A/N:

Hello, Gleeks!

I have recently joined the legions of Puck/Kurt (aka Purt, Puckurt, or my personal favorite: Pummel) fans, which is completely Pyropadawan's fault. You should really check out his story, Kurt's Gamble, which is excellent. You should also check out stories by The-Jellybaby-Bandit, who I've probably borrowed a few things from on accident!

Summary: Kurt has a secret admirer who decides to let his affections be known via sext. Who is he? Will Kurt's relationship with the admirer always be virtual or will there will be a new power couple at William McKinley High? Rated M for language and sexy boy/boy imagery.

Since I have too many works in progress, I finished this one before I began posting, so never fear. I will try to adhere to a three-times-a-week posting schedule for all 18 chapters. I hope you enjoy!

Texts and Insanity

Chapter 1 – Kurt Has a Secret Admirer

Kurt's life had changed drastically in the past year, but sadly, some things were exactly the same. Kurt's dad found someone special, and Kurt got a new brother instead of a boyfriend. Kurt made eleven good friends in glee club, but he still got slushied at least once a week. Kurt had come out, for God's sakes, and people called him hurtful names even more often. All he had was the knowledge that he was better than every one of those bullies, in the long run. All he had was his slowly weakening pride.

When Kurt's phone rumbled and chimed in his hand one evening while he was doing his homework in his room, he immediately checked the screen, as he had been waiting for a text from Artie about their English assignment. Instead, the screen read: Hey, Kurt? This your number? Oddly, his caller ID didn't recognize the sender.

Thumbs flying over the screen of his iPhone as he sat at his desk, gladly abandoning the homework he had yet to do, Kurt replied: Yes. Who is this?

Everyone had always told Kurt that junior year was the most difficult year to get through, and he was finding the sentiment so true he felt like crying. There was school work to keep up with if he wanted to get into NYU. There were the football practices that he'd let Coach Tanaka bully him into so McKinley could win on a regular basis. And then there was his heart and soul – glee club. Kurt would need all these activities to get out of this town (yes, even the damn football), and every day he hoped it wouldn't kill him before that happened. It got even worse when he realized that every single one of his friends had dated someone during the past year, at least for a few days, and Kurt was still alone.

Someone who's been checking you out.

Snorting in disbelief at the idea that after all this time, someone would be interested in him, Kurt replied: Mercedes, quit being a bitch. Whose phone are you using?

Who's Mercedes?

After half a second, while Kurt was trying to come up with a reply, the mystery texter wrote: Oh, the black chick, Aretha. I remember now. And no, I'm not her.

Wondering how long Mercedes was going to keep up the act, Kurt wrote back: Then who are you?

I'm your secret admirer, baby!

It had to be a prank. It was statistics, really. Only about two percent of the population was like him. That meant that at best, there were three or four other gay guys in his class. Maybe only ten or fifteen of them in the entire school. Everyone else got a couple hundred people to choose from. And he didn't see any of the guys that statistics said should be there coming out or even talking to him that way (in person), because they were too confused or too scared. Too scared of their parents, too scared of God, or even too scared of those bullying jock bastards. No, Kurt had to wait for love until he got out of Lima. He'd go to New York or LA, or hell, he'd even settle for Chicago. He'd go somewhere far away where people would understand him and welcome him and his many talents with open arms. But it wasn't going to happen now.

Even though he knew this was a prank, Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest. Nothing was going to come of this, ever, but he could play along and have some fun with it, right? If you really are my secret admirer, what do you like best about me?

The way you blush, was the almost instantaneous reply.

Kurt giggled to himself, moving to his bed and settling back on his pillows as he typed out the reply: The way I blush! For Dior's sake, that's a ridiculous line.

I don't care if you think it's stupid. Every time you blush, it makes me want to press my lips to your skin to taste if it's as hot as it looks.

Holy Red Bull! Kurt shot back to sitting up straight and furiously typed: Who is this, really? His hands had begun trembling out of ... excitement? ... fear? ... even though he knew it was a joke. It had to be.

If I told you, I wouldn't be your secret admirer, now would I?

Kurt supposed that was true, but it did nothing to alleviate his fears. No, he needed to call this prankster out. Will you tell me anything about yourself?

I go to your school.

Anything else?

I'm a guy, so you don't have to worry I'm another Aretha wanting to be your beard.

A guy? No, Kurt told himself. It's not true. It's one of my girlfriends messing with me. Well, two could play at that game. He'd play along and ask as many questions as he could, until she fucked up and he could catch her in the lie. He decided to start simple: What do you look like?

If I told you, Kurt's texting partner wrote, you'd figure it out. You're too smart.

Thanks for the flattery, but if I'm going to keep talking to you, I have to know you're worth my time. So? In general, what do you look like?

Fine, I'll tell you! I'm not too tall, not too beefy, though my guns are awesome, and I have pouty lips that dream about being able to kiss yours.

Hmm. Pretty average, but probably meant to be a jock, because those were the only guys that talked about having guns instead of arms. And Kurt couldn't ignore the crazy beating of his heart at the thought that someone, even a fictional someone, might want to kiss him.

What's your favorite color?

Black.

Oh, great. Just the lack of taste he was looking for in a boyfriend! Snorting again and thinking maybe it was Tina and Artie messing with him, Kurt wrote: Favorite musical group?

Def Leppard.

Well, that was weird. Who in their right mind would think of an eighties hair band so quickly? He had to know if this was for real, and how far his admirer was willing to take the joke, so he went for broke and asked: What does your dick look like?

Big, the texter wrote back, long, straight, and hard as steel just for you.

Okay, this had to be a joke, despite the way Kurt's privates stirred at those last few words. Please... that's the best you could come up with?

Want more, huh?

Sure, tell me more about this alleged manhood of yours. Standing up, Kurt trotted up the stairs to the basement door and quietly locked it. It didn't matter that one of his friends was messing with him, he did not want his dad to walk in to find him drooling over his phone and sexting with a stranger.

Nothing alleged about it, Hummel!

Kurt wondered if he'd finally managed to ruffle the person on the other end as he gracefully returned to his bed. But then his phone chimed again, and Kurt saw that his mystery texter had sent him a picture, which was unnamed except for a default number. With a shrug, Kurt opened it, only to be surprised by a full-color close up of somebody's dick. It was long and straight and erect-looking, circumcised, but it had to be a joke, didn't it? Mouth going dry, Kurt hastily typed out: Nice. Didn't take you long to pull that off the Internet.

No, that's mine. I swear to God, it is.

Knowing he was only setting himself up for more trouble, but almost needing to see how far this would go, Kurt wrote: Prove it.

Okay. I've got a sharpie. Give me any word you want and I'll write it on there for you.

Don't mutilate yourself! Write 'tumescent' on your hand or a piece of paper or something and put that in the picture, too.

What does that word mean?

Look it up, lame-brain, Kurt replied. Are you going to do it or not?

One minute and twenty-eight seconds later, another picture arrived at Kurt's phone and he started downloading it. Holy fucking hell! He'd done it! This guy had written 'tumescent' on his hand and wrapped it around that same dick! He couldn't really tell much more about the guy, except that his skin was a little dark, tanned maybe, and his hands were almost as beautiful as his cock.

Getting hot under the collar, Kurt wrote back: I'm blushing.

Shit! Really? That's so fucking hot, Kurt.

If you say so.

I do say so, Hummel. God. I'm thinking about those totally awesome lips of yours and stroking myself.

Almost without thinking, Kurt unbuttoned the fly of his skinny jeans and let his hand stroke downward over the bulge in his underwear. Asking the first thing he could think of, Kurt wrote: Boxers or briefs?

Commando, usually. You?

Usually briefs. Tell me what else you like about me.

Your hair always looks so soft and perfect, I want to bury my face in it. And your hands are so small and delicate, without being girly. I bet they're actually pretty strong, huh?

I did grow up in a mechanic's garage. And I play piano.

Wish it was you touching me, Kurt.

Oh, Christ! Kurt was getting hard, stroking himself and reading what this mystery guy had to say. But mysteries and fantasies only got you so far, as Kurt was well aware of, so he wrote: If you told me who you were, maybe it could be me.

Shit, Hummel. Way to ruin a jerk-off for me! I can't tell you who I am. You hate me in real life.

Why do I hate you?

I'm popular and I can't think you're hot, but I do. I fucking do and it's driving me crazy. I've been an asshole to you and now I'm insane over all this.

So you've resorted to being my secret sexting admirer?

Exactly. Man, I'm such a loser

Kurt sat in silence for a few minutes, his cock out and hard, but his hands ghosting over his phone as he tried to figure out how to respond. This guy seemed pretty sincere, sending him both those pictures, which were absolutely drool-worthy. It seemed mean to brush him off, this first guy who had ever expressed any interest in him. It seemed like a missed opportunity, given the statistics. So, Kurt decided as a sort of peace offering, to send a picture of his own.

Taking a deep breath, he switched over to his phone's camera, made sure there was nothing incriminating in the shot, and took a picture. After double checking it, Kurt sent the picture, along with the message: If this is ever seen by eyes other than yours, I will deny having taken it and I will find you and kill you. Do you understand?

Oh fuck! Thank you! This is so awesome!

I'm okay with being secret for now, as long as you tell me what you'd do if you were here with me.

Kurt! I'd kiss your brains out, starting nice and slow before tonguing your lips apart and tasting every inch of your mouth.

Yeah?

You'd be rock hard before I even pressed all of me against you and I'd shiver when I felt your beautiful cock against my leg as I rubbed my thigh between yours.

Kurt's breath came in short little gasps as he read these things, allowing one hand to creep back downward to grab his cock. Stumbling to type with one hand, Kurt wrote back: I'm so hard for you, and I don't even know what to call you.

Just call me baby, Kurt. Please.

Ok. What would you do next, baby?

I'd take off your shirt, so freaking slowly.

Kurt scrambled to take off his shirt, undoing all the buttons with sweaty, trembling fingers. This wasn't what he wanted his first experience with another guy to be, but damn if it wasn't so hot he couldn't force himself to stop! When that was done and he'd laid out his shirt near the foot of his bed, Kurt picked up his phone, about to tell 'Baby' what he'd just done.

But there was another message waiting for him. It said: Shit! My mom and sister are home! I'm supposed to be grounded from texting today. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Keep thinking of me!

Well, shit! Half of Kurt wanted to believe his new friend, and half of him wanted to scream and think the worst, that this guy had been playing a prank the whole time. Kurt deeply regretted sending that picture. What had he been thinking? With his luck, everything about the conversation had been utter lies and that picture of his dick would be all over Jacob Ben Israel's blog by the time school started in the morning.

At least he still had the pictures Baby had sent, even if they didn't really belong to someone who wanted him back. Opening the first one, Kurt let himself fall into the fantasy so he could quell his hormones and drain his aching balls.

After his body had calmed down, and he'd gone halfway through his nightly skin care regimen, Kurt came to the conclusion that if this guy was for real, there might be a way to leverage him into a legitimate relationship. Kurt Hummel would not put up with a closet case for very long. No, he was so much better than that. Kurt decided to give it a month. If he couldn't get this guy out of the closet in a month, it was over. No matter how good Baby was at sexting.

Noah Puckerman had lost his mind. That was the only explanation for the obsession that had taken over his every waking thought since the end of summer, when Finn had forced him into going to Rachel's glee-club pool party. Puck had never accepted the job to clean the Berrys' pool for a reason that could be summed up in three words, "Two gay dads." Not his thing. Puck was all about the cheerleaders and the MILFs, not letting Rachel Berry's gay days ogle him while he worked.

So he'd never seen Rachel's back yard before, and the pool was impressive. It was an above-ground, but had an elaborate deck built all the way around the pool, with a hot tub embedded in one corner. You had to climb the steps to get up to the deck, which meant Puck and Finn were recruited more often than not to get Artie up there and then around from the pool to the hot tub and back again. Everything was going fine, since Finn was keeping Rachel's mouth busy with his lips, that Artie guy was actually pretty funny to talk to, and Brittany and Santana kept making out in the corner of the hot tub, in their bikinis. Earlier in the evening, Puck asked them if they wanted any help, and had just barely avoided taking Santana's foot to his groin. But he was okay watching, goofing off with Finn and Matt, talking to Artie and Quinn and generally just enjoying the party.

Until Kurt and Mercedes showed up. Puck didn't know what it was, but something about how the boy sauntered and danced to the music across the deck and toward the hot tub in a close-fitting pair of swim trunks and nothing else made Puck snap. And certain body parts began to stand at attention even more than they had been when he was watching the two girls make out. To distract himself, Puck punched Finn in the arm, saying, "Breath holding contest in the pool. Fifty bucks."

"You're on, Puckerman!" Finn cried, scrambling out of the hot tub and diving into the pool. Puck followed quickly in the wake of Finn's commotion, in the hopes that no one would notice how his eyes didn't want to leave Kurt's chest. The cold pool water shocked his body into settling down and his competitive need to win the bet he'd made with Finn took his mind off of Kurt just long enough to win fifty bucks. The urge to drown himself because of his reaction to Kurt's almost nakedness probably helped him win that bet, too.

When he got home that night, Puck wanted to call Quinn, but he couldn't. The blonde knew that he loved her, but had said just a week after Beth was born that their time had passed and she needed to be by herself for awhile, or some girly shit like that. It had hurt, but Puck had known it wouldn't work out in the end. And, there was that god awful memory of seeing Quinn's lady parts stretched around a baby's head. Fucking nasty, in a wholesome, miracle-of-life sort of way.

So, to get the memory of Kurt out of his head, Puck called his sometimes-girlfriend from the school across town, Jenna, to ask if she wanted to be back on again. She agreed and twenty minutes later, he was crawling through her bedroom window so he could fuck the crap out of her and remind himself how entirely straight he was. It was nice, like always, and he got off, but when Jenna's dad found him in her bed the next morning and threatened to go get his shotgun, Puck knew that their relationship wasn't long for this world either.

He tried chasing new tail when the school year started, but as a glee freak, it just wasn't as easy as it had been before. So much for being a sex shark. And he kept having to see Kurt every single day. When it wasn't in class, or at practice, it was during the weekends when he went to go spend time with Finn, his almost-again-best-friend. Because now Kurt and Finn did live in the same house, but thankfully not in the same room anymore, since their parents had come to their senses.

After a few insane dreams about Kurt and stumbling onto some enlightening Internet porn, Puck decided that he'd caught a mild case of gayness and was now bi. Or at least that's what he told himself to escape the truth that he'd probably always been bi. And that little gay guy was always flaunting it in his face every single day!

Puck had class with Kurt and Finn first thing in the morning this year, which meant that if he wanted to keep on good terms with Finn, he had to sit near Kurt, usually right behind him.

You make it hard to breathe
It's as if I suffocated
And when you're next to me
I can feel your heart beat through your skin.

Coach had convinced Kurt to come back to the football team and so he was always around, naked in the showers after every practice, dancing like that during every glee rehearsal.

It makes me sad to think
This could all be for nothing.
I wish there would be a way
A way for you to see inside me.

I've never felt this way
About anyone
Or anything
Tell me what do I have to do?

To make you want me.

After six weeks, Puck just couldn't take it anymore. When Finn wasn't looking one day, Puck swiped his phone and copied over Kurt's cell number, just so he could have it. Puck fantasized about calling the other boy up and declaring his feelings, or telling Kurt what he wanted to do to him, anyway, but the horrible consequences he imagined always discouraged him from going through with it.

He tried to date a sophomore chick, Olivia (who actually looked a little like Kurt, he was such a sicko) but Puck had pushed her too fast and gotten slugged when he tried to go down on her. He'd gone for it just to remind himself that even though he'd been dreaming about Kurt, he still liked girls. He did, but not the ones who gave him a black eye that lasted for three days. At least Olivia was too embarrassed to take credit for the bruise, so Puck could make up a story about being in a badass fight with some other dudes.

Kurt didn't seem impressed in the locker room, calling him a violent gorilla with impulse control issues. "You have no idea, Hummel," he'd replied softly, trying to make his voice sound threatening, and not seductive. At least that was one skill Puck could fall back on like reflex – intimidation.

I know exactly what you're thinking,
But I swear this time I will not let you down.
I'm not as selfish as I used to be.
That was a part of me that never made me proud.

Staring at Kurt's number in his phone, Puck fantasized about how things could play out if he would just call. Or he wouldn't even have to call. He could text. Fantasies turned into plans and one night, while his mom and sister went out to dinner with a guy Puck refused to be around, he found his fingers texting of their own accord. It didn't seem to matter to them that since mouthing off about his mom's new boyfriend, he'd been banned from making calls or sending texts that weren't strictly about school work. It didn't matter that he couldn't be sure when they'd get home. All that mattered was that he was horny as hell and all he could think about was finding out what exactly Kurt hid under those swim trunks at the party and behind that towel in the locker room.

Right now I think I would try anything
Anything at all to keep you satisfied.

What do I have to do,
To make you happy?
What do I have to do
To make you understand?

Puck typed out: Hey, Kurt? This your number? and got so lightheaded after he hit, 'Send' that he had to lie down.

The entire conversation was one long emotional roller coaster, topped off with the mood-killing arrival of family members returning home and checking up to see that he had fallen asleep doing his homework. Wasn't that adorable? Only after his mom had left him to sleep in peace did Puck realize that he still had a word written on his hand. A word that a quick search told him was very descriptive of the dirty pictures he'd sent Kurt. "That little shit!" Puck exclaimed with a fond smile. At least Kurt had balls. Puck had to give him that. After a little scrubbing during his morning shower, the scribble on Puck's hand grew illegible, thank God, and he went to school for another day of torture.

What do I have to do to make you want me?

Song used: What do I have to do by Stabbing Westward

Please review! How have I done getting the two characters' voices across? Do you like the premise? Any guesses for how the story is going to go? Did you like seeing Kurt's point of view before Puck's? Do you have any song requests? Any comments, questions, or criticisms are appreciated.