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Kurt knew the door was locked, just as he knew his room was nearly soundproof. He also knew that, even if his dad heard the sounds Kurt was about to make, he wouldn't come down to inspect. Kurt may be a little different from most sons, but he was still a 16-year-old boy. No father in the world would a) confuse that noise, or b) interrupt.
Nonetheless, Kurt still shot a wary glance at the door as he neatly laid out his accouterments. One towel—check. 1200-count cotton may not be silk, but it's damn hard to get grease stains out of. One tube water-soluble lube—check. It only took the one time of trying to get grease stains out that Kurt did some research. One warmed, moist hand towel to assist in cleanup—check. And finally, one eight inch silicone dildo—check.
Kurt lay down and unscrewed the tube, setting it within reach. He closed his eyes and brought up his go-to picture: Finn Hudson, naked and wet from the shower, a sexy grin just for Kurt, and the heat of lust in dark brown eyes. A guaranteed happy ending kind of fantasy.
Lately, though, things had been changing. There was still a sexy grin, but it had sort of turned into a smirk. Naked and wet still featured prominently, but the scene had moved from the locker room to poolside. And the lust-laden brown eyes had turned hazel. At first, Kurt was mortified to realize that he'd been visualizing Puck. After all the history—nearly all of it bad—they shared, mentally fucking his biggest tormenter seemed kind of twisted. Kurt was actually so ashamed after the first time, he couldn't make eye contact with Puck at school for a week.
Once he became used to Puck taking over as his masturbation material and could focus on something besides Oh, God I'm a sick bitch…fuck me harder, Kurt discovered that Puck could make him come harder and faster than Finn on his best day. Puck, in fact, was the reason Kurt had begun practicing orgasm self-denial. He realized that he'd never get to the intercourse phase of his fantasy if Puck could make him come just by breathing on his dick.
In reality, Kurt knew that the only way Noah Puckerman would touch him was to bruise him in some new, horrid way. In Kurt's fantasy, though, Puck only handled him with gentle surety. While Kurt didn't think he could replace Puck as his fantasy spank material— even if he wanted to…which he really didn't—it was becoming more and more difficult to separate the two Pucks.
Fantasy Puck held him like a precious treasure. He whispered soft, sexy words and worshipped Kurt's body. Fantasy Puck made Kurt feel beautiful, special, loved. Reality Puck…not so much with the love; and the only words out of his mouth when speaking directly to Kurt usually contained 'homo' or some variation. Kurt's heart broke a little more each time he looked into Puck's eyes, expecting to see his fantasy, but only saw reality curling his lip in disgust.
But he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop; those few minutes, lies though they may be, were what he lived and breathed for. For those few minutes, Kurt Hummel was worth loving, and nothing—not his father's love, or his friends', or even his music and dancing—had ever made him feel like that. Kurt shook his head and squeezed his eyes tighter. He tried to pull himself back from his introspective emo trip and find that place where he was a sex god who made Noah Puckerman tremble with passion.
Fantasy Puck stepped up out of the pool, water running in rivulets over his abs and dripping off the crinkly black hair surrounding his heavy cock. Kurt's hands went to work. His left eased over his stomach to knead and pinch at his nipple, and his right headed straight for his own quickly filling cock. His hand wrapped around it and Kurt stroked himself to complete fullness. In his head, Kurt could hear Puck's deep growl, and he felt his hand gently slapped away to free his cock for Puck's possessive grasp. Kurt changed his own grip to match Puck's squeezing hands.
He stretched his other hand out, blindly reaching for the lube and then transferring the slick from his hand to his cock. Kurt could so easily imagine it was Puck's hot, wet mouth closing over him. He moaned as Puck began sucking. Kurt began long, slow strokes, twisting his wrist slightly as he reached the tip. Puck increased the suction, circling the head of Kurt's cock with his tongue.
Kurt brought himself to the razor's edge, stroking and squeezing and dreaming of Puck's perfect mouth working over his cock. Just as he felt the first shiver start, he forced himself to stop. He spent a brief moment gasping and shuddering before employing the lube again. Hands wet with it, he pulled his legs up and reached past his cock to smear the lube over his twitching hole.
He started slowly, tantalizing touches around the outer rim, then he began pressing harder, letting his fingertip sink ever so slightly into his slick entrance. Oh, God, what this would feel like if his fingers were thicker, stronger, callused from guitar strings and roughened from pool chemicals.
After teasing himself to a near frenzy, he rewarded his own patience by sinking his index finger deep inside. A tiny moan escaped his lips and, still picturing Puck's glorious damaged hands, he followed that up with the immediate addition of his second finger. His hips rose off the bed of their own volition, desperately seeking to grind down on fingers that Kurt maddeningly refused himself.
Kurt just knew that Puck would be like this. He'd tease and torment, making dirty promises against Kurt's quivering stomach; his deep voice vibrating through Kurt's skin and down his spine to collect in a pool of maddening heat. Kurt's head began thrashing from side to side and his moans were more pronounced, but he still held out for more. Frustrated tears filled his eyes as he forced his hands to still and reach for the last item he'd lain out. Shaking hands slathered lube onto the dildo and then positioned it at the very edge of his hole.
Puck slid his hands down Kurt's arms and linked their fingers together. He leaned in, breathing softly across Kurt's cheek as he whispered into his ear. "Ready for me?"
"Yes!" Kurt's voice broke as he plunged the dildo deep inside. Months of practice didn't completely alleviate the burn as his hole stretched widely to accommodate the intruder. His hips rose again and again to meet Puck's sharp thrusts, and Kurt reached down to palm his neglected cock. He tightened his grip and let the rough pounding his ass was taking jar his cock through his fingers.
He worked the dildo in and out of his hole faster and rougher with every thrust, feeling that pool of heat spreading through his groin and down to his toes. His breath sped up until he was literally panting, and the low broken cries escaping his throat resembled sobs.
"Please," he begged. "Oh God, Puck! Please!"
"It's okay, baby," Puck whispered roughly. "Come for me."
Kurt curled around his hand as the first wave of orgasm rolled through him. He wasn't sure what was pleasure and what was pain as his stomach muscles started to cramp. His cock pulsed over and over, striping his skin with his slick release until he collapsed, spent.
Puck faded back into the shadows, taking with him the mindless lust Kurt had lost himself in; Kurt, once again, became just another lonely boy jerking off in his room. He let the silicone imposter slip from his body, and he gave in to the emotion welling through his chest. Hot tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and he turned his head to let them spill into the softness of his pillow.
"Please," he whispered.