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“I can’t believe there’s no MILFs hitting on me.”
Finn is kinda having trouble believing it too. But normally when moms hit on Puck he’s wearing ripped jeans and no shirt and sunglasses. Finn should know, he’s spied on Puck a few times. Not enough to be stalkery-creepy, it’s not like he follows the guy’s truck with his bike every morning over summer vacation. He’s just already been in the neighbourhood, once or twice, and why not peer over the fence to see Puck kneeling at the edge of the pool, sweaty, mohawk plastered to his skull? It’s an image no one should be without.
Finn shrugs. “Maybe it’s the suit.”
“Fuck you, I look hot in this suit.”
“You do,” Finn agrees. It’s automatic. Puck does. Then he realises what he’s said and his hands fly to cover his mouth like he can stop any more words coming out. Then Finn realises that too, was the wrong thing to do. He should have made a joke, not gone bug-eyed.
“Shit Hudson. Are you gay?”
Finn bolts. There’s no way he’s having this conversation. Especially not with Puck, who, a few weeks ago got half the football team to shoot him with paintball pellets for joining ‘Homo Explosion’.
Unfortunately Puck is fast when he wants to be. By the time Finn’s on the back steps outside McKinley, Puck’s tackling him. His shoulders grind into the concrete and then stay where they are when Puck’s hands go to either one of his biceps to keep him down. That, combined with the weight on his stomach and the leg locked around his means Finn’s not getting up any time soon. Not unless Puck lets him.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”
He never thought he’d be whimpering at Puck. That’s something that losers do. Even when Puck’s been pissed at him in the past Finn’s never cowered. It would lose him Puck’s respect, and once Puck doesn’t give a shit what he does becomes sort of a free for all. But cold hard concrete on his back and truth as firm in front of him, Finn begs. “Please don’t punch me in the throat. Rachel will kill me.”
“I’m not gonna.”
Finn should be grateful. He knows he should. Puck is very much a punch now ask questions later kind of person. He just can’t help being curious. “Why not?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to not look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“Yeah. But still. You’re not gonna dumpster me, are you? Because I’m wearing my only suit.” It’s bad enough that they’re at the smoking doors and he’s on top of a thousand teenager’s chaw spit. He doesn’t need smears of pizza sauce or moldy orange on him too.
“I’m not going to dumpster you, moron. I’m not even pissed.”
“Uh.” It’s an involuntary noise, one that Puck’s face less than a foot from his twitches at. If Finn gets through this night alive it’ll be a miracle, a lot more of one than meeting Josh Groban.
“Maybe it’s flattering or whatever. I’m so hot even straight guys want me.”
Now is probably not the time to tell Puck one of his recurring best dreams is one where he’s having a threesome with Quinn and a boy Quinn. Instead Finn goes for more flattering. “I do.”
“That’s cool. Kinda.”
That’s when Puck blows Finn’s damn mind. He squirms a little, not enough to give Finn leverage to get up off the ground, and Finn doesn’t even have a second to realise that the movement was Puck getting his hand between them before Puck’s touching his junk. No, not touching. Fondling. He’s definitely fondling. Finn’s almost as confused as he is turned on, and seeing as Puck’s fingers on the line of his dick is making him so hot he could spontaneously combust, it says a lot about how confusing this is. Still, he’s gonna just go with this now and deal with any consequences later. He’s wanted Puck for months now, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would never happen. Now that it is, nothing could make Finn back out.
Realistically, he couldn’t anyway. He’s about three...two...one seconds from blowing his load. Finn scrunches his eyes closed and tries to imagine the groan the mailman made, somehow audible over his mother’s shrieking, but it’s not enough to prevent his balls from contracting.
“Oh, really?” Puck chuckles, obviously able to feel the spreading wet warmth between their groins. “So much for the shit you’ve said in celibacy club.”
If they could convert his blush into power they could light up Columbus. Puck’s smirking, of course. Finn would kind of like to die. “Great, so you made me lose my guy virginity. Can you like get off and leave me alone now?”
Puck obeys half the instructions. Less, really. He doesn’t get off Finn completely, just scrambles back to sit on his legs. His knees bend backwards a bit, which hurts, but if he’s being honest he would have bolted if Puck wasn’t still pinning him, and Puck’s apparently not done talking to him. “Uh, no, dude. That was just a joke. That doesn’t count for anything. I didn’t even touch skin.”
A joke. God. “Hahahah, that was so funny. Should put it on Comedy Central. Can you fuck off?”
Puck turns kinda serious, kinda thoughtful. Or at least that’s what Finn thinks it is. He’s never really seen ‘serious’ on Puck before.
“I can, if you want.”
“What, fuck off? Yeah, that’d be-”
“No. Help you lose your virginity. Contrary to my rep, I’m not actually a virgin chaser. I like people with experience. When it’s their first time they mean it too much. They fall in love. It’s shitty. But you’re my best friend, so it’s okay.”
‘You want to-”
“Like I said, not usually, no. But I’m willing to make an exception.”
He probably shouldn’t say yes. He’s already doing the thing Puck hates. He’s already attached. But Puck’s hot and Finn wants this, and who else is he going to lose it to? Santana?
“I dunno if my mom’s home, but I know your sister is home, so I guess we should go to my house.”
Puck rolls his eyes. “I didn’t mean tonight. I need to watch porn about how to fuck guys first. Make sure I do it right, as good as I get all my MILFs. But after I educate myself, sure. Until then you can keep being a hot little virgin.”
Finn blushes again. He’s never been called little before, not since his growth spurt in sixth grade. It’s weird, how such an obvious lie seems hot. It’s weird too, how Puck can make the word virgin sound like it’s not something a sixteen year old boy should be ashamed of. Maybe it won’t be that bad if Quinn doesn’t let him try anything, if Puck likes him the way he is.