It made no sense, in any shape or form, like some kind of fucked up, reverse Stockholm syndrome or something. It made absolutely no fucking sense, and the frustrating thing was, no matter how many times Puck told himself it didn't make sense, it didn't change anything.
And that's how they got here, the last two left in the locker room after the game, Kurt still dressed from the waist down, digging around in his messenger bag for his skin cleanser, Puck just standing there, arms crossed, towel wrapped securely around his waist, watching him.
"Do you mind, Puckerman?" Kurt asks dryly, flipping his compact open.
"Not so much," Puck smirks. He still doesn't understand why Hummel has to act like such a fucking princess all the time, but whatever.
"Hurry it up, would you?" Kurt rolls his eyes, tries to act blase about the whole things. Puck almost feels bad for all the stupid shit he's done to him over the years. "I'd like to shower some time this week."
"So shower," Puck shrugs; he catches Kurt glancing at the slope of his hipbone, still slick with moisture as his towel slips a little.
"I'd prefer to receive my traditional garbage dunking before I shower, actually. I know personal hygiene is as foreign a concept to you as your haircut is to me, so let's just get on with it, shall we?" The corner of Puck's eyes crinkle slightly in an almost-smile.
"I'm not gonna dunk you, Hummel."
Kurt narrows his eyes. "Poker is not your game, Puckerman. Don't you have some place to be? I heard your homies talking about a celebratory party after the game at Finn's house. If you're planning on being fashionably late, you're pushing it."
"Jesus, would you cut the shit already?" Puck says,starting to lose his patience, approaching Kurt slowly, like a hunter stalking its prey. He's always enjoyed that look in Kurt's eyes, darting around, scouting out escape routes. He's only recently noticed how blue they are. "Contrary to yourbelief, I'm not as stupid as I look." Kurt swallows. The tip of his nose is still red from the coldness outside. "You like to pretend that Finn's your dream boy, playing the little gay emo boy in love with the straight guy, but see, I have a theory."
Kurt clears his throat lightly and takes a subtle step backward. Puck's towel slips again, this time on the other side. Kurt bites his bottom lip.
"What's your theory?" Kurt asks him, his words missing the usual bite.
"I think you're crushing on Finn 'cause its safer. You know he'll never be into you, so you don't have to worry about anything." Puck takes another step.
"This is ludicrous," Kurt rolls his eyes dramatically and sighs, turning away from him, frantically searching for his shirt. "I am not discussing this with you."
"Turn around, Hummel." Puck breathes on the back of his neck and as soon as Kurt nervously pivots on his heels, Puck presses him against the lockers and kisses him. His lips are sticky sweet, familiar. Possibly chapstick, but probably lip gloss.
"Oh my God, Puckerman," Kurt gasps and pushes him off with a hand on his chest. His nails are glossy and manicured - its weird that Puck's first reaction isn't to make fun of him for that. "What are you doing?" He looks so confused, like he still thinks Puck is just doing this to fuck with him, but he's still breathing erratically and he licks his lips, like he wants more.
"Come on, say it, Hummel. Say you don't want me and I'll never touch you again." It's weird, but part of him wants Kurt to reject him; maybe it'll kill this stupid infatuation in its tracks and he can move on. But even Puck knows that's stupid. Instead of telling him what he wants to hear, or telling him his credit score isn't good enough, or asking about his Five Year Plan, Kurt wraps his hand around the back of Puck's neck and brings his mouth down to his, this time parting his lips and letting Puck slip his tongue inside.
"I shouldn't," Kurt murmurs as he pulls Puck against him, his pale, flat chest pressed smoothly against Puck's hard, slick skin. "But I do. I want you a lot, actually."
There's a first, Puck thinks, and kisses him again.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunity
And that's how they got here, the last two left in the locker room after the game, Kurt still dressed from the waist down, digging around in his messenger bag for his skin cleanser, Puck just standing there, arms crossed, towel wrapped securely around his waist, watching him.
"Do you mind, Puckerman?" Kurt asks dryly, flipping his compact open.
"Not so much," Puck smirks. He still doesn't understand why Hummel has to act like such a fucking princess all the time, but whatever.
"Hurry it up, would you?" Kurt rolls his eyes, tries to act blase about the whole things. Puck almost feels bad for all the stupid shit he's done to him over the years. "I'd like to shower some time this week."
"So shower," Puck shrugs; he catches Kurt glancing at the slope of his hipbone, still slick with moisture as his towel slips a little.
"I'd prefer to receive my traditional garbage dunking before I shower, actually. I know personal hygiene is as foreign a concept to you as your haircut is to me, so let's just get on with it, shall we?" The corner of Puck's eyes crinkle slightly in an almost-smile.
"I'm not gonna dunk you, Hummel."
Kurt narrows his eyes. "Poker is not your game, Puckerman. Don't you have some place to be? I heard your homies talking about a celebratory party after the game at Finn's house. If you're planning on being fashionably late, you're pushing it."
"Jesus, would you cut the shit already?" Puck says,starting to lose his patience, approaching Kurt slowly, like a hunter stalking its prey. He's always enjoyed that look in Kurt's eyes, darting around, scouting out escape routes. He's only recently noticed how blue they are. "Contrary to yourbelief, I'm not as stupid as I look." Kurt swallows. The tip of his nose is still red from the coldness outside. "You like to pretend that Finn's your dream boy, playing the little gay emo boy in love with the straight guy, but see, I have a theory."
Kurt clears his throat lightly and takes a subtle step backward. Puck's towel slips again, this time on the other side. Kurt bites his bottom lip.
"What's your theory?" Kurt asks him, his words missing the usual bite.
"I think you're crushing on Finn 'cause its safer. You know he'll never be into you, so you don't have to worry about anything." Puck takes another step.
"This is ludicrous," Kurt rolls his eyes dramatically and sighs, turning away from him, frantically searching for his shirt. "I am not discussing this with you."
"Turn around, Hummel." Puck breathes on the back of his neck and as soon as Kurt nervously pivots on his heels, Puck presses him against the lockers and kisses him. His lips are sticky sweet, familiar. Possibly chapstick, but probably lip gloss.
"Oh my God, Puckerman," Kurt gasps and pushes him off with a hand on his chest. His nails are glossy and manicured - its weird that Puck's first reaction isn't to make fun of him for that. "What are you doing?" He looks so confused, like he still thinks Puck is just doing this to fuck with him, but he's still breathing erratically and he licks his lips, like he wants more.
"Come on, say it, Hummel. Say you don't want me and I'll never touch you again." It's weird, but part of him wants Kurt to reject him; maybe it'll kill this stupid infatuation in its tracks and he can move on. But even Puck knows that's stupid. Instead of telling him what he wants to hear, or telling him his credit score isn't good enough, or asking about his Five Year Plan, Kurt wraps his hand around the back of Puck's neck and brings his mouth down to his, this time parting his lips and letting Puck slip his tongue inside.
"I shouldn't," Kurt murmurs as he pulls Puck against him, his pale, flat chest pressed smoothly against Puck's hard, slick skin. "But I do. I want you a lot, actually."
There's a first, Puck thinks, and kisses him again.