Puck wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, feeling the soft, smooth texture of designer fabric over Kurt's slender frame. He pulled Kurt tight against his chest, reveling in the feeling of closeness and comfort. He bumped his chin against Kurt's head.
He inhaled in the floral scent of Kurt's shampoo or hair product, and caught a hint of spiciness that must be Kurt's expensive cologne. As girly as Kurt dresses most of the time, Puck mused, he smells totally like a dude. He allowed himself a moment of silence, of stillness, as Kurt finally relaxed in his arms.
Then, with the help of one of his football buddies, Puck hefted Kurt up in his arms and tossed him in the dumpster. As spluttered insults echoed out of the dumpster, Puck's buddy high-fived him ( When did that start being cool again?) and caught up with another group of jocks across the parking lot, running from the scene of the crime.
Puck peered in the dumpster, ducking quickly as a plastic bottle zoomed through the air where his head had been moments before. He looked back over the side, smirking as Kurt glared up at him and yelled "I hate you Noah Puckerman!" while kicking away a bag that was filled with rotting food and coffee grounds, if he were to judge by the smell.
"Later, Kurt," Puck murmured.
He took off at a trot towards the school building. One day, instead of dumpster-tossing him, Puck would turn Kurt around in his arms and kiss the hell out of him. And since he was such a stud, Kurt would just melt against his body, grasping one of his awesome guns for support, and kiss him back.
Until that day, though, no one would be the wiser.
Puck slammed Kurt against the wall, twisting the material of his fancy-as-fuck sweater into a wrinkled mess.
"Do it," Kurt said, eyes dark, daring him to go for the kill. Puck licked his lips, hesitated a moment too long, then felt the wind knocked out of him by a surprisingly strong fist in his gut. He grabbed Kurt's arm, squeezing almost painfully tight, to keep him from escaping.
Kurt used Puck's own strength against him as he spun back around, using the momentum to send them both to the floor in a crumpled heap.
"You going to pay for that," Kurt growled, plucking at his abused sweater as he hovered over Puck. Puck was too turned on by Kurt's gruff tone, the feel of a hot body on top of his own, to care. He wriggledhis hips in a way that made Kurt's breath sigh out in a sudden burst and his eyes go heavy-lidded.
"Make me pay," Puck bared his teeth in a challenging grin.
"Oh, I will," Kurt purred, sliding a hand up Puck's neck to fist into his mowhawk. He tilted Puck's head back roughly, baring his neck. He nipped roughly at the tender flesh, marking him.