So, the thing is, Puck's a werewolf, okay? And yeah, that does sound totally badass and really fits the profile for a dude like Noah Puckerman. Like running around during the fool moon and howling and shit? That's totally a thing Puck could see himself doing on a monthly basis. Girls get periods once a month, and Puck goes out and tears Lima down from the foundation. Totally sweet, right?
Except, not so much really. Because being a werewolf actually kind of sucks. It's not like in the cool stories where Puck can just go out and turn into like, a hugeass dog and party all night with a tail. Actually, you kind of need a soundproofed basement and a shit-ton of chains and, if you don't want to end up eating your next-door neighbor, you need to spend a month's worth of pool-cleaning money on bags of dog food and meat. When Puck was twelve, he was so excited and thankful to his dad for leaving behind something in his Y chromosome.
Now he's not so happy.
Because every month it's the same damn thing. Around the time the moon starts to get full his body goes into readying mode. His muscles are gearing up for the fight and he's always staving and always a little angry and always, always horny. His chemical balance is off in twenty different ways and he has to shave three times a day, and it doesn't matter how much time he spends in the bathroom with a hand down his pants, he's in constant need of a good fuck. The days leading up to his transformation are easily the most miserable days of his life.
The first time he tells Kurt he's a werewolf, the smaller boy laughs it off, as people are prone to do when given such information. He rolls his beautiful, blue-green eyes and chuckles, saying, "Really, Noah? First with the sex shark stuff and now this? You have more pseudonyms for your sexual desires than some people have for their close friends."
And that should be then end of it because Kurt goes back to playing Tiny Wings and Puck should unpause Call Of Duty and get back to kicking ass, because there's no such thing as werewolves and Puck's just being silly.
But it's like, three days before he's gonna turn and then three days where he has to be stuck in a basement while the damn moon shines in the sky and his mom's gonna be out of town so he needs someone to help him soon. But he knows how freaky this is and how hard it will be for Kurt to accept that his boyfriend is a mythological creature, so he goes in for the kill (metaphorically.)
"Kurt." He says, and Kurt looks up from his iPhone with an arched eyebrow, "Just… this Friday. Come to my house. To my basement. Try to have an open mind."
And from the smirk on Kurt's lips and the subtle way he rolls his eyes, Puck knows that the last thing on Kurt's mind is the impending transformation from sixteen year old male to bloodthirsty werewolf. But he smiles, agrees to show up at Puck's house before sunset and 'have an open mind'. And, well, that's about as much as Puck can ask for right now, so he'll take it.
Still, Puck doesn't know what to make of the look on Kurt's face as he descends the stairs, looking forward to a date and finding, instead, his significant other chained to a wall by his arms and stomach. Metal cuffs digging into his skin and a snarl on his face, Kurt looks nothing short of horrified as he covers his mouth and takes a step forward, gasping, "Noah, what-"
"Don't come close!" Puck barks, his voice lower and more gravelly than usual. It won't be long until he loses all his human abilities, to reason and recognize and form speech, and he doesn't exactly know when he crosses the line. He doesn't want to find out with Kurt.
"What…what.." Kurt can't seem to find the words. Puck knows he looks like a mess, hair growing everywhere, the naked patches of skin coated in sweat, face toeing the line between human and beast. This is more than a harmless joke and Kurt can't, or perhaps doesn't want to, process the information he's given.
"What's going on?" He manages, finally.
" …Already told you." Puck pants as a spasm takes his body and the veins in his arm pulse with hot blood and new muscle. When Kurt doesn't react positively, not that he was expected to, Puck ducks his head. "…Werewolf?" he asks as his long teeth glint against the light.
And Kurt frowns and gets angry so quickly, Puck almost wonders if he's turning into a monster as well because the heart rate in his body shoots off like a rocket.
"This isn't funny, Puck." He snaps. "You look like a crazy person. You went through all this for a joke?"
But Puck doesn't answer because jut as Kurt points a finger at his chest and spits out his words another spasm hits Puck hard and his face contorts in pain in misery and the sound he chokes out is totally not human. When he looks up he can feel the change in his body, particularly his face, and knows that Kurt can't deny what he's seeing.
"This…this isn't funny…" Kurt says again, this time with less conviction and more fear. He's got tears around his eyes and Puck can smell him, so unsure and afraid, and if he wasn't in mass amounts of pain on the edge of turning into a thoughtless beast, he'd totally feel bad for the kid.
"I'm sorry, Kurt." Puck manages, the words sounding thick and odd on his new jaw. "But I need… I need your help."
And Kurt is backing up and shaking his head and when he puts a hand on the banister leading up the stairs its shaking and Puck hates himself for making Kurt feel that way. But he wouldn't have picked Kurt if he didn't think the boy couldn't handle him.
He waits until Kurt gets halfway up the stairs before shouting.
"Wait!" he moans just as a hot ring of pain finds his chest and ripples out towards his bound arms like fire. Still, Kurt's footsteps stop.
"Just say you'll come back in the morning, please. I need you." And then he moans as words stop being words and nothing has a language structure and everything needs to be clawed and tasted and torn. Kurt doesn't answer, but if he did, Puck wouldn't have heard him.
There's little time for sleep during a transformation. Everything is blood and smelling and hearing and the occasional tearing into a bag of dog food or a frozen haunch of something bovine. There's nothing but adrenaline and fire, body fighting to be freed from the restraints and when its not, lashing out at anything that stands in the way of freedom. (In the basement, luckily, that means nothing.)
But as the pink rays of dawn begin to dispel the shadows of the basement and Puck becomes aware that he is human, he figures he must have fallen asleep at some point. He's twisted his wrist raw and his lower body aches with the mis-placement of his restraining belt, but he hadn't just blacked out during the shift. He feels full, well rested, and terrified that Kurt won't come back for him and he'll be in restraints until next Tuesday when his mom comes home.
So there's really no word for the feeling that hits Puck as the door upstairs creaks open and the wary scent of Kurt drifts downstairs, careful and unsure, but there. Puck wants to say something, but he's not sure what he can say that won't send Kurt sprinting back out the door, so he just relaxes into his chains as Kurt takes the stairs one at a time, gingerly making his way down until he's within sight.
Both Puck and Kurt seem to let out a sigh of relief when they see each other. Kurt, probably because his boyfriend is no longer foaming at the mouth with five-inch claws at the ends of his fingers, and Puck because Kurt actually showed up. Puck winces as he raises a heavy chain to wave and Kurt flinches in return.
"It's okay, man. It's over." Puck sighs. Kurt watches him, eyes narrowed. "Can you help me out? I'm kind of in tons of pain here."
He beckons towards the keys he tossed to the other side of the basement the night before. He's heard too many stories about keys placed too close to their owner and the disaster it brings, so he'd been careful to get rid of them. That's why he needed Kurt. Someone to find him in the morning and lead him back to humanity.
Kurt stares at the keys on the ground, flicking his eyes between the pieces of metal and the boy on the wall. He doesn't look like he completely wants to, but every time Puck moves and the red, angry skin under the holds makes itself known, he looks tempted.
"Last night," he says warily, "You were… something. You were-"
"A werewolf. Emphasis on the wolf." Puck says. "But that's over for now. The moon's gone, and until nine o'cock tonight, I'm all human."
Kurt's still hesitating, but Puck really does look in bad shape and now that he's more man than beast, Kurt really can't stand to see his boyfriend in such a state, so he slowly and cautiously retrieves the keys from the floor and one by one unlocks each shackle.
Once one arm is freed Puck sighs in relief, swinging the appendage back and forth, examining it not long after his other arm is let go. His wrists are red and raw with bruises on the very edges and his ribcage is a sore mess. Once he's free to move about he checks out his handiwork with a grimace.
"That's why I can't do it myself." He tells the scared boy standing beside him. "I always go too tight and this ends up happening."
Kurt doesn't sympathize. In fact, he's still staring at Puck with a spooked expression, each time Puck flexes or stretches he seems to flinch or reel back. Puck sighs, wishing he could easily comfort the smaller boy. He decides the best way to do this is by talking.
"So I guess you have some questions, huh?"
They head upstairs, away from the dungeon of a basement, and Puck promises to answer everything Kurt can come up with to the best of his ability. Kurt makes coffee while Puck fishes out bandages from the bathroom and they spend the next two hours in the kitchen, going over every detail of Puck's other life.
For three days in a month when the moon's at its fullest, Puck turns into a bloodthirsty beast with no rational, human mind. He got it from his father, and there's no known cure. He needs to be locked up in a medium sized, soundproofed area with a lot of food until the sun comes up and he regains his human mind. The transformation hurts like a motherfucker and leaves him with a string of bad reactions, but nothing he can't handle. He can lock himself up, but judging by his battle scars he does a poor job of it, and there's always a chance that once he's locked up, he won't be able to free himself.
It's not something he can help, it's not something he's proud of, but it's what he was born as and it's something he has to live with. And if Kurt's willing, he'd like some help.
Obviously, he doesn't say a thing about his underlying desires to the boy. Kurt's working hard enough to take this whole new world in stride, and as far as Puck can tell he's doing a great job. There have been no mentions of silver bullets (Which would be effective) or wooden stakes (Not so much,) and every question is asked with only minor amounts of stuttering and pauses to examine what the hell he just asked. When Kurt asks why Puck's mother, seasoned in tying down her son, can't do it anymore Puck offers a throwaway answer, something about growing up and needing safer options, and Kurt seems almost flattered.
As far as Puck can tell, Kurt is pretty much perfect for the job.
By the time the moon starts crawling up the sky for night two of Puck's cycle, the boys are downstairs, readying themselves for a long night. Puck's made it clear that Kurt only has to learn the basics and doesn't have to stay any longer than he wants, but Kurt makes sure he's got everything down to a science before he leaves Puck for the night.
He straps Puck's (mostly healed) wrists into the shackles, adjusting for size so that once he reaches full-size his wrists won't chafe. He makes sure the belt is placed so that Puck can rear on two legs or rest on four, and he dutifully drags out another heavy bag of dog food for Puck to go haywire on, along with a sack of something that Puck warns him not to open. That's also left out. Finally, Kurt takes the key to Puck's locks and carefully slides it on to a keychain, right next to his house key, car key and novelty troll doll Mercedes got him last summer.
He leaves well before the transformation starts so that he can kiss Noah goodbye, surprisingly long and deep and forgiving, and the last thought that lingers in Puck's human mind is just how badly he wants to fuck that tight little body.
The third day of Puck's cycle, Kurt comments that he might not want to leave so soon, that it will help with his coping process if he sees the night through, watching Puck go from human to beast and back. Puck's first reaction is an adamant no. It's too dangerous, too risky, and if Puck can't stand himself when he's in is wolf form, what will Kurt think of him, covered in hair and drooling and ripping through the ribcage of a horse? No, nu-uh, not gonna happen.
But Kurt sticks to his guns. He's careful to mention the fear he feels as he lays home at night, knowing Puck's been chained to a wall since he was thirteen, alone with no one to care for him. Puck argues, of course, that he doesn't need care. That when he's in that state Puck wouldn't recognize Kurt from Michael Jordan and couldn't care less, because he's a hot body with a beating heart. But Kurt swears that he won't get close, won't wear expensive clothes and that he won't say a word. He just… he wants to be sure Puck's all right.
"I'm not alright." Puck says, even as Kurt chains him in later that night. "I'm an animal."
And then Kurt kisses him (Not helping with the chemical levels at all,) And settles back on the bottom step of the stars where they converse until the shift begins, and the time for talk ends.
To his credit, Kurt makes it almost half way through the transformation before his nerves get him. Puck is naked, snarling and baying, tearing into a pile of two-day old meat, every movement of Kurt's setting off another reaction from the were. Its only as Puck smacks his jaws, mind long gone with most of his body covered in fur and five-fingered hands clawing at the haunch of whatever animal had once been the meat, that he sprints up the stairs and the pungent odor of vomit finds the basement.
Kurt doesn't come back until morning, but now that Puck's seen how last they can last together, his mind is so far in the gutter he's pretty sure he's part ninja-turtle.
Puck waits a long time to move on to the next stage of his plan. He and Kurt have been working together for a good four months now, their routine set up and a mutual trust between them. By daylight they date as usual, boyfriends in the little Ohio town, and during the full moon Kurt is there, chaining up his boyfriend, usually leaving before the gore begins. But he's stopped shivering when he comes to get Puck the next morning, and when he stays to talk to Puck in the hour or so before the shift begins, he'll sometimes bring a book or perform a concert. Puck figures Kurt's about as comfortable with the routine as he's going to get when he finally pops the question.
"Ff, hhuhh, Kurt…" He breathes as Kurt secures the belt, hands working far too close to his groin that he has to keep naked so he doesn't ruin all his pants, "Can I… Can I…"
"Can you what?" Kurt asks, unaccustomed to Puck asking for anything while he's being bound.
"I mean," He says, next to drooling at the perfume of Kurt's scent, so close and familiar, "Can we fuck?"
The question's not one-hundred percent out of left field and it's not something they're not used to. About one month into their relationship they'd done the deed and both of them had come out better for the experience. Kurt had given up his virginity to someone he cared about as Puck realized the benefits of not only fucking a dude, but allowing himself to have feelings for the person under (or, sometimes, on top of,) him. Eventually they'd lapsed into habit and sex became a normalcy, though Puck was always standoffish and rude during a few random days every month. Now, as Kurt backed up way to stare and admire his handiwork, it donned on him why.
"You want to do it?" he asks, staring at the boy who's already grown about a foot. "Now?"
And what's Puck supposed to say? Between the pain and the crunching bones and rearranged muscle, there's a lot of misdirected bloodflow. And yeah, sometimes when he's at the worst of the shift he'll think about Kurt, about his eyes or his ass or the way he'll teasingly push Puck away if he gets too close without his permission.
But the gentle, nice thoughts never last as the pain wrecks his body, and next thing he knows his mind is buried in the heat of sex, of pinning down and licking and tasting, the feel of soft, malleable flesh under his control and the high, keening noises Kurt makes when Puck is buried as far as he can go.
Those are the thoughts that stay with Puck after Kurt leaves, though he never wants to risk his claws or dick when he's in need, and he's eventually just swallowed up by a black wave of pain and lust.
But how is he supposed to tell Kurt that? How's he supposed to tell his boyfriend that Puck wants him on the ground, naked and gasping as Puck traces his skin with his sharp talons? Kurt does as well as he can with a werewolf boyfriend, but he still gets kind of flinchy some days, and Puck can't imagine Kurt actually saying yes.
But he's in pain. He's an hour away from full-shift, at least, and Kurt's body is so close to him and it smells so familiar and good. He can't help but ask, but the look in Kurt's eyes tells him he won't be getting any tonight.
"That's-" And Kurt's voice comes out in a worried squeak, 'That sounds dangerous, Noah. I mean, last week we-"
"Last week I wasn't gaining eighty pounds of muscle in half an hour!" Puck barks, sounding harsher than he means to. It doesn't happen a lot, him lashing out at Kurt when he's shifting, and Kurt does his best to take it in stride when it does. But Puck can immediately see he's crossed a line as Kurt slides the bag of food within attack range and turns away.
"I'm gonna go." He says coldly. "I'll be back in the morning."
And he leaves Puck to tear into the night with a bag of dogfood and a case of blueballs.
Luckily, that had been the third night of the cycle so it gave Kurt plenty of time to be mad at Puck before he could try again. After unlocking him the next morning Kurt was nothing less than cold and cautious, saying little and slipping glares into the ends of his sentences. Eventually, of course, Puck is able to grin and bump his way back into Kurt's good graces, but he's careful not to bring up his problem for a while.
A while, by the way, means three days.
It's while Kurt runs vocals for his new solo and Puck strums along on his guitar that the idea of talking through the idea with Kurt while not chained to a wall hits him. He lets his strumming hand fall and Kurt falters, spinning around to see what's preoccupied his boyfriend.
"Look, Kurt. About what happened in the basement last week," Puck says, trying to approach the subject gently. Kurt stops him with a finger in the air and a frown on his face.
"No, Puck, I understand. You're always a screaming mess when you're chained down. It's natural that you would have…urges."
"Exactly!" Puck almost jumps up, but keeps a hold of his thoughts while he's on a roll. "Listen, I can't try and make you understand what it's like when I'm like that but, man, trust me. There's nothing I need more than you, Kurt. I need your taste, I need your skin. Like, I'm getting turned on just thinking about it."
"Wait. You mean, you still want to…" Kurt says after a pause, the color draining from his face. "Puck, you know I care about you and I want you to be happy, but when you're like that…in that state, it's not just dangerous, it's insane!"
Puck ducks his head, knowing Kurt is right, at least in part.
"I know, it looks that way. But you don't know what its like, having you so close, so ready. I mean, like, if I was able to like, have you, and then jus tear apart a horse, and then sleep? Kurt, that literally sounds like the best night I can imagine."
Kurt shoots him down. Again. When Puck tries to continue the debate Kurt says no, no, a thousand times (More like four or five over the course of the month,) no. And Puck tries it from every angle. Sweet and endearing "I promise I won't hurt you… a lot, at least. But you're kinda into biting anyway."
He tries sexy, "Baby, you've never been fucked like you've been fucked by a horny werewolf."
He even tries to play up the danger of the situation, "It doesn't give you chills? It doesn't make your heart race and give you goosebumps? You, under me, screaming my name…"
The danger one, he's pretty sure, sets him back a few steps, but it was worth a shot.
It's only two days before his cycle begins as he's sucking gently on Kurt's neck, gently taking the flesh between his teeth and testing with pressure, that Kurt lets up. Puck pulls away, retrieving his hand from under Kurt's super-tight jeans and watching the boy's icy blue-green eyes stare up at him. Kurt's mouth opens indignantly, and Puck is smirking only the way Puck can smirk.
"Two days." He whispers, watching Kurt roll his eyes and huff. Kurt starts to shake his head, tries to pull Puck closer to him, but Puck denies him.
"Think about it. This, only hotter, sweatier, more."
And then Puck has Kurt right where he wants him and Kurt rolls his eyes, scowling, and says,
"Fine, fine, fine. We'll see. Sunday. We'll see."
"Sweet. Trust me, Kurt. This won't be all about me. Don't worry about a thing."
And then he grabs Puck and wraps a leg around his waist, yanking him down, and Puck grins into Kurt's unhappy mouth.
Sunday comes, and to Puck's mild surprise Kurt keeps his sloppy promise. Not that Puck didn't trust his word, it's just oddly refreshing to hear something in the middle to fucking that turns out to be true. It makes him smile even as Kurt slides the long iron belt around his naked waist.
Puck would have expected Kurt to be hesitant tonight, like he was when they were just starting out and everything was dangerous and new. But really, not so much. He comes over that night with one thing on the brain and Puck's lucky his mom leaves him alone on shifting nights now because the basement is the only place he and Kurt can hide away for hours on end.
At first they just fool around with some intermittent talking, hiding away in the cleanest corner of the dusty space away from the chains, Kurt with a knee on either side of Noah's hips, occasionally grinding against him, perhaps in hopes to end things before hey begin.
But Kurt's efforts are null as the pain of the change begins to settle and Puck looks towards the chains. That's when Kurt's eyes widen for the first tie and he whispers quetly int the space just below Puck's ear,
"I was wondering… if maybe we could do this without the chains?"
Puck looks at him skeptically. There's legitimacy to Kurt's fear of course, the chains implying that Puck needs to be held back for Kurt's safety, but Puck laughs it off.
"Don't worry about that, baby." Puck says with a proud grin as he gets to his feet. "Just precaution. I promise, we won't be doing it doggy style tonight."
And Kurt wrinkles his face in a little bit of disgust and a little bit of laughter, and he says nothing as Puck grabs at his ass when he stands up to get the holds ready. Before he can slip the first shackle around Puck's wrist though, he pauses.
"Are you sure?" He asks, looking just a little spooked. And Puck might be able to process that thought, but even the heat from Kurt's hand on his wrist is making his heart race, and he has to swallow very hard and focus to keep his voice level as he replies,
"And you won't kill me?" He asks it like it's a joke, but Puck gets the feeling it's very serious.
"Nope." He answers.
Which is actually a complete lie because he honestly doesn't know what the hell's going to happen. He's never had the opportunity to suppress this particular need, and he can't say for certain how he's going to react to what's about to happen. But he is chained up and Kurt's smart, and he honestly can't handle how close Kurt is to him right now.
Kurt finishes with one wrist, and Puck isn't sure if his hands are lingering on purpose, or if his tongue has always just lazily flicked out to wet his lips every time he tightens a lock and gives an experimental tug on Puck's wrist, but he's pretty sure the smaller boy is doing it just to fuel the fire. When he tries to move towards Kurt though, he pulls back, shaking his head and murmuring "Not yet, not yet."
But it's as he grabs the iron belt, pulling his body close to Puck's so he can loop it around the werewolf's waist, that he really tips over the edge. Kurt lazily fumbles with the locks, fingers moving just above Puck's groin, Puck is taking deep breaths and biting into his lips, teeth already sharp enough to draw blood. His body aches to move Kurt's hands away, or to a more important area, but the smaller boy is focused, his breaths shallow and quick as he slides the last lock into place.
And then he smiles.
"Gotta admit, Puck, you could look a lot worse." He tentatively reaches out a hand, running his fingers along the taut skin of Puck's abs above the belt, his own well-taken care of nails dragging along the hot skin. Puck's mouth waters at the contact, and he reaches out to pull Kurt closer, but the boy steps back, out of reach. Kurt shakes his head and Puck grunts.
"Don't even think about backing out." Puck growls as he tries against the holds, wanting nothing more than to have his mouth attached to Kurt's skin. Kurt just smirks and Puck's blood roars through his system at the subtle tweak of his lips. He shakes his head and returns to touching, gently feeling the stubble that's grown across Puck's jaw and Puck closes his eyes, the mixture of wrecked bone and desire clogging his mind.
"Kurt." He says through tight lips. Kurt smiles a little, and Puck swears he can hear his heart rate jump, whether in excitement or fear he can't tell. It doesn't seem to matter though, as Kurt gives in and steps forward, brushing his lips against Puck's subtly, but accepting it as Puck pulls him closer, dragging his heat and his scent as close as possible.
Kurt makes a noise of approval as Puck's tongue wanders into his mouth, demanding and needy as the rest of his body. He lets their tongues tangle for a moment before bulling back, biting at Kurt's bottom lip with as much restraint as he can muster because he knows that he can't break the skin just yet.
Kurt's hands begin to explore Puck's form, bulky and hot but still nearly hairless and human. His hands slide deftly along the curve of the taller boy's shoulders, down the plain of his chest, slipping his fingers under the cool metal of the belt and reaching around to feel his back, his slightly protruding spine. Puck relishes in every touch, Kurt's curious hands almost cooling the pained muscle in his body, everywhere he pauses making Puck all the more needy.
Puck begins to back up, giving himself more room to use his arms and twist around in the mess of metal. It soon comes to a point where Puck is braced along the back wall, Kurt pushed up against him. They continue as they were for a while, tame feeling and tasting, but it's Kurt who takes initiative next. Puck is harder than he's ever been in his life, and as Kurt lifts a leg so he can grant himself more contact with Puck's cock. He steadies himself with one hand on the wall and Puck growls into his mouth, thrusting deftly into the new pressure.
He's doing his best to stay in control of his urges, but with Kurt's scent so close and their erections brushing, he can't help it as his hands move from Kurt's ass and begin working on his shirt, tugging at the hem and only breaking his contact with Kurt's mouth to allow the fabric to lift over his head. When the shirt falls to the ground Puck doesn't waste a moment, the sight of his boyfriend's pale skin stark against the slants of light let in from the basement window making him ache. He pulls Kurt closer, burying his head between his neck and shoulder, delighting in the warm, soft skin that he finds. While he let's Kurt's hands work on his belt and unyielding skinny jeans, Puck is busy tasting, licking, feeling for every shudder and breath that his mouth can bring.
It isn't long before Kurt's pants go off, followed soon by his boxers, and the rich scent of skin and sweat and sex completely fogs the air. Puck breathes it in even as he slides down Kurt's body, finding one of the boy's nipples with his teeth, having to hold himself back as he gives the pebbled skin a bite, just a small one, and then a bit harder as Kurt reacts to the feeling.
He doesn't stay long though, turning his attention back to Kurt's stomach, trailing down it with kisses and licks, tasting every bit of salt and sweat on it. He's done these things before, but never with his senses so heightened. Every sense is cranked up to eleven.
The way Kurt holds on to one of the chains and Puck's shoulder as Puck sips his lips over the head of Kurt's cock, the taste of masculinity and need that he finds with every suck, even the noises Kurt is making, gasps and pants and high-pitched whines, sound like symphonies in Puck's ears.
He stays with his head buried in Kurt's lower abdomen for some time, reveling in the newness and the sensationalism of it all. Kurt's hand had found the back of his head some time ago, and Puck had loves the feeling of Kurt's nails dragging across the fine hairs on his head. He pauses still as Kurt begins to moan out actual words, the syllables sounding alien to Puck's lust-laced mind.
"Noah. N-noah… Puck. I'm gonna…" And Puck pulls away, knowing Kurt wants it, but not wanting this to be over. His body is in hyper drive now, hardly feeling tended to, even with one of his hands wrapped around his own cock. The nigh-constant pain has waned with Puck's mind elsewhere, but it comes back with a vengeance as he pulls away, Kurt's whine echoing in his ears even as he flicks his tongue out to run along the tip one last time.
"Floor." Puck says in the midst of a sigh as a spasm takes his back. Kurt doesn't question the order, thighs quivering as he lowers himself down, legs spreading as he rests his body on the cold concrete. He gasps at the unexpected coldness, but the heat of Puck's body envelopes him not long after as Puck brings his mouth back to Kurt's, struggling to slip an arm under Kurt's shoulders to absorb the cold.
It doesn't take long for their bodies to sync again, Kurt's body near its peak beginning to rut up against Puck's own, occasionally brushing their cocks together and making both of them moan. Puck's tooth catches Kurt's bottom lip and he tests the pressure again, this time biting until the strength makes Kurt pull back. Puck settles for letting his tongue trace up and down the pulse of Kurt's neck as he reaches down, spreading Kurt's legs part farter to accommodate himself as he pulls away. Kurt stares up at the taller boy with lust-hazed eyes, watching s Puck sticks a long finger into his mouth, soaking it with spit until it glistens in the half light. Kurt's eyes roll back then, shivering as Puck traces along the line of his ass, eventually slipping down to disappear under him, only to have Kurt gasp in pain.
It's then that Puck has to look at his hands and realizes that while he's been sucking Kurt off, his body has progressed to the point where long, thin claws grow from his nailbeds. He looks down at Kurt through a moral conflict, not daring to fuck him while he's unprepared, but at the same time not wanting to tear his ass to shreds. It seems like the strangest answer as Kurt lifts a long leg to accommodate himself as he uses his own fingers to work himself open.
For about ten seconds all Puck can do is stare as Kurt begins to impale himself on his own hand, eyes fluttering shut and shuddering as he eases the muscles open. His mouth forms silent words, whispers too low for even Puck's ears to hear. Puck can't think of a single moment in his life where he's ever been so turned on.
Finally he loses his patience and bats Kurt's hand away, laughing as Kurt breaks out of his silent reverie to join reality. Puck looks at him hungrily, wanting to devour every inch of the younger boy, and nearly sings as Kurt gives a subtle nod, spreading his legs again so Puck can fit in-between it.
He does his best to wet his cock, using a combination of spit and precome to make himself about as lubed as possible before pushing himself close, aligning himself with Kurt. And as much as he wants to wait, savior the moment and push in slow, there's no amount of self-control that can stop him from thrusting in, even enjoying the gasp that comes from Kurt as he does so.
He thrusts hard at first, feeling almost dizzy with endorphins as they swim in his system. His senses drink in everything there is to sense. There's nothing like the sight and feel of Kurt below him, who is currently gasping and digging his fingernails into Puck's shoulders, the smell of sweat and excitement in the air, the taste of Kurt still on his tongue. It's only when he listens pants the grunts he's making as he begins to thrust shallowly into the boys body that he pauses. Kurt is sucking in deep breaths, and for the first time it occurs to Puck that along with the rest of his body, his cock might have grown in size as well. Kurt's still pants and Puck stops cold when the thought of the smaller boy being in too much pain occurs to him. Kurt stops moving under him, ribcage rising and falling rapidly.
Kurt sticks his palms out on the ground and lifts his body, eyes meeting Puck's in the dark.
"Kurt." Puck breathes, an apology in his voice.
"Why'd you stop?" Kurt asks, completely serious. One of his legs shifts to knock Puck's hip, and Puck blinks in return.
"You're okay, this isn't too much?" he asks, point blank.
Kurt laughs, just a little nose the crawling out of his throat, but it breaks the tension in Puck's mind.
"No, it's not too much. Now come on, we're wasting time."
Kurt has a point. The moon is climbing ever higher in the sky and Puck has to remember that there is a line he can and will cross when he gets there. It doesn't spook him though, not while Kurt's under him begging him to move. If anything, it fuels the fire that seems to be running through Puck's body. The chains continue their clanking as Puck grabs Kurt, letting his nails just brush the skin underneath them, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to leave thin white lines on the agitated flesh.
He starts moving his hips again, slow at first, but it isn't long before he's doing more than just making lines on Kurt's body. He thrusts hard and without purpose, losing his mind in the thick of sex. At one point he manages to swivel his hips just so and Kurt screams, honest to God screams at the feeling. Puck pulls his body back and aims for the spot again, loving the way Kurt's voice sounds as his body is wracked by Puck.
He's never experienced a sensory overload like this. It's nothing like when he's in his beast form, where he can't rationalize thought because there's no such thing, when all he cares about is hunting and smelling and heartbeats and bleeding. But it's not like humanity at all, where there's a lingering gaze or a sweet touch and that's the extent of it.
It's like a wall has been broken down in front of his senses and he can hear Kurt's heartbeat echoing deep in his ears and every motion the boy makes is seen and studied, the slightest titch in his face taken as a sign of happiness. At the same time there's emotion, gratification that both he and Kurt are happy. There's excitement, anticipation, and Puck never forgets the name of the boy under him, never turns him into a thing to be done.
It's a strange and fulfilling middle ground between humanity and beastlyhood, and it's all buried under the feeling of Puck's cock sliding in and out of Kurt's ass at a harried, breathtaking rhythm.
He feels his orgasm building and it's the best and worst feeling in his life. Best for various reasons, the obvious ones of course, but worst because he an feel every muscle in his body tense in anticipation, his toes curl and his fingers dig mercilessly into Kurt's skin and his teeth long to dig into the perfect neck, not to kill but to have something to hold on to. He settles instead for panting loudly, feeling his own teeth expand in his mouth, tongue tracing them as they curl upwards in sharpness.
When Puck feels the heat from the wounds he's inflicted he moves away, not impervious to the tiny drops of blood that pepper Kurt's hips. He has just enough humanity left in him to stop grabbing the boy, grinding his teeth together and pressing his palms flat on the concrete. Kurt hasn't said a word, though his face is almost unreadable in the shadow.
He's more than a little surprised though, as he feels Kurt's legs wrap around his waist and Kurt's arms that had been lying haphazardly around him that tense and his fingernails fight for purchase on the hard earth. Puck's slamming Kurt's prostate as much as he can and Kurt's panting, babbling along with 'yes, yes, fucking yes, oh God don't stop don't stop,' but his words trail off in a high-pitched scream as he comes all over Puck's chest. He writhes against the ground as his orgasm hits him, and the feel and sight of Kurt underneath him is pretty much all it takes to finish Puck off.
As Kurt goes limp under him Puck continues to thrust, but just watching Kurt lie back with his eyes fluttering shut and his resistance gone does it for him. Puck ducks his head into Kurt's shoulder, resisting the urge to bite and dragging his fingernails across the concrete, physically chipping the hard ground. He's doing his best not to crush Kurt underneath him, but as the best feeling he's ever experienced rips through his body he's still pinning the boy down, holding him still and reveling in Kurt's surprised little whine as he feels Puck finish in him.
Puck craves to go limp like Kurt, to collapse and rest with the weight of his need now gone. But he can feel Kurt's hands, now soft and tame, pressing against his chest. "All right, big boy." He chuckles. "Now let me go."
Puck's not one-hundred percent sure whether his tone is light with happiness or a little bit of fear, but he forces himself up on wobbly arms all the same. He can see that his body has grown; he weighs considerably more than he did when they began and a light layer of fuzz has coated his back. He's still more man than beast, something Kurt seems to approve of as he snatches a small kiss from Puck's lips, but the moon is still climbing and he doesn't have much time.
Puck relaxes against the back wall, body still too hot and sore, but the lack of erection a welcome change. He lets his arms drop under the heavy chains and shuffles the belt so he can sit comfortably, then looks up to see Kurt in the dim room.
"Are you okay?" He asks, unsure of just how hard he's just fucked his boyfriend. Kurt is standing, also wobbly, and he hisses as he tries to slip on his jeans.
"Define okay." He says, buttoning the fly.
"Do you need immediate medical attention?" Puck asks with a dry laugh, imagining the conversation with the paramedics. But Kurt giggles as he wobbles over to the bottom step, testing the stair, and then deciding against it.
"Those chains better hold tonight because I am not getting up there soon." He says as he makes his way over to the far corner where they'd begun the night. "And no. I need some sleep, some aspirin, and maybe a band-aid, but I think I'll make it." He slides into a lying down pose.
"You're lucky these are last year's jeans."
Puck chuckles as best he can, even as a shudder runs down his spine and he feels bone pressing against where a tail will soon form. "Alright man. Call for my ma if you need blankets or something."
Kurt makes a noise that means he approves, then settles down out of Puck's eyesight. Puck's fading fast and wants to say something before he's gone completely, but he's not sure what to say. Kurt's okay and that was easily the best fuck of his life and really, that's what's important.
Damn it, he's not got a way with words when he's fully human, now half his mind is being taken over by a beast. He settles for gritting a few words out of his lips as his jaw snaps and he garbles.
"Thanks, Kurt. Love you."