A/N: Hi, guys! I'm both super-excited and super-nervous right now, because this is my first fanfic, my first M story, and my first time doing a stream-of-consciousness style. Please keep that in mind when (if) you review: tell me what I'm doing wrong and right, what I need to fix or change, how to better get my point across, etc.

As of right now, I don't know how long this will be. Probably not more than a few chapters. I'll try to update on weekends, but it might be a few weeks between updates because I'm so freaking busy. I really have no idea how this is going to go. It could be like a series of oneshots, or it could become a full-fledged story with (le gasp!) plot and stuff. We'll see.

Warnings: Slash, also known as male/male, mxm, boylove, gay sex, hot boys nailing each other, guys doing the dirty, males having a horizontal tango. Don't like? Back button's right up there.; BDSM themes (spanking, bondage, slight humiliation, etc.); sex - blowjobs, handjobs, anal, possible semi-public; swearing; possible cross-dressing. I'll probably add more to this as I go along.

Now that that's done, enjoy!

Kurt Hummel didn't know the exact moment that he had started having these … fantasies, but he knew they had something to do with porn. Which, for the record, was a total accident.

In a weird way that the fashionable teen didn't like to think about, it all led back to his dad. His over trusting dad who had given him a soundproof room in the basement, complete with locking door and computer completely separated from the rest of the network. What parent did that and didn't expect their teenage son to get up to something? Apparently Burt.

So, Kurt really couldn't be to blame that it had happened. It wasn't his fault he had (convinced himself he) accidently misspelled the word "prawn." And it definitely wasn't his fault that that site had come up. Y'know, the one with the, uh, well … naked men.

Like, completely naked men. With the muscles and the … sweating, glowing bodies and … rock-hard abs and other rock-hard –

No. No, down boy. No.

And so, yeah, maybe he had clicked through the site, but come on! He had to find (other pictures and maybe some video) a way back. And, yes, maybe that picture of the black guy holding the, uh, whip that was superimposed with "Click here for a rough ride" wasn't the smartest idea.

But, still, total accident.

And, um, the site? The one that had all those, y'know, videos and pictures of the guys? Yeah, maybe it kind of, sort of, was a …. Um, well, a ….

(A BDSM site.)

(And also the hottest thing Kurt Hummel had ever seen. Like, double over in pain at surprise!erection hot. Like, struggling not to cum just from looking at it hot. Like, super-duper, oh my Prada that has to hurt so good hot.)

Total accident.

But he couldn't just sit there like that. So, yes, maybe he had, um, well, masturbated. And maybe he had thought about being one of those guys – tied up, whipped, called all kinds of dirty names, sweet Ralph Lauren yes. But that wasn't even the worst part. Because he couldn't picture Blaine – gorgeous, sweet, adorable Blaine – doing all that stuff to him, and the old standby Finn wasn't working. So who popped into his hormone-addled, horny as all fuck brain? Olive skin. Tight abs and biceps. A signature smirk. Nipple ring. One long stripe of hair.

Yeah, Kurt really hated porn.

Because now he couldn't even look at Puck without picturing the Jewish boy standing over him, whip in hand, teasing him, tight bondage pants hugging every little curve of his –

No, Kurt forced himself to think. Not at school. No.

He tried to avoid Puck as much as possible, but they had Spanish, glee, and lunch together and Noah's locker was three down from Kurt's so it really wasn't an option. He'd always be there, bragging about his guns or threatening to throw Kurt into the dumpster or telling everyone how hot his latest fuck had been.

And that was only one part of what Kurt hated so much about this. Puck was straight, undeniably so. He liked lady-parts (gag). There was no hope in all of this. What was the point of thinking about him?

Of course, he knew the answer to that. Puck was hotter than the sun. Everything about him – his arms, his eyes, his smile, even his smell – got Kurt hard enough that he couldn't walk. Not even Finn had done that to him. There was no way Blaine or Sam could give him a hard-on just by strolling past. Gaga, but Puck got Kurt hot.

This "embarrassing situation", third of the day – and that couldn't be healthy, could it? – was because of the smirk. Kurt had been grabbing his books for math class and made the mistake of looking over towards Puck's locker. He had an arm around Brittany and she was rubbing her breasts (gag) up against him, but if Kurt moved just that much to the left Brittany was gone and that could be him Puck was smirking at. His ass Puck was rubbing. His hips being grabbed at by those hands. And, yup, right on time, surprise!erection.

So now he was huddled over one of the girls' toilets, trying to keep quiet while he pictured Puckerman forcing him to his knees. Suck it, he would say, yanking out his dick, and Kurt would whimper. Not because he didn't want to, no, but because he couldn't wait. But Puck would pull him back by his hair, tantalizing inches away, and laugh. Cock slut, aren't you, Hummel? he would ask. Want this in you so much you'll beg for it. "Mm, yeah," Kurt whispered out loud. He needed to be quieter, but he couldn't bring himself to bite down on his sleeve – it was Armani for goodness' sake!

Go on then, beg, Imaginary Puck demanded and Kurt whimpered in his fantasy and out loud. "Ah, please," he mouthed, a few of the syllables squeaking out. "Please, please, please, Puck. God, want you so much. Oh, please." And Puck slammed his cock into Kurt's waiting mouth and Kurt just knew he would taste good, like Old Spice and musk and sweat and male. He tried to take all of it in, deep-throating Puck as best he could. The older boy groaned and fisted his hands in Kurt's hair, thrusting his hips hard, telling him to swallow it all down like a good cock-whore and holy Gucci, Kurt was so close. He was going to cum, he was going to cum, he was going to –

"What the hell?"

Oh, dear.

A/N: Ooh, who could it be? Such a sneaky writer I am. This one is short, I know, but the next one will be longer and from Puck's perspective, so it's worth hanging around.

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