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"So, I'm gonna go get some snacks." Finn sort of pushed himself up, hands on his knees and stopping to stare at Kurt before nodding once and heading down the stairs to the kitchen. Puck didn't really notice anything, too busy watching the movie in front of him to really bother with Kurt and Finn's little secret-code-of-brotherhood looks. Fact was, since the wedding, and the thing with Karofsky and Puck and Finn sort of getting back on good terms, Kurt and Finn had reached some kind of point where they'd bonded over brother shit or something.

Puck couldn't tell, but Finn wasn't as uptight about shit anymore so that counted, surely. Which was why Puck was there, in Kurt's room, on the floor and leaning against the ridiculously massive bed that Kurt had, watching Die Hard after he and Finn had suffered through Guys and Dolls. Burt and Carole were away for a mini-vacation-slash-honeymoon thing for the weekend, and Finn had invited Puck over in a 'mending the friendship' type thing. Apparently Kurt had the best entertainment system in the house so they ended up making it a three person sort of thing.

Which was cool.

"You know," Kurt was laying out over the bed, none of the fancy covers or shit on it while they were watching the TV, "I always sort of loved your mohawk." As if by way of explaining, Kurt's fingers trailed over the edge of the 'hawk, sending a small shiver down Puck's spine where he sat, pressed against the bed.

"Really? Cause you and Aretha looked the most pleased back when it was shaved off." Puck was now only half paying attention to the movie, he'd seen Die Hard enough times to know what was happening on screen just by the noises, and Kurt's fingers were just mildly distracting, running over his scalp the way they were.

"Well yes, that was before I got up close and personal with it." Puck can tell there's a hint of a blush on Kurt's cheeks, and he smirks, because he knows exactly what Kurt is referring to.

"I thought you were going to forget that ever happened."

"Hard to do." Which was completely understandable, everyone remembered their first blow job, didn't they? Sure, it probably wasn't under the best of circumstances; Rachel's lame as hell party and Puck being just a little bit past drunk. But it was after the Blaine and Rachel duet, and Kurt had just looked that little bit crushed when he'd excused himself in between songs and drinks and Puck had sort of stumbled after him a few moments later.

He's not exactly sure how he went from checking up on his boy to on his knees blowing his boy but he did and really Kurt hadn't voiced any complaints. Not when Puck had him pressed against the counter in the kitchen, almost directly above the party down below them, Kurt's ridiculously tight pants around his knees, his hands running over the back of Puck's 'hawk and his cock down Puck's throat. Who the hell would complain about that shit right there? Apparently, not Kurt Hummel.

And Puck can't say it was the alcohol, not with the way he's responding to the thought of it, to the feel of Kurt's hands in his hair, the way his breath quickens and his heart sort of stutters with anticipation and his cock starts to stir. He's pretty sure that his mouth isn't watering from the prospect of Finn coming back with some food either. Which is just a whole other basket of problems, because Finn will come back, and Puck's got a hard on for Kurt right now and that shit right there is the kind of thing that will get him kicked out on his ass and probably result in Kurt's dad chasing him down with a shot gun later.

Not that Puck's scared of Burt Hummel, really. It's just common sense to beware father's in general when you're Noah Puckerman.

"I spent the whole day thinking about it." Kurt's voice has this dip to it now; this low, husky drawl that Puck's pretty sure belongs in porn movies and on sex phone lines. "I couldn't get the image of you on your knees for me out of my head, even when I was sitting with Blaine, waiting for coffee." Kurt's nails catch at the back of Puck's mohawk, startling a low moan from the jock as he tilts his head back into it. "Have you thought about it, Noah?"

Answering honestly, Puck gives an awkward nod of his head, eyes falling shut as he presses back against the pressure to his scalp. So he kind of likes having his hair petted, for all he has of it, and Kurt's long fingers seem pretty damn good at running over the sensitive areas with just the right pressure. "Fuck, Kurt." At this point, there definitely has to be something done about the pressure in his pants now, preferably before Finn comes back and starts asking stupid questions.

It's totally not smooth –probably whatever the opposite of smooth is- as Puck shakes off the fingers in his 'hawk and twists around to climb up on Kurt's utterly ridiculous bed –it's practically the size of Puck's entire bedroom. It doesn't matter though, not with the way Kurt fumbles just as awkwardly, almost lunging to drag their bodies together. Puck's loose jeans don't really do much to hide his situation, but Kurt's tight skinny jeans do even less and the smaller boy doesn't even try to keep from hissing out a breath against Puck's cheek as they press against one another.

"I really, really want you to blow me, please say that you'll-" Kurt breaks off mid-way through the pleading, because Puck's not a cruel person, not when it comes to things like this. He's already got Kurt's jeans unbuttoned and the zip down, the low, drawn out moan from Kurt pretty much telling Puck how appreciated that is. Puck's not even questioning it at all; he's perfectly sober and he's all but desperate to get his mouth around Kurt's cock. He was pretty sure, the morning after Rachel's party, that he should've had some kind of freak out –even if it wasn't some 'big gay freak out' maybe a minor one would've been on the cards. Instead all he was freaking out about was whether or not Kurt would remember. He got his answer to that two days later when him and Finn bumped into that Blaine kid and Kurt in the mall and Kurt turned three shades of pink just looking at Puck's mouth.

And yeah, Puck has been thinking about it. He's been thinking about just how okay with it he was, there was no disgust or blaming it on the booze or even pretending that he didn't like doing it. The fact that it was Hummel should've been some sort of alarm bell warning or whatever but nothing at all went off. So with Kurt's hips bucking up and Puck pushing his far too damn tight jeans down his hips, practically desperate to get Kurt's cock out of his shorts and into his mouth, Puck's really past the point of freaking out.

"Oh, fuck, yes." The weirdest thing, when Puck gets Kurt's cock in his hand, licking a stripe up the base and curling his tongue around the crown, the weirdest thing is actually hearing Kurt swear. Not the bitter taste of pre-cum, not the somewhat hard but soft texture, or the stretch as Puck swallows around Kurt's erection, moaning in the back of his throat when Kurt's fingers press on the base of his skull. It's the soft hiss of a curse word on Kurt Hummel's lips that is actually the most jarring thing about the whole situation.

Puck figures it's time to accept that maybe he's not all that straight.

Kurt spreads his legs as well as he can around Puck's shoulders, bucking up just slighting into Puck's mouth –and this is only the second time he's ever done this, so Puck's just a little hesitant about letting Kurt fuck his face, hot as it might be. But Puck's had enough blow jobs to figure that he can just copy what he knows, right? It can't be that hard, and Puck sort of likes it. The way it stretches his mouth and the heavy press of Kurt against his throat and fuck, Kurt's fingers clenching for purchase on the 'hawk.

Whatever he's doing, he's doing it right if the litany of praise and cussing from Kurt is anything to go by. Keeping pace with the steady rocking of Kurt's hips, Puck raises his head, bobbing to allow just a slightly deeper press in and Kurt's back practically bends in two as he presses up off the bed.

"Oh, fuck." And that is definitely not Kurt.

Shit.

While Puck can manage to get completely railroaded when it comes to sex, even he wouldn't be able to completely block out the sound of Hudson's half shocked, half something else voice. Except when Puck starts to pull away, Kurt's fingers tighten on his hair to push him back.

"No, no, no. Don't stop, don't stop." The frantic jerks of Hummel's hips speak volumes of just how close he is and just how lost to it he is, especially if he's willing to continue humping Puck's face with wonderboy-Finn standing at the door. Puck's not sure if it's friendship or just some attempt to explain whatever the fuck is going on –like Puck even knows himself what's going on- but he can't in good conscience just carry on regardless, as much as he'd love to really. He twists to the side, Kurt's cock slipping from his mouth as a low whine breaks from the other boy, his hips jerking uselessly in a bid to follow Puck's mouth. The cool air causes a shudder through Kurt that Puck can feel with his cheek against Kurt's thigh, even as a duel shudder runs through Puck at the grip on the base of his neck. "No-ah."

It's completely impossible to pull away from the grip Kurt has on his head, even if he had the self-control –and when it comes to the baser pleasures, everyone knew Puck lacked any control. He'd really appreciate Kurt letting the hell go of his hair and neck so that they could at least get some semblance of order to themselves before Finn has some kind of big gay freak out on Puck's behalf, but that doesn't seem at all probable and then, well, then neither does Finn's big gay whatever because, yep, that is absolutely Finn's hard on pressing into Puck's ass.

"Christ, don't stop on my behalf." Hands gripping to Puck's hips –and Jesus, Finn has massive hands, they practically curve around Puck's side- Finn rocks down against the denim of Puck's ass while pulling him backwards, urge Puck up to his knees as he groans against the manhandling.

The Twilight Zone is a very kinky place it seems.

Even more interesting would be the fact that Puck's not horribly against it either. If there were to be a freak out, surely this would be the time for it. And he's waiting for it, really, he is. For that little switch to flick and for him to push away from Kurt and pull away from Finn and walk out –even if it would be somewhat uncomfortable considering the hard on he's sporting right then. But Finn's grinding down against Puck's ass, and Kurt's hand is still running over the 'hawk, almost soothing, as if he expects the freak out too, even as his hips shift just a little towards Puck's mouth again.

"Seriously, do you have any idea how fucking hot that shit was?" It's weird, just a little, that sort of lust quality to Finn's voice. Because honestly, Puck's never really put Finn and sex together in his head, ever. Not even when they were younger and best friends and talking about getting to second base, not even when Puck lost the v-card and Finn asked for details, definitely not when Finn actually thought he was the Beth's father. But fuck, right then, hearing that scratch to Finn's voice and the press of him against Puck's ass, definitely working.

"I, fucking Christ, I think I might have an idea, Hudson."

"Less talk, I'm getting blue-balls." And Puck is obscenely turned on with the way Kurt pushes his cock back into Puck's mouth. Apparently Kurt approves, with the low moan from Puck vibrating along Kurt's cock, a jerk of the hips and Puck's rather surprised to find that, hey, maybe he could give deep throat a try.

The thought sort of blurs around the edges with another rumbling moan when Finn's massive hands pull at the button of Puck's jeans though. Before he knows it, his jeans are around his knees and Finn seems to appreciate the quality of going commando right then if the hard on rubbing against his ass is anything to go by, but Puck really doesn't have the time to make comment, not with Kurt thrusting up into his mouth, hand and hips controlling the pace and this time, this time Kurt really is just fucking Puck's mouth.

"Lube, where's the lube?" There's some fumbling, Puck can hear it –sort of in that distant, from under the water sort of bullshit thing- but really the only thing he's focusing on right then is Kurt, and Kurt's cock, and Kurt's hand fucking pulling at the short strands of his hair. It probably shouldn't turn him on this much, no one has so much as touched his dick, despite Finn humping his ass, and Puck's pretty sure he's hard enough to cut fucking glass right now. But Kurt's making these breathy little moans every time Puck swallows around him, and there's this little sensitive area on the underside of Kurt's cock that Puck can flick his tongue against with every thrust that stutters Kurt's pace and makes him whine a little.

And the noise Kurt makes when Finn presses one, Goddamn, motherfucking, long finger into Puck's ass, well that almost makes Puck whimper just as much as he moans around Kurt's cock from the sudden intrusion in and of itself.

Kurt pushes Puck back just a little, which is probably a good thing considering the weird sort of discomfort Finn's probing is causing. "It's okay, relax." Puck presses his forehead against Kurt's thigh, licking his lips –which really feel swollen right about now, and holy crap, if people thought he had whore lips before he's definitely got them right then- and pushing back against Finn.

"Fuck, more." He's not entirely sure if more is actually a good idea but fuck it, he's come this far and why the hell not and- "Oh, fucking Christ." The lube is cold, like really fucking cold, and Finn's fingers really never looked all that big, but apparently they're much bigger than Puck ever actually thought –not that he's given much thought to this at all, at least not other than in the last five minutes. But Kurt's hand on his scalp is really fucking distracting, and before Puck knows what's going on, Kurt's managed to divest him of his shirt, Kurt's jeans have vanished somewhere and Kurt's shirt is splayed open over his chest.

Kurt must have secret magic sex powers or something, it's the only explanation that Puck can come up with –although really, ask him what day of the week it is right now and he'll struggle to come up with an answer at all never might the right one. Whatever the reason, Puck's started to rock back against Finn's hand, fingers pressing deeper and wider into Puck now and the lube warmed up to this nice tingling sort of deal all along his skin.

Finn's fingers pull out, and Puck's not too far gone to know what's coming next, and really, he'd rather have a mouthful of Kurt Hummel's cock than embarrass himself with any noises that may or may not come out of him at this. He licks at the head of Kurt's cock, listening to Finn strip while Kurt runs his hand from the start of the 'hawk to the base of it, urging Puck to swallow him down with the press up of his hips. Braced on his elbows, Puck uses his hands to push Kurt's hips down this time, taking as much as he can before drawing back and then sinking back down on it.

Kurt's cock is almost pressing at the back of Puck's throat when Finn pushes in. It's not slow, or gentle, or any of that shit and Puck figures Finn knows that Puck wouldn't appreciate that. It's a steady press, Puck's body clenching before stretching to accommodate and Puck's moan and whimper and whatever else muffled by the cock in his mouth. Finn stays where he is, pressed all the way into Puck, practically balls deep, and Puck has to tell himself to breath through his fucking nose while Kurt makes these jerky little thrusts into his mouth.

He's practically all the way off Kurt's cock, tongue flicking against the head, stroking and swirling around the soft flesh. There's probably drool all the way down Puck's chin, probably around the corners of his mouth, but shit if he's got the co-ordination to do anything at all right then. Not a problem for Kurt and Finn, apparently.

Hand on Puck's head, Kurt directs Puck down, the exact same way that Finn slowly pulls out. Then Finn thrusts in, steady and long and so fucking good, exactly in time with Kurt withdrawing and Puck figures that they've got this and he's just along for the ride.

He keeps his jaw loose, flicks his tongue when he knows it'll catch Kurt off guard and moans around the length in his mouth as sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine with Finn's thrusts. And then there's some kind of explosion, when Finn jerks all the way in and presses on something –later Puck will remember all that research from Sophomore year about prostates- and Puck practically shudders through a whimper. Finn's thrusts get quicker, shallower, harder and Puck's fucking aching for something to just touch his cock and he knows he'll be as good as done, while Kurt's thrusts get faster and slightly harder but just as long and just as deep and then Kurt's gone.

There's this whine of Puck's name, just as Kurt pushes him back and Puck barely gets his eyes shut before Kurt's coming on his face and shit that's definitely supposed to be gross, not hot. Kurt collapses back on the bed, spent and gasping and every harsh panting breath from Puck makes Kurt's cock twitch valiantly. With Puck's mouth empty, every moan and whine and whimper and curse is completely audible, even with the rough, raw edge to Puck's voice, and Finn just seems to fuck him harder.

Puck's not entirely sure he can get off on just that, but then Kurt yanks his hair –fucking yanks it, like anyone could just pull Puck around by his hair, it's barely even long enough to merit styling in the morning- and Puck fucking whimpers like a bitch and that's all she wrote.

His muscles clamp and he comes over Kurt's fabulously expensive and utterly ridiculous bedsheets, unaware of what he's saying or if he's even making sense and then Finn grabs his hips in a bruising hold and jerks into him and Puck finds himself moaning all over again from the feel of Finn's dick twitching inside him. It's a total rush, the noise of his blood thumping in his ears and the heavy panting of Kurt and Finn just this low sort of background noise.

But Puck's got his head pillowed on Kurt's thigh, and Finn pressed along his back like a fucking furnace, and comfortable as that may be, he's starting to become aware of the wet patch he's lying on, and the come on his face, and really, that's not so comfortable.

"When I can move again," and yeah, his voice is definitely going to be hell for the next few days and if Berry bitches just once on Monday he will totally light her hair on fire, "I'd really like to not be lying in my own come." Finn sort of snorts against the back of Puck's neck, and really it's annoying just how massive he is that he can fucking blanket Puck's whole body, because damnit, Puck is not a little guy.

Kurt sort of makes a noise that might be agreement, might not, but Puck's not overly sure for his position. There's just this slight discomfort as Finn finally gathers enough brain cells to pull out, groaning just slightly at the stick that sweat had caused, and Puck takes that as his cue to roll to the side and off the drying sticky patch. He still needs to clean his fucking face, but he's bone tired right then, and just a little too happy to never, ever move again.

There's a moment where he might've been able to fall asleep, but then someone's tugging at his jeans to get them all the way off and there's a warm, damp clothe running over his face and then over his stomach and groin and it's a bit of a disturbance to the whole sleep thing. The sheets are tugged and pulled away and then that furnace of Finn's heat is back at Puck's side, nudging him over a little and onto his side and Puck starts to stir just a little bit.

"So that was just a little new." His brain isn't functioning yet, which isn't new, but his mouth seems more than happy to start running, which also isn't new.

"Bad kind of new?" And Finn is back to exactly how Puck remembers him, how he figures Finn really should always be. That odd cross between hopeful and anxious that makes Puck just shake his head and roll his eyes and wonder how Finn can be so utterly clueless half the time but still so frustratingly endearing.

"No," because there were orgasms, and sex, and how can that ever be bad? "Definitely not bad." Which seems to settle Finn down, because an arm loops around Puck's waist and Finn's nuzzling into the back of Puck's neck and there is absolutely the hint of a kiss pressed to his shoulder, but Puck doesn't call the pussy on it.

Least of all when Kurt presses to Puck's front and smirks this devious little smirk that makes Puck's cock try to perk up and take notice. "Good, because there are waffles in the morning." Sex and waffles?

Definitely not a bad kind of new.