Title: Words worthy.
Or: Sex makes everything better.
Rating: T, for swearing and a bit of an insight into Pucks filthy mind. Someone needs a scrubbing brush and some bleach.
A/N: Just something I thought of while watching Glee. I like this pairing.
Puck was good with words. No, that was an understatement. Puck was excellent with words. He could ace his literary class, write a fucking book if he wanted to. In another life, he might have harnessed his literary mind in a different way – could have written anything, speeches, poetry, novels. But Puck wasn't a fag, despite being in Glee – and, you know, liking a guy.
The only things that Puck used his gift for was getting himself out of trouble, getting Finn out of trouble, and making women want him. With just a few words from him, he could have a girl wet and wanting. He didn't even have to touch them. His voice and the words he formed did everything.
He was grateful for this talent. He loved this talent. It was in Pucks wonderfully biased opinion that, without his mastery of the English language, he wouldn't have bedded as many women as he had. The number might still be below fifty – which almost made him shudder when he thought of it.
But Puck was about to use his words in a way he'd never thought of before. He was going to use his words to express his feelings. His actual fucking feelings. Like, the things that actually went through his head first things – instead of carefully thought out, carefully measured words to help whatever his current cause was.
He'd never had to do it before, and certainly never to a guy. It was going to be weird as fuck. Man, he'd never thought that he'd ever want to do this, let alone need to. It was fucking embarrassing that he'd let it get this far. This...infatuation.
Fuck, when Puck thought about him, he even lost what he was saying. That had never happened before, and that's how Puck had known he was in trouble. And not the trouble he could get out of by fucking something, either. Although, fucking him was appealing...
But this was the trouble that came with feeling your heart pound, getting a floaty feeling in your fucking stomach and smiling stupidly whenever the person you wanted to woo was about. Fuck, he'd just said woo. This stupid crush was turning him into some fucking pansy. Not that he wasn't already. He'd just never been tempted to temper his want of breasts, with his want for the smooth, hard planes of the male body.
It had never seemed important, before, because whatever man had caught his fancy hadn't been worth enough to actually come out.
But he was worth it. Oh, he was worth every goddamned slushy that would be thrown in his direction, every disgusted glance, everything his Jewish fucking parents were going to say when he took him home. And he would be taking him home. This wasn't like some chick he could just fuck and get over. Not only would that not help in any way (in fact, Puck was just pretty sure that would just make him want for the dark haired and creamy skinned teen more), but it would hurt them both.
Puck wasn't a masochist.
Though, he wouldn't mind tying his boy up for a while, watching him strain against the restraints while Puck did many naughty, naughty things to his body. Not that there would be any complaints. Oh no, the only thing to come out of his mouth would be whines and moans.
Puck cleared his throat as the very man he'd just been thinking about walked through the door, into the auditorium, walking onto the stage. Puck had chosen this place because of the backstage of the auditorium. There were thick curtains everywhere, and sound could echo without a definite beginning. If Puck got his way (and Puck always got his way) then that would come in handy later.
"What's this about?" He asked, and Puck smiled, cocking his head. The other teen followed him so that they were just offstage, surrounded by the black curtains and away from any prying eyes. If worse came to worse, and he was rejected, Puck would not have it in public. Oh no, Puck would not be publicly rejected. It just wasn't done.
He looked perfect, the way he always did. Others, many people he knew, would criticize the fashion choices made, but Puck though he was adorable. Whenever Puck went over to the recently united Hudson-Hummel household, he was always in awe. But then, he'd been in that state for a while, once he'd figured out exactly what his feelings towards the singer were.
Puck had tried to deny it, going on a spree of dating. Santana, Quinn (something that Puck always felt ashamed about – he'd knocked up his best fucking friends girl! That was not cool), Berry and even Mercedes. And he'd fucked a lot of women in between the dating.
But now the footballer had come to accept his feelings. In fact, he rather liked the images his mind provided, late at night. And he had plenty of material to draw off, as well. It was brilliant, it was perfect, and now Puck just wanted to express his feelings and play out ever single fantasy he'd ever had. That muscled body would feel exquisite beneath his fingers. Beneath his tongue.
"I've got something to tell you." Puck had considered writing a letter. Slipping it into his bag during a class, or Glee, or at lunch. But then, would he read it and laugh? Would he think it a hoax? Would he ignore it – leaving Puck wondering? Would someone else come across it, the news of Pucks sexuality spreading like wild fire? It would never be stopped with written proof. No, it was better to do this face to face.
Plus, Puck could watch the emotions of the handsome face, could read Finn like a book. He'd know exactly what reaction his words evoked.
"I'm not usually serious, but I have to be. I have to tell you. Normally, you don't hear many things from me, just the usual stuff. And we haven't been hanging out as much, because of what I did. I know it doesn't excuse what I did, but I had to make sure that I was certain." Finn scowled, shifting a bit.
"Are you here to tell me that you want to date Quinn?" He asked, and Puck shook his head. He hadn't even started to work his words around Finn, to drive them into his brain and have Finn panting for him, before he realised that it was Finn. Finn, who he'd grown up with. Finn, who was his best friend. Finn, who liked actions before words.
So Puck shook his head again and took a step forward. Reaching one hand up, he grabbed the back of Finns neck, and yanked the taller mans head down into a fiery kiss. In his surprise, Finn opened his mouth almost immediately. Quickly, Puck took advantage of that and started to plunder his friends mouth. Winding his tongue around his friends, he smiled at the automatic response, before sliding his tongue against the roof of his friends mouth. Puck slid a hand through Finns hair, pulling a bit, while his other hand came up and grabbed Finns hip, pushing their groins together.
Puck leant back to watch his friends reaction, slowly breathing through his nose as he did so.
Shock was prominent. It was everywhere. His slack jaw, his quick breaths, his frantic blinking – as if he couldn't quite believe that that had happened. But, beneath that, buried in the depths of his mainly shocked eyes, was lust. Oh yeah, there was lust (right there, pressing into Puck) and maybe a bit of not-surprise. Maybe Finn wasn't as oblivious as he claimed to be.
"I don't want to date Quinn. I just fucked her to see if it was her I wanted. It wasn't. It's you, Finn. I want you. Fuck, I don't want you – I need you." Puck lowered his head a bit, giving a harsh sigh. The words weren't flowing. It was like every time he was around Finn, his mojo just disappeared. He was going to have to be blunt.
"I really like you Finn." He muttered, and chanced a look back up at Finn. He still looked shocked, but he'd closed his mouth. Thankfully, Puck could still feel a part of Finn that was very interested in Pucks proposal. A large hand settled on the small of Pucks back.
"I really like you too, Puck." He gave a smile, one of his breathtaking, kind smiles, and Finn swooped in for a kiss. If Puck had anything to say about it, this would be the start of a beautiful more than friendship for them, and a way to get back their old friendship – with sex.
Sex made everything better.