After Rachel left, they were left sitting across the breakfast table from one another. It didn't feel awkward, exactly, but Kurt wasn't sure he was prepared to sit through another movie marathon with Puck plastered against him. This morning's solo round in the shower had been more than a little urgent. Kurt couldn't even pretend it hadn't been fueled by Puck's non-comment about showering with him.

"Okay," he said. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to have... a day out together."

"A day out?" echoed Puck.

"Yes. If you're serious about being okay with our cover story being us, as boyfriends..." He raised an eyebrow at Puck, who nodded. "Then we have to try it out, and see if we can be convincing. As boyfriends."

"Got it." Puck took the breakfast dishes and deposited them in the sink, running water over them. "You got any plans for our first date, sir?"

"Shopping on Knickerbocker," Kurt decided, "and lunch at 255. And then maybe a movie at the Bushwick Starr? We'll have to see what's playing, but it's only a ten minute walk west of here."

"Sounds fine," Puck said. His smile was friendly, almost too relaxed. Almost like he'd forgotten he was the slave in this equation. Kurt had a sudden urge to force him up against the wall and -

And what? Maybe he needed another solo round before they left, just to be sure he didn't do anything inappropriate with his pretend boyfriend. Kurt sighed to himself and tried a different tactic. "Great. Before we go, do the dishes. And... I'll show you the way I like my laundry done."

"Thank you, sir." That was better, both the actual words and the tone in which they were spoken. Kurt knew from his training that slaves preferred to be given orders rather than choices, but it was still against his own rearing to tell instead of ask. It did seem to work on Puck, though. He came up behind Puck and put his hands on his back, feeling the tension in both of them ease at the contact. Puck turned from the sink, his hands wet, and the expression on his face made Kurt catch his breath.

"Towel," he murmured, holding up his hands. Kurt silently reached over and took the one hanging in front of the stove, and dried off Puck's hands one at a time. Then he slid his arms around Puck's back, encouraging him to do the same. They were nearly the same height, Kurt maybe a fraction taller, and this felt remarkably, almost dangerously intimate. Which was a little silly, considering they'd slept in the same bed last night.

"You're so warm," Kurt whispered, and Puck chuckled.

"I run hot, sir," he said into Kurt's ear. Kurt shivered. "Don't tell me you're cold?"

"Not - exactly." Kurt made himself take a step back, holding Puck by the shoulders. "You can call me sir when no one's around, but when they are, you should call me Kurt."

"Kurt. Sure." Puck grinned. "Or can I call you something stupid, like... Buttercup?"

"No," Kurt said severely, and Puck laughed. "Seriously, try it and see what happens. It won't be pleasant."

His smile slid into something more sly. "Really, sir."

No. I'm not going to play that game. Kurt stared Puck in the eye until his smile faded away, leaving only uncertainty behind. "Really," he said. He knew his face was probably just as red as Puck's, but he wasn't going to back down.

Puck tried glaring, but even that was quashed under Kurt's relentless gaze. "Jeez, Kurt," Puck muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor. "I was just teasing, like I would do with anybody."

"I'm not just anybody," Kurt pointed out. "For the next six months, anyway. You're going to need to be good, with me."

Puck cast him a desperate glance. "I - don't know how to be any other way."

Kurt moved in closer to Puck, pressing against his body and running his fingers down the side of his face. Puck looked startled, but not disgusted, which Kurt took as success. He cocked his head and smirked. "You're telling me you need me to discipline you for being a bad boy?"

Puck went rigid under his hand. "I - uh... Kurt..."

"Call me sir," Kurt whispered, his hand moving down to rest on the small of Puck's back.

"Sir," Puck replied immediately, but he wasn't relaxing.

"Maybe you want me to treat you like you're a bad boy? Make you beg? Tie you up? Give you a paddling you wouldn't forget?"

Puck closed his eyes and swallowed. "Oh god."

Kurt immediately switched back to his normal tone of voice, and dropped his hand. "I didn't think so," he said flatly. "I don't play those games. And neither will you. That's not why we're here. I'm not pretending."

Puck's eyes flew open. "I'm not either!"

"No, but you seem fine with treating it like a game whenever you want. I'm not your friend. I'm your owner. Don't make the respect into a joke. Show me you mean it. And no sarcasm or witty remarks, or I really will paddle you - and I promise you, you won't enjoy it."

"Don't bet on it, sir," Puck muttered, but Kurt saw the expression on his face, and he knew Puck had heard him.

Kurt put his hands on his hips. "Are you going to behave yourself?"

"Yeah," Puck said quietly. "Sir."

"All right." Kurt reached out his hand, and Puck took it without hesitation. "Then - let's go shopping."


Puck actually had a lot more fun going shopping with Kurt than he expected he would. He couldn't deny Kurt had excellent, if creative, tastes. That meant any store, mens' or womens', was fair game. He's not going to be hemmed in by something as simple as gender, either, Puck thought, watching Kurt with admiration while he tried on a richly patterned red and white scarf.

"You look really good in that," Puck decided, leaning against the wall.

Kurt looked pleased by the compliment, smoothing the edges along his chest. "Thank you. That's a very boyfriend-like thing to say."

"It's just true, sir," he said, shrugging. "You should get it. I mean..." He looked uncomfortable suddenly, fiddling with his collar. "I'd buy it for you, if I had any money."

Kurt laughed, and touched Puck on the shoulder. "I'm not asking you to buy me things. That's not why we're here. I just like to shop. I'd dress you up, too."

"Okay. You could do that."

"Really." Kurt grinned, looking Puck with a critical eye. "I can choose what I think would look good on you? No t-shirts and jeans."

"Really." Puck opened his arms. "I'm all yours."

Kurt was momentarily at a loss for words. Puck leaned in with a little smile. "I mean, I am, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt said softly. "Okay. But not here. As much as a scarf like this would hide - certain accessories - I don't think it's going to be your best look. Come on."

Kurt was familiar with his shopping district, that was for sure. Each shop they went into, he seemed to know just what he'd find there. Puck had worn suits a couple of times for Glee, tuxedos for special events, but this wasn't like that. Kurt browsed dozens of racks of shirts, vests, pants and jackets - things he never would have considered wearing alone, let alone pairing together - and managed to make everything work. The shirt was even high enough in the neck to hide his collar.

"Damn," Puck said, nodding at himself in the mirror, posing. "I look good."

"It's all khaki this season." Kurt made a face and smoothed one of the pockets on Puck's blazer. "Pockets and linen. What are we, on safari? Anyway." He smiled brightly at Puck. "You do look good in those fitted sleeves."

Puck felt a flush of pleasure at Kurt's comment. The impulse to touch him was almost too strong to resist. But then he thought, why should I resist? If we're pretending to be boyfriends, it doesn't matter what anybody thinks. He put his arms around Kurt right there in the middle of the boutique. He heard Kurt's surprised breath even as they both relaxed into the incredible calming pleasure of contact.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered, close enough so no one else could hear.

"Well." Kurt's hands tightened around his back. "A boy has to have his own style, but yours needed a little assistance." Then, after a moment, he added, "How are you doing?"

"Better when I'm touching you," Puck said honestly. "Sorry."

"No, it's... it's okay." Kurt gave his back one more squeeze, then moved away. The store employees barely acknowledged their physicality, although one of them gave them a wide smile when they brought their purchases up to the counter.

Puck leaned over to Kurt. "That one is checking us out, big time. You think he's gay?"

"Could be," Kurt said, shrugging. "Or possibly they work on commission and he's excited about making this sale."

He couldn't keep from peeking into the bag as they walked out the door. Kurt watched him with curious amusement. "I'm pretty sure everything is still in there."

Puck grinned. "I know, it's just - I don't think I can remember the last time anybody bought me something.

"Oh." Now Kurt was silent. He looked a little anxious. "It's okay, right?"

"It's a little weird, sir," Puck admitted. "It's good, though. I like the clothes. I just feel bad that you're having to spend your money on me. I don't think I want to know how much you just spent in there."

"You're probably right. But - Puck, don't feel bad. I told you this was fun for me. I get to be in charge, and you get to look fantastic. Win-win." Kurt took his arm companionably, leading him down the sidewalk.

They walked without talking for a few minutes, the pedestrian traffic of Kurt's Bushwick neighborhood passing without commenting on two young men walking close together. Even though he'd heard New York was like that, it still was a surprise to Puck to feel so invisible while committing what seemed like a radical act.

"This is still kind of freaking me out," Puck said. "This thing. When I touch you..." He trailed off.

"What does it feel like to you?" Kurt prompted.

"Um. Good. Like, really good. I feel calm, but in an intense way, like I just took a hit of strong weed." He glanced over at Kurt. "You... probably don't know what that's like. Well, uh, like... when you come really hard, then. You do know what that's -?"

"Yes, Puck, I know. I admit, this is... an incredible rush." Kurt shifted his hold on Puck's arm to his hand, and they let out simultaneous sighs. He laughed. "It seems to be more intense when our skin is touching."

Puck decided not to mention that morning, when he'd awakened to find Kurt wound around his leg. There was no reason to embarrass him. "Yeah. It feels so good... I guess it can't be a bad thing, can it, sir?"

Kurt didn't answer for a long moment. They crossed the street at the Montrose subway stop to the restaurant.

"Not a bad thing," Kurt said slowly. "But... I don't know. I don't trust it. It does feel like a drug. I'm not sure if that's healthy. I don't like being at the whim of chemicals, even if they're naturally produced."

Puck didn't quite see how it was different from being scared or happy or any other emotion, but he nodded anyway. "I'm not sure if there's anything we can do about it now, sir."

"Yeah." Kurt sighed. "I'm not either, but I'm going to try to find out more. Gail was right about this being exhausting. I think after lunch I'm going to need a nap, if you don't mind skipping the movie."

"No, sir," said Puck. "Food and a nap sounds about my speed right now."

There were other things on his mind besides food and sleep, things that apparently involved Kurt and possibly himself doing some of that coming really hard, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. For one thing, it had been a while since he'd done any of that stuff with a guy. For another, no matter what kind of middle-of-the-night urges Kurt was having, he hadn't shown any sign of wanting to do it with Puck. He knew a slave couldn't count on his owner wanting sex with him, anyway. And he thought he knew why Kurt wouldn't want it with him.

He doesn't do casual, thought Puck glumly. And that's all I've got to give him: casual. I learned my lesson about getting my heart involved in stuff like this.


Kurt watched Puck eating his lunch. Their ankles brushed under the table, the contact of their legs enough to stave off the worst urges. Even so, if Kurt could have encouraged Puck to sit right on his chair with him, he would have done it. Or on my lap, he thought with dismay. Oh, no, that's not sexual at all. What the hell am I going to do about this?

"Would you excuse me, please?" Kurt said politely, rising from the table. Puck watched him walk away with barely disguised anxiety. "I'll be right back. Go ahead and finish your sandwich."

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Cassie, hoping she would be willing to pick up between morning and afternoon classes. He was in luck.

"Coming up for air, Hummel?" She sounded just as caustic as ever. "You appear to have survived your first twenty-four hours contracting a pleasure slave. There are owners who can't even handle that, so at least you're not a complete failure."

"Yeah. Thanks. We're doing all right, but I'm feeling... a strong conflict here."

"Regarding?"

He turned to face the wall, trying not to let the other restaurant patrons hear. "Regarding sex."

She sighed. "Kurt. What does owner mean to you? It means you get to do whatever you want. He already agreed to it. He wants you to be in charge. You're a moral and rational person, and you can make good decisions on your own. Why are you waffling about this?"

"Because he's straight, Cassie." He could barely get the words out through clenched teeth. "Whatever's happening to him right now... it's like there's - a spell over him. He might think he wants to please me, but - I can't in good conscience tell him to do something I know he doesn't really want."

"Are you telling me you think he does want it, right now?"

Kurt saw all the moments between them over the past two days, flickering over his awareness like slides in a projector: Puck clutching him in an embrace; Puck playing guitar at his feet; Puck almost suggesting they shower together; Puck on his knees, looking up at Kurt through his eyelashes. He closed his eyes, but the images were still there. "Yes. I'm pretty sure he does. And - I can't take advantage of him when he's like that. Not when -"

"So he might not want it in six months. Does that mean you can't meet his needs right now?"

"It wouldn't be for him," he whispered. "It'd be for me. Selfish."

"Be selfish, Kurt," she replied with more than a little irritation. "It's what he wants. Take it from him. He asked for it. He's begging for it."

Kurt couldn't explain to Cassie what he was afraid of. He couldn't say I don't want this, either. In the end, he wasn't sure if he decided it was the most reasonable course of action, or if he simply gave up fighting. "All right. I'll give it a try."

"You're being a pussy Dom, Kurt. Come on. Man up. Take care of your boy. Tell him to make you come so hard your eyes bleed. He's a pleasure slave - he's there to give you what you want. I think he's pretty clear about what that includes." He heard the sound of a door slamming. "I'll see you two tomorrow, bright and early, no matter how little sleep you get tonight." Then silence. Cassie had hung up.

Kurt turned around and stared across the restaurant at Puck, sitting at the table alone, glancing around restlessly. He didn't need to be wearing his new clothes for Kurt to find him attractive, but then, after years of dreams and fantasies about being in control of a young man, he wasn't feeling very picky. This was his chance to get what he'd always wanted, from a person who was desperate to touch him - and who would willingly do anything Kurt told him to do.

Why does it feel so unfair, he thought with a rush of bitter desire, that that person is Noah Puckerman?

Kurt paid the bill and waited by Puck's chair while he finished the last bite of his sandwich. "You're going to need to come home now."

"Sir," Puck replied, scrambling up from his chair with a start. "I - why? What did I do?"

Kurt felt the adrenaline surging into him, driving his actions. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. "It's not what you did. It's what you haven't done. There's something I require before we take a nap. I don't think I can sleep in a bed with you again until we take care of this matter."

If Kurt hadn't been so conflicted, he might have enjoyed the stricken look on Puck's face. But even he couldn't allow Puck to think he'd done something wrong for long. He took his hand, shaking his head gently.

"Please don't worry, Puck," said Kurt. "You're such a good boy. I know you would do anything I asked of you. I'll show you just what I'm talking about when we get back to the apartment. Don't forget your bag."

Puck followed him down the block with the most heartbreakingly confused expression, trailing a couple steps behind Kurt. Finally Kurt stopped and held out his hand, waiting until Puck took it to keep walking.

"You're sure I didn't do anything wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Kurt agreed, squeezing his hand. "You were a perfect pretend boyfriend. I had an excellent morning."

"Yeah?" Puck gave him a remarkably endearing little grin. It made Kurt's stomach do crazy things. As though walking wasn't difficult enough already, considering he was hard enough to cut glass.

"I promise," he said.

Puck fell silent again, his brow knitted into a line. It wasn't until they got to Kurt's front step that he burst out, "Look, I really don't think you can keep me from sleeping in your bed with you."

"Puck," Kurt began, unlocking the front door, but Puck wasn't stopping.

"It's not that I wouldn't sleep wherever you tell me to, but I'm pretty sure in the middle of the night I'm going to have to end up next to you, because, god, sir, I don't think I have that much self control." He followed Kurt up the steps, pleading with his eyes as much as his words. It was a heady combination. Kurt considered telling Puck to get down on his knees and keep talking to him like that. It might be enough to do the trick, he thought dizzily.

"Puck," Kurt said again. He jiggled his keys in the deadbolt.

"So, really, whatever I didn't do, if you can please think of some other punishment, because I honestly don't think that one's going to work, unless you t-tie me up before bed -"

"Noah Puckerman." That stopped him in his tracks, his eyes wide. Kurt reached out and unwound the knit scarf from his neck, revealing the Dior Grey collar. He looped a finger through it and hauled Puck backwards through the door. Puck staggered, gasping as Kurt kicked the door closed, pushed Puck up against the back of it with his body and held him there, standing nose to nose. "You can stop talking now."

Puck closed his mouth. Kurt touched his lips with two fingers, tracing their contours, watching them tremble. It was possibly the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

"I want your mouth on me," he whispered.

Kurt felt Puck's warm breath on his fingers as he moaned. He shifted his body to one side and pushed his erection against Puck's hip. He didn't quite dare to put his own hand on Puck to find out if he was hard, too, because there was a big difference between making your slave do what you wanted and expecting them to enjoy it. Kurt didn't think he could handle finding out if he was or he wasn't.

"Come here." He took Puck's hand and led him over to his bed, drawing the curtain. Rachel wouldn't be home for hours, but he wasn't going to chance her coming home and finding Puck... serving him. HIs own heartbeat did a two-step at that idea. God.

Puck seemed to be in a kind of trance, following Kurt with his eyes, his mouth hanging open and his shoulders slack. When Kurt went to unbutton his skinny jeans, Puck zeroed in on his hands, watching him shimmy out of them in fascinated silence.

You are not going to feel guilty about this, Kurt told himself firmly, coaxing Puck onto the bed. He propped himself up with pillows, trying not to think of the last time he and Blaine had done this exact same thing. He's here to please you. That's what he wants. Anything you want, that's what will make him happy.

Kurt knew the theory, but watching it come true was a little amazing. As he drew Puck's head down between his legs, he looked as though Kurt was giving him the biggest birthday present ever. It was the experience of trying on clothes times a thousand. He paused, his hand on Kurt's thigh, his cheek resting on the head of Kurt's cock.

"You're sure, sir?" Puck asked softly. "This is what you want?"

Kurt tried to be polite, but those lips were right there, and his tongue could be doing so many other things instead of talking. Even so, Kurt didn't want Puck's first attempt at giving a blowjob to be like so much mouth-fucking. He was going to let him explore a little; Kurt could hold back and be patient while he figured it out. He'd waited this many years, after all. "Yes, Puck. This is what I want. Go on. Make me feel good."

Those lips curved into a breathtaking smile. "Oh, yeah," Puck murmured. "You bet your ass I'm going to do that."

Kurt had just enough time to feel a twinge of startled surprise at that response before Puck opened his mouth and, with a look of intense concentration, deep-throated his cock in one stroke. Whatever gentle or clever intentions he'd had flew out the window as Puck slid his hands under Kurt's ass and spread his legs wide. He let out an embarrassingly loud cry.

Puck wasn't stopping. He did it again, and again, showing no signs of discomfort or reticence. And his hands, god, his hands, they were stroking a path from Kurt's navel down the creases between his thighs, inspiring sensations Kurt was pretty sure he'd never experienced before. When Puck paused to lick his own two fingers, Kurt nearly passed out.

"Tell me if I do anything you don't like, sir," Puck said. His wet fingers rested on the clenching opening at the base of Kurt's spine, giving firm pressure.

They'd raced ahead, blowing through two years of tentative experimentation with Blaine in thirty seconds, right to where they'd stopped at the summer of senior year. Kurt couldn't bring himself to tell him, wait, I've never done this before, and maybe it should really be with someone I'm in love with, because my dad told me that was important. All he could do was moan and spread his legs wider. Puck actually giggled, obviously delighted at that response.

"Thank you, sir," he said, with heartfelt devotion, before descending onto Kurt's cock again.

It could easily have been over in five seconds, Kurt knew that for certain, once he'd experienced the mind-numbing intensity of prostate massage. But Puck wasn't going for that. He was clearly working to make it last, fluttering his tongue along the ridge on the underside of Kurt's head, angling his fingers to give slow, indirect stimulation - except every now and then, he made a deliberate sharp move that made Kurt see stars. Each time, he cried out, and each time, Puck chuckled and backed off, sucking more slowly but with no less skill.

Skill, thought Kurt in a helpless epiphany. "You've done this before," he managed to gasp.

"Maybe," Puck said. He did something with his tongue that definitely wasn't luck. "You're going to have to tell me when you want to come, sir, because otherwise I can make this last the rest of the afternoon."

Ohmygodohmygod, gibbered Kurt in his brain, but he just said, "Now's good, yeah, now would be fine."

"Hmmm." Puck swirled his tongue thoughtfully around Kurt's head, fingers inside him rubbing with maddening lightness. "Well... if you're sure."

Not going to beg, Kurt thought desperately. Not. "Yeah, I'm sure, god, come on, right now."

And then the fingers were there, filling him up, giving him that perfect angle he'd been waiting for, and Puck's mouth was there too, sucking hard, taking his uncontrolled thrusts with apparent ease. Kurt had mere moments to cry out, "Coming -" But Puck wasn't pulling away, not even when Kurt shot right down his throat.

Another first. How many was that, now? Too many to count. Might as well just ask him to fuck you, right here. He moaned, his hips twitching with aftershocks and possibility, and Puck let him slip from his mouth, resting his head on Kurt's thigh.

"Yeah," Puck agreed. "That was..."

The words disappeared as Puck began to shake. Kurt reached startled, incompetent hands down to touch his head, and realized he was crying.

"Oh -" Kurt said miserably, and drew him up to lie on top of him, resting Puck's head on his chest as he sobbed.

"S-sorry," he said between hitching breaths, clinging to Kurt. "Not - not really how I meant to end this."

"No, no," Kurt assured him, stroking his head with one slow hand, the other holding Puck firmly against him. "I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have - you didn't need to -"

"What? No!" Puck glanced up at Kurt's face, his lips swollen and cheeks streaked with tears. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was - perfect. Just, that you would let me... that I could do that for you..." He buried his head back into Kurt's chest. Kurt held him with dawning understanding.

"Okay. You're okay." He bent his head down far enough to kiss Puck's head, cradling him tight. "You did so well, Puck, you gave me just what I needed. You made it so good for me. It's never been so good."

"It's all I want," Puck said, his voice muffled against Kurt's chest. "The collar... and you, and... "

"You have it," said Kurt. For six months. Six months of - this. And then... He closed his own mind to that thought. Not going to feel guilty, remember? "You're mine."

"Thank you, sir," he whispered.

It didn't occur to Kurt to even suggest reciprocating until much later, after they'd both slept. Kurt sent Puck for water, and when he came back, Kurt let himself look at the crotch of Puck's loose jeans with interest rather than embarrassment. Or, at least, not just embarrassment.

"Would you have wanted to - to come, too?" he asked.

Puck shrugged as he handed over the water. "Sure. I mean, who doesn't like to get off? But it wasn't the most important thing. If you wanted it, though, I'd definitely be cool with that. Sir."

It was a good reminder of how things really were between them. Kurt thought about it as he sipped. "We'll see," he said at last. "I think I need a shower. Would you make some popcorn and choose a movie?"

He was a little sore, he decided, gingerly probing that part of himself with a careful finger. Not like he'd never tried it himself, but it was definitely different having somebody else inside him.

Then Kurt leaned on the wall of the shower and had a little private freak-out that Noah Puckerman had just been inside him. Had, in fact, rocked his world with the best sex he'd ever had, bar none.

And, really, Kurt, why should that surprise you? he scolded himself. Sex shark. Of course he knows what he's doing... with guys. He took a couple deep breaths, willing himself not to pass out.

By the time Puck was done with the popcorn, he was back on the couch, calm and relaxed. "Come here," he said, opening his arms, and Puck went right into them. He stroked his soft head, breathing in unison as they settled back into their inexplicable connection. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Puck said. "Very okay, thank you, sir. You?"

"Yes," Kurt decided. "I'm okay too."


Puck made it through two more musicals before Kurt turned to him. He was sitting in the crook of Puck's legs with the popcorn. His lip twitched into a smile. "Not really your kind of movie, is it?"

"Not really my business, sir," Puck pointed out. "I'm the slave. I'm here to do what you want."

"Sure," Kurt said, but he didn't look very sure. "Still. I have things to watch that aren't musicals."

He laughed. "You get that I don't really care what we watch? I'd be just as happy making you dinner, or playing cards, or singing a song, or sucking your cock."

Kurt turned pink, but he was still smiling. "I don't play cards much."

"Whatever. You're in charge, and I like that. As long as you're happy, I'm happy." He put his arms around Kurt from behind, holding him close. "Totally crazy, huh?"

"You're telling me," Kurt agreed. He leaned back against Puck with a contented sigh. "You're going to spoil me. I'm not at all motivated to do anything but this."

"Then we'll do this, until you are." Puck rubbed his scratchy cheek on Kurt's smooth one. It made Kurt make a low, pleased noise. The noise, plus the pressure of Kurt's body between his legs, wasn't doing anything to keep Puck's attention on the movie. But he tried his best, and ignored his body's response. When he thought about it, he could still feel the kiss Kurt had placed on his head when he'd cried.

"We should eat something, soon. Rachel has a late rehearsal tonight. Then I think early bed, since we have training tomorrow." Kurt paused, then added, a little shyly, "I really liked it when you sang to me while I was moisturizing."

"Yeah?" Puck grinned. "Could I do that every night?"

Kurt blushed. Puck couldn't help but think he was damn cute when he did that. "Yes."

"And the other stuff? Could I do that every night, too?"

"Making me dinner?" Kurt asked innocently. "Absolutely. I hate cooking."

"I was kind of thinking of the other other stuff, but okay," Puck agreed. Kurt turned around in his lap and placed both hands on his chest. Puck felt every inch of his skin wake up and take notice.

"You can be sure," said Kurt, "I'll let you know when you can do that."

"Okay," Puck replied faintly. "Sounds good, sir. I'll - just go ahead and see what we have for dinner, okay?"

"Make a list of whatever ingredients you'll need for tomorrow and we can pick it up on the way home from training." Kurt paused the video in the middle of Roger and Mimi's love duet, and Puck went into the kitchen.

He poked around in the cupboard and found some boxed pasta and sauce, and meatless balls in the freezer, but he couldn't maintain his concentration. His mind kept traveling back to Kurt, on the bed in front of him, making those fucking delicious noises. Puck adjusted himself in his jeans, and wondered if he might have enough time to sneak away to the bathroom while the pasta was cooking. He probably wouldn't need more than a few minutes -

"Hmmm," he heard, and turned in surprise to see Kurt standing next to the fridge, watching him. "I was pretty sure I told you to make dinner. And I'm also pretty sure you don't need any hands on yourself to do that."

"Uh..." Puck gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Kurt didn't smile. "You wouldn't be attempting to take something that belongs to me, would you? Because your pleasure: that's mine. You have no rights beyond what I give you, and I'm definitely taking control of that." Kurt stared at him. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered. This entire exchange had the effect of making Puck even more turned on than before, of course, which he thought might have been Kurt's intention. He held up his hands. "I'll be a good boy."

Now Kurt did smile. "I know you will." He turned around and walked back into the living room, leaving Puck to be in control of himself.

That was never something Puck had been good at. Nobody had ever tried to limit his access to self-pleasure. Even Lauren, who had made him wait for sex for such a long time, had expected him to jerk off regularly. And the best way to get him to do something, he knew, was to tell him he couldn't. Puck sighed and focused as best he could on the pasta, but the distraction was nearly overwhelming. By the time dinner was finished, he was having trouble keeping his hands on his head.

He didn't know Kurt was behind him until his arms were wrapped around him. Kurt's body was warm, and Puck felt his forehead rest on the back of his neck, making him bow his head.

"We'd better eat now, sir," he said. "Those meatless balls are nasty when they're cold."

He kept his attention on his plate, instead of on Kurt, because watching him put things into his mouth was really not going to help his self-control. It made dinner kind of a quiet event, but Kurt didn't seem upset by this, so Puck managed to keep his focus. Things had calmed down a bit by the time they were done, and he was able to deal with Kurt's hand on his arm.

"Let's get ready for bed," said Kurt. "I'll take first turn in the bathroom."

Puck took off his jeans and t-shirt, wondering if he'd be permitted to wear them again at all in the next six months, and dropped them into the laundry hamper. He went with just boxers tonight, figuring if Kurt had a problem with that, he'd say something. But he did retrieve the pillow he'd sat on the night before, placing it next to Kurt's chair, and seated himself there with his guitar, strumming through Billy Joel tunes. By the time Kurt returned after his shower, he was ready:

Got a call from an old friend
We used to be real close
Said he couldn't go on the American way
Closed the shop, sold the house
Bought a ticket to the West Coast
Now he gives them a stand-up routine in L.A.

I don't need you to worry for me cause I'm all right
I don't want you to tell me it's time to come home
I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life
Go ahead with your own life and leave me alone

Kurt was grinning by the end of the chorus. He had on the same Hummel Tires and Lube t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he'd worn the night before, which kind of surprised Puck. He'd kind of expected Kurt to change his clothes every chance he got.

Kurt sat down next to Puck, leaning comfortably against his back, and began his moisturizing routine while Puck went on with the song.

I never said you had to offer me a second chance
I never said I was a victim of circumstance
I still belong, don't get me wrong
And you can speak your mind
But not on my time

They will tell you you can't sleep alone in a strange place
Then they'll tell you you can't sleep with somebody else
Ah, but sooner or later you sleep in your own space
Either way it's okay you wake up with yourself

Kurt sang along with him on the final chorus, surprising Puck again. I might as well forget about being surprised around Kurt, he thought. He's done nothing but surprise me these last three days.

I don't need you to worry for me cause I'm all right
I don't want you to tell me it's time to come home
I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life
Go ahead with your own life and leave me alone

Kurt chuckled as Puck concluded the song. "That was the theme song to a television show in the 1980s called Bosom Buddies. My dad showed me reruns. It's about two best friends who live together in an apartment, but they have to cross-dress as women in order to get a lease. They weren't very convincing."

"About as convincing as I was in a dress, that one time," Puck said, grinning up at him. Kurt laughed out loud, remembering. He dabbed at his neck with a cloth.

"My dad weaned me off the cross-dressing when I was in elementary school, but it took me a long time to stop wanting to be pretty."

Puck considered him. "You're still pretty, sir. And I don't think I could say that about too many dudes."

Kurt watched Puck in the mirror. Then he looked away. "I don't really know how to take that."

"As a compliment, I hope." Puck put a hand on Kurt's leg, feeling the definition of the muscle through his pajama pants. Fucking beautiful was the thought in his head, but he figured that might be a little much.

Kurt closed the little jars and tubes and stashed them in their case, then leaned over and pulled the covers back on his bed while Puck put his guitar away. He watched Kurt for permission to join him.

"You were... a very good boy today," Kurt said, smiling at Puck with calm blue eyes. "It still feels a little strange to say that, but it's true, and... it feels so good."

Puck nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I can't tell you how good it is to hear it, sir. Makes me dizzy."

"Really?" said Kurt softly. His eyes gleamed with pleasure, and Puck felt another wash of overwhelming sensation. He reached for the nearest piece of Kurt's body he could reach, which turned out to be his knee, but it was under the covers, and Puck made what could only be called a whine. Kurt touched his hand. "What is it?"

"It's a little embarrassing, sir," he said.

Kurt's eyes flashed an imperative. "Tell me."

He shrugged, staring at his hands. "It's been over a year since Lauren and I broke up. Almost two. I've gotten used to taking care of things myself. Usually in bed. But - uh, now it looks like I'm sleeping with you, and... I didn't think that would be appropriate, as of this morning."

"And now?"

"Well... now, at dinner, you told me... I couldn't. That my pleasure's under your control." Even saying the words himself, he could feel his response to them. He clutched Kurt's hand.

"Yes. That's right. You're mine."

Puck closed his eyes, trying to stay upright. "I got it, sir. So now I'm just - uh."

"Aroused," Kurt prompted.

"Yeah."

Kurt shifted closer to him. "You do that every morning?"

"Pretty much. And most nights, if I don't have a date."

"Well, you don't," Kurt said sharply. "And I'm going to take care of you."

"Oh." Puck swallowed. "Th-thank you."

Kurt took off his t-shirt and, after a moment, his pajama pants, folding them on the table next to him. He watched Puck with that same intense concentration as he'd used this afternoon. "Take off your shorts and come sit here, against me."

Puck shed his boxers, and leaned in against Kurt's chest. Feeling all of that skin at once, while exciting, was also profoundly calming, and he found himself nearly comatose. "God, Kurt," he moaned. "I think this is what I needed all day - you, naked, against me."

"Yeah, that's going to help me concentrate," Kurt muttered. But he held Puck tight, and Puck felt him relaxing, too. He sighed. "I hate to say it, but I think you're right."

Then Puck felt Kurt's hand encircle his cock, and he moaned again, for entirely different reasons. He thrust up into Kurt's hand, and heard Kurt whisper, "Fuck, you're so hot."

"Yours," Puck said, losing himself in Kurt's touch, the feel of his hand, and the sound of his voice in his ear. "Anything you want. Let me give you what you want."

Kurt's laugh was rich with desire and appreciation. "Oh, god, honey, trust me, you are. Just help me do it the way you like it. Show me."

Puck fumbled one limp hand over to Kurt's, intertwining their fingers, and took his own cock in his hand. "It's going to be quick," he warned.

"I don't care." Kurt helped him stretch out, lying back in his lap. "Make it good. Let me see how much you love it."

Puck had to admit feeling how much Kurt was loving it, pressed up against his back, not to mention their joined, slick hands on him, was making this a hundred times hotter than an ordinary jack-off session. He spread his legs, bracing his feet on the bed, and thrust up into their collective fist, keeping the pace steady.

"That's it..." Kurt urged, his breath hot and erratic in Puck's ear, "come on... are you going to come for me?"

"Oh, fuck, Kurt," he moaned, as the orgasm rolled over him. He gave one or two last desperate thrusts, then ground himself back against Kurt's cock, hearing his responding cries. "Come on, fuck me... I want it so bad..."

"I can't - I don't..." Kurt sounded positively panicked, and Puck turned around to face him, shrugging off postcoital calm, because Kurt wasn't allowed to sound like that, for any reason. His face was red. "I mean, I've never."

"Oh," said Puck, getting it. He stopped, holding Kurt's hands in his. "Never? What about Blaine?"

"Blaine was in favor of abstinence," Kurt said heavily. "Please, I - I don't want to get into it right now."

Puck looked down at Kurt's own erect cock, and slid a tentative hand along the inside of his thigh. He watched Kurt shudder and close his eyes. "Well, can I at least - ?"

"Yes," Kurt nodded, his eyes still closed. "Yes, please."

Puck knelt between his thighs, hoping Kurt didn't mind a little of Puck's jizz on his skin, and took him in his mouth for the second time that day. It was something he'd gotten some practice at, because in his experience most guys, even straight ones, wouldn't turn down a blowjob. And they seldom talked about it afterwards with their friends, because none of them wanted to ruin their chances for another one in the future. Kurt seemed to appreciate his expertise, anyway, and he was glad he could give Kurt something he liked. Even on top of the orgasm he'd had that afternoon, Kurt didn't take long either.

"You've really never fucked anybody?" Puck asked afterwards, resting his head on Kurt's amazing legs. He'd never thought of a dude's legs as hot before, but he thought Kurt's might be. He stroked them with one hand.

"No," sad Kurt. "Neither have I been... fucked. My father wanted me to wait until I was in love. I thought I was in love with Blaine, but... he didn't want to do it with me, I guess."

Puck gazed up at him across his come-covered stomach. "Well, he was an idiot. Sir."

Kurt smiled wryly, touching Puck's head. "I don't hold him any ill will. I think I did love him. It just didn't work out."

"No way," Puck insisted, raising up on his arms. "You're gorgeous, and I know Blaine thought so too. He should have taken every chance to show you that. You deserved that."

Kurt looked away. When he looked back, his eyes were wet. "I can't think about that year too hard. I was so desperate to prove I didn't need anyone, but in reality I was just so, so lonely. I thought nobody would ever understand me, or really understand what I wanted, and want it too."

"Yeah. I know just how that feels."

"I know you do," said Kurt softly. He took Puck's hand, undeterred by the remnants of come and saliva. "You do understand. That's... amazing."

Kurt squeezed Puck's hand one more time, then leaned off the bed and came up with a packet of baby wipes. He offered one to Puck, and they cleaned themselves up.

"You're not going to put your pajamas back on, are you?" Puck said hopefully. Kurt sighed.

"No." He pulled the covers back and welcomed Puck against his body, not shying away from contact now. "This is what we both need. There's no sense in denying it."

He didn't sound completely thrilled about it, but in the midst of all that skin touching skin, Puck really didn't care. As long as Kurt was going to let him do this, he could deal with a little uncertainty.

And this virgin business, he thought hazily. That, we're going to have to do something about, and soon.

"Thank you, sir," he said, snuggling closer. "For all of it."

He held his breath as Kurt's lips touched his head, just as they had the night before. "You're so welcome, and thank you, too. Sleep well."

Puck fell asleep first, but he woke up again when Rachel got home from her late rehearsal. His eyes were open when she parted Kurt's curtain, whispering, "Kurt? Are you still awake? I have to - oh."

Puck found himself feeling a little defensive, and he put a hand on Kurt's sleeping, bare chest. Kurt stirred a little. "Don't wake him," he pleaded. "It's been a - a big day."

Rachel's eyes were enormous. "Puck?"

"It's part of the slave thing," he felt compelled to add. "He's not doing anything I don't want, and neither am I." I hope. "Just - don't make a big deal about it, okay? Six months, and I'm out of his hair. Until then, he gets to call the shots."

Kurt stirred again, and Puck waved her back. She gave one brief, perplexed nod, and withdrew behind the curtain.

"Whazgoing on?" murmured Kurt, not bothering to open his eyes. Puck hesitated, then bent and put a gentle kiss on Kurt's cheek.

"You had a dream," he said. "Go back to sleep."

"Okay," Kurt agreed. He was already rolling over, tucking the blanket under his chin. Puck decided spooning him on the outside wasn't something he needed permission to do, and just pulled him close before slipping back into sleep.