Disclaimer – Not mine. Obviously.

WARNING: This chapter should probably be rated M.

Just sayin'.

So beware.

:) I love your reviews.

xoxo, Chuck.

For the second time in his life, Kurt woke up in his underwear and a band tee shirt that smelled faintly like coffee and Axe.

For the first time in his life, though, there was someone warm beside him.

Kurt basked in the glow, curling against the warmth, fingertips slipping under the bed sheet and spreading over a taut, bare stomach.

He lifted his head off his pillow and place his cheek against a firm chest. He placed a soft kiss on the hot skin, loving the way it felt under his lips.

Boldly, his tongue slid carefully over a hard nipple.

There was a moan, and a large hand found his head, raking through his hair.

Kurt let his lips travel downward, kissing each defined ab, his tongue slipping into the bellybutton, then sliding along the line of the pair of maroon briefs.

The hand in his hair left, tracing along his jaw, touching his face in such an intimately romantic way that Kurt wished he wasn't dreaming.

Wondering how far his imagination would let him go until he was jerked into reality, he let the soft pads on his fingers rub over the hard bulge visible in the red underwear.

"Kurt." It was shuddered, weak, and quickly followed by an erotic moan when Kurt pressed harder, soaking in the hardness against his palm.

Then arms were around him, pulling him up, and a searing kiss was placed on his waiting lips.

He was flipped over onto his back, aggressive kisses still being slammed onto his lips, and straddled.

And he realized that it kind of hurt.

Which meant he wasn't dreaming.

Which meant someone was scraping their teeth down his throat, surely leaving a mark.

Someone was licking the shell of his ear, making his shiver and arch his back.

Someone dragged his tongue tantalizingly over the wet spot on the front of Kurt's Prada underwear.

Someone was being shoved away.

Someone toppled off the bed and landed heavily on the floor, cursing loudly.

Kurt scrambled upright, clinging to the soft cotton tee shirt that had been pulled over his head. He was shaking; there were goosebumps on his arms.

Puck climbed off the floor, hastily readjusting himself, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Kurt's eyes were locked on the boy's sharp jawline, his pretty hazel eyes, his pouting lips.

He reached up, feeling the sore spot on his neck. Puck's eyes fluttered there and Kurt could have swore his cheeks flushed a little.

"You might want to wear a scarf or...something." He said quietly, voice hoarse.

Kurt swallowed. "Thank you for that stunning piece of wisdom, Puckerman." He didn't even snap back; his cheeks flamed red. Kurt's eyes narrowed. "What is it? What did I say last night?"

Puck shuffled his feet and tried to put his hands in his pockets, forgetting he was only wearing his underwear. His arms flopped awkwardly to the side. "Nothing."

"Really?" Kurt tapped his barefoot on the floor. "Because you're blushing like a little boy who got caught glancing up a girl's skirt. Also, you should be incredibly angry with me at this moment and you're not. What did I say, Puckerman?"

"I should go," he said, and successfully located his jeans, which were in a rumpled pile near the bed. Kurt balled up the shirt in his hand and threw it at Puck's head. It missed, but landed softly on one of his broad shoulders. "Thanks."

Kurt sighed and took a few steps closer, watching the boy's long fingers fumbled on his belt. He kept missing the right notch.

Lightly, the soprano reached out a feathery hand and slid the prong into the third hole, smirking in satisfaction when the belt fell perfectly on Puck's waist.

Leaning over carefully, as though he was afraid that Kurt would slap him away, Puck placed a soft kiss on the crown on his head, dipping his nose into the mess of Kurt's coconut smelling hair.

"You said that I was going to break your heart." He whispered, the sound making Kurt melt at the knees. He bent forward a little, pressing his chest into Puck's. "I thought it was kind of obvious, Kurt."

"What?" He cursed the illegitimate sounding question. Puck didn't seem to notice; he merely chuckled.

"You're going to be the death of me, Kurt Hummel."

Review, please. :) xoxo.