Title: Cosmo Tip #181-

Character/Pairings: Established Kurt/Puck

Warnings: Porn

Genre: Porn, College-fic

Word Count: 2, 523

Summary: Noah Puckerman thought he was being an awesome boyfriend. Turns out his boyfriend is the awesome one.

Notes: Probably could've been hotter, but I kinda suck at this. First time writing actual (kind of) sex. Idea came from this month's issue of Cosmo, turned a little on its head.

As the R train made its way into the City Hall station, Noah Puckerman grumbled, "Fucking finally."

The one thing he hated about New York's elaborate public transportation system was how dependent he was on the fucking R train. Did it really have to work out that him and Kurt both lived on the one line that took for-fucking-ever to get the fuck anywhere? Fuck you, R train, fuck you.

It was this kind of coherent train (ahahaha) of thought that accompanied most midnight train (going anywhere) rides. Puck sighed as he made his way to a seat as far as possible from the other three occupants of the subway car.

The scene had become a common one in his life. Here he was, eighteen years old, in the best city in the world. He attended Pratt University for architecture, whilst his boyfriend went to Columbia, meaning, while studying in the same city (same borough, in fact), their dorms were on opposite ends of the island.

More often then not, they would simply spend the nights together at one or the other's dorm. Each had more than enough clothes to make any trip easy. However, times when Kurt had an exam or Puck had a project, it was best not to spend time together and rather make an effort to actually do the work that their parents were paying for.

Today was one of those days that both Kurt and Puck were busy. Puck literally handed in his last final an hour ago and Kurt had been in self-imposed isolation for the last week, worrying about his organic chem final. Last night had been the first night Puck saw Kurt in a week and a half. Unfortunately, because both were too preoccupied with school work, the only thing they thought about when climbing into Puck's bed together at three in the morning was sleep. And there was no chance for early morning nookie as Puck rolled over to an empty bed that morning.

Well, not so empty bed, he now recalled. On Kurt's side of the bed, he had found Kurt's iPod with a Post-It note attached: After you finish that library design, can you help me out? Listen to this Orgo lecture so you can quiz me later tonight? Thanks babe!

Puck sighed as he remembered. The last thing in the world he wanted to do right now was to listen to some ridiculously old dude go on and on about something Puck had no chance of ever understanding. But, he'd made a promise and wasn't going to back out on it.

On their car ride over from Lima, his boyfriend confided in him something that at that point only Burt Hummel knew. That Kurt wasn't attending Columbia for fashion design as everyone assumed (and Kurt didn't bother correcting). That Kurt actually dreamed of becoming a doctor one day and was going to try to complete pre-med. Puck was blown away. Never in the entire time he'd known Kurt would he think the boy wanted to be a doctor. But, as Puck came to realize, the only thing one could really know about Kurt Hummel was that you couldn't ever really know him.

Kurt also confided that he was terrified of the prospect of doing medicine at a school like Columbia because of the cut throat nature of the program. Puck scoffed at the time, if there was anyone in the world that could deal the best in that sort of environment, it was Kurt (or Rachel Berry, but it was best not to mention the Julliard student in any context of Kurt and competition). Kurt was not to be reassured however, and that somehow led to Puck vowing that he would do whatever it took to help Kurt.

Which included things like coffee runs and back massages. Fortunately, it included Puck's favorite idea of a study break: sex. Unfortunately, it also included Puck listening to lectures on Gringard reagents and halogenic substitutions on the R train at 12:30 AM.

No use prolonging the process any longer, he only had half an hour left in the train ride. Puck placed the earbuds in his ears and hit play on 'Orgo Lecture #69'.

"That feels so good."

Puck started, 'What the fuck?' he thought as he listened more closely to the 'lecture'.

"Mmmmm, Noah, don't stop." Puck could hear the sound of skin on skin that accompanied his boyfriend's voice. 'Seriously, what the fuck is this?'

(Although, even in his confusion, Puck could feel himself getting hard in his jeans.)

"Like that, baby? Want some more?" Did he really sound like that?

"Please, Noah, we're wearing too many clothes." Puck's mind reeled and he suddenly remembered. More intensive listening and he confirmed it. In the background, sounds of Michael Buble could be heard. This was a recording of their anniversary date. The time where, Puck swallowed, Kurt was very, very vocal. Especially vocal, in fact.

This is bad, Puck thought. Really, really bad. He should really, really stop. He was already fully hard in his jeans and, from the sounds of zippers and rustling of clothes, they were only just getting started.

But Puck hasn't had sex in a week and a half and he's a mother fucking sex shark. If he stops, he dies.

"Noah, I want to suck your cock. Let me suck your cock." Puck shoved his fist into his mouth to prevent himself from groaning like his recording did. Jesus, fuck, Kurt's voice was fucking hot.

The wet sounds of Kurt's open-mouthed kisses along his chest sent a flash of desire through Puck that had him palming himself in what he hoped was a discreet manner. He heard himself breathe heavily as Kurt's tongue darted everywhere and had to restrain himself from touching his chest as phantom sensations ran along his body.

"I fucking love your nipples, Noah." Puck whimpered, Kurt swearing made him ridiculously horny. Something about actual evidence of Saint Baby Gay being corrupted that drove him insane, "Do you know why I love your nipples, Noah?"

"N-no."

"It's simple, really." Sounds of more audible kissing filled the void left by his breathy voice, "They're a direct line to your cock."

Puck suddenly heard himself give off a shout followed by a moan and just barely swallowed a groan as he remembered Kurt twisting his piercing roughly, sending his past self humping the air wantonly.

"I love doing that. I love watching your hips move, Noah, because all I can picture is you in me, fucking me over and over and over again."

Puck (both of them) whimpered pathetically, "Would you like that Noah? Want to fuck me?"

"Yes, Jesus, Kurt, let me fuck you. Fucking ride me." Jesus, he sounded desperate.

"I want to. I want to ride you until I'm shooting cum all over my body—" Both Pucks growled at the image, the audio one much more unrestrained, however. "—but I want you to prepare me first."

Puck almost laughed at the sound of himself scrambling desperately for the lube in Kurt's bedside drawer. A slam of the drawer indicated that he was successful. And then Puck, the one riding the train, bit his bottom lip so hard, he could taste blood. He just remembered what was about to happen next.

"You won't need that now. I want you to open me with your tongue, Noah." Puck couldn't even bring himself to care long enough to chide himself for the thrust of his hips that had him humping the air on the New York City subway. He wasn't fucking Superman. Scratch that, Clark Kent called, wondering if he could trade Lois Lane for Kurt Hummel.

Puck was getting delirious, but he figured that had something to do with the amount of blood trapped in the lower half of his body. God, what he would do right now for the chance to unzip his jeans and stroke himself. But he wouldn't. He had enough self-restraint to not be one of those perverts that jerked off on the train. Probably. Maybe.

Although he was seriously doubting it as he heard himself command Kurt to go on all fours, "Hands and knees, babe—" Puck threw his head back into the wall of the subway car at the image, "—let me see that hole of yours." Puck groaned, 'Note to self: Stop being so fucking dirty. Kthxbai.'

Puck's right hand tightened around the iPod and his left gripped his thigh in anticipation of what was coming. Because, although he couldn't remember exactly, he knew himself and he knew Kurt. They've been doing this dance too long for him to not know.

Although nothing in the world could have steeled him for Kurt's high pitched, keening cry, "AHHHH! NOAH! Fuck, don't stop, don't ever fucking st—" Kurt's breath hitched in pleasure, cutting off his speech. Puck whimpered, he knew that he was going to go (went) straight to it. No hesitation or teasing. When Puck rimmed Kurt, he got down to business, circling Kurt's hole with his tongue, once, twice before penetrating the tight ring of muscle.

Kurt was loosing his mind audibly and Puck whimpered in empathy, wanting so badly to rub himself along the pole in front of him, "Pl-ea-ease, Noah, please. ."

Puck didn't know what Kurt was begging for, to stop or to not stop, but he suspected that Kurt didn't even know. The one thing he did know was that coming in his pants was becoming a huge possibility as sounds of Kurt clawing desperately at the sheets reached his ears, damn his boy for being so fucking expressive.

A soft thud echoed in Puck's ears and he saw stars behind his closed eyelids. That thud was the sound of Kurt's face hitting the bed as Kurt reached his hands back to pry his cheeks apart, allowing Puck easier access. The mattress squeaked as Kurt rocked his hips back and forth, "I love your tongue, I love it. I love how it opens me up for your cock. Mmmmm, Noah, I love your cock."

Puck clenched his thighs together in an effort to provide some really needed friction as he heard the wet squelching of himself enthusiastically eating Kurt out. The nerve endings in his tongue exploded in memory of his taste.

"No-noah—" Kurt's voice was very breathy "—I'm, I'm going to come, oh!" Fuck it, Puck thought, I'm never going to see any of these people again, as he cupped himself.

This was the first time in history of them together that Kurt actually came close to coming without being touched.

"Oh no you don't," Puck (past Puck) was interrupted by the sound of Kurt's cry as he grabbed the base of his dick, "No coming until I'm inside you." Puck (and Kurt) groaned in response.

The sound of the cap of the lube being popped off had never seemed so loud. Nor did the sounds of his lubed hand flying on his dick. Kurt protested, "Noah, now. Get in me now." Kurt Hummel was the definition of pushy bottom.

"Alright, babe, how'd you want it?" His past self was so fucking flippant. Well, not for long. There was a rustle of movement and a small cry of surprise before twin moans filled Puck's ears. Kurt had pushed Puck on his back, lined himself up, and sat on Puck's cock, fully sheathing himself in one go. Backwards. As it, reverse cowgirl, er, boy. As in, the deepest Puck has ever been in Kurt. As in, Jesus, fuck.

"Jesus, fuck."

"Noah Puckerman, if you don't move right now I'm going to get off you and shove two buttplugs up my ass."

Past Puck chuckled weakly as he started to move, "Why two babe?"

"'Cuz none are as big as you, mmmm." Which wasn't true, of course, but Kurt Hummel was an excellent lover and as such, knew Puck so well as to know that stroking his ego was as good as stroking his cock.

Porn had nothing on the sounds the two of them were making. From the slap of Puck's pelvis on Kurt's tight little ass as he pounded into him again and again, to the little cries of pleasure escaping Kurt's lips. Puck thrust against his hand, praying in vain for some sort of relief.

It took Past Puck less than five minutes to find Kurt's prostate and Present Puck bit his knuckles as Kurt keened, "Omigod, omigod, there. Theretheretherethere. Noah, please, I'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want, just there please th-ere!"

Puck folded himself in half in his seat, shoving his head between his knees as Kurt sobbed, "Fuck, Kurt, I'm coming, I'm com—" He was cut off as the sounds of his hips thrusting into Kurt's increased and, three seconds later, he screamed out his release.

Puck could never hold himself back when Kurt started begging. It was a fact. So much so that Present Puck snapped his upper body back up into his seat and humped the air once before spilling into his jeans.

But Kurt wasn't done yet. Puck's over-sensitized dick throbbed in response to the sounds of Kurt's hand moving up and down his own cock, finishing Puck's job for him.

"Ah, omigod, AH!" Kurt orgasmed with a keening cry followed by an incredibly deep moan that sent Present Puck's dick twitching in his jeans.

Puck only saw white as he experienced (for the first time ever) a secondary orgasm. He took in a shuddering breath before he blacked out.

As Puck came to, Shakira blared in his ears and his train was pulling into Kurt's stop. He quickly ran off the train, not making eye contact with anyone and thanking God he decided to wear dark wash jeans. He could feel the edges of the damp spot halfway down his thighs. Jesus, he's never produced so much spunk ever.

Puck ripped the earbuds out of his ears and shoved the iPod into his back pocket before taking out his phone. He ran up the subway steps and waved his phone frantically to help restore cell signal. As soon as he saw four bars, he dialed Kurt's number.

"Why hello, Noah Pucker—"

"I'm two blocks away. If you don't have time for a fuck and really need to study, tell me to go home right now, because when I see you, I'm going to eat you out and bend you over the nearest desk, got it?"

Kurt moaned, "I took my orgo final five hours ago."

Puck's eyes widened, "Then why—You little whore."

"But I'm your little whore."

"Damn fucking straight, you are. I'm a block away. When I get there, you better be naked and hard for me."

"What if I already am?"

Puck stopped in the middle of the empty block, closed his eyes, and took in a long breath, "I fucking love you, Kurt."

"I love you, too. Now hurry up, I haven't gotten off in a week."

"Can't really say the same, babe."