There were very few clothing items of Puck's that Kurt approved of. His letterman jacket was one, but only because Puck would let him wear it. If they had a fight or had to be apart for any reason, Kurt loved nothing more than wrapping himself up in it an inhaling his boyfriend's scent. It was comforting.

Then there were those t-shirts – the tight white ones that hid absolutely nothing. Kurt would get distracted in class or during glee practice when Puck wore them – he'd stare blatantly at the powerful, rippling muscles and his mind would stray to those arms wrapped around him, holding him down, keeping him in place from the powerful thrusts that racked his body.

But even those two paled in comparison to one thing – Puck's Levi blue jeans. They were old, some were stained, and yet Kurt loved them. They hugged his ass and his strong thighs perfectly, and if Kurt's wasn't busy with Puck's guns, his eyes would be trained on his tight posterior. Hey, just because he didn't top didn't mean he couldn't look.

He couldn't say for certain what it was he loved about the jeans. Sure, part of it was how Puck looked in them; but that wasn't the entire reason. There was something about seeing his boyfriend something rustic and downright masculine looking that made Kurt's blood boil – in a good way, that is.

But of course, Puck wasn't aware of Kurt's mini-fetish with his jeans. He was used to Kurt ripping his wardrobe apart and trying to convince him to get new clothes all the time. And, being as oblivious as he was, he'd never see his boyfriend's hungry eyes trained on his ass when he'd bend down to grab his backpack or his guitar. He'd never known about Kurt's little obsession.

Until, that is, one early morning in the beginning of August. A little chilly for an August day, Puck simply slid from his boyfriend's warm bed (Burt and Carole were out of town for their one year anniversary), tugged on his jeans, and went down into the kitchen.

He turned on the coffee maker and reached for the Folgers. His hand hesitated, then, remembering the rougher than usual night he'd put Kurt through (three rounds, then a bonus round in the shower afterward), reached instead for the flavored crap that Kurt loved so much.

It took him a few minutes to figure out the complicated espresso machine, but he grinned proudly at himself once he did. He just finished with the machine when a gasp from the kitchen doorway made him turn around.

Kurt was never happy when he woke up without his boyfriend's arms wrapped around him. He much preferred Noah pressed against his back, his arms around Kurt's slim waist, and his morning wood nestled firmly against Kurt's ass. So no, he was not pleased that particular Saturday morning.

With a sound expressing his displeasure, he climbed from the bed reluctantly and stood. He stretched and scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't have any products on whatsoever. Normally, he'd pitch a fight about it – but he was only with Noah this morning, since Finn was still hanging out over at Mike's from the night before. So he supposed it wasn't too much of a crisis.

With a barely concealed yawn, the brunette pulled on Noah's shirt from the night before and a simple pair of black boxer briefs. He then started to head downstairs, hoping at least that his boyfriend was still there. He would stay nine times out of ten, but there was still that once in a while occurrence where he left. He didn't always want to – sometimes his mom needed him, sometimes he had football. But Kurt still didn't like being alone.

The countertenor made it to the kitchen – and all his ponderings flew out the window. There was his sexy as hell boyfriend, over at his coveted espresso machine, wearing only a pair of Levi's that sat low on his hips. A gasp passed his lips before he could help it.

Noah turned around and gave him this little smile that made his heart melt.

"Hey baby," he greeted. He frowned when Kurt's face remained uncharacteristically slack and wide-eyed (more so than usual, that is). "Kurt? What's the matter?" He glanced over his shoulder at the coffee maker. "I'm being careful, don't worry. I remember you showing me what to do. Well, kinda, 'cause you know I really don't like this fancy shit and I have problems with paying attention, but-"

Kurt began to stalk – quite literally, stalk – towards the older boy, ignoring his words entirely. His hungry eyes slid over Puck's bulging muscular arms, chiseled chest and abs, and the dips of his hips. Without a word, he tossed his arms around Puck's neck and hopped up, sliding his long legs around his boyfriend's waist.

Puck caught him more out of instinct than anything, having been totally caught off guard. Not that he was displeased by the turn of events –

"Fuck, Kurt!" Noah swore, finally tearing his lips away. Kurt, undeterred, slid his supple red lips to Puck's neck. "Not that this isn't – shit! – appreciated, but what-!"

"You look so sexy," Kurt groaned, rubbing himself against Puck's leg, "in these fucking jeans..."

Puck groaned when the smaller boy vigorously palmed him through the jeans. It wasn't often that Kurt swore, even when they were fooling around, and it was always so sexy when he did.

Without saying anything more, Kurt fell onto his knees, tugged the Levi's down to Puck's thighs, and took the thick cock in his mouth. Puck groaned loudly, grabbing a handful of Kurt's hair and thrusting his hips forward. Kurt smirked. He might have been the catcher, but he was in charge and Puck knew it.

His slim, smooth hands grasped Puck's hips and held them against the counter. They both knew Puck could easily flip the situation if he wanted to, but they were both enjoying themselves too much; Kurt loved giving head as much as Puck loved getting it. He was an amazing little cocksucker. He'd really come quite a long way from the fumbling virgin Puck had begun dating almost a year ago.

As was evident now. Kurt hadn't bothered with the usual teasing he did, lapping at the head, trailing teasing kisses along the shaft. He immediately took almost all of Puck down his throat, sucking like a vacuum. Puck's groans quickly grew louder as he tugged and yanked at Kurt's hair. His glazed over eyes focused on Kurt and his red lips wrapped around his cock. Gorgeous. It was one of Puck's favorite sights.

And then Kurt turned those big, blue green eyes up to him as he sucked. Puck had no idea how he did it, but those eyes were as innocent as anything while he did the dirtiest deeds imaginable.

With several harsh, final sucks, Puck was coming down Kurt's throat with a shoat. Kurt swallowed every last drop, running his hand across Puck's quivering stomach. He stood and smirked at the panting boy before him.

"Holy shit, Kurt," Puck gasped. His hands gripped the counter top so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "That's from just wearing these jeans?"

"Mmhm," Kurt murmured, pressing his slim body up against Puck. He ran one hand over that ridiculous mohawk, and slid the other down Puck's back. His hips slid against Puck's leg again, making sure his boyfriend could feel just how hard he was. He slid his lips against Puck's ear, growling out, "You wanna talk about it or do you want to fuck me?"

"I'm gonna fuck you," Puck growled. Kurt wrapped his legs around Puck's thick waist, tangling his fingers in the short hair of Puck's mohawk and kissing the boy senseless. After stumbling around the kitchen briefly, Kurt finally ended up flat on his back on the kitchen table with Puck hovering over him possessively. The larger boy moved to tug of his jean, but Kurt's slim hands wrapped around his wrists.

"Don't you dare," Kurt snapped. Puck eyed him as a slow smirk spread over his face.

"Damn, baby. I never knew just how bad these turn you on," he said, sounding nearly giddy with the fact.

"I swear to God if you don't fuck me soon I'll leave you down here and go upstairs to finish myself off."

Puck was quick to get up and search for lube. He had no doubt the threat would be carried out simply because it had been before. Puck hadn't taken his boyfriend seriously, and Kurt stormed upstairs, locked the door, and (quite loudly) jerked himself off while Puck listened through the door. He would not let that happen again.

"Fuck. Fuck. What do we got in here for lube?" Puck asked, frantically yanking open cabinets. Kurt snickered at him, watching with amusement.

"Aha!" Puck turned and brandished a half empty bottle of vegetable oil at him. "This works, right?"

"Good enough. Now get over here, stud."

Puck followed the demand with no hesitation whatsoever. He slid down Kurt's lithe, pale, beautiful body until he was faced with his flushed, angry erection. He ignored that, though. Instead, he pushed the smaller boy's thighs wide apart and smirked at the tight hole he was met with.

"Gonna make you finger yourself for me later," Puck said, messily spilling the oil over his fingers. "Watch those pale little fingers shoved up your hole. God, you have such a greedy little fuck hole, don't you, Kurt?"

Kurt whined in agreement, shoving himself further onto Puck's long, calloused digits. "Another!" he demanded breathlessly. "More!"

Puck chuckled and complied, mumbling, "Greedy," under his breath as he scissored the fingers. They could get rough sometimes, but he always slowed down and made sure his lover was thoroughly prepared. He was a tough, smart mouthed football player, but he'd die if he hurt Kurt.

After the third finger was done with, Puck slid the jeans to his thighs, removed the digits and swore again.

"Condom," he rasped.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "What, you don't just carry those with you anymore?" he asked breathlessly.

Puck patted his pockets, much to Kurt's great amusement, and shook his head. "Be right back," he muttered. He turned to sprint from the kitchen – only to have the denim around his muscular thighs prevent the movement and trip him. He fell flat on his is face with a thud.

And Kurt, being the caring, loving boyfriend he was, laughed.

Puck groaned and hauled himself up. Glowering, he pulled himself up and tugged the jeans back to his hips. He flipped the bird to Kurt and continued at a much slower pace back to Kurt's room.

Kurt sighed, smiling slightly to himself as he reclined against the table. His back would be sore later from having sex on the table (and his ass too, no doubt), but he found he didn't mind much. Puck had helped him evolve from a baby penguin into the sex machine he was now, and he found he quite liked that.

His hand strayed to his cock and he stroked languidly. Puck was taking a damn long time, probably because he was pissed. But, then again, they were dealing with sex here; he probably just couldn't locate the condoms or something.

But Kurt had needs. After waiting another full, long five seconds, he slid his other hand down behind his balls and nudged at his twitching hole. He bit his lip and groaned, sliding a single finger in. The dry digit was a little rough, but with the oil still smeared around his entrance, the sting was welcome.

By the time Puck returned, Kurt had added another finger. He groaned and hurried over, tearing the condom with his teeth and rolling the rubber down his straining dick.

"Shit, you're trying to kill me," he panted, rubbing more oil over himself. Kurt smirked in response.

Puck slid the jeans around his thighs again, then gripped Kurt's and held them apart. He watched the slim fingers moving inside Kurt for a brief moment before he decided that there would be time for that later. He tore the hand away and replaced the digits with the head of his dick.

"Ready?" he asked, just for good measure. Kurt nodded impatiently, wiggling his hips against his lovers. Puck chuckled and grasped the slim hips before him tightly. He ran his thumbs over Kurt's sharp hip bones for a brief moment, and then he slowly but surely slid home.

Kurt groaned as he was stretched and filled. He wiggled his hips enticingly to accommodate Puck's girth, mewling happily once he was fully seated. Puck was panting against his neck, braced slightly above him on his elbows. Shit, if Kurt didn't stop squirming around like that, he was going to blow.

"So damn hot," he groaned. His hands fell to Kurt's hips as he began moving. A fast, harsh pace was set up immediately, but Kurt didn't complain any; he moaned loudly, writhing and groaning and looking so fuckable Puck nearly pulled a Finn and came way too early.

The smaller boy tugged at his cock, his mouth slack and moans spilling out. Puck's cock inside him coupled with the harsh drag of the blue jeans against his ass was putting him so close to the edge. His boyfriend's hand slapped his away before long and Puck was nearly trying to pull his damn cock off, he was stroking so hard.

"That's it, so hot, God, so hot," Puck groaned, babbling; he always did before he came. "Gonna cum for me? Do it, Kurt. Come all over me like a good boy, all loud and sexy, shit, come on, come on..."

With a few more tugs, Kurt did come. Puck wasn't long after him, and soon they were collapsed against the dirty tabletop, panting and trying to catch their breath.

"God, that was hot," Puck sighed, rolling onto his back. He pulled off the condom, tied it, then dropped it casually on one of the chairs. "What made you so horny for me this morning?"

Kurt snorted at his eloquent boyfriend and curled against his side.

"I like your jeans," he admitted. "They make you look... when you wear them, I want to push you down and ride you until we both come." He flushed at the words. He was so blunt during sex, but afterward the dirty talk did nothing but embarrass him.

Puck chuckled lowly, running a hand over the creamy back next to him. "Oh, is that right? Damn, I'll have to wear them more often then. That sounded hot, babe."

Kurt's blush darkened as he rolled his eyes and stood stretching. "Shut up. Clean this up and come take a shower with me."

He swayed out of the room without another word, limping slightly as he did. Puck smirked to himself as he sat up and did his jeans up again. His eyes swept over the kitchen and he scoffed. Clean? Really, who did Kurt think he was talking to? He threw the oil in the general direction of the cabinet it had come from and jogged upstairs.

"Mm, yeah, like that." Puck's hands grasped Kurt's hips tightly as the smaller boy rode him. "Yeah, just like that. Shit, you're so fucking-"

"Oh. My. God! What the fuck?"

Kurt stopped and gazed down at his boyfriend, quirking an eyebrow. "You didn't clean up the kitchen, did you?"

"You know me better than needing to ask that question."

Puck rolled them over so he was on top. Kurt groaned, clenching his fists in the bedsheets. He'd probably permanently scarred his step-brother, but with Puck pounding into him, that didn't really matter.

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