( puck/sam verse: back in lima )

[lormenari]

Sam's mostly asleep, but awake enough to know he feels like shit. Puck's bed is firm and new, not broken in yet, and it feels too hard and way too empty. He'd piled up all their extra pillows to try to trick himself into believing he's not totally alone in their brand new (empty) house, in Puck's brand new (mostly empty) bed, but after sleeping curled up against Puck's warm body for the entire final leg of their tour, this is an unwelcome change. The house doesn't feel like home. And Sam doesn't feel like himself knowing Puck spent the entire night with Quinn. God, they probably fucked at least three times, and Quinn probably told Puck how much she loves him, and Puck held her all night and breathed against her neck and might have realized just how much he truly misses girls, with their dainty figures and silky hair and smooth skin, and fucking hell, Sam was so stupid to think he could ever compete with that. Like he could ever have Puck completely.

He buries his face further into his pillow, furrowing his brow miserably. Everything always comes back to Quinn. Groupies, he can handle. They're just temporary. But Quinn? She's permanent. It's different when Puck is with her. It means something. The way Puck looks at her isn't just an act to hide what's really going on. The way he kisses her, the excitement when he shamelessly touches her - it's real. When he fucks her, it's real. And it's the only thing he won't do with Sam. Because Sam's not a girl. Sam's not Quinn.

He hears a key turning in the front door, and he starts slightly, surprising himself. He thought he'd be ecstatic when Puck got home, but he just feels hurt. He pulls the sheets up to his shoulders and turns onto his side, his back to the door.

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[but_idontlie]

There's too much sensation, too little time. Just you and me. That's exactly how they are now, in this moment. Just you and me. That's all there is. That's all there can be, when Sam's working his - Blue - between Puck's thighs, deep inside him. That's all there can be, when first his hands and then his mouth are wrapped tight around his cock, making him shiver and moan, arching his back and pushing his length harder against Sam.

Just you and me.

The callused pad of Sam's thumb slides over his slit; he inhales sharply, the sound slipping through his lips, and a shaky moan follows. "Sam," he breathes, his voice barely audible. His eyes open, glassy and disoriented. Just you and me. That's all it is right now. That's all it can be. And in their house, that's what it's all about. Sam does it again, the rough skin sliding over his taut dripping tip; his hips twist, Blue still deep inside him, deep and buzzing. He thrusts forward, cock jumping before he spurts in milky ribbons over Sam's hands, his abdomen, Sam's forearm, everything. With a few last feeble twitches, his eyes close, and he slumps against the mattress with shallow breaths.

[lormenari.livejournal.com]

Puck comes almost violently, and Sam would guess harder than he's ever come before. For a moment Sam is just mesmerized by Puck's shaking body, then he slides forward, pressing his hands against his shoulders and kissing him roughly. Puck feels boneless and slack beneath him, shivering and breathing shallowly, unsteadily, and Sam reaches down and turns off the vibrations, the room growing silent. He gently eases Blue out, putting it aside and running a hand over Puck's thigh, letting his legs relax. He knows how Puck feels right now - weak, like jelly, and exhausted, but satisfied deep in his bones.

Sam takes a corner of the sheet and wipes his hand off, then Puck's stomach, making a mental note to put it in the laundry (and also buy a washing machine). He sinks down beside Puck, curling against his body as he strokes a gentle hand down Puck's cheek. I bet Quinn would never make you feel like that. He doesn't say it, though, because there's no use in trying to compare them. He wants this to be just them, but Quinn is always there in the back of his mind, always holding him back from being truly, unequivocally happy. He kisses Puck's shoulder, closing his eyes as he slips an arm over his waist. "You all right?" he asks, murmuring against Puck's skin. He might be sore tomorrow, and Sam can make a million jokes about his inability to sit down comfortably or walk straight, but for now he just relaxes and tries to forget everything else exists. It's just him and the guy he loves - the guy who loves him back, even if it's shared.

[but_idontlie]

Without a doubt, it's harder than he's ever come before. It was almost predictable that it would be that way, because - even when Sam was deep in his throat - or his hands have been wrapped around Sam, or they've been stomach-to-stomach, drenched with lube and their own slickness, hips bumping as they thrust against each other before spurting wet between their bodies - even when these things have happened, Sam never came as hard as he did when Puck's fingers were deep inside him, sending electricity through his veins like he's never seen before.

Dimly, he realizes that Sam is pulling Blue away, discarding it to the side and stroking his side soothingly. It takes all of his strength and concentration to open his eyes, and he blinks, eyes slipping shut again as he struggles to open them. When Sam slides into bed next to him, he turns shakily; the sensations are too much for his body to handle, and he gasps softly, burying his face in the curve of Sam's neck. He might be sore in the morning, but this Just me and you. feels too good to regret, even if he can't walk or sit or whatever. "S'good," he whispers, licking his lips. "Love - you. I love you."

[lormenari.livejournal.com]

It doesn't matter how many time Puck says it. Every single time those three words pass his lips, it feels like the first time all over again. It feels - incredible, and unbelievable, like this can't possibly be happening. Sam pulls Puck from his shoulder, wanting to see his face. He puts a hand gently against Puck's cheek, his thumb resting just beneath his jaw, and their noses bump together softly as he closes his eyes and lets Puck's warm breath tickle his skin. "I love you, too," he whispers back, his lips touching Puck's. His breath wavers a little as he wonders if Puck said the same thing to Quinn last night or this morning before he left. He swallows, running a hand along the back of Puck's head, letting him settle in the curve of his neck again. His fingers brush over Puck's smooth back. Just forget it, Sam. He kisses the top of Puck's head and then reaches down to pull the sheets over their bodies. Puck must be tired from being with Quinn all night, and then having Sam fuck him open right now, so he settles down and lets him rest. Sam lets his mind stop; he doesn't think, and he tries not to feel anything but this moment of warm bodies pressed together. He kisses Puck again softly, curling his legs against Puck's, and tries to fall asleep.

[but_idontlie]

Puck blinks at Sam, gazing dazedly into his eyes; Sam strokes the side of his face, drawing them closer together. "I love you," he whispers again, their lips brushing with every word, every breath. It's more serious than the way things are with Quinn, more hidden; he curls into Sam, gently slinging his leg over Sam's thigh, one arm wrapped around his ribs as he nestles in the curve of Sam's arm. "Wanna be with you," he whispers with closed eyes, his breath hot against the other boy's neck. It's morning, and he's only just woken from his night with Quinn, but he wants to sleep for the rest of the day [curled up with Sam, just Sam].