Kurt groaned, shifting a little in his bed. Someone was nibbling his neck, strong hands caressing his jaw and threading through his hair to trace the outer edges of his ears with teasing fingertips. His breath hitched and he vaguely wondered why he had never realized that his ears were such a sensitive spot before.
This dream felt so real. It had to be the best he'd ever had. His hands rose up, wanting to touch this dream-lover in return, and met a broad bare chest. It was hot and heavily muscular, slightly dampened by a light sheen of perspiration.
Kurt frowned. Perspiration? Since when did he dream about sweat?
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," a voice whispered in his ear and Kurt obeyed with a gasp, opening his eyes and blinking rapidly as he discovered a grinning Noah Puckerman hovering inches above his face.
"Puck?" he said, his voice squeaking a little. Realizing that his hands were still pressed against hard pectorals, he yanked back as if he had burned himself. "What are you doing?"
Puck had requested and received permission to spend the night, making use of Finn's old sleeping bag and an open stretch of floor.
"Floor was too hard. It looked more comfortable up here," he teased, speaking softly so as not to draw the attention of the vigorously snoring Finn. When Kurt did not respond except to stare like a deer in headlights, he chuckled. "Woke up thinking about what you said earlier. Remember what I said about meaningless sex?"
He nodded, not sure if he should feel hopeful or terrified.
"Well, I was thinking. You're a guy, just like me. You got needs, just like anybody else. It doesn't seem fair that just because you're more into sausage and bagels than melons and muffins, you shouldn't ever get to eat. Seriously, why should you have to stand on the sidelines and watch while everybody else gets to play the game?"
Mind far too groggy to sort out Puck's riddles and mixed-metaphors in the middle of the night, Kurt said, "Why should I…?"
Apparently taking the confused question for agreement, Puck worked his hand under the thin, cotton shirt that Kurt had worn to bed and stroked his breastbone and stomach. The feeling was both soothing and disturbingly arousing. Kurt blushed, realizing that a certain portion of his anatomy was more than willing to find out what else Puck had in mind.
"B-b-but you're not gay," he protested weakly.
He could feel Puck's shrug. "So what? We're only talking about physical relief, right? I don't have to be gay to get you off. Or, do I?"
It took him a moment to figure out that the question was genuine when Puck pulled back a couple of inches and looked at him curiously, stilling his seductive hands. Kurt shook his head. "No. I mean, I do seem to be responding to you."
The grin was back and Puck's hand moved lower, squeezing him through his boxers and nearly causing Kurt to launch right off the bed. "Yeah, you sure are."
"I-if we do this, are we going to be weird around each other tomorrow?" Kurt stammered, trying to ignore the demands of his lower anatomy, which was begging him to just shut the hell up and let this happen. "I mean, are you sure you really want to?"
Puck was more a man of action than conversation and he chose to answer the question with a kiss, his confidently experienced lips molding against Kurt's trembling ones and proving his commitment to this plan beyond a shadow of a doubt. Kurt's arms rose up and locked around his body, and he moaned softly into the other boy's mouth when a warm tongue gently brushed his own and coaxed it forward.
For several glorious moments, their mouths moved against each other, Kurt receiving a more thorough education in the art of seductive kissing in those few seconds than he ever would have believed possible.
"Should I go back to my sleeping bag?" Puck asked, a whispered chuckle caressing Kurt's ear as he broke away from his lips. "I wouldn't want you to feel weird."
"You're evil," he whispered back, wishing it was not quite so obvious that every muscle in his body was shaking like a leaf. Puck had rolled forward, half-covering him, and Kurt knew that there was no possible way that he could have missed the hardness shoving insistently against his hip.
The other boy laughed again. "I know."
Kurt lifted his left hand, pressing his knuckles against his mouth to keep from making noise as Puck unbuttoned his shirt and started kissing his chest, giving his nipples each a tiny tease that had Kurt sure for one terrible moment that he was about to end this encounter prematurely.
He dragged in several deep breaths when Puck paused, giving him some time as if he knew exactly what the problem was.
Kurt nodded; glad to feel the urgency receding a little.
"Just checking," Puck said.
He was almost dismayingly efficient about popping Kurt's boxers open and shoving them down his hips, but Kurt had no time to worry about anything as that warm hand closed around him and started to pump.
"N-not so hard," he begged, hating the way his voice was quivering. "Please?"
Puck obeyed the request at once, loosening his firm grip. "Sorry, never done this for another dude before. That better?"
He nodded, unable to speak. Kurt hoped against hope that he was not about to start crying, but the feeling was so unlike anything he had ever imagined that it was completely overwhelming. Having another person touch him in this intimate way was nothing like doing it himself. Puck's hand was callused and heavy, unlike his own, and his touch was so deliciously, unmistakably masculine that it thrilled Kurt to the core.
It took less than a minute for Puck to finish him off, a fact that embarrassed Kurt more than a little. He grimaced as a coppery flavor, followed by a stab of pain in his hand, informed him that he had bit his knuckle so hard in the effort to remain silent that he had drawn blood.
"Here," he heard Puck say, barely able to make out the word through the roaring in his ears as something was pressed into his hand.
Realizing what was being offered, he swiped the dry tissue over his stomach. There wasn't much to clean up and he felt strange, wondering if he was supposed to apologize for that. There wasn't much light in the room, just a dim glow from the night-light in the bathroom, but what if Puck was able to tell? Would he believe that Kurt hadn't appreciated the effort? "Do you . . .? I mean, do I owe you anything?" he asked, hoping the answer was no but feeling that he had to offer. After all, what was the correct rule of etiquette toward a friend, especially a straight one, who had just given you your very first hand-job?
"Nah, we're good," Puck said. "You didn't ask, so just consider it a favor."
Wanting to be sure, Kurt asked, "Then you're," he gestured awkwardly toward Puck's lower body. "Okay?"
"Yeah, I'm cool. I'm like you, I guess. Kissing on you was fun and all, but you're not a girl, so you just don't do it for me."
Kurt released a relieved sigh. The statement was spoken so casually that he knew Puck meant it, and that he really wasn't going to hold a grudge or treat him any differently tomorrow. "In that case, could you get off me? It's really too hot to be sharing a bed."
Puck grinned back at him. "You know if you were really my friend, you'd go sleep in the bag and give me your bed. After all, I am a guest."
"Then go kick Finn out of his bed," Kurt shot back, part of him wondering how he could possibly be feeling so comfortable around Puck right now that he would be cracking jokes. "You're his guest, not mine."
He laughed. "I know."
As Puck's weight lifted, Kurt quickly twitched his disarranged clothes back into order.
"Puck?" he whispered, stopping the other boy from going back to bed. "Thanks. Really."
Kurt could not see the smile, but he could almost feel it as Puck replied, "No problem. I couldn't let you to die a total virgin."
Both boys laughed softly in the darkness as they got comfortable in their respective beds and eventually drifted back to sleep.
Across the room, their oblivious friend snored on in blissful ignorance.