I wrote this so it could simply end as a one shot, though that is not my intention. It's a dark idea and I will freely admit that this idea sprang to life in my mind after reading some of Anne Rices books. My last three attempts at writing glee fan fiction have failed horribly and I'm hoping that this one will, hopefully, grab reader's attention as the others have failed to do. I know it sounds like a plea for readers, however I'm going to be truthfully honest and say that if you're not interested then please don't read. However if you enjoy this chapter and want more then reviews are greatly appreciated and as anyone will tell you, incentive to continue writing.
I have no beta, as the one person I would trust to tell me that I have no skill as a writer is currently swamped with actual books that could possibly be published works. I couldn't possible expect her to take time out of that to correct fan fiction. I hope you enjoy this.
(I don't own Glee)
If ever there was a place that Puck dreamed of being it was in the light with Kurt. The Dark, at first was perfect. He could forget about what he was doing and enjoy the sensations alone. Change was good. He didn't need to see the body; he didn't need to have a visual reminder that Kurt was in fact not a girl. The only time he would touch Kurt was for leverage, carefully avoiding certain areas of the body that would remind him of those enormous ramifications, as he was having sex with another male.
He didn't pretend that Kurt wasn't a boy, he didn't even think about it. He had given in to simple temptation and had found a notch that worked for him. He didn't care about what Kurt had thought about it. It seemed, to him, that the darker it was the more Kurt seemed to enjoy it.
Kurt had only once tried to touch Puck with those genteel hands. They rest on Puck's chest in climax. The warm and comforting hands, delicate as any lady friend he had before, sending a perpetual shock wave through Puck's body that left him both enraged and longing. Puck had quickly brushed them away, even though the pressure was indicating for him to stop or slow down. If there was any hurt in Kurt's eyes Puck couldn't see it, just the thin outline of a human body beneath him.
The days drew on with out a simple shred of acknowledgement from Kurt and vise versa. They bantered back and forth as they always did. Though Puck would have flashes of the sensations; the sensual deep moans or the strong and full legs that would snake there way around his hips in certain moments where their position allowed it. These memories he had during their rendezvous the nights before. It was with memories he would seek Kurt out in the dark once again. He would follow him waiting for the darkest place that the boy would stumble into. Much like a vampire would stalk its prey. Puck's favorite dark times were the thunderstorms that would knock out the power to there quaint little town. He found it rather amusing that he would find the front door to Kurt's house unlocked at these times, late at night, only to hear the door lock on his way out as Kurt followed him. They never spoke during these times. They really had nothing to talk about.
Yet, Puck now longed for the smallest bit of light so that he could perhaps see the look of lust in Kurt's eyes or the look of pleasure that filled the boys face and body. He was aware of Kurt's movements. Puck could always tell when he was in to it and when he had given it because there was really no other option that Puck was leaving him. It wasn't rape though. Kurt knew this as well as Puck. Kurt wasn't the type to bend to the will of another with out some form of protest, a trait that Puck greatly admired and envied. It was all his of his choosing. There were nights that Puck would become frustrated for Kurt would stay in the light. He would lock eyes with Puck at some point, Puck like a predator shocked as he was hiding in the shadows watching his prey. He would never wave him off or even smile. He only did it to let Puck know that he was aware of his presents. Always sticking to the street lights as he walked on those nights. Puck never confronted him. If he was in the dark it was because he wanted to be there. There was even one section of the small quite town where there were no street lights at all and Puck would watch the small boy sprint as fast as he could. The thought of chasing him down had always come through Puck's head. If to chase him for nothing else then to get Kurt's heart racing a bit more. Kurt's staying in the light had become more frequent and if he was in the dark he was with friends.
Puck most certainly detested this blatant act of refusal on Kurt's part. There was the slightest hint of guilt that built in Puck as the nights passed on. That maybe Kurt felt that Puck wouldn't accept no as an answer to his lust. Puck would have. It would have been the first time that they had ever spoken on the subject.
The days at school now filled Puck with a deeper longing. One that he was certain would become all too apparent to those around him. He no longer traded insults with Kurt as they had before; no longer shut his locker on the boy as he had just opened it. Puck had changed the dynamics of their relationship, if they had one. He would find himself staring at the boy for long moments. Watching him spin the pencil in his long delicate fingers as the teacher incessantly drowned on and on about George Washington or the difference in writing styles between Anne Rice and Stephen King, none of which mattered to Puck. All that mattered was the lithe boy setting four rows away from him in the front row. It was the desk nearest the door for a quick escape into ravages that awaited him in the hallway.
In his heart a small crack had formed with a thunderous explosion. The boy for so long had been avoiding those who had tormented him, that he had devised the perfect means. To have means of escape and avoidance that allowed him his lavish cloths and to be seen with out being seen. When these creatures he ran from caught him, these Neanderthals as he so eloquently referred to them, it was because he had faltered, spending an extra few minutes on his hair, or ensuring that there wasn't a single wrinkle on his beautiful clothing, maybe even taking one to many gulps from the drinking fountain.
Now it had become apparent to Puck as to why Kurt had enjoyed the darkness as much as he had. Kurt was having sex with his greatest tormentor. The person who sought him out now and tormented him in new, unspeakable ways.
While the cracks in Puck's heart bleed for the boy a new fire burned with in Puck. The callous unforgiving monster grew louder in his desires to see the boys face. To touch the small fragile body that it had so desperately tried to avoid for so long. If Puck were stronger then perhaps he would have noticed these desires and squelched them on the spot. Yet, that wasn't Puck's nature. He was no different then the Vampires that Anne Rice had written about. Perhaps he lacked there refinement and class, but it was the same concept. To find some one, seduce them, make them love you, as you loved them and then destroy them, or take them for your own. Puck's mind raced with the latter, to have Kurt with him loving him through out all the torment he put him through. The monster begged for this from Puck, but Puck was content with the idea of simply seeing Kurt in the light. So that the boy might face his tormentor with a new found respect and love.