Sam loves him, too. He doesn't really know how to respond to that, because he's torn between thinking, Duh. That's been forever, or at least since they started the band and got good and spent most of their time together, working and writing and performing. But maybe he's undervaluing it. Maybe this is a bigger deal than he thinks it is.
He doesn't do compliments unless they're about being a BAMF or the way he's got the body of a god; he tries to keep his achievements to himself for that reason. He can handle the groupies because it's all about sex, but standing somewhere and being lauded isn't something he does well. Maybe it goes back to his mother always insulting him, or Lauren Zizes doing the same. Maybe that's all he expects from people, and anything else feels like lies or manipulation. Even though he should believe the words from Sam, he still shakes his head, hugging Sam tighter. An effective way to coerce Sam into silence is by kissing him, and he does it. Gotcha.
Sam groans; Puck's hand slides down Sam's hip, pushing urgently at the elastic waistband of his boxers. "Off," he mutters, rolling his hips, writhing to get closer. "Want you, wanna feel you." And maybe sometime when they have time to kill and it stops being so urgent, maybe then he'll lie between Sam's legs and kiss and lick in the places his hands have gone, the same as he's done to chicks before and how he'd woken Quinn in the morning, with his mouth between her thighs and his hands lightly gripping her hips. They're more than just getting off, though, and he's known that from the beginning. It's never just been about getting off for him. "Need you," he mutters against Sam's lips, pressing another burning kiss to his mouth before nipping at his bottom lip. "Wanna feel you all over me."
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Date: 2011-07-14 07:06 pm (UTC)He doesn't do compliments unless they're about being a BAMF or the way he's got the body of a god; he tries to keep his achievements to himself for that reason. He can handle the groupies because it's all about sex, but standing somewhere and being lauded isn't something he does well. Maybe it goes back to his mother always insulting him, or Lauren Zizes doing the same. Maybe that's all he expects from people, and anything else feels like lies or manipulation. Even though he should believe the words from Sam, he still shakes his head, hugging Sam tighter. An effective way to coerce Sam into silence is by kissing him, and he does it. Gotcha.
Sam groans; Puck's hand slides down Sam's hip, pushing urgently at the elastic waistband of his boxers. "Off," he mutters, rolling his hips, writhing to get closer. "Want you, wanna feel you." And maybe sometime when they have time to kill and it stops being so urgent, maybe then he'll lie between Sam's legs and kiss and lick in the places his hands have gone, the same as he's done to chicks before and how he'd woken Quinn in the morning, with his mouth between her thighs and his hands lightly gripping her hips. They're more than just getting off, though, and he's known that from the beginning. It's never just been about getting off for him. "Need you," he mutters against Sam's lips, pressing another burning kiss to his mouth before nipping at his bottom lip. "Wanna feel you all over me."