"I was wondering when you were going to come around. It's been a while."
He loved that voice. It was nearly sinful how seductive it could be.
Puck licks his lips, his eyes beckoning the girl forward. She obliges, lunging at him with the ferocity of a starved feline, kissing, sucking, biting his lips.
Quinn was a dirty blonde. It was an accurate term to describe both her hair color, and her character. Puck had hooked up with her once or twice since his stint in the Vista Point behavioral rehab center. Not all the way, just a blow job here and there. Heavy petting, kissing, even a little dry humping.
She was one of those privileged porcelain dolls with a Daddy complex, an eating disorder, and a strong sting of projected self hate that often came out in belittling, judgemental spouts against others.
But she was gorgeous. And sort of a slut. And Puck's a dude. A teenaged dude with needs. So there you have it. The sum of their relationship was sucking face, body parts, and acting indifferent every other moment between.
She was licking his neck now, fingers running through his mohawk like she owned it.
"Damn, babe. Somebody's missed Daddy."
"God yes. I've missed Daddy so bad. I could practically taste him whenever I closed my eyes."
Puck hisses as she nips his neck, his hands rubbing along her pert little ass.
This is great. He knows it. Letting her do this to him. It's exactly what he needed. A quickie in the corner of the laundry room. A quick nut, no strings attached. He hears himself moan, feels her fingers drag over the front of his uniformed chest, raking across his stomach and then stopping at the elastic of his pants. She looks up at him from a kneeling position as her fingers fumble with unknotting the draw string.
Puck never noticed how bright her eyes are. Jade. A beautiful jade color, but so bright they could almost be blue.
A mack truck might've felt better.
He covers his mouth as the puke stirs, burning his esophagus.
"Stop," he manages to mumble.
"Oh you know I can't do that," she retorts playfully loosening the strings with a swift tug.
"Seriously. Stop."
"Daddy's getting a little nervous I see. That's okay. I'll help you feel all better so we can keep playing."
"I said stop!" And he pushes her roughly away from him, the bile coming up too easily after that. Puck hates himself for eating that hefty breakfast burrito this morning as it spills onto the tiled floor of the laundry room.
Quinn is staring at him with wide eyes, clearly disgusted at the display. Ironic. The bitch threw up more times in a day then Puck has in the last few years of his life. Who the fuck was she to get all uppity about a few chunks?
"God. What the hell is wrong with you?"
He's still bent over, spitting up the last remaining remnants of his upchuck.
"Just. We can't do this. I don't want to do this anymore. We're done."
"What?"
"I said. We're. Done."
She stood up slowly, her eyes glistening, hateful.
"Oh. So what you're telling me is some limp dicked, coke snorting drug addict, trailer park piece of shit is done with me? That's rich. You really have some fucking nerve Puckerman."
If she wasn't a woman, she'd been bleeding from at least one of the orifaces on her face. Turns out most of the stuff she spat was true. Hence him wishing that she'd suddenly sprout a dick so he could lay her out without the guilt.
But instead he remained bent over, avoiding her eyes. Those fucking eyes. Even after she had slammed the door behind her, the thought of those eyes made him feel ill all over again.
He had been reminded of a certain pair of blue eyes. While a girl was about to go down on him.
What the fuck did that mean?
Puck almost turned around to head the other way.
There he was: old blue eyes himself, a few people ahead in the lunch line. Fuck. Seeing that dopey smile drift across his lips while he and that Jewtastic dweeb talked about God knows what, was almost enough to make him puke again.
He sighed, hoping that he would just go un-noticed. He needed to eat after all. He sucked in an unsteady breath however when he caught sight of the next person over from Lady face.
Quinn.
What were the odds?
Well, shitty obviously. But damn, Puck really was tempted to just bolt. He didn't have it in him to deal with any resounding drama without needing to crack skulls to relieve the tension building within himself. He really didn't do discomfort well.
Then he heard it. Quinn had found another target apparently. Her words drifted back to him as if she had truly meant them for his ears instead of the black chick (Mercedes? - he strained momentarily to remember) she was currently hurling them at.
"Aren't you piling a bit much on your plate?"
"What do you care?"
"Oh, I don't. Just wondering how much more of an elephant you need to become before you realize that food won't fix you."
It was harsh. Even for Puck.
No. Wait. That was Puck. Those words, that mask of contempt. It was like someone holding up a mirror for him.
It was like you could visibly see the light leave the black girl's brown eyes as Quinn smirked triumphantly.
Even long after the girl had sat down to eat, it was clear from the vacant expression and lack of interaction with that goth asian she usually chats up that her spirit was aching, bleeding out like a leaked oil drum.
Puck sat alone, observing.
There was something about the way the boy's shoulders sagged a little as he sat with Jew fro, that Puck knew immediately that Kurt could understand what that Mercedes girl felt, and was clearly hurt on her behalf.
Hell the dude had been subjected to a managerie of the finest insults Puck could muster since he'd arrived at the facility. He was sure the kid had no choice but to get used to that kind of shit from people; probably had to deal with it all his life.
Another first. He actually started to feel a sting of guilt burrow in the pit of his stomach. Perplexed was a nice, long, SAT type word to describe his current state of mind Puck thought to himself.
Perplexed. Perplexed at this feeling when he figures the whole world fucking owes him. Puck had decided that a long time ago. Perplexed that he could associate his own internalized feelings of guilt with witnessing some other fuck wad that had nothing to do with him get put in her place.
Perplexed indeed. Good word.