Without Knowing It
I'm pretty sure this is the only story I've written that's so full of angst (so far). Huh. Written as a fill for someone over at glee_kink. Warnings for slight dub-con and injury during rough sex.
As usual, I hope you guys like it!
Puck scowled down at his empty fuel gauge, slapping the wheel of his truck in anger. This was great, just fucking great. A perfect ending to a perfect day. He got out and slammed his car door, his left eye twitching ever-so-slightly as he walked the rest of the way to Kurt's place in the dark.
Today had started out a bit roughly: the alarm on his cell never went off because he forgot to charge his phone the night before; his mother conveniently forgot to tell him that Mackenzie needed a ride to middle school; and Mackenzie had decided that school could wait, because Flapjack-Pancake-some stupid shit-show was on when she usually began her first class.
After getting Listerine in his eye and slicing his finger while trying to cut a bagel (because breakfast was an important part of… no, he was just starving because last night his mom forgot to cook again), Puck had a sinking feeling that today was not going to be his day. He should've followed his instincts to just slip down to his boxers and crawl back into bed until tomorrow came.
At school, Coach Tanaka caught him sneaking out for a smoke after Finn ticked him off, and so he spent the morning periods in Figgins' office (after getting an earful from his mom on the phone) and lunch hour in detention. He got to glee in a sour mood, still kind of sticky from the slushie he'd mostly cleaned off his face. Stupid baseball jocks.
Glee was the usual Finn/Rachel love fest, and that irked him even more than it usually did. Why did Finn get everything? He got the girl (and another girl, on top of that!), the success, everything. Hell, even Kurt had a thing for Finn that might not have been completely put to rest.
So intent on glaring Rachel's voice into silence, he didn't notice the worried glances Kurt was constantly sending his way throughout glee.
Puck stomped up the porch stairs, and he practically radiated with frustration. No, today had not been a good day. He just hoped Kurt didn't feel like being a total diva-bitch today, because Puck fully believed he could end up doing something he'd regret.
"Noah," Kurt greeted him at the door, his eyes glinting in the porch light. He was frowning. "I know I told you on Wednesday that you had to come, but-"
"It doesn't matter," He grumbled, walking in past Kurt and slipping his sneakers off his feet. "My car ran outta gas down the street anyway."
"You want me to get my dad to tow it? He's still at work."
"Don't worry about it."
"I said." Puck shot him a steely look as he opened the door that lead downstairs, "Don't worry. Now come on."
Kurt was hesitant, Puck could see it in the boy's stance, and that ticked him off, too. He let the boy go ahead of him before he closed and locked the basement door.
As they silently descended the staircase, Kurt's shoulders grew stiffer and stiffer, his hand clenched into stark-white fists on the railing. He oozed that vaguely paranoid, expectant air that prey possessed, right when they knew they were being watched.
Kurt spun on his heel the moment his feet touched the floor, and his mouth was a frowning line of tension. "You-"
"I'm not in the mood to talk, Kurt," Puck ground out, slamming that smaller body up against a white wall. He held one fist over Kurt's head as he smashed their lips together, and reveled in the sensations. It was as if Kurt were a sponge, soaking up all of Puck's negativity through his lips, and Puck wanted more of this release.
He nipped particularly roughly at Kurt's bottom lip, almost breaking skin in his abandon. Kurt mewled beneath him, the smaller fingers on his captured hand weaving in-between Puck's. He saw a kaleidoscope of color when Kurt's leg expertly moved to wrap around Puck's backside so their groins rubbed together. He felt his control, his sense of being, fall away like a second skin. Sensations, like powerful ocean waves against rocky cliffs, eroded everything else except how it felt to grind down against Kurt, to have the taste of something faintly metallic on his tongue.
In the next instant, they were fumbling their way over to Kurt's expansive bed. Puck backed the brunet up as he tossed their shirts somewhere on the basement floor, quelling Kurt's complaints (about the proper care of clothing or some bullshit) by attacking that pale expanse of baby-soft skin beneath the boy's ear.
Kurt's knees bumped into the edge of the mattress, and they toppled over so Puck was nearly crushing the smaller boy with his weight. He gave Kurt some breathing room, but nothing else, bearing down on the diva with a fervor that would have almost scared himself, had he not been completely lost.
Kurt, meanwhile, was starting to shimmy out from beneath Puck. He did a strange moaning scream when Puck gave a particularly rough nip to his collarbone, turning to jelly beneath him. "Noah," He breathed in a reedy voice, and his body language was warring between fear and lust. "N-ah!" Puck had flipped him over so he lay belly-down on the soft slate-grey sheets, and Kurt needed to jerk his head to the side so he wasn't being smothered by a throw pillow. His breathing was erratic now, and he struggled for a grip on the bed to hoist himself up.
Puck gave a low, warning growl as he captured both small hands in one of his own, holding them so Kurt couldn't move, and tore skinny jeans and soft black boxers down and off to reveal the prize they'd been hiding.
His eyes were all for that perfectly formed ass, and he let his free hand stroke the indent where Kurt's crack began. Kurt whimpered beneath him, rubbing his erection against the bed. "If I let your hands go," Puck murmured, "Will you promise to stay put?"
Kurt made a garbled noise that had to mean yes, because he was vigorously nodding his head at the same time. Puck carefully released those wrists, and he let his two hands grab a hold of the alabaster globes of flesh, kneading delicious cheeks so he was graced with the occasional, teasing view of that dark, puckered hole hidden within.
He leaned down and pressed his lips against a gorgeous, almost heart-shaped birthmark right on the edge of Kurt's crack. There was a gasp of surprise when Puck's tongue ventured out to lick the honey-brown flaw on otherwise-flawless skin until it shone. "Noah!" Kurt whined, trying to move. "Come on! More-please, more…"
Puck ignored his cries, pushing with his hands on either cheek to lift that ass up and expose that fluttering, teasing hole. He eyed it reverently, glancing over at a wide-eyed Kurt with a smirk before sweeping down to swipe it with his tongue. There was a high-pitched, surprised screech, and the muscular thighs clenched involuntarily. He continued to swipe at the now-erratic lilac skin, tracing the epicenter and occasionally trailing to caress Kurt's perineum as the boy keened and tried to shove his rear closer to Puck's mouth.
He stopped, absorbing power and control from that drawn-out cry of loss, before he hovered, without touching, directly over the spit-slicked hole. He waited until Kurt went to lift his head and look at him to stab his tongue inside. A primal scream-definitely a high F-was ripped from those reddened lips , and his body shook as Puck's tongue went in, out, and in again.
Just before Kurt seemed close to coming, Puck sat up, quickly divesting himself of his jeans after grabbing a foil wrapper from his front pocket. Going Commando was definitely convenient, he thought absently as he quickly slipped the pre-lubed condom on. Kurt was breathing heavily now, and his whole body seemed to be blushing.
Puck leaned up to rearrange Kurt so his upper half was resting on the bed, his butt up in the air. He lined himself up to that loosened hole, wasting no time in burying himself deep inside. Kurt cried out, tensed as that dick went further and further within him. Puck ran his over that bony, prominent spine, kissing Kurt's shoulder blade as began to move.
With each thrust forward, Kurt hummed, his hands forming tight fists as his body careened forward form the impact. Puck grunted, closing his eyes and just feeling as his dick was swallowed up. The arousing, dirty noises of skin slapping against skin filled the air, backing up Kurt's constant, stifled noises that sounded similar to sobs.
Puck felt himself teeter on the edge of orgasm. Closing his eyes as he held tight to those narrow hips, he plunged forward with a burst of energy, coming with a shout.
He removed himself, disposing of the condom before lying down next to Kurt, a boneless pile of blissful calm. He opened his eyes after a moment, glancing over at Kurt, whose face turned in the other direction. He was slowly lowering his pelvis down, and his movements were strange, jerky and stiff.
It was then he remembered-or, in this case, didn't remember Kurt coming. He frowned, feeling like a total douchebag as he reached over to touch that pale, bony shoulder. "You need me to…" He stopped, his brow furrowing at an odd noise Kurt made, deep in his throat.
"No," He said, voice high and falsely casual. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."
His frown deepened in concern. "Hey," He said gently, trailing his hand slowly down Kurt's back. "You alright?" Kurt didn't answer, and a sense of dread smothered him when the muscles in Kurt's back tightened, as if in pain. "Kurt, look at me?"
"'M fine," Kurt insisted shakily, carefully, inconspicuously shifting his lower body away from Puck's wandering touch. He hissed, choking on a cry when Puck leaned forward to press against Kurt's rear. He quickly sat up and coaxed Kurt's head so he faced him. His blood ran cold at the wet trails on flushed cheeks, his eyes locking with teary blue-greens.
"Kurt…" He breathed anxiously. "Holy-I hurt you!"
"It's fine," Kurt muttered, turning his face away as if in embarrassment. Puck felt a wave of anger at himself. How could he do this? How could he take out his anger and frustration on Kurt, someone he cared about, without knowing it?
He felt himself panic: what if this was just the start, what if this was the beginning of his transformation into a clone of his deadbeat dad? He wasn't-he couldn't…
"I'm so sorry," He whispered, hating how his voice was strained with emotion. Kurt looked down at the bed sheets, at the stain his tears had made. "God, I-."
He closed his eyes and inhaled, because he wouldn't be turning into his careless dipshit of a father; he wouldn't let himself. Puck got up and slipped into his jeans, and he saw how Kurt deflated further, as if he knew Puck was going to leave him in pain, all alone in his basement.
But Puck walked into Kurt's luxurious bathroom and ran the water for the claw-footed tub before grabbing a washcloth and dampening it beneath the warm water. He left the bath to fill and sat back down next to Kurt. Perching on the edge of the bed, he carefully applied the washcloth to Kurt's bruising skin-You did this to him-and tried to be as gentle as possible as he wiped away the sticky semen. He took Kurt's small cries and hisses-See how you hurt him-and he knew that they'd be forever embedded in his memory as a reminder, a warning.
Kurt was still staring down at the bed, tears still falling. Still falling.
Puck got up and tossed the dirty washcloth into the bathroom sink, cleaning it off and wringing it out before tossing it in the hamper. The bath was almost full, and he added a few drops of some lavender essential oil he found on a shelf. He remembered his mother always added it to her baths, because "It soothes and relaxes me-and I need all of the relaxation I can get after taking care of you two."
He stopped the water and went to walk back out, only to pause in the doorway. There were candles spread out around the room, all in the same light beige color and all showing signs of use. He glanced out into the hall, hesitating before whipping his Bic lighter out of his pocket. He went around and lit each and every candle, because if he was doing this, he figured he could be a bit over-the-top and girly.
Puck walked back out to get Kurt, who was trying to sit up. "What're you doing?" He asked as he struggled, his voice tight.
Puck wordlessly helped him up, and he cringed at Kurt's whimper of pain when he tried to walk. "Come on," He murmured, carefully pulling Kurt up and into his arms, minding his aches.
Kurt hid his face against Puck's bare chest, and he felt a scalding-hot tear burn its way down his chest, mockingly grazing his nipple ring. Something that he usually associated with sex appeal now seemed tainted. He didn't realize he was whispering "I'm sorry" in a quick mantra, until Kurt was melding "It's alright" around his voice. It sounded like a sad song to Puck's ears, and he pretended his eyes weren't damp as they walked into the vanilla- and lavender-scented bathroom.
Once Kurt was carefully immersed in the warm bathwater, Puck turned around to dim the lights and leave him be. "Where are you going?" Kurt asked, half-curious and half-nervous.
"You don't want me here." Puck muttered, looking down at the heated tiles on the floor. "I did this to you."
"And you're doing this, too." Kurt replied matter-of-factly. "You're taking care of me. Now, close the door and get back here; you're letting a draft in."
Once Kurt persuaded Puck to get into the bath with him, arranged so Kurt's back was lined up against his chest, Puck reached over and squirted some soap into his hands. He lathered it up with some bathwater before running the pads of his fingers over Kurt's shoulders in soothing circles.
"Mmm," Kurt sighed, his eyes sliding closed. "Feels good."
"Good," Puck said, radiating quiet determination as he massaged pale skin. A few minutes passed in peaceful silence, only disturbed by the gentle lapping of water and Kurt's occasional breathy, relaxed sighs.
"I didn't mean to… I was just having a bad day," Puck murmured, and scowled at himself. "But that's not an excuse. I mean, I wasn't pissed off at you."
"It's okay. I know." Kurt said, removing Puck's hands from him so he could lean back, wrapping those muscled arms around his chest in an embrace. He played with Puck's larger hands. "Just don't take it out on me next time. Go and pummel Karofsky, if you have to."
"Love you," Puck whispered, turning Kurt by his chin so he could chastely kiss those slightly upturned lips. "So much."
"Yeah, yeah, quit sucking up. If you love me, you'll give me a blowjob later on," Kurt said, smirking at Puck's startled laugh.
He sighed, his smile lingering as he pulled Kurt closer with utmost care. He trailed kisses on that pale skin, because in the dim, flickering candlelight, it looked too tempting. "Whatever you want."