I don't own Glee. All mistakes are my own.


It wasn't even the kind of thing Kurt was into. Sleeping with someone just because? Yeah, well, Puck was there, and he was crumbled.

It was the removal of clothes—neither of them said anything. Nothing at all. Especially while Finn was up in his room, sleeping, and although he could sleep through anything, Kurt had this notion that if he were to even cry out just a bit from one of Puck's oh-so-elegantly placed touches, Finn would come marching down and he would never get laid.

No they weren't together. And they wouldn't be. but what's a little sex between break-ups? Blaine had never been in a relationship, and everyone knows Britney didn't count, so neither had Kurt, but Kurt had been so invested in this one thing that he's been giving it his all. So, yeah, when Jeremiah, the Gap guy came crawling around, deciding it was the time to go and court Blaine, Kurt was kicked unceremoniously to the curb.

He'd waited until he'd gotten home to break down into absolute hysterics, crying and screaming and yelling. Drama-queen? No. These were raw emotions that he'd felt. Had he thought he and Blaine would be together forever? Naivety was a horrible thing and it had Kurt wrapped around it's soft, nimble finger.

But that wasn't even the worst of it.

He'd been yelling at Finn for tracking water into the house and Puck came inside, watching Finn slump like a pussy while Kurt was screaming at him for wetting the carpet.

"Geeze, Hummel, calm the fuck down. Just because that Gargler kid doesn't want to put his cock up your ass—"

Kurt slapped Puck across the face, not even the least bit sorry. Finn gasped from the sidelines and rushed, almost, to stand between Kurt and Puck. Finn turned to Kurt, raising his eyebrows, yelling at the both of them. "Whoa! What the hell was that? You got a deathwish or something?" he asked, and Kurt reached around Finn to claw at Puck's face.

"Tell your friend there to stay the fuck out of my goddamned business, okay?" Kurt seethed through his teeth. Finn looked at Puck and then walked out to the pool, diving in.

Death wish? Not likely. Kurt wasn't scared of Puck like he'd been afraid of Karofsky and Azimio. No, Puck was nothing compared to what those assholes could do to him. And yet, it was like he was provoking something, knowing that if he got Puck riled up enough, he could fight against something, put his body to some use, because he had all this nervous energy that needed to be released, and then—

A kiss.

Kurt was pushing against Puck and throwing him back. "What the hell are you doing?"

Puck grinned, leaning back against the wall. "Why fight when you can fuck? It's a break up, Hummel. Shit happens. If you want to do something with me, I'm not really in the mood to kick your ass."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "Are you propositioning me?"

Puck shrugged. "Eh, I guess. But seriously. It's just sex. You need to let loose a little. And I swear to God, if you fucking smack me one more time, I won't hesitate to kill you. You're still a dude."

Kurt looked down at his feet, ashamed now. It was—he'd been looking for something. A kiss hadn't been one of them. But it shut him up, and defeated, he scampered away with his trail between his legs, slamming the basement door behind him.

Yet he waited, long into the hours of the middle of the night, when Puck and Finn should have been sleeping, when he should have been sleeping, and he heard the door to his bedroom open, the tell tale sound of feet padding down the stairs, and then a dark figure.

"So are we going to fuck or not?"

And then Kurt was on him, desperate with his kisses, yet still so smooth and cool. Their tongues mingled roughly, hands groping and pulling, the both of them tumbling to the bed, Puck lying conveniently between Kurt's long, lithe legs, starting a soft rhythm as they rutted against each other.

"I'm not fucking you," Kurt moaned out, hands clutching at the half-back's broad shoulders, feeling the muscles flex and move underneath the tips of his fingers. Oh, so hot … "But—but I want to suck you off."

Kurt flipped them over and pushed Puck back against the bed. He looked absolutely scandalized, but there was so much lust in his eyes—it made Kurt excited to know that he was turning Puck on. That he, a gangly seventeen year old boy was about to have his way with Puck—Lima's resident womanizer.

Kurt wasn't blind. Puck was sexy, and he had the confidence that made a girl (or boy in this case) swoon. He was a regular Casanova, and even though he'd rather not know numbers of how many notches he'd inscribed into his headboard, Kurt was kind of smug that he was Puck's first guy. It was written all over his face, how nervous he was messing around with Kurt. But whatever. It was just a blowjob.

Kurt slid the pajama pants down from Puck's hips, dragging his tongue over the jock's hipbones. Puck's skin tasted salty and clean, and he smelled just like he'd imagined a man would. Lower to dragged the pants, until Puck's cock was lying flat against his abdomen. Oh, man, was it pretty. Thick and long, hot in the palm of his hand. Kurt snaked his tongue around, listening to the pained moans Puck was succumbing, lapping at the veins and tip like a hungry slut. Kurt looked up and met Puck's vision, heavy lidded and burning. Kurt smirked then, keeping Puck's gaze as he dragged his tongue from base to tip, then engulfing him until he couldn't, until his gag reflex kicked in and forced him to let go. He pulled off Puck's cock with a lewd pop, licking his lips from saliva and precome, watching as Puck shut his eyes. Kurt continued, sucking hard, head bobbing. He liked the feeling of Puck in his mouth, thick and hard, hot, and it was definitely something he could get used to.

"Look at me," Kurt demanded and Puck, surprisingly, found Kurt's eyes with his own vision, panting as Kurt continued to make him writhe, clutch the blankets in his fists, to make him unravel with his impending orgasm. "Do you like this?" Kurt whispered, and Puck felt like he was going to explode, nodding in response. "How much do you like it?" he said in between licking, tongue swirling over the tip.

"A-a lot," he stuttered, choking out a moan that please Kurt.

"Yeah? What else do you like?" He murmured. "What else do you want me to do?"

Puck was silent aside from his heavy breathing, almost shaking with the force of need to orgasm.

"Tell me; what do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to ride you? Hmm?"

Puck was nodding fervently, and he was sort of pissed off how good at this Kurt was. It was always the quiet ones, yes, but Kurt in all of his order and proper cleanliness and his prudence, Puck never thought he would ever come so fucking undone underneath the fingertips—and mouth— of Kurt Hummel.

"Yes, please, God …" Puck was rambling, and it was a good look for him, submitting to someone. Yeah, Kurt had always thought he'd be a top—a bossy one, but a top none the less. But he could play bottom for Puck, ride him until he came so hard he saw stars. It was an appealing idea. Not the way he'd imagined losing his virginity, and definitely not the guy he'd thought he'd be doing. But Blaine wasn't into him, and neither was Puck if they were honest, but Kurt hadn't even gone this far with Blaine, and Puck was "straight". So whatever. He didn't want to go to college a virgin anyway. How embarrassing was that?

Kurt relaxed his throat and swallowed Puck down, until his nose was pressed against his abdomen, pulling back just in time to have Puck come in his mouth with a string of indecent profanities, his name thrown in there somewhere. It was messy and some of Puck's come dribbled down his chin, but he swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Puck just stared at him, laying slumped against his bed, eyes focused on Kurt's mouth.

"Aren't you going to spit?" Puck asked, watching Kurt as he climbed up his body, grinning.

"What? No one's ever swallowed for you before?" he murmured and Puck's eyes were gleaming.

"No, not one single girl."

Kurt laughed, straddling Puck as he leaned down for a hot, lazy kiss, feeling Puck harden against his thigh. It made him feel sexy to know he could make Puck hard. He was a boy after all, but I guess, letting Puck know that they actually were going to have full on sex, then yeah, I suppose it would make a boy hard.

Their tongues were heated against one another, tasting and teasing, memorizing, Kurt realized with a sudden jolt. He had half a mind to pull back from Puck, because Puck was drunk and he wasn't and this was kind of like taking advantage right? But a drunk person's actions spoke a sober mind—

"I want you," Puck said softly, in between their kissing, and Kurt thought, to hell with this. He climbed off of Puck and held up his hand, going upstairs to find a half-full discarded bottle of whiskey and took a few drinks to steel himself for this. Could he actually do it? Fuck Noah Puckerman one time and just go off to New York like nothing ever happened? Could he just get drunk, get laid, and not care about that fact that he wasn't in love with the half naked man in his bed.

Yes. Yes he could.

Kurt padded down the basement stairs, finding Puck still in his bed, completely naked down. Oh, and what a sight it was. Kurt stripped, unashamed of his body and pulled out the necessary things he needed. A bottle of lube and a few condoms, because this was Puck and they were going to have as much sex as they could before Kurt left. Because maybe this was the only chance he got. Damn it, he wasn't going to waste it. And he'd heard many things about Puck's stamina. no need to waste that either.

Naked, he climbed back onto the bed, a little more clumsy than before because of the alcohol, but nothing too bad. He could say he was on the same page as Puck, buzzed, having a one-night stand.

Puck's body was hot and hard, a little sweaty, but a whole lot sexy. Figuring Puck hadn't ever dabbled in anal sex, Kurt went ahead and prepared himself, two fingers slicked with lube and then three, all the while Puck lay back, amazed, watching as Kurt unraveled himself.

It was hotter than he'd expected it to be. Kurt's eyes were closed and he had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, letting go ever so often to let out a terribly soft moan that made Puck's dick twitch. He placed small, open mouthed kisses over Kurt's lower stomach and hips, taking the soprano's cock in his hand. It was heavy against his palm, hot and just a little slick with precome and it turned him on knowing how hard he was after giving Puck that mind-blowing blowjob. He must have been a little cockslut with that Gargler kid to be that good at blowjobs.

Kurt pulled his hands away, leaning down to press some kisses onto Puck's neck, reveling in the sounds he made, knowing that these marks would be there to see for the last week of school, that everyone, Santana, Rachel, even Mr. Schue, would see all these marks he made and be none the wiser. But Puck's hand was on the back of his head, pressing him closer, silently asking him to suck hard, make the marks darker. And Kurt was nothing if not a freaking people pleaser.

He pulled back though, just a little, shifting his hips so Puck's cock was aligned with his entrance, condom already in place. But for the sake of Puck's gay freak out, he pulled back just enough to ask, "Are you sure?"

Puck cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Yeah, I'm sure. It's just sex right?"

Kurt grinned, nodding. "Just sex."

He braced himself with one hand on the jock's broad chest, absently flicking the nipple ring with his finger before sliding down slowly over Puck, impaling himself as he watched Puck's face, contort into a mask of definite pleasure, groaning when Kurt was sitting down on his lap with his cock inside that tight warm heat.

"Holy fuck, you're so tight."

"Gimme a second," Kurt gasped, trying to get used to having something so big inside of him, experimenting with tiny movements of his hips, before finding a soft, slow rhythm.

"O-oh, God," Puck stuttered, throwing his head back, hands flying to Kurt's hips as he helped the smaller boy in guidance of his hips, up and down over him. It was so hot, so deep, so tight—Puck wasn't exactly sure how he was going to last through this. Kurt was riding him, hard, hands on his chest as he moved his hips in quick little motions, not quite bouncing, but goddamn did it feel good. But then, Puck managed to sit up, and press himself against the smaller boy, Kurt wrapping his arms around Puck's neck, holding him close. Puck set his hands on Kurt's waist, leaning his face up for a kiss as they thrust together, hard and fast and deep, meeting each other somewhere in the middle. Kurt made the softest sounds, little moans and pants and heavy breaths, hot against Puck's mouth, neck, and ears.

"Do you like this?" Kurt whispered, licking over the space beneath his ear, his hot breath cascading over him. "Do you like that I'm riding you, Puck? Does it feel good?" Kurt moaned, biting down on his neck when Puck thrust up into him just a little bit harder. "You do like it, huh?"

Puck found Kurt's mouth, shoving his tongue into it, a hot, sloppy kiss that made Puck groan when Kurt sucked on his tongue. "Are you going to come? Come for me like a good little boy," Kurt ordered.

He had to admit, for a dude who uses big, fancy words, Kurt had a pretty damn dirty mouth. And man, it did things to him. His hand grasped Kurt's cock in between their stomach, messily jerking him off as his he was pushed closer and closer to the edge of his own orgasm. Kurt mewled—so hot—and then he was coming between them, ropes of wet sticky come covering their chests and stomachs as Puck came inside of Kurt, hot and hard—so hard he could see the fucking stars. Goddamn.

Kurt slumped against Puck, closing his eyes for one second as Puck held onto him, and for that one second, he pretended this mattered, that this meant something.

But then he opened his eyes and found that, No, this didn't mean anything.

"I'm starving," Kurt muttered with a grin. "Food then round two?"

Puck cocked his eyebrow.

"What? I've got you in my bed for no strings attached sex. I'm not wasting this."

"Okay, okay. Food and then round two."