Puck slammed Kurt against the wall, twisting the material of his fancy-as-fuck sweater into a wrinkled mess.
"Do it," Kurt said, eyes dark, daring him to go for the kill. Puck licked his lips, hesitated a moment too long, then felt the wind knocked out of him by a surprisingly strong fist in his gut. He grabbed Kurt's arm, squeezing almost painfully tight, to keep him from escaping.
Kurt used Puck's own strength against him as he spun back around, using the momentum to send them both to the floor in a crumpled heap.
"You going to pay for that," Kurt growled, plucking at his abused sweater as he hovered over Puck. Puck was too turned on by Kurt's gruff tone, the feel of a hot body on top of his own, to care. He wriggledhis hips in a way that made Kurt's breath sigh out in a sudden burst and his eyes go heavy-lidded.
"Make me pay," Puck bared his teeth in a challenging grin.
"Oh, I will," Kurt purred, sliding a hand up Puck's neck and cheek to fist into his mowhawk. He tilted Puck's head back roughly, baring his neck. He nipped roughly at the tender flesh. "I will."