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"You can't be serious," Kurt says as soon as they pull into the parking lot.
Puck picks a spot as close to the door as he can get, looking around to check for any other cars in the lot before he answers. "Babe, come on, it'll be fun."
"The building's probably not even open," Kurt says, but he's still looking at the place like it's going to bite him if he gets any closer. And he's probably right about the place being locked, but that's never been a problem for Puck. He grins and throws the rental into park, then he cuts the engine and pockets the keys before he climbs out.
"Come on," he says again, leaning in the open car door to raise his eyebrows at Kurt. "I'll let you serenade me in the auditorium."
Kurt mutters something Puck probably doesn't want to hear, so he doesn't bother asking him to repeat it. He doesn't really care how much Kurt complains, because he's getting out of the car and wrapping his arms around his chest against the sudden rush of cold.
Puck tries the front door, just in case, but it's locked up tight. Which is just fine with him, because it means once he does get them inside, they've got the whole place to themselves. And he knows exactly how to get in, at least if McKinley hasn't come into enough money to fix the broken window in the boys' locker room in the last four years.
Then again, the boys' locker room doesn't have anything to do with the Cheerios and their winning streak, so Puck figures their chances are pretty good.
"Noah, the door's locked," Kurt protests when Puck grabs his hand and drags him around the side of the building. "I'm sure they didn't lock the front and forget to lock the back."
"Relax, babe, I got this." Puck stops when they reach the outside of the boys' locker room, reaching up to test what he's pretty sure is the window with the broken latch. At first it doesn't budge, but it's cold out, and Puck's determined.
"Please tell me you're joking. Do you really think getting arrested for breaking and entering is going to give your mother a happy Hanukkah?"
"It's already broken," Puck says, gritting his teeth and pulling until he hears the pop that lets him know the busted latch has finally given. "Been this way since we went here, I used to sneak in when I was late so Figgins wouldn't bust me coming in the front door. So technically it's not B&E. Trespassing charge, tops."
"I feel so much better now. And I'm still not climbing through that window."
Puck rolls his eyes and turns to look at Kurt, taking in bright pink cheeks and the way his hair's all messed up from the wind biting at his skin. He lets go of the window and takes a couple steps forward, wrapping his arms around Kurt to pull him close.
"I'll go around and open the gym door. It'll just take a minute, I promise. Then we can go inside and I'll work on warming you up."
He expects another protest, but it is pretty fucking cold, and L.A.'s made Kurt kind of a pussy when it comes to weather. "Fine. But hurry."
Puck grins against Kurt's mouth, then he pulls back and reaches for the window again. "Meet me around the corner in a minute."
He hoists himself through the window and drops onto the locker room floor, then he pauses to listen for a second, just in case Coach Beiste is prowling around the place. When all he hears is the eerie silence of the locker room he lets out a breath, then he crosses to the door that leads to the gym.
There's nobody in there either, and Puck grins at his own genius as he pushes the back door open and grips Kurt's arm to pull him inside. Kurt's so cold his teeth are chattering, lips chapped from the wind and damn, he looks miserable. Puck takes pity on him and doesn't laugh in his face or call him a wuss; instead he reaches for the front of Kurt's coat and tugs him forward, pressing as much of himself against Kurt as he can.
"I can't believe I fell in love with a juvenile delinquent," Kurt complains, but his arms are sliding under Puck's jacket, icy hands on his back and soaking up Puck's body heat.
"I'm not a juvenile anymore," Puck whispers against his cheek. "So I guess this goes on my permanent record."
It's hard to believe it's only been two days since he handed over his test results. It feels like years since the last time he really got to touch Kurt, and he's pretty sure he's going to go crazy by the end of their trip. It's not even about the sex -- though he misses that, of course, misses it a whole fucking lot -- so much as it's about just being together. He likes waking up next to Kurt, likes falling into bed and warming up the sheets while he listens to Kurt getting ready for bed, spending fucking ages rubbing cream and shit into his skin.
He likes that when Kurt finally slides under the covers next to him that he smells kind of flowery and sweet, but that Puck can pin him against the mattress and tug his arms up over his head, holding him in place while he buries his face in Kurt's armpit and breathes in the smell of sweat and Kurt.
The first time he did it Kurt fought him pretty hard, squirming underneath Puck and muttering about disgusting boys and tugging at his grip. And Puck would have let him up if he thought Kurt really meant it, but as soon as Puck looked up and said, "I love the way you smell," he quit fighting. He turned redder than Puck had ever seen, but he didn't argue when Puck went back to a pretty thorough exploration of his armpit.
He's pretty sure Kurt's still embarrassed about the fact Puck can turn him into a wreck just by tonguing the hollow in the center of his pit, but Puck fucking loves it. He likes nosing the soft hair under Kurt's arms, likes that underneath all the carefully buttoned clothes and the truly disturbing amounts of moisturizer he uses, there's still a part of him that smells like a guy, no matter what he does.
Puck doesn't think too hard about why he gets off on Kurt's armpits, but when he does think of it he figures it's got something to do with the amount of time he spent in the locker room back in high school.
"Did we really break into our old high school to make out in the gym?" Kurt asks, and Puck drags his mouth away from a thorough exploration of Kurt's neck to grin at him.
"Well, you won't tell me what all those fantasies were about back in high school, so I'm improvising here."
"I can promise you that the concept of you kissing me in the gym never once entered my mind back then."
He has a feeling Kurt's going for bored, maybe a little annoyed, but his lips are parted like he's just waiting for Puck to kiss him again, and his pupils are wide and dark. Puck knows if he pushed hard enough Kurt would let Puck do him right here, on the hard varnished floor of the gym. But as appealing as that idea is to parts of him, he's never been one for bruises on his knees and elbows if he can help it.
"Guess I'll just have to try harder," he says, then he grips the front of Kurt's coat and tugs him toward the door that leads to the rest of the school. "Come on."
It's a little weird, walking down a completely deserted hallway when they both remember it a lot more crowded than this. Even when they were here after hours for Glee rehearsal or whatever, there was always somebody else around, some chance they'd run into another person. Today all they've got for company is rows of lockers, the squeak of their shoes against freshly waxed linoleum, and each other.
Puck stops in front of the trophy case, peering in at the huge trophy planted front and center that tells him the football team did them proud this year.
"Would you look at that," he says, arm sliding off Kurt's shoulders to get a closer look at the names on the trophy. "They actually managed to win a division title. It's not State, but still. You know, we would have made State if you hadn't ditched us to stand on the sidelines and shake your ass at the crowd."
"Oh, no. I'm not taking the blame for your failure to lead the team to victory or whatever. And I did not shake my ass."
"Technically Finn was the one doing the leading. And the failing." Puck turns away from the trophy case to slide his arms around Kurt's waist, under his coat where he can spread his hand across Kurt's ass and squeeze. "And you did shake your ass, babe. I was watching."
"I thought you said I was too boring to notice in high school."
"I said you were predictable," Puck answers, leaning in to brush his lips against Kurt's jaw. "And you would have laughed in my face if I'd come on to you back then anyway. Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the show."
And he's still kind of predictable, as it turns out, because when Puck pulls back to check, sure enough, Kurt's got his bottom lip stuck out in a full-on pout. Puck grins and sucks Kurt's lip between his own, teeth sinking into that full pout and when Kurt gasps Puck takes the in and slides his tongue into Kurt's mouth.
Kurt's hands are under his jacket again, clutching hard at his shirt as Puck pushes a thigh between Kurt's legs. His hand slides through Kurt's hair to tilt his head just a little, his other hand on Kurt's hip to pull him flush against Puck's chest. He wonders vaguely if this is what it would have been like if he had come on to Kurt back then, if he would have let Puck kiss him like this in the halls with hundreds of other kids staring as they walked by.
No way, Puck thinks, and he laughs against Kurt's mouth at the memory of Kurt back then, clutching that stupid bag and acting like he was better than everybody so they wouldn't figure out he didn't know what the hell he was doing. He swallows a warm surge of affection and pulls back far enough to look at Kurt, taking in kiss-swollen lips and that dazed, dopey expression Kurt would never own up to in a million years.
"Am I getting any warmer?"
It takes a second for Kurt to figure out what he means, but when he finally does he rolls his eyes and lets go of Puck. "Not even close."
Not that he really expected Kurt's high school jerk-off fantasies to feature the trophy case, but Puck's going to figure it out if he has to make out with Kurt in every room of the building. And they've got all day, so he might just do that anyway. He grins and grips Kurt's hand, pulling him away from the trophy case and down the hall in the direction of the auditorium.
They're halfway there when Kurt looks over at him, expression kind of thoughtful and Puck grins and squeezes his hand. "What?"
"I wouldn't have, you know. Laughed in your face."
Puck doesn't bother pointing out that it would have been better if he did, because it's not like Puck ever came on to him back then, so it doesn't matter. So he doesn't have to remind Kurt that if Puck had, it would have been a one-time thing, and Kurt would have ended up feeling used and probably hurt. That was just how Puck operated in high school; no strings, and no messy emotional stuff. It was the whole reason he and Santana kept going back to each other in those days.
Then again, if he and Kurt had hooked up, things might have been different. Maybe he would have recognized something special once he finally had it, even back then. He'd been willing to commit with Quinn, even if he had been kind of an asshole about it, and if he'd gotten over the whole 'part-time gay' thing and hooked up with Kurt back then, he might have figured out years ago that this was worth taking a slushie in the face every now and then.
"Yeah? You think I could have helped you get over Finn?" he asks, and he's just messing around, but he's kind of...not.
Kurt makes a face at the mention of his stepbrother, but he doesn't try to deny it or anything. "I got over him without anyone's help. The day he called me a fag in front of my father sort of took the shine off my image of him."
Puck knows he doesn't have any room to talk, because it's not like he's never used that word. He said it plenty of times back then, and he probably even said it to Kurt. But he never would have expected Hudson to say it, and especially not in front of Burt.
"Damn."
Kurt scrunches up his nose and makes an impatient gesture with his free hand. "It was a long time ago. Anyway, I doubt I would have thrown myself into your arms and swooned if you'd hit on me in high school. It's likely I would have assumed you were attempting to lay an elaborate trap so you and your Neanderthal friends could play Smear the Queer some more. But I wouldn't have laughed at you."
"Guess that was more my style in those days," Puck says. He feels like shit for dredging up ancient history without even trying, but they've already been down this road, and Kurt's already forgiven him for being an asshole, so he doesn't need to hear it again. Doesn't want to, Puck knows, so instead of saying sorry he lifts the hand still clutched in his and presses his lips to Kurt's knuckles.
"Well it's not like I would have held back out of kindness or anything. I would have been afraid of what you'd do to me if I laughed in your face."
It's a fair point, but it doesn't make Puck feel all that much better, so he's grateful when they reach the auditorium and he can change the subject.
"Now you can't tell me this place didn't feature in some of your wet dreams," he says, pulling the door open and letting Kurt brush past him into the dark theater. And it's been years, but they've both spent plenty of time in this room, so Puck finds the switch box without any trouble and turns on the stage lights.
"I did not fantasize about having sex in the auditorium," Kurt says, but even in the low light Puck can see him blushing, so he knows that's a lie. Hell, Puck fantasized about having sex in here. He did have sex in here a few times, and he figures everybody in Glee at least thought about it.
He doesn't call Kurt on it. Instead he pulls him toward the stage, up the stairs and onto the boards they spent way too much time on when they were kids. And it had been great; it had made them all feel like they could really be somebody someday. Not that Puck had ever wanted to take on Broadway like Rachel and Kurt, but being in Glee made him see he could be more than just another Lima loser, and he was pretty grateful for that.
"It seems so much smaller now," Kurt says, his footsteps echoing on the wood as he crosses the stage.
"The stages in New York are bigger, huh?" Puck asks, and when Kurt turns and smiles at him his heart skips a beat.
"Some of them. Some are even smaller. But when we were in high school this one always felt so big. Now…"
Puck crosses the stage to stand next to Kurt, right at center stage and a few feet away from the edge. He squints out into the seats, but the house lights are off and he can't see past the first few rows.
"I don't know, still feels pretty big to me."
"That's because you spend every Friday night crammed on a stage the size of a walk-in closet with four other people."
"Hey, I like that stage," Puck says, and they both know that's a lie, because he's complained about tripping over Mitch's mike stand and Starr's drum kit a million times. But he likes his band, and he likes playing his music for a crowd, likes that they've got regulars who come see them every week and he likes it best of all when he looks out from the stage and sees Kurt looking right back at him.
Kurt grins and leans up to plant a kiss on his cheek, and Puck laughs and catches him around the waist. "So come on, sing me something. That's why we came in here, right?"
"This is your stroll down memory lane," Kurt says. "I would have been just fine with never seeing the inside of this building again."
"Babe, come on. This is where we met. Sort of," Puck says, laughing when Kurt rolls his eyes. And it's not true, because they'd gone to the same schools forever, but Kurt wasn't even on Puck's radar until he got to McKinley.
"I try so hard to forget that very fact, yet you keep bringing it up." Kurt shoves at his chest and Puck laughs and lets go of him.
"Don't go anywhere," he says, then he turns and heads toward stage left.
He can hear Kurt calling after him, asking where he thinks he's going, but he doesn't answer. Instead he heads for the room where the band always stashed their instruments, grinning when he finds the door unlocked and helping himself to the first guitar he sees. He strums a couple chords, listening to make sure it's more or less in tune before he heads back out to the stage.
"What are you doing?" Kurt asks, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest, and seriously, if he's going to get this uptight about coming back to Ohio, Puck's never letting him out of L.A. again.
"Providing the accompaniment," Puck answers. He strums the guitar again, experimenting with a few chords before he settles on a song he knows Kurt won't be able to resist. "You know you want to."
"You wish," Kurt says, but he's blushing again, trying not to smile and ruin the pout he's got going on. "Seriously, Noah, I haven't performed in years."
"Babe," Puck says, grinning and taking another step toward Kurt, "it's just me."
He knows Kurt doesn't think of himself as a performer anymore, which is pretty weird, considering he gave Berry a run for her money back in the day. He's always been into the fashion thing too, sure, but singing was a part of their lives for so long that it seems kind of strange that Kurt just…stopped.
Puck's thought about dragging him up on stage with the band; pretty much every time Kurt shows up he considers it, and he's pretty sure if Brittany's there too that Kurt would actually go along with it. But he's never gone through with it, and he's not really sure why. Maybe because there's a crowd at the bar, the kind that expects a certain type of sound, and that's not really Kurt's style.
But this is just the two of them, and if Kurt won't sing for him, Puck will just have to do the performing. He strums a few more chords, and when Kurt refuses to take the hint Puck just shakes his head and opens his mouth.
The first few lines are a little sketchy; he hasn't even thought about this song in years, and he's not sure he remembers the whole thing. But Coach Tanaka made them practice to it enough fucking times while Kurt was on the team that it's, like, embedded in his brain, and by the time he hits the first chorus he's really belting it out.
And just like he thought, Kurt can't resist Beyonce, even all these years later, so he jumps in on you shoulda put a ring on it, grinning around the words and even moving his hips a little in those old dance moves he probably hasn't thought about since high school. His voice is sweet and high and clear in that way Puck's never mastered, and it's not like he hasn't heard it a million times in the past few months while Kurt's humming under his breath or singing along to the radio, but it's different when he's singing on purpose.
And yeah, maybe it's kind of cheesy to bust out a weird acoustic version of "Single Ladies" all these years later, but there's nobody else here to care, so he figures it doesn't matter. Kurt's still grinning as he belts out the second verse, anyway, and that was pretty much the sum total of Puck's plan, so he's calling it a success.
When he gets to the end of the song he hits the guitar strings a little harder, holding onto the final note as long as he can, just to prove he was always as good as Hudson. When he runs out of breath he laughs and rests his hand against the strings to stop the guitar from humming.
"See, babe? You still got it."
Kurt blushes and lets Puck kiss him, hand coming up to rest against the back of Puck's neck. "Thank you," Kurt says when he pulls away, and Puck's not exactly sure what for, but he doesn't ask.
Instead he strums the guitar again, doing a couple chords of "Hold My Hand", just to make Kurt blush. Then he grins and shifts down into "I Want to Hold Your Hand", because Kurt loves that fucking song, and Puck knows why he loves it, so he learned to play it pretty much as soon as they got together.
He looks right at Kurt while he sings it, smiling around the chorus because yeah, this song makes Kurt think about his mom and how much he loves his family, but Puck's part of that now too, and anyway he means every stupid, sappy fucking word.
When he reaches the end he lets the guitar fade out on its own, then he slips the strap up and over his head. Kurt's just standing there looking at him like it's the first time he's ever heard Puck play that song, even though he's sung it a few times since they started sleeping together. Once while they were in Kurt's bed, and he was just messing around at the time, but before he even got to the end of the song Kurt pounced on him and made him come so hard Puck saw fucking stars.
So he knows Kurt digs it, but that doesn't explain why he's just standing there staring at Puck like he's never seen him before. Like he's trying to figure something out, and Puck would help him out if he knew what the hell Kurt was thinking, but he hasn't got first clue. Before he can ask Kurt's moving, closing in on him and reaching out to rest his hand on Puck's chest, leaning up to press their lips together for just a beat before he pulls back.
"I was wondering."
"Yeah?" Puck says, distracted because Kurt's mouth is still close enough for Puck to feel the words against his cheek.
"When we get back to L.A., when did you plan to move in? I mean, you'll have to give notice at your apartment, and if there's time left on your lease…"
"I figured I'd just break my lease," Puck says, shrugging because hell, the guy before him never even paid the last three months' rent, so Puck figures he's already a major upgrade. "It's not like I'm gonna hang out another four months just because my lease isn't up. They can keep the security deposit, Brittany's not going to ask for one anyway, right?"
"I'm not even sure Brittany would know what a security deposit is," Kurt answers, and Puck has to laugh at that, because knowing Brittany, she thinks security deposits pay for an invisible force field over their building or something.
"Good point. So I'll start moving my shit the week we get back. If that's cool with you."
"It's absolutely cool with me," Kurt answers, and he still sounds sort of weird and dreamy, but when Puck frowns at him he just smiles and presses another kiss against Puck's mouth. Puck breathes in through his nose and slides an arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him close and kissing him hard before he lets Kurt up for air.
"You sure you never thought about this back in high school?"
"I swear to you I never fantasized about kissing you on the auditorium stage," Kurt answers, and Puck sighs, because he really figured this would be the place that would push all Kurt's buttons.
Then again, he did say something on the phone about his jock fetish, and if he was as into the whole football player thing as he seemed, maybe Puck's already passed by the most obvious place of all.
"Come on," he says, setting the guitar on the stage and grabbing Kurt's hand to pull him toward the stairs.
"Shouldn't we put the guitar away, at least?" Kurt asks, but he lets Puck drag him up the aisle toward the door.
"Fuck it, let the new generation of band geeks deal with it," Puck answers. He does pause long enough to turn off the stage lights, only because he figures if he leaves them on and Figgins finds out, he'll blame Schue. And Puck's not going to do that to Schue, even if he is still dicking Hudson around in all the wrong ways.
"Where are we going?" Kurt asks as Puck drags him out of the auditorium and down the hall.
"I told you," Puck says, turning down the hallway that leads past the trophy case and back to the gym, "we're living out that fantasy of yours today."
Kurt opens his mouth to say something, then he changes his mind and shuts it again. He lets Puck herd him back into the gym, but instead of heading under the bleachers or something Puck pulls Kurt in the direction of the locker room. And it's so obvious now, because Kurt was on the fucking team, so of course he would have thought about the guys in the locker room.
He would have thought about Puck, peeling off a dirty uniform and rinsing off in the showers, muscles tight and sore from the game and closing his eyes under the spray to let the hot water seep into his skin.
It's totally not Kurt's style, mostly because it's so obvious, which is why Puck missed it at first. But he was right when he said they didn't have much to work with, growing up here, so Puck's willing to overlook Kurt's lack of imagination.
When they reach the locker that used to belong to Puck he stops, catching Kurt around the waist and backing him up against cold metal. "You want me to put on a uniform? Because I can probably find one that fits."
For a second Kurt just looks at him like he wants to say something, but he's not really sure how. Then he blushes and shakes his head, reaching out to push his hands under Puck's letter jacket.
"Just leave the jacket on."
Puck laughs low in his throat and leans in to open his mouth against Kurt's neck, pressing hot kisses along pale skin until he reaches Kurt's mouth again. He's had sex in a couple locker rooms in his time, so he knows from experience that it's not the most comfortable place in the world, but if this is Kurt's thing, Puck's going to make it happen for him.
Personally he'd rather have a big bed with soft pillows to press Kurt into, a decent mattress with enough give that he doesn't end up stiff the next day from taking his time. He'd rather have soft sheets and maybe a headboard to lean against when Kurt's on top, so he can fold his arms behind his head and enjoy the show.
But he's felt like they're teenagers again since they got home, so they might as well do it like a couple teenagers, hard and fast and messy and just a little uncomfortable. This wouldn't be happening if they were married already, Puck thinks, swallowing a laugh because wow, Starr's right, he really is kind of obsessed. Only he doesn't really care, not when Kurt's pushing up into him and fisting his hands around the front of Puck's jacket like he really did spend a lot of time alone in his shower in high school, fantasizing about getting fucked while Puck was wearing his letterman jacket.
He lets go of Kurt and takes a step backwards, watching him while he slides his jacket off and hands it over. Then he hooks his thumbs in the hem of his gray cotton shirt and tugs it over his head, dropping it on the bench behind him before he reaches for the jacket and shrugs it back on. And now that he knows Kurt's got a thing for his old jacket he can't stop picturing Kurt wearing it, maybe with nothing else.
Puck grins and files that thought away for later, then he reaches for Kurt and slides his coat off his shoulders. He looks away long enough to make sure the coat actually hits the bench instead of the floor, because he doesn't want anything to ruin the mood, and Kurt bitching about his coat would definitely kill it.
Once Kurt's coat is safely out of the way Puck turns back to him, lets Kurt pull him forward by the front of his jacket until Puck's pressed against him, hands braced on the lockers on either side of Kurt's shoulders and his knee pushing between Kurt's thighs.
"You're gonna have to help me out here, Hummel," he says, smirking at the way Kurt's whole body shudders against him. "If I'm gonna get this right, I have to know what you were picturing when you were jerking off thinking about me."
"I don't recall ever saying that I did any such thing," Kurt answers, but his hands are on Puck's bare chest now, sliding up to Puck's neck and then back down to the top of his jeans. Kurt looks him square in the eye, face flushed with want as he pops the button on Puck's jeans open. "And honestly, your ego really doesn't need the help."
Puck barks out a harsh laugh and pushes his thigh a little further between Kurt's legs, dragging a gasp out of those kiss-swollen lips.
"Have it your way, Princess. But don't blame me if you lie awake all night playing out what could have been."
He expects Kurt to roll his eyes, maybe bitch about Puck calling him Princess or something, but instead he just grins and slides his a hand behind Puck's neck to tug him forward.
"You haven't disappointed me yet," Kurt murmurs against his mouth, and Puck's heart hammers hard in his chest when Kurt kisses him.
He's still working out the logistics when he gets Kurt's pants open, because Kurt's just a little too short to fuck standing up, and as hot as that 'up against the wall, legs around the waist' shit looks in the movies, it's not all that satisfying in real life. It's a lot of fucking work, for one thing, and he's in pretty good shape, but there's only so much effort even his guns can take without some kind of break. Then there's the fact that it's impossible to go deep in that position, which means it's more of a tease for both of them than anything.
Fine for foreplay, not so great for follow-through.
Still, he's determined to figure it out, because it's been way too fucking long already and Kurt's hips are moving against him, humping his thigh like a horny teenager, and the thought of out of control, needy fucking teenage Kurt makes Puck's heart surge so hard in his chest he's pretty sure he's going to stroke out.
He didn't think far enough ahead to bring any lube, but Puck's always been pretty good at improvising, so he just pushes Kurt's pants open and slides his hand inside to pull Kurt's dick out. Kurt's moaning against his mouth, thrusting up into Puck's grip and digging his fingers hard into Puck's back. He knows he's going to have marks there, little indents from Kurt's nails, and the thought makes his own cock twitch.
Making Kurt lose control is, like, his number one priority in life, and he loves the idea of looking in the mirror later in his mom's guest bathroom and seeing the evidence of how bad Kurt wants him embedded in his skin.
"Gonna make you come, baby," he says, mouthing the words close to Kurt's ear, because even though he won't admit it, Kurt totally gets off on dirty talk. "Then I'm gonna fuck you right up against the lockers and make you come all over again."
Kurt's panting and rocking in his grip, making little whining sounds every time Puck's thumb slides across the tip of his cock. He can tell how close Kurt is, knows him so well that he can pull back and see the moment right before Kurt lets go. His eyes are closed and his whole face is flushed, lips parted and dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.
He thrusts up harder, hips moving out of control and when Puck tightens his grip and whispers 'come on' in his ear, Kurt comes in his hand. He loosens his grip on Kurt's dick, hand still moving slow as Kurt rides out the wave of pleasure. Puck smiles and leans forward to press a kiss to each closed eyelid, then each of Kurt's cheeks.
It doesn't take that long for Kurt to come back to himself, and when his eyes flutter open to stare at Puck it sends a surge of affection through Puck that makes his chest ache. And there's still no lube, so Puck knows he's going to have to hit his knees in a minute if he wants to do this right. He considers using Kurt's come to help slick him up, but they're both still wearing most of their clothes and he knows if he gets come on Kurt's pants he'll never hear the end of it.
So he lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean, watching Kurt watch him the entire time. And he's not really looking forward to the bruises he's going to have on his knees from the concrete floor, but it's worth it just to see the blissed-out look on Kurt's face.
"Think you can hold yourself up, babe?" he asks, laughing when Kurt purses his lips like he's not positive, but he thinks he's being insulted.
Puck's hands are on Kurt's pants, already working them down his hips when he hears a noise from somewhere behind them, then a strangled oh my God in a familiar voice. His hands freeze on Kurt's hips and he groans, closing his eyes for a second before he glances over his shoulder.
Sure enough, there's Schue, bright red and staring at them like he's never seen two grown-ass men in love before. And okay, granted, he probably wasn't expecting to find a couple former students fooling around in the locker room, but it's not like he can actually see anything, and Schue should probably shut his mouth before his jaw starts to ache.
As soon as he thinks it Schue's jaw does snap shut, then he turns away and covers his fucking eyes, like he's going to go blind from the gay or something. Puck rolls his eyes and starts putting Kurt back together, glancing up to find Kurt blushing and looking sort of like he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.
"Guys, what...I mean, I can see what you're doing," Schue stammers, still not looking at them, and for a second Puck almost feels a little bad for Finn, having to deal with Schue's bullshit on a regular basis. "But you can't...if Coach Beiste found you instead of me, she'd probably call the cops."
"Yeah, sorry," Puck says without looking at him. He's grinning at Kurt as he buttons him up again, smoothing down his shirt and tucking it back into his pants and Kurt still looks like he wants to die a little, but when Puck rolls his eyes and nods in Schue's direction, one corner of Kurt's mouth quirks up in a tiny smile. "Guess we kind of forgot where we were for a second there."
And yeah, he's pretty pissed about being interrupted, because he's still hard and he had plans for them, but it's not like he can just lock the door and get back to the business of fucking Kurt senseless. Schue's still standing there with his hand over his fucking face, for one thing, and anyway he knows he could never get Kurt to go for it now.
"How'd you guys get in here, anyway?"
"The gym door was wide open, dude," Puck lies as he slides his jacket off and holds it out to Kurt. For a second Kurt just looks at him like he doesn't get it, then he flushes and turns around to slide his arms through the sleeves. Puck takes a second to admire the way Kurt looks wearing his letter jacket, then he pulls his shirt back on and picks up Kurt's coat.
"We figured somebody was in here, thought we'd say hi if Coach was around."
"And when she wasn't, you just thought..."
Kurt's blushing so hard Puck's pretty sure he might burst into flames, and Schue's not doing much better. At least he finally took his hand off his eyes, though, and Puck smiles as sincerely as he can and shrugs like he knows he's busted.
"I've kinda always had this locker room fantasy, you know? Kurt was just being a good sport," Puck says, watching as Will's blush turns up a notch, and suddenly he's pretty sure Kurt's not the only one in the room with a jock fetish. "We didn't mean to freak you out or anything."
"No, no, I just...I wasn't really expecting anyone to be here," Schue says, still blushing and waving his hands around like he's not really sure what to do with them. "It's great to see you guys, though. Finn told me you two were...but I guess I didn't really believe it until now."
"Yeah, we get that a lot." Puck glances at Kurt, who's still looking like he'd rather be anywhere in the world besides standing in front of Schue right now. And Puck can't really blame him, because they were kind of in the middle of something when Schue showed up.
He reaches for Kurt's hand and threads their fingers together, tugging Kurt close enough to reach into his pocket for the car keys.
"So listen, you should totally come by Kurt's dad's place on Saturday night. Finn's mom is doing another family dinner, you know, celebrating the prodigal son's return and all." He pauses to grin at Kurt, but all he gets in return is a look that tells him he's digging his own grave. "Burt and Mrs. H wouldn't mind one more, right, babe?"
"No, of course not," Kurt answers in a high, strangled voice, because he might wish dying of embarrassment were actually possible, and he might be planning to kill Puck as soon as they get back in the car, but he's not going to let any of that get in the way of his manners. "We'd love to have you."
"Finn especially," Puck adds, just in case Schue doesn't get the point.
For a second Schue just stares down at their hands where they're still entwined, and Jesus, Puck hopes the dude isn't secretly a homophobe after all this time, because that will totally suck for Hudson. And yeah, Hudson can be a real pain in the ass, but he doesn't deserve that. Then Schue clears his throat and looks up at them, smiling and shaking his head.
"I wouldn't want to intrude on a family thing, guys."
"Dude, you're totally family," Puck says, ignoring the way Kurt's fingers squeeze hard around his. "Come on, if it wasn't for you and Glee, me and Kurt probably never would have reconnected out in L.A. So you know, we kind of owe you."
It's bullshit and they all know it, except that it kind of...isn't. Because sure, Puck knew who Kurt was before Glee, but if it hadn't been for Schue making Puck see that maybe there was something more to life than cracking skulls and getting stupid drunk, Puck might not have made it out of Lima, let alone all the way to L.A. So in a way they do have him to thank, which is just weird enough to make sense.
"Wow," Schue says, hand on the back of his neck like Puck just paid him a bigger compliment than he knows how to deal with. "Thanks, guys. Guess I can't say no to that."
"Excellent. Kurt'll get Finn to call you with the time and address and all that. He's got your number, right?"
"Yeah...uh, yes," Schue answers, still rubbing his neck and smiling like he's having some sort of Hallmark moment, and that's definitely their cue to leave.
"Great. It was really good seeing you, Mr. Schuester," Puck says, and he's surprised to find that he actually means it.
"It's Will," Schue says, snapping back to reality long enough to grin at them. "I'm not your teacher anymore, guys. We're just old friends now, right?"
Puck grins back, and even Kurt manages a smile that's mostly sincere as Puck pulls him past Schue, out of the locker room and down the hall. They let themselves out the front door, shivering against a blast of cold air and hurrying across the parking lot to the car. Puck unlocks it and slides into the driver's seat, waiting until Kurt climbs in and closes the door to laugh.
"If that's what Hudson's working with, no way is that book you got him going to help. He's going to die a gay virgin if he holds out for Schue," Puck says, shaking his head and grinning at Kurt.
"I'm sure he'll have plenty of opportunities to explore his sexuality in prison after he kills you for inviting Schue over for dinner." Kurt's cheeks are still red, but his mouth's twitching at the corners like he's trying not to laugh.
"Whatever, babe, I'm just trying to help the guy. Though maybe you better give him his Christmas present early. He might want to read up a little before Saturday."
Kurt stops fighting his grin, but he shakes his head and turns away from Puck to reach for his seat belt. "You're incorrigible."
"Hey, at least I indulged your little locker room fetish," Puck says, reaching out to run his fingers along the collar of his letter jacket. "And you look pretty good in my jacket."
Kurt makes a thoughtful little 'hmm' noise and catches Puck's hand, pulling it away from his collar to rest on the armrest between them. He's still smiling, but it's softer now and kinda shy, the same way he smiles whenever Puck says 'I love you'.
"I admit, that was sort of fun, at least until Mr. Schuester showed up. But I never had a single locker room fantasy. At least not about you."
Puck doesn't ask who Kurt had locker room fantasies about. He's pretty sure he already knows, and if it's more than just Finn, he doesn't want to hear that either. Anyway, what matters is that Schue showed up at exactly the wrong time, and Puck still didn't manage to guess what Kurt fantasized about him in high school.
"Was it the football field? Because that's not really your style, babe. Anyway, it's way too fucking cold out."
Kurt shakes his head, but he's still looking at Puck like he hung the fucking moon or something.
"Actually, you were pretty close with the auditorium. I think you must have serenaded every single girl in Glee at one time or another. Usually it was just because you wanted something from them, but you could be so sweet when you were singing. I think it was the way you smiled when you really got into the song and it stopped being about getting in someone's pants and just became you, enjoying the performance. It was easy to forget what a colossal jerk you were when you were singing."
Puck laughs, sharp and surprised, because he honestly never noticed Kurt noticing him back then. It's true that he usually started out singing to somebody, but he loved it as much as the rest of them, maybe even more than some. That's the reason he still does it, and the reason he still doesn't mind singing back-up instead of being frontman.
"So you're saying you got off on watching me sing?"
Kurt shrugs, cheeks going a little pink, but he's still smiling.
"I think everyone got off on watching you sing. But I guess part of me wanted someone to look at me the way you used to look at the girls when you sang to them."
"Yeah, but I've sung to you plenty of times," Puck says. "Why didn't you just tell me that on the phone last night when I asked?"
When he blushes this time it makes his whole face go red, and he looks down at their hands so he won't have to look at Puck. "Fine, if you must know, I only imagined what it would be like if you sang that way to me one time. It certainly wasn't one of my prouder moments, though at least you'd stopped taking all your teen angst out on me by then."
Kurt pauses and steals a glance up at Puck, but there's no way he's going to say anything and blow the chance of finally hearing what Kurt's so embarrassed about. So he just watches Kurt, thumb moving over Kurt's knuckles as he watches the blush spread down his neck.
"I don't even remember what you were singing that week. Something horrible and romantic, I'm sure. But in my fantasy we were the only ones in the room, and we ended up on top of the piano."
"Piano sex?" Puck says, raising an eyebrow that makes Kurt blush even harder.
"I told you it was humiliating. God, can you imagine Mr. Schuester walking in on that?"
He can imagine it just fine, from the look on Schue's face to the amount of groveling he'd have to do to make Kurt forgive him for talking him into living out that particular fantasy in the first place. Still, he wishes Kurt had just fessed up, because if they'd gone straight to the choir room they probably could have gotten to the actual sex part before Schue showed up.
"For the record, I would totally have piano sex with you," he says, grinning back at Kurt when he laughs. "And I'll sing anything you want, too."
"That's why I didn't tell you," Kurt says, his hand tightening around Puck's. "I already get to live out the best part of that stupid fantasy every day."
"It's not stupid, babe." Puck lifts their hands and kisses Kurt's fingers where they're resting against his, then he lets go and starts the engine. "Not even close."