Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/215368.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Sam_Evans/Noah_Puckerman, Noah_Puckerman/Lauren_Zizes
  Character:
      Noah_Puckerman, Sam_Evans, Lauren_Zizes, Finn_Hudson, Kurt_Hummel
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Humor, Smut, Blindfolds
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-06-25 Words: 3244
****** After Care ******
by peet4paint
Summary
     Puck's getting desperate. He's never waited this long for sex. But
     Lauren's holding out on him. No sex with her until he earns it, no
     sex with other chicks...what's a guy to do?
Notes
     For the lovely May, who showed me some very inspiring pictures.
     Unbeta'd
Puck’s been good, damnit. He’s waited and waited and frickin waited with
nothing but his own right hand for months.
But being in New York—being a stone’s throw away from as many sex shops and
strip joints and nightly viewings of “Rocky Horror Picture Show” as he can
shake a stick at—makes it all, suddenly, too much.
“Just let me buy a skin mag. That’s all I’m asking. One of those really raunchy
ones, that doesn’t even show the chicks’ faces.” Puck’s kneeling on the floor
of the hotel room, looking up at Lauren hopefully.
“Can it Puckerman,” she says, and there goes that hope. “You knew my policy
getting into this. No sex with me until you prove yourself, and no looking at
other naked women, no matter what media.”
“So that means the gentlemen’s club is out, then,” Puck says, with a sigh.
“Fine—fuck. Can’t I at least read one of my Ma’s romance novels?”
“If you no longer want me as a girlfriend, go ahead,” Lauren says, arms crossed
in front of her. Then she seems to calm down a little. “Sorry, Noah, but you
know this. I don’t want you comparing me with any of those twigs that popular
culture call sexy.” She runs a hand through his ‘hawk. “You’re doing so good.
Do you really want to turn away from this now for a little sexual
gratification?”
Puck leans into her touch. “No,” he says, almost hypnotized. Then he snaps out
of it, “But you can’t expect me to go without anything forever, woman,” he
says, standing up, brushing her hands off.
“I never said you had to go completely without, Noah,” Lauren says, looking at
him critically. “I said nothing with other women.”
“So, what,” Puck says, hope suddenly rearing back up, “pre-teen girls?” He
thinks about that for a second, thinks about Sarah. “Wait—I’m not okay with
that.”
“Think, Puckerman. With your brain. When I say no chicks allowed, what comes to
mind?” Lauren says.
“Dogs,” Puck says. “Actually still not okay with it.”
“Well you got the first letter right,” Lauren says with a sigh. “I’m talking
about dudes Puckerman.”
“Wait—like I can watch dudes in pornos but cover my eyes whenever the chicks
come on the screen?” Puck asks.
“No. Like, you can get it on with another dude. I figure there’s no way you’ll
be thinking of another dude the first time we have sex with each other—I’m all
woman—so go nuts.” Lauren raises a finger. “Just one thing first. You always
use protection. And never get caught at it. I don’t want to be known as Lima
High’s fag hag.”
“So, I can do another dude? Seriously?” Puck says, grabbing Lauren’s hand.
“Yes. Seriously. Just no chicks involved,” Lauren says, giving his hand a
squeeze.
Puck gives her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have to tell me twice,”
he says as he walks out the door.
“Actually, kind of did,” he hears as he walks down the hall to the boys’ room.
+++
Puck steps into the boys’ room. And there, sitting right there on the bed, is
Finn. First one’s the charm, right?
He grabs Finn by the hair, closes his eyes, picturing finally getting into
Lauren’s pants and lays one on him, all Puckerman style. There’s biting and
tongues and—
And suddenly Finn’s pushing him away. “What the fuck, dude?”
Puck opens his eyes—looks at him for a second. “Shut up. I can’t picture you
with boobs when you’re talking.” He closes his eyes and goes back in again.
“Seriously,” Finn says, knocking him onto the ground. “Not okay, dude. I don’t
get it. Has the pressure from Nationals finally hit. Are you, like, cracked or
something?”
Puck thinks about telling Finn just how not cracked he is, but just then the
door opens.
“Boys, practice downstairs in ten minutes,” Kurt says. He wrinkles his nose.
“Did something die in here? It smells like something died in here.”
And Kurt…Kurt won’t be all squeamish like Finn. Kurt digs dudes. Puck
lunges—gets a hand around the back of Kurt’s neck and leans in, all romantic,
like the first time he kissed Lauren. He takes a solid minute just to get the
dude’s mouth open, and then he’s sliding in all slick and stealthy.
Kurt moans. Then he steps back and slaps Puck across the face—hard.
“What is this? Tease the gay boy?” Kurt asks hands on his hips.
“Nah,” Puck says. “I just wanted some sex, man.”
“I have a boyfriend, Puckerman,” Kurt says.
“What? Who?” Puck asks.
“Oh my god—I have a boyfriend,” Kurt says.
“Blaine,” Finn says from the bed.
“Wait, who’s that?” Puck asks.
“Blaine’s going to kill me,” Kurt says, putting a hand over his mouth and
looking kind of sick to his stomach.
“You know, that kid from Dalton,” Finn says.
“Wait. The pipsqueak?” Puck says, turning to send an incredulous look to Kurt.
“You’re seriously dating that kid? Isn’t that illegal or something? The kid’s,
what? In kindergarten?”
Kurt’s face turns bright red. “He is NOT! Blaine’s a perfectly average height
for our age range.”
“Yeah, if you’re a midget,” Puck says, chuckling.
Kurt’s eyes go completely cold and he tackles Puck to the floor.
“Mercy!” Puck cries, almost tearing up from laughter. “Mercy!”
+++
Puck’s no closer to getting laid two hours later, after an extended rehearsal
for Nationals. Sadly his body didn’t seem to get it. Ever since Lauren had
given him permission to get some on the side, he’s been on a friggin’ hair
trigger, getting hard every time he catches Mike doing one of his insane dance
moves, or Artie hits one of those deep bass notes, or frickin’ Shuester starts
telling them how good they all are.
Talk about a kink you never want to know about yourself.
“So, tomorrow,” Finn says, pulling him aside as Rachel finally deems them good
enough to place at Nationals, “we’re going dirt-biking. Just you, me, Mike and
Sam. Seriously dude, you need to let off some steam. I don’t want you blowing
Nationals for us just because you’re nervous or something.”
Puck thinks about explaining, but then he remembers that Finn’s really kind of
stupid. And he kinda wonders if Lauren even wants him to explain to anybody at
all.
Eventually he just sighs—says, “Okay, fine. Sounds good. Tomorrow.”
Finn sketches him a wave goodbye and heads off.
Puck turns around to go back to the room, only when he does, Sam is right
there. Like maybe a foot away from him, if that.
And Puck—he can resist a lot, but if he’s been given permission, well, hell,
he’s hitting that. Seriously, who actually has a mouth like that?
“So, Finn said you had some kind of break-down before,” Sam says, giving him a
weird look. “Something about how he never wanted to know how you kissed.” Sam
raises an eyebrow.
Puck smirks. “How about you? Ever wonder…” He waggles his eyebrows, running a
finger across Sam’s chest.
“I’m not gay, Puck,” Sam says, giving him a weird look.
Puck’s smirk turns into more of a grimace. “Yeah, all right,” he says, pulling
his hand back to his side. He’s about to turn away, when Sam’s hand lands on
his arm, holding him in place.
“I’m not gay,” he repeats himself. “But, I went to an all-boys’ school. After a
while, you get used to just—getting by. If you know what I mean…”
“Uh—“ Puck says, without a clue.
“Kind of like when you were a kid. You played cowboys and Indians, right? And
none of you were actually Indians…” Sam makes a frustrated gesture. “You get
what I’m saying right.”
“Dude, I don’t care if I have to get it on with an Indian or a Philippino or
frickin’ Al Gore. I would get it on with a Nazi if they were up for it now,”
Puck says.
Sam sighs a little. “Obviously not. What I’m saying is, when you go to an all-
boys’ school you pretend. You find a guy who’s willing—maybe a little more
girly looking—and you pretend you’re getting with a chick.”
“Well—yeah. I figured. I mean, that’s what I was trying to do with Finn,” Puck
says, running a hand through his ‘hawk.
“So, I’m willing to help you out,” Sam says.
“Yes!” Puck says, throwing up victory arms.
“But, I’m not being the chick,” Sam continues, like he’d never stopped.
“But, if you’re not being the chick, and I’m not being the chick…who’s gonna be
the chick?” Puck asks.
Sam raises his eyebrow.
“Crap. I’m the chick, right?” Puck says.
A smile spreads across Sam’s face. For such a nice guy it looks surprisingly
dirty.
+++
When they get back to the guys’ room, it’s fast work to get rid of everyone.
“Didn’t you hear?” he says. “Kim Kardashian is signing autographs in Bryant
Park.”
The guys are gone so fast they don’t even leave dust in their wake.
“Puck, Bryant Park is on the other side of New York City,” Sam says. “At this
time of day, it’ll take them over an hour to get there.” He thinks about it for
a second then a smile spreads across his face. “Puck, you’re one devious guy.”
“I know,” Puck says, winking at Sam.
Sam grins at him. “I like it.”
Puck quirks an eyebrow. “How much do you like it?” he asks.
Then Sam’s putting a hand over his eyes, leaning into him a little. After a
minute or so, Sam’s hand is gone. Puck makes to open his eyes, but Sam says,
“Keep ‘em closed,” so he does.
After another minute something falls over his eyes. It’s not a hand this
time—obviously fabric of some kind instead.
“Can you see?” Sam asks.
And no, Puck can’t see a damned thing. He shakes his head.
“Good,” Sam says, and then there’s a mouth kissing him. It’s wet—wet and dirty.
All sucking lips and darting tongues and biting—whoa, the biting.
And then gravity takes a hold of Puck. He ends up sprawled out, half-on half-
off a bed. “A little help here?” he says.
He gets help, but not in the way he was asking for. There are hands on him,
tugging clothes out of the way—caressing the bare skin left in their wake.
A hand pinches his nipple ring. It’s overwhelming. Yeah, he’s played with it
himself, but he hasn’t been touched by anyone else for months now. He’s used to
his nipples being kind of sensitive, but now, it’s just this side of painful.
Fingers twist the ring—twist his nipple—and it’s too much. He winces—can’t hold
it back. “Hey, want me to stop?” Sam asks, loosening his hold. Puck reaches
blindly until he finds Sam’s hand. He clutches, hard, and after a minute Sam’s
fingers tighten of their own accord. “Yeah?” Sam asks.
Puck grunts out a ‘yeah.’ Then he’s lost in it, the wave of pain and pleasure
bringing him higher and higher.
He feels wetness on his nipple. It takes a second, but then he realizes Sam’s
sucking on him. Tonguing around and around the nipple ring until he’s ready to
scream from it all. It’s then that his other nipple starts to feel sensitive.
Like it knows it’s missing out on the action and wants in.
It’s funny, ‘cause Puck would swear he didn’t say any of that out loud, but a
second later his untouched nipple is being pinched—hard—between a thumb and
finger. He arches off the bed with it, almost shocked by the sensation.
“That’s right,” Sam says. “Look at you, writhing so pretty for me. I bet you’re
wet. Are you? If I put my hand in your pants would you be all wet for me.”
And Puck—Puck’s said those very same words before. To Quinn—to Santana. To his
cougars. He moans anyway, to hear them again. Wonders if Sam’s gonna feel
around his ass, think Puck took the time to prepare himself there or something.
Wonders if Sam thinks he’s done this before.
But when Sam’s hand moves down, it’s not to Puck’s ass, it’s to his cock. He
thumbs the tip, rubbing back—forth—back—forth, until Puck’s spurting precome
all over the place. “Oh, yeah. You’re wet for me.” He rubs the head again, and
Puck’s spurting a little more precome. Sam groans. “Look at you spurting all
over for me. Bet you taste so good.”
Sam’s hands are pushing Puck more firmly on the bed then, until just his feet
are hanging off. And then, between one breath and the next, a mouth is closing
over his cock.
It’s wet—wet and hot. And Puck’s not sure if it’s because he hasn’t had this
for such a long time, or it’s because Sam’s really that good, but Puck’s ready
to go off in maybe a minute. His hand closes over Sam’s head, tugging on his
hair. He shouts out, “Fuck!” and then he’s coming thick long spurts in the wet,
wet heat of Sam’s mouth.
The blindfold comes off then. It takes Puck a couple minutes to come back to
himself enough to remember he can actually see. When he looks around him, the
first thing he sees is Sam’s face, mouth in a crooked grin. “Ready for my
turn?” he asks. And when Puck really looks at him, it’s pretty clear that the
guy really needs to get off.
So Puck flops over onto his belly and says, “Be my guest.”
“Nice,” Sam says, and Puck can’t really tell if he’s being sarcastic or
sincere. But he’s just had a great orgasm, he doesn’t really care enough to try
and find out.
Sam tugs Puck’s pants the rest of the way off, and then he’s off the bed. He
comes back a minute later and his hands go straight to Puck’s ass. They stall a
little when they get there, though. “Look, I know you’re not gay,” Sam says.
“If you don’t want to do this, no pressure.”
Puck wriggles back then, more firmly into Sam’s grip. “Whatever, dude. You can
suck cock, I can take cock up my ass.”
“If you’re sure,” Sam says, and then the fingers are moving with intent, going
for Puck’s hole and circling a second before one of them slips a little inside.
It makes Puck shiver—feels good in a way he didn’t expect. “You like that,
huh?” Sam says. “Bet you’ll like this even more.”
And then—and then there’s something wet at his hole. Puck thinks it’s a finger
at first—a finger covered in lube. But after a minute the wriggling and
writhing take on a familiar feeling. The same feeling he felt before in his
mouth and on his nipple and—and on his cock. “Oh—oh christ,” Puck spits out
into the pillow. “Are—is that your tongue?”
The wetness is gone—leaving the feeling of cold air in its wake. “Yeah,” Sam
says. And then the wriggling wetness is back. It’s hard for Puck to concentrate
on it. He can’t tell how deep it’s going or how long it’s lasting or—well
anything really other than how good it is. It feels like—it feels like heat
expanding throughout him, not just where the tongue is, but all over. So—so he
feels the heat in his fingers as they clutch the sheets hard enough to tear
them off the bed. Feels it in his elbow, bracing himself into a half-arch.
Feels it in his ankle that keeps flexing and flexing and flexing with it.
And then the tongue is gone. “Please,” Puck says. He wants to say don’t stop or
put that thing back inside me or let’s never leave this bed for the rest of our
lives, but all he gets out is please.
Sam seems to interpret it as please put your cock inside me, because behind
him, Puck hears the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper opening, and then, a
minute later, a wet finger is pushing into him—or maybe two fingers. It’s
thick, whatever it is, thicker than he’d expect a single finger to be. But then
it’s sliding out until just the tip remains, holding him open.
A cock takes its place then, latex-covered tip rubbing where fingers had just
been. The tip is strange, going into him. The condom rubs in all the wrong
ways. And then he’s stretching, stretching around the cock-head. It hurts—fuck
it hurts. Feels like, feels like the most intense
burningachingsorehurtsgodithurts pain he’s ever felt in his life, but when the
cock goes just a bit deeper, it hits something inside him just right. Something
that makes fireworks go off in the back of his head. “oh god,” he says,
thrusting himself forward and back—back into it. “ oh GOD!” he says that time,
the pleasure ratcheting up until he’s hard with it.
He and Sam move with each other then, almost racing for it. The feeling of
being filled, being taken, overpowers Puck, overtakes his senses. One second
he’s thrusting back—back—back onto Sam’s cock and the next he’s coming, hard
thick spurts that shoot up, up higher than he ever remembers. He’s got come on
his neck, leaking down over his nipple-ring.
Sam groans behind him, starts thrusting harder than ever. And suddenly Puck has
this image in his mind, one he can’t seem to get rid of. He opens his mouth,
says, “I want you to come on me.”
Sam whines high in his throat. Says, “Shit,” and pulls out so fast Puck’s
afraid his might’ve torn something. And then Puck feels it—hot come striping
his back, stickywet on his side slicking down to the sheet.
For a second Sam just lies there panting, and then he’s laughing—loud and long.
“You almost missed out, man. When you said that, I almost lost it.” Sam drags a
hand through the come on Puck’s back. “Jeez.”
And then Puck’s chuckling a little too.
+++
“Dude, I’m still totally bummed,” Finn’s saying the next day. He grabs the
handles of his dirt bike, getting ready to take off. “We must have just missed
her or something. I mean, the crowd was still there, and everything.”
“Yeah, that must’ve been it,” Puck says rolling his eyes. He looks over his
dirt bike out of the corner of his eye. Looks like it’s not gonna be the best
experience in the history of ever, but Puck can bite the bullet.
He’s just about to mount the thing when Sam walks up to it. Sam puts one of the
hotel-room pillows on it, then winks at Puck and says, “Better use this, after
throwing your back yesterday and all. Wouldn’t want to re-aggravate it.”
Puck smiles at him and slips onto the dirt bike. It still feels like hell, but
he figures it woulda felt a helluva lot worse without it.
“Is that why you were acting so weird yesterday?” Finn asks. “Your back?”
“In a matter of speaking,” Puck says and sends a wicked grin to Sam. Sam grins
back.
+++
“So, you have fun with the boys the last few days?” Lauren asks, taking a sip
from her soda.
“You could say that,” Puck says, grinning. “You could definitely say that.”
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