Little Red Thong

 

With that, Sam nipped at Puck’s earlobe, causing the boy to gasp. He reached for his iPod and didn’t even have to look at the thing to put on the song he wanted. 

He pressed play, and Puck’s room was suddenly filled with a song he’d never heard. It had a slow, haunting melody and a deep, pounding bass that seemed to match itself up to Puck’s now irregular heartbeat. It was the perfect song, Puck realized with growing fear, for a serious lapdance. 

“You’re mom’s not home, right?” Sam purred into Puck’s ear, his voice barely distinguishable over the music.

“N--no, she won’t be back till night.” Puck replied, gulping as the other boy nuzzled his neck. 

“Good...more time for us, then.” Sam said, smirking, and stood up straight. He pulled off his shirt in one swift move, tossing it behind him on the pile of finished green ribbon pins. Puck was almost eye-level with Sam’s crotch, and he tried to avert his eyes from it, but he couldn’t help glance back at it every few seconds. The rest of the time, he was staring at Sam’s abs.

Puck had a good body. He knew it. Sam knew it. Hell, every girl he’d ever met knew it. But Sam’s body was something else. Puck was muscular but a bit stocky, something he’d never really had a problem with. Sam, though, was tall and lean but ripped nonetheless. He was thin enough to have a smaller waist than Puck but had the same wide shoulders and thick neck. 

Puck breathlessly watched Sam gyrate to the beat of the song, and he couldn’t tell if time had slowed down or if the boy was just so good at moving to the music. He realized that there was nothing holding him down. He could get up, shut the music off, and tell Sam to get the fuck out of his house. 

But, for some reason, Puck couldn’t get himself to move. It was as if all of him wanted to watch Sam and everything in him was fighting that stupid little voice that was telling him to get himself out of this situation. Puck felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized that the last time he’d heard that little voice, it was yelling at him when he’d decided to fuck Quinn without a condom. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he had to get up and stop Sam from going further.

Just when Puck was about to stand up, though, Sam plunked down on his lap, straddling his leg. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sam growled, grinding against Puck’s thigh. The blonde stood up again and deftly got out of his jeans.

“Is that--is that a thong?” Puck said, his voice barely a whisper.

“A little red thong. Just like you said.” Sam replied, laughing. “You really do know me well, huh?”

If it had been hard not to stare at Sam’s crotch before, it was impossible not to look at it now. The thong seemed far too small for Sam and the shiny red fabric looked ready to rip open at any moment. Sam was practically waving his junk in Puck’s face and he couldn’t break eye contact with it. 

Sam sat in Puck’s lap again, this time facing away from Puck. He scooted as far back onto the boy as possible until he could feel Puck’s crotch underneath him. He began to grind, slowly at first, then faster in tempo to the music. Sam was thoroughly enjoying himself. He’d wanted to do this for so long, it’d been ages since he’d been this intimate with a guy. And of all people, it had to have been Puck. Sam hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the mohawked stud since he’d returned to Lima.

Puck, on the other hand, was trying as hard as possible to not relish Sam’s movements. He thought of everything he had ever thought of to lose a boner--Coach Beiste naked, his mom naked, Beth’s birth--but nothing seemed to calm the raging fire that had been sat aflame inside him. He let out a long, slow groan as Sam pushed down deeper and faster, scootching his hips forward to allow the blonde more access.

Puck quickly realized, with a shock, that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. This wasn’t a surprise, as he often went commando (and many of his teammates knew this--including Sam), but he could feel his cock begin to harden in his jeans, and if he didn’t take them off soon, the cold metal of his zipper would start to bite into his dick. The last time he’d gone commando with a boner, he’d had to wear a bandaid for a week and wasn’t able to fuck that hot chick from The Lima Bean. 

“Sam,” he mumbled, hoping the boy would stop grinding against him. He raised his hands, slowly ghosting them along the boy’s gyrating hips. He felt Sam hiss as his cold hands touched Sam’s hot, hot skin--oh god, how did it get that hot? He slowly pushed Sam’s hips up off of him and stood up so that Sam’s back was pressed against his chest. 

Sam was taller than Puck, but only by an inch or so, so Puck was able to kiss his neck, whispering a “thank you” into his skin every time. Puck opened his eyes and saw that he and Sam were standing right in front of his dresser mirror, and the sight couldn’t have been more sexy. Sam’s neck was craned to the right as Puck nuzzled the left side of his neck. Puck’s hands were all over Sam, feeling every inch of his burning skin. Puck had used his mirror several times, but he’d never been this sensual or slow with anyone he’d brought back to his house, let alone a boy. 

Sam turned around and, in the mirror, Puck could see Sam’s ass. The thong was definitely too small, but Puck was glad Sam chose to wear it. His ass was more perfect than any of all the girls Puck had been with, and Puck smirked when Sam turned to the mirror to see what he had been staring at.

“It is a bit small, isn’t it?” Sam said as if he could read Puck’s mind, wriggling his hips to try and make his thong fit better. “It was the only clean one I had.” He turned back to Puck. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Actually, it’s better than that. It’s perfect. Thank you for wearing it.” Puck said, now with a full-on smile on his face. 

He didn’t even realize his shirt was off until Sam pressed himself against Puck. Puck was warm but Sam was warmer, and it felt so good to have him against his chest. Sam’s lap dance song had finished, and they began to sway left and right to some soft jazz that was now playing from Sam’s iPod. “You were right.” Puck whispered, thinking out loud.

“I usually tend to be.” Sam said, smiling. “And look! I didn’t even need to kiss you.”

Puck stopped moving and looked Sam in the eye. “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me.”