Chapter 2 – Single Ladies
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The next time he does anything remotely sexual in front of Puck, he has to wonder
What exactly do I do to him?, and that is the Single Ladies Dance.
It's after the game, he's left alone because cause of him, they won their first game of the season, and the rest of the players were still on the post winning-high. He only enters the change room when he's sure that he's seen every single one of them filter out of the door before he allows himself to go into said change room.
As he's undoing the strings of his pants, arms wrap around him, and hands take hold of his. The familiar smell of Axe, sweat, and dirt reach his senses and he closes his eyes, breathing in that smell. He can feel those hands—hot to the touch—undoing his pants, pulling his jersey off, and then his protective gear.
He sucks his lower lip into his mouth as those same hands grip his hips once more, hot open-mouthed kisses litter his neck. "Fuck…I thought this…this thing…was because you were fucking girly, but…" another rough kiss to his neck, "You were so hot playing tonight…"
Kurt shivers, his fingers curling into fists as Puck continues paying attention to his neck, hands gripping tight enough to refresh those faded bruises on his hips. He stays silent, but he feels himself hardening and curses himself. He shouldn't be enjoying this, no matter how attractive the bigger boy is.
When he's turned around, he's forced to look Puck in the eye. He's forced to recognize attraction, and want, and he's forced to realize that it's Puck who is making him feel these things.
It's Puck that is staring back at him with clearing eyes, fear, at the same time, unadulterated want. He reaches out a hand slowly, tentatively placing it against Puck's cheek, and swallowing thickly. "Puck?"
Puck steps back, shakes his head once, nearly tripping over his discarded gear, blindly grabbing for purchase—of anything. His hand closes around his hanging shirt, and they share a look together. "I…" Puck opens his mouth once, before shaking his head again. "I'm sorry," and then he's sprinting from the room, and Kurt hears the skid of sneakers off in the distance while the door slowly closes with a snap.
He's left with ringing confusion, bruised hips, a hickey on his neck, and no shirt.