"Where is it? Where is it? I just had it! Crapcrapcrap. I'm going to be SO late to English," Kurt moaned as he frantically swept the empty hallway looking for his English project, "It's a huge pop-up book, how in Valentino's name did I misplace it?"

The fashionable countertenor looked around his locker, tears welling up as he thinks back to where his project might have gone. He spent hours constructing a pop-up book companion to Catch-22 and the result was gorgeous. Now he was going to lose points for tardiness AND not have a project.

"Looking for this?"

Kurt whirled around in relief, only to have that relief seep out of him like the blood draining his face as he realized why the voice was familiar. Puck was leaning against a row of lockers, holding the large book in his large hands. Crap. Crapcrapcrap.

"Puck," Kurt's voice took on a note of desperation and he knew very well that pleading, breathy way he said his tormentor's name was going to haunt him forever, "Puck, please give it back to me. I spent all night on it."

Puck's face morphed into a shark-like smirk that made Kurt want to smack off, "All night, Hummel? The only things I've done all night are-"

"Your decrepit cougars and stoned Cheerios?" Kurt hand flew up to his mouth in shock. He could not believe that he just said that to Puck. Puck who had guns of steel and was in possession of the fruits of ten plus hours of labor.

The mohawked-boy's eyes narrowed in anger, "Better them than a big purple vibrator and my left hand."

"It's green, actually." Seriously, shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up. Did Kurt actually just talk about his masturbation habits with Puck. Holy fuck.

Puck smirked, "Green, huh? And who do you think about when you're whacking off, Hummel? Finn? Chang? Nah, Chang's too thin right? You know, all little girls want to marry their daddies. And your daddy is a big guy, isn't he--"

In the days, weeks, years to follow, Kurt will describe his feeling at the moment as red. His brain went red. It made no sense, but he could not for the life of him explain that pure rage that gripped him. Years of bullying and torment and slushies and dumpsters and name-calling culminated in this one moment.

This one moment that Kurt stalked up to Puck in three quick strides and smashed his fist into the side of his smirking face in the way Kurt's daddy taught him how.

It hurt. It hurt more that he'd ever expected. His knuckles cracked and sent painful stimuli up his arm to his enraged brain. He watched through steely eyes as Puck slowly turned his now red face back to him. Kurt could see something in his hazel eyes now shining with reflexive tears. Kurt saw shock and past that shock he saw a little bit of blooming respect.

Not that he had anytime to process that look. A fist connecting with his nose stopped all trains of thought. OW. Fuckity ow. Kurt raised a hand to his top lip only to confirm his suspicions. He was bleeding and his nose was possibly broken. His nose. His beautiful, shapely, button nose was broken. He teared up at the punch, but the tears spilled over at the thought of his gorgeous little nose turning crooked.

"Fucking Neanderthal!" was the battle cry Kurt called as he launched himself at the larger boy. It hurt. His face collided with the wall of muscle that was Noah Puckerman's chest. If he wasn't in so much pain and angry, he would find that hot. Okay, so maybe he still found it hot. Sue him.

As tiny as Kurt was, fury and physics helped him as he collided with Puck and the force of the tackle sent them both hurling to the floor. Kurt internally winced when he heard a 'CRACK' signifying Puck's head connecting with the linoleum covered concrete. He felt bad for a second before he remembered his button nose. Then he decided that the dazed Puck before him deserved brain damage and went about his attempts to turn Puck's face into hamburger. He punched every patch of skin that he could find on the tan face. Eye socket. Nose. Cheekbone.

"OW, FUCK." Puck snapped out of his daze long enough to sock Kurt in the stomach. Kurt gasped, wrapping his arms around the injured area as all air in his lungs was forced out. Puck flipped them over, laying all his weight on the small teen. A flash of desire hit the bottom of Kurt's stomach and echoed throughout his body as his treacherous sub-conscious thought of another, more sensual situation in which Puck's weight on him was relevant.

That image flew out the window as Puck drew back a fist. Kurt's eyes widened as he thought of how much that was actually going to hurt and he did the one thing he could think of. He punched Puck in the throat, the voice of his father rolling around in his head, 'It may be dirty fighting, but what works works'. Thank God for his father.

Puck's face took on a purple hue as he gasped for breath. He fell back against the floor, hands around his neck. Kurt straddled him around the waist and went to inflict more damage.

That is, he was, until Puck played dirty right back. The fucker did something that not even the biggest asshole would ever consider doing in a street brawl. He bucked his hips. He. Bucked. His. Hips. Right into Kurt's crotch.

Kurt froze, a strangled moan ripped out of his throat. Looking at Puck with wide eyes, he was hit with lust and fury as he took in his smarmy smirk and raised eyebrow.

"You idiotic, primitive motherf--ngggh" Kurt's insult was cut off as Puck ground up again in between Kurt's legs. Kurt's face scrunched up in surprise and pleasure and he knew that this was going to end him.

"Like that Hummel? I knew you would. I bet you're a total cock-slut. Knew you'd be a wild one." Kurt was having a hard time concentrating on the words coming out of Puck's mouth when he was doing that swiveling thing with his hips. Kurt bit his lip to silence himself on a particularly brutal thrust of hips against hips.

The hand that was poised to take another swing at Puck's face came down to his chest. It became a necessity as Kurt could not keep himself upright anymore.

Puck was still talking, "Knew you had a temper. Couldn't wait to see that ice queen melt into a wildcat." Puck gripped Kurt's waist so hard, Kurt knew there would be 10 round bruises there later, "Moaning and humping and riding me 'til you came in your pants. This the first time you got off with someone, Hummel?"

Kurt's eyes screwed shut, lip still between teeth as he rode Puck's hard body, getting closer and closer. One of Puck's hands traveled from his waist underneath his shirt to pinch his nipple and Kurt's head fell back as his mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He couldn't believe this was happening! They were in the middle of a hallway, for Christ's sake! Anyone could walk over and see.

There was an intense fire right below his stomach that was spreading down to his throbbing dick and igniting a path up and down his spinal column. He didn't want to be the only one making the noise, so he ground down as hard as he could on Puck's erection, eliciting a groan out of the bigger teen.

"Fuck, Hummel. What the fuck are you doing to me?" More desire coursed through Kurt's veins as he watched the jock fall apart underneath him. He was slack-jawed, breathing hard as if he couldn't get enough air in his lungs for all the pleasure. Fuck that's hot. Kurt grabbed his nipple ring and twisted, knowing, just knowing, it was going to drive the other one mad.

"Nggggh." He was right. Puck bucked so hard, the motion nearly threw Kurt off. Kurt pulled this time and Puck screamed, "KURT."

Hearing his name (at all) coated with so much desire and lust made his cock swell even more in the confines of his skinny jeans, "I know, I know." He sobbed out the last part. He was so fucking close.

Kurt saw a flash of clarity pass through Puck's eyes right before he felt his world shift. Actually, he was the one that was shifted. Puck rolled them over and pinned Kurt's arms over his head in one fluid motion. Kurt never thought his wrists crossed above his head was going to be such a turn on, but it was. He reveled in the feel of a large strong body pinning down his antithetical one.

Puck's mouth was at his ear, breath caressing the outer shell, "You're a fucking tease, Kurt Hummel. Look at you, moaning and writhing. Being so fucking sexy and perfect all the fucking time."

Kurt moaned in response, "Puck, please. Please. I need—I need—"

"What do you need, princess? Huh? Tell me." Every word was accentuated with a roll or stab of hips and Kurt was seeing stars.

"I need--oh!"

"What do you need? I won't give it to you if you don't say it."

Kurt couldn't breathe. His brain wasn't working but it knew he had to form an answer, "Please, I need to come. Please, please, please."

Puck stopped his thrusting and Kurt whimpered in response, "Alright princess."

With that he grabbed Kurt's hips and held them in place as he thrust his jeans covered erection into Kurt's. He held them there for a beat before doing the greatest thing ever. He rubbed his hardness along the seam of Kurt's jeans, from his ass crack to erection and Kurt lost it.

"Pu-uck," his back arched the same way his voice did as he convulsed against the jock, come shooting out of his slit and into his silk boxer-briefs.

Puck came two seconds later, moaning Kurt's name like a funeral dirge, hips snapping. Kurt felt the other boy's dick pulsing come and his own dick twitched in response.

They were both breathing heavily, arms intertwined. Kurt looked into Puck's eyes, waiting for the inevitable backlash. Instead he saw satisfaction.

"I knew you'd be the greatest fuck, Hummel."

Kurt internally cheered. Dry as ever, however, he said, "Can I have my English project back? I really did spend all night on it."

Puck's chuckles reverberated in the empty hallway.