moved on to trying to salvage his clothing, something he knew was a futile effort. Puck could clearly see the red ice melting in his hair, dripping off his face and making his shirt cling to his body, and he could see the undershirt standing out clearly underneath. He wanted to peel both layers off and lick away any trace of stickiness on Kurt's perfect skin. Puck stroked himself slowly through his jeans, staring at the boy from his hiding place and wishing he could run his hands over him. He was fully hard, aching at the sight. He unbuttoned his fly and pulled himself out of his pants, eyes never leaving the hole in the wall in front of him.
Puck sucked in a breath. He could hear Kurt swearing as he peeled off his shirts, and it just made him that much harder. He stroked himself faster in silence. He would be so screwed if anyone heard him, but it was difficult. He was so turned on at the sight of Kurt's flawless white skin, marred by the red streaks sliding down his lean body. He couldn't help the quiet moans that threatened to escape his mouth.
Puck quickened his pace on his cock. He was getting close. He had been fantasizing about this moment for so long that there was no way he was going to last. Seeing it actually play out was better than he could ever have imagined. He knew he should be more quiet, but he just couldn't.
Kurt turned so he was facing Puck's direction, rubbing over his skin with wet paper towels, trying to remove the stickiness from his skin. He tossed them into the trash and bent over the sink to rinse the rest of the slushy from his hair and clothes, giving Puck a full view of his ass, looking perfectly fuckable in a pair of black jeans that hugged his body like a second skin.
The sight of Kurt bent over in front of him tipped Puck over the edge. He desperately wanted to be behind the boy, rutting up against him, ripping those jeans off him and pounding into his supple body for all he was worth. It was too much for Puck, and with a few more quick strokes of his hand and a flick of his wrist under his hand, he came all over the wall in front of him with a groan.
Kurt thought he heard a noise behind him. He didn't acknowledge it aloud though, knowing he was alone in the restroom. He finished getting dressed, changing into a spare shirt from his locker and throwing his soiled clothing into a plastic bag in his leather satchel. He gave his hair a quick look. It was wet, so there wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't really feel like standing under the hand dryer to dry it, and he was already late for class. He cleaned up any cherry mess from the counter, gathered his belongings, and left.
Later that day, Kurt found himself alone in the choir room with Puck. He'd noticed the way the jock had been leering at him through practice, like he was something to eat. All of a sudden, he could hear that mysterious groan from the bathroom in the back of his mind. Realization hit him like, well, like that damned slushy had. The voice had been Puck's. Puck had been watching him.
Kurt stopped Puck as they headed for the door. "You've got red on you," Kurt says, pointing to a small stain on the leg of Puck's jeans. "Next time you want a show, can you please tell me ahead of time? Instead of running up my dry cleaning bill, maybe you and I could work out something a bit more, I don't know, private?" Kurt winked at him, turned on his heel and strutted out the door, leaving a stunned and speechless Noah Puckerman behind.
