Chapter Three: Interrupted

Kurt was confused. He couldn't grasp why Noah Puckerman was trying to be civil. Okay, so Kurt had sucked his dick – and what a tasty, huge, thick cock it was – but surely that wasn't enough to warrant this kind of response? Not that Kurt didn't like the attention.

The fashionista gently touched the now yellowing bruise on his face. It had been four days since Noah had helped Kurt in treating the swelling to his face and the larger boy was still very much accommodating, watching out for Kurt and ensuring that the jocks knew he was off-limits, although that didn't stop the select few.

"Hey, Hummel." A silky, distinctly male voice uttered.

"Puckerman." Kurt responded, fixing his hair and glancing at the other boy in his locker-bound mirror. "Shouldn't you have math?"

A large hand settled on his shoulder as Puck leaned closer, keeping eye contact as he murmured, "Couldn't leave my boy on his own, could I?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, slapped the hand away and, as his locker slammed, spun to confront the taller boy. Puck was smirking at the flustered expression Kurt could feel growing on his face.

"Puck," Kurt's brow furrowed as Noah pouted a little, "you of all people should know that what we did had no meaning what-so-ever. Why do you insist on following me around? I certainly don't need protection. If I've got this far without you acting as bodyguard, I sure as hell can make it through another year and a half."

Puck looked a little startled, and Kurt took some pride in the fact that he had thrown Lima's man whore-slash-badass off kilter.

"Uh, Kurt…" Noah hung his head and rubbed the back of his strong neck, "well… Look, do you wanna go for coffee?" Kurt opened his mouth to shoot him down, "Before you say anything, I'd just… I'd like to get the chance to know you. You know, behind all that fashion crap, I bet you're a pretty cool dude."

Okay, so that had Kurt stumped and left his mouth hanging open in what he was sure was a really unattractive manner. Somehow Noah – the boy who had played a part in making Kurt's life a living hell – reminded the countertenor of a lost puppy. Something in the almost defeated stance and the large brown eyes.

The taller boy shifter on his feet a little and looked up and down the currently empty hallway.

"Alright then, Puckerman," Kurt finally relented, "what do you have in mind? Oh, and for the record, don't ever call me dude. I don't much appreciate being called after a camel's foreskin." Noah chuckled at this, and then pulled a strange face.

"Is that what it means?"

Kurt smiled, the edges of his mouth turning up a little and his eyes lighting up. "Yes, so don't call me dude." The countertenor shrugged his satchel a little higher and flicked his fringe. "Where do you wanna go then?"

"How about the Lima Bean?"

"Deal."

Sat across from Puck, Kurt sipped delicately at his low-fat mocha as Noah deliberated what they should talk about. In the end he voiced the only thing that came to mind, the one issue that had been haunting him for four days.

"So…" He started and Kurt lifted an eyebrow at him over the mug in his hand, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Who was it that hit you, Kurt?"

The mirth in the countertenor's eyes faded and he lowered his drink. "I thought we had this discussion? It's not something I can't deal with, besides, Noah, you don't know them. They attend Dalton, we just had a falling out that day."

"What do you mean, 'a falling out'? It must have been pretty intense for some sissy boy to hit you." Puck said, taking a sip from his own drink.

Kurt rolled his eyes, smirking, "Puck, we just had a discussion that got out of hand, you think I didn't give as good as I got? Please! My dad was on the boxing team at our age, and the football team, do you really think I'm as hopeless as I seem?"

Noah shrugged.

"You know, this is why the football team get hurt – emotionally and physically – you all underestimate your opponents." Kurt chuckled and tapped the table with manicured fingernails.

Puck, on impulse, reached across and gently touched the back of Kurt's slender hand. "I certainly underestimated you, Kurt." He said softly, tracing lazy circles over the supple skin beneath his finger tips. Kurt's face flushed prettily and he swallowed. "Hey," his voice lowered a little, a slight hoarseness entering his tone and he locked eyes with the slimmer boy, "that night… could we… you know? I'd like to try more. Maybe I could even show you a thing or two…"

Kurt's heart was beating so hard he was certain that the larger boy could hear it. Even before their little tryst Kurt – still the 'normal' hormone-riddled teenage boy – had of course fantasised about all kinds of sex-related things with the boy opposite him; after all Noah Puckerman was the school's self-acclaimed sex shark and Kurt had to admit that, with his virgin status, there was definitely something appealing about being cared for by Noah in the sex department.

Perhaps handing my virginity over to Noah's care wouldn't be such a bad thing? The pale boy thought, his face flushing with the images dancing before his eyes as he looked at Puck's large, tanned hand over his own pale, slender one, the difference in their skin tone did funny things to his stomach. So many people have, after all, and the go back for more… there must be something in Puck that fascinates them.

Slowly, he let his eyes travel from their almost joined hands, up Puck's arm, his mouth going dry as he stared at his impressive biceps for a moment before he moved his gaze onwards resting briefly at Noah's strong neck and finally allowing his gaze to wander over the larger boy's face. An almost square-shaped face with a defined jaw and a rounded chin covered in a subtle amount of stubble. Large, sensual lips slanted a little in his signature smirk, to the right of which was a cute beauty mark that Kurt had not noticed before, dark and set just above where Kurt was sure there were dimples waiting to break out at the slightest hint of a smile. A button nose and eyebrows the same hue as that stupid Mohawk – though the slight curing of the hair on the top of Puck's head wasn't lost on the countertenor and he couldn't help visualising faintly longer hair on the footballer, idly wondering whether it would fall in waves or resemble Jewfro. Then he plucked up the courage to look into the eyes of the boy across from him and suddenly sucked in a quick, silent breath. At first glance, Puck's eyes looked a simple brown, but upon closer inspection, Kurt found that he was staring into eyes that reminded him of the cabin he would go to with his father every year – of safety and home – Noah's pupils were surrounded by a warm chocolate brown which bled into a wolfish-amber into a pine green, the irises were then ringed with black almost as though God had taken a kohl pencil to them. Overall, Kurt had never really taken note of just how stunning Puck was – especially taking into consideration that tiniest hint of emotional anguish Kurt had seen in those beautiful eyes.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Noah?" Kurt asked, amusement in his tone, even as he, too, lowered his voice to a bedroom sound.

Noah smiled, and sure enough a dimple surfaced a few millimetres below his beauty mark, "Is it working?" He asked back, leaning forward a little.

Kurt smirked, pulling his hand back from beneath Puck's and taking a drink, "You'll have to try harder than that if I have boy from Dalton practically breaking down my door, Puckerman."

Knowing that he had got to Kurt, Noah smiled, drawing himself back to his side of the table and taking a sip of his own drink. "I enjoy a challenge, Kurt." He murmured, openly undressing Kurt with his eyes.

Kurt smiled a little knowing smile, casting his eyes away from Noah's as a blush painted his pale cheeks; then the moment was broken, "Kurt?" Puck looked up and there stood a Hobbit.