Varying Degrees
"Hey, Puck..."
Puck looks up from his geometry book, grimacing when his dorky, thick-framed clunkers slip further down the bridge of his nose. He shoves them back up with his thumb and turns to face Kurt. "Yea-holy..."
The other boy is closer than he'd expected, and Puck prides himself in not jumping back and falling off the bed in surprise.
"Dude, fuckin' make some noise when you move!" he yelps, face red as he tries to cover his almost-fail. Kurt isn't fooled, smirking down at Puck with wicked amusement. Puck curses his hormones, because he should be fucking righteous, not turned-on by that leer. "Whaddaya want?" he snaps. Kurt raises an eyebrow in surprised disapproval at Puck's tone. "C'mon, it's just-I gotta study." Laaaame.
"Well then, I guess you don't want to know what your surprise is," Kurt says breezily, shrugging with an unaffected casualness as he pivots around.
Puck sputters. "Woah, woah-wait! Surprise?" he asks, latching onto Kurt's forearm. "What surprise? I like surprises!"
"I don't kno-oow," Kurt sing-songs. "I'd hate to be the reason you failed your test. You know, sincemath is more important than me, apparently."
"Fuck. The. Test," Puck growls. God, he hated suspense. 'Specially when it may or may not be leading to some horizontal action. "Tell me!"
Kurt laughs as Puck all but drags him onto his bed. (Puck likes to study at Kurt's pad, since it's so quiet. And study breaks are a lot more fun here, if you catch his drift. His drift is making out and sometimes having sex, if you missed it.)
"Well," Kurt begins, cozying up to Puck's side. He bookmarks Puck's place in the textbook before setting it aside and crawling into Puck's lap: a ninety-degree angle. "An order of mine came in from eBay today..."
Puck perks up-in more ways than one (obviously). eBay almost always means sex-unless it doesn't, but then Kurt wouldn't be telling him about it, would he?
"Yeah?"
Kurt smirks down at him. "Yeah," he agrees.
"So..." Puck prompts, leaning closer to Kurt's face. He inhales and catches a whiff of maple syrup. Weird... but hot. "What'd you score?"
Kurt laughs at Puck's choice of words. "Well, I scored something I know you'd like," he murmurs.
Their lips are so close to touching now, but Puck controls himself long enough to ask, "What is it?"
Kurt presses their mouths together in reply. It's really slick and smooth, but that's nothing too new-Kurt likes chap stick, and Puck's not averse to the taste of cherry or watermelon or whatever flavor of the day is on his tongue. He opens his mouth against Kurt's and licks at the other boy's bottom lip and-
"Holy fuckin' shit," Puck breathes. His dick totally just got harder by, like, infinity. "You-you... waffles!"
Kurt smirks, leaning back from Puck-ninety degrees to at least a hundred. "Surprise."
Puck licks at his own lips in hopes of catching more buttery, syrupy deliciousness to no avail. He growls and pushes Kurt down into the mattress (a total one-eighty), ripping his glasses off and letting them land with a clatter on the basement floor. Instead of the usual question of lube, he finds himself growling, "Grab the chapstick."