I own nothing and all mistakes are my own.
So I know I said this was a one shot, but the potential was riding hard for this story, so here is the second chapter. Most likely riddled with mistakes and moving a bit fast, but here you are. Enjoy.
It was months later that Kurt and Puck were drunk together again, where lowered inhibitions found them sat away from the rest of the Christmas party going on above them.
No, they weren't friends still, but Puck had calmed on the bullying—no slushees, no pushing into lockers, no harsh name calling. Kurt noticed-didn't say anything, but he noticed, and a lot of the time, Puck was rewarded with a small smile, just a tiny secretive curl of the lips and there. Everything between them was new, and their past had been burned to ashes.
And they'd found a sort of pattern-neither of them fucked when they were sober. Drunken sex never meant anything, and it was easier for Puck not to notice how cute Kurt was, or for Kurt not to fall in love with the bad boy. It was easy. No embarrassment, no feelings—well, other than the blissful orgasms they couldn't get enough of.
—&—
Puck was over Kurt's house right before graduation, visiting Finn of course, and late one night-while they were both sadly sober— they talked about their arrangement. Kurt was surprisingly cool about it. It was one in the morning and Kurt was lying in his bed, reading Wicked when Puck came down the stairs, hands empty of any booze. Sure, Kurt was proper, but he was still a guy and he was still horny.
"Hey," Kurt said, bookmarking his page and setting the thick book down as Puck sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey."
Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "Did I do something wrong?" Kurt asked, keeping his distance from the older jock, looking at him with curious eyes.
Puck shook his head. "We're not in a relationship."
Kurt shrugged. "I know. It's not a big deal. I mean, sure, I'm not used to fucking a guy without strings, but it's fine. I get it, Puck."
Puck stared at him. "You sure? I just wanted to make sure that you knew that."
Kurt smiled, it was only a little malicious, but it got the point across. "You don't have to ask permission to fuck Santana or any of the Cheerios or someone's mother. Just-condoms." Kurt shrugged again. "I'm a big boy, Puck; I know what I'm doing."
Puck grinned. "No chance of getting some right now, is there?"
Kurt bit his lip-he was too shy to undress in front of Puck like this, when he knew Puck might have some sensibility and realize he's fucking a guy. But Kurt knew, the liquor cabinet upstairs would contain half empty bottles of tequila, whiskey, and rum, and after a few shots, inhibitions would be lost and he's wake up with the satisfying soreness the next morning.
Kurt grinned. "Let me get a bottle."
—&—
It was Christmas time now, and while most everyone had gone from Lima for college and universities, they all came back to see each other, a Christmas party being held in the Hummel-Hudson home while Burt and Carole had fled for a long awaited Wife-and-Husband honeymoon of sorts, leaving the house in Kurt's care rather than Finn's. And then Finn had the marvelous idea of a party and so upstairs was filled with Gleeks and football players and underclassmen the formers had associated, as well as new college friends they had made.
So Puck had slammed back some beers and a few Christmas shots, and Kurt had sipped his wine carefully, until the both of them reached the point of "Hey! I'm horny." Kurt's vision quickly found Puck's and with a quirk of his head, he nodded towards the basement and left, Puck following without suspicion a few minutes later.
Kurt was sat in Puck's lap, grinding their erections as they kissed, slow and hot, the touch of lips burning them each. Puck lazily dragged his hands down Kurt's back until he rested them on the still-smaller boy's ass. Kurt whimpered when Puck squeeze, managing to push them closer. The jock kissed his way down to Kurt's neck, washing his throat with deep kiss, marking him in dark purple marks.
Puck remembered last time. He remembered every single part. Because when the sex was good, you tended to remember it. And Kurt? Sure, he was polite and prim, and oh-so-lady-like, but in the sheets? He was wild, like frottage was second-nature to the tiny singer. Didn't matter that he was a dude. He was a good fuck, and if Puck was going to experience it again, there was no way he was going to deny it.
Kurt began undressing Puck, pushing off the hot leather jacket, pulling up the black V-neck sweater he wore until his palms were met with heated skin, gently raking his nails over the golden flesh, growling deep in his throat with anticipation. Kurt leaned forward, pressing soft, hot kisses over Puck's jaw, whispering, "I want you to fucking pound me into that mattress, Puck. I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk. Can you do that?"
He could feel the rush of the shudder that ran through Puck's body. He was aggressive with Kurt, taking his hips into the palms of his large, skilled hands, throwing him on the bed behind them, crawling on top of Kurt, eyes connecting with the dark lust swimming in the irises of his eyes.
"Fuck yes, I can do that," he muttered, his voice harsh and ragged with want as he attacked Kurt's mouth with his own, tongues fighting and tasting, the lingering beer and wine mingling with the sweets and desserts Kurt had laid out earlier. Puck was rough with Kurt, ripping off the clothes, not particularly caring-and he found that Kurt didn't either. So buttons were popped, shirts and jeans and underwear hastily removed until it was just the press of their bodies; hot and sweaty in the overheated basement; their moans and cries drowned from the frilly music playing above them.
"In me, I need you inside of me," Kurt groaned as Puck ground down into him, between his legs, cock against cock, hard until Kurt made that satisfying strangled sound of need. And Puck complied, using his long fingers to stretch Kurt open, three fingers deep inside of him until Kurt was scraping at Puck's shoulders with his nails, begging for Puck to get on with it, damn it.
The condom was swiftly rolled on, the foil packaging discarded behind them. Kurt grabbed the bottle of lube, generously coating Puck's cock, tugging a few times before Puck growled at him.
"Fuck me, baby," Kurt purred, pulling Puck down flush against him, and with one striking motion, Puck was inside of him, deep and long, bigger than he remembered. Then again, all the other men he'd fucked since Puck couldn't really measure up.
Puck's strokes were hard, one arm on the side of Kurt's head, the other gripping Kurt's hip as Puck thrust into the soprano, head buried in Kurt's neck licking and sucking, biting as he moved his hips, Kurt scratching long and hard down his back, pulling him deeper still. Kurt, the flexible dancer he was, curled one leg around Puck's waist, the other thrown over his shoulder. Kurt threw back his head as Puck brushed that sensitive spot inside of him, making him scream as the pleasure jolted through him, almost too much. "More, harder," Kurt pleaded, pushing his hips to meet each of Puck's thrusts, blinding him with the feelings coursing rapidly through him. There was no way he was going to last. Not when he was being fucked this way.
Puck pulled back just a little to meet Kurt's mouth, heated kisses shared as they worked their rhythm, unrelenting as their tongues mimicked the thrusting of their hips, until Kurt pulled away, whimpering gasping, coming over their chests and stomachs, clenching hard around Puck, nearly dragging out Puck's release before he even though he was ready to climax. But there it was, burning hot in his veins, pooling low in his stomach before he cried out Kurt's name and came deep inside the smaller boy, convulsing on top of Kurt until he slumped down. Kurt curled his legs around Puck's waist, a slow lazy motion of pulling him just a little bit closer.
They breathed deep and hard, panting until they could catch their breaths. Kurt was the first to move, pushing Puck back off of him so he could clean up and gather his clothes. "Shower?"
There was a mischievous glint in Puck's eyes and Kurt shook his head. "Insatiable, you are."
"Yeah, well, you fuck like an animal."
Kurt licked his lips and giggled. "Meow."
Puck laughed heartily, noticing the soft sting of the scratches, he would no doubt have littering his back. "Come here, Kitty."
Kurt started to retreat to the bathroom, laughing as Puck chased him, calling him Kitty while Kurt meowed.
Nevertheless, their shower was thoroughly enjoyed-as it was the only time Kurt allowed Puck to fuck him without a condom. (Puck hadn't been fucking anyone else, but Kurt didn't need to know that; he wasn't whipped for Kurt's cock).
They dressed and Kurt had to redo his make up so Puck-with one last long, hot kiss-left the bedroom to join their friends. Kurt finishes making his face pretty and joined them as well, no one even glancing at them.
"Kurt? Kurt! Where were you?" Rachel slurred, Tina draping herself over him.
"I spilled some wine on myself so I had to put the clothes in the washer and shower."
"Oh! Oh, you missed it," Tina said. "Quinn and Santana kissed, and Britney went home crying. And then Finn and Mike were dancing and Rachel dared them to kiss and THEY DID!"
Kurt quirked an eyebrow, glancing in the direction of the boys. He laughed, finding them on either sides of the house.
"Really?" Kurt muttered.
Rachel and Tina nodded, the Asian girl continuing, "And I think Sam and Mercedes found a room, if you know what I mean." Tina paused. "It's an innuendo." Kurt looked at her. "It means they're having sex."
Kurt bit back his laugh and then someone announced it was time to open presents. Wow, midnight already? Christmas sure came faster than he'd expected.
The Gleeks gathered in the den, half of them drunk, the other half steadily getting there. They had decided on Secret Santa this year, drawing names from a hat to determine their giftees. Kurt had gotten Rachel, and he's had a golden star pendant specially made for the would-be Broadway star.
As they passed the gifts around, Kurt sat patiently, for his Secret Santa to come forward and give him his own gift.
Puck found him.
"Yeah?" Kurt asked, looking up at Puck, his soft smile so much different than the rough demeanor he'd had showed only moments before.
"I got you something," he said, hiding a gift behind his back.
Kurt sat up, surprised. "Who was your Secret Santa?" Kurt asked.
"Rachel. She gave me some sunglasses. I don't think she knows we won't be seeing the sun for a while what with all the snow," Puck said with a soft laugh. It was like neither of them were wasted anymore. Well, sure, Kurt had been buzzed, but Puck-maybe he could hold his liquor better than he thought.
"Lemme see," Kurt said excitedly. Puck handed the box over, revealing a very nice pair of black framed Ray Bans. "How lovely," Kurt said in admiration.
"Yeah. But here," Puck muttered, thrusting a tiny box into Kurt's hand. "I saved up for it forever."
Kurt unwrapped the pretty wrapping and gasped when he saw the signature blue color of a Tiffany's box. He knew immediately he couldn't accept it. Not if Puck had spent so much on it.
Inside was a small charm, a little snowflake with a small diamond in the middle. It was silver and gleaming, absolutely gorgeous and Kurt pushed it back, away, into Puck's hands. "I can't, Puck. I can't."
And then he got up and left.
Kurt owned exactly one charm bracelet. One. And it had belonged to his mother-she'd given it to him when he was seven, and he'd kept it safe in his music box, until he was old enough to wear it without it falling from his wrist, until he knew he wouldn't lose it. He'd never told anyone about it. Never showed it to anyone. But somehow, Puck had notice it, the two times he'd worn it this year-and it scared him.
He and Puck weren't in a relationship; they'd made it clear all those months ago.
And then this.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Kurt twirled around in the kitchen, finding Puck standing there, his face sort of sad. "No. Well, yes. I don't know. What are you doing, Puck?"
Puck looked to the ground, setting the blue box on the counter. "Look, I just, I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm not saying that we should get together or anything, but I like being with you Kurt. And I guess, I just—I wanted to ask you something, and I thought maybe getting you something nice might butter you up."
Kurt smiled, after trying so hard not to. "I suppose those multiple orgasms didn't hurt."
Puck laughed and walked closer to Kurt, lowering his voice. "I want to leave, Kurt. I can't be here anymore. My mom and my sister are already gone. And, I thought—I heard you and Rachel talking about your roommate moving out and you needing a replacement—"
Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "Don't you think that's a little close for comfort? We agreed that this would be an open kind of arrangement. I don't—I don't really want to listen to you fucking a bunch of girls, Puck." Kurt wrung his hands in front of him, locking his eyes with a lovely golden hazel. It was odd that they were so serene now since moments ago they had been raging with lust.
Puck frowned slightly, looking away. "Aww, come on, Kitty. You know I wouldn't be like that. I'm not like that anymore," he said cheerily.
Kurt sighed, looking at Puck with new eyes. "Why?"
"Because, believe it or not, I kind of . . . miss you," Puck murmured.
Kurt grinned and enveloped Puck into a hug. "You missed your fuck-buddy. How sweet." He let his arms dangle around the taller boy's neck, keeping them pressed close.
"Shut up, Hummel." Puck grinned and pushed Kurt back against the counter, hovering over him like a predator.
"What, no more Kitty?" Kurt said with a shining smile, knowing he was messing with Puck.
"Well, you sure do have the claws, Hummel," the taller boy said. Kurt giggled and shook his head.
"Fine. You can come with me. This month is already paid, so you have until next month to find a job in LA. Shouldn't be too hard since you can probably sleep your way into a job," Kurt said absently.
The jab kind of hurt Puck, knowing that Kurt thought of him that way, that he slept with people just because. And while it was true, Puck realized that a little friendship goes a bit of a long way.
No, Puck and Kurt weren't friends. They were just fuck-buddies who tolerated each other.
But Puck was longing a bit now. The cute faces Kurt made, his soft voice, his bitchy attitude. Puck was already in Kurt's pants—what was it going to take to get the rest of him?
