![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kathierif_ficTitle: The Housewife Fantasy
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: slash, characters are underage (16)
Word Count: 1217
Summary: Puck was a good-looking guy and he knew it. Besides, housewives had the hots for the pool boy.
Author’s Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo prompt domestic/tradesman. I love housewives and don’t mean to insult them in any way.
He looked good. He knew he did – there were a lot of people how had told him that and had done a lot of things to get him to sleep with them. He wasn’t easy, he just liked sex and hadn’t always bothered about where he had gotten it from.
Besides, he had his own pool cleaning business. He was a wet dream come true – if housewives had wet dreams. He wasn’t so sure about that little detail, but then, it didn’t matter to him. What mattered was that they, more often than not, couldn’t wait to drag him inside and let him have his wicked way with them, and today wouldn’t be any different.
Housewives, he knew, would always dig the pool boy. It was, like, a fantasy they all had, like a genetic thing.
A biological imperative.
It was a match made in heaven – he liked older, more experienced women, and they liked to watch him as he cleaned their pools.
Shirtless, of course.
After all, he knew how to stay in business.
Chicks just loved ogling him from behind closed screen doors and kitchen curtains, and he made sure to display his body while he worked and the sun burned down on him.
And the tanned skin, gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, was a sure way to attract the kind of attention he craved; and if that wasn’t enough to get them interested, there still was the piercing that glinted in the sun like a beacon, guiding them to him.
Yeah, he really looked good, and he knew it.
The curtain was moving, he saw from the corner of his eyes, as if someone had carefully pulled it aside to catch a glimpse of the forbidden fruit of the pool boy, and he grinned and made sure to let his muscles play teasingly as he finished up and started to pack up his stuff. Bending over and angling it that his ass in the old, faded, but still tight jeans pointed toward the window was almost instinct at that point, but it couldn’t hurt him. Maybe he would get a nice little extra. He was a hard-working guy, after all.
Slowly, deliberately, he made his way to the door. He didn’t need to knock, he knew he had been watched the entire time.
He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds until the door was pulled open and he could let his gaze wander over the slender body of the person in front of him. The apron with the flowered pattern was a nice touch, he thought as he smiled winningly.
“I’m all done,” he reported. “Pool’s as good as new. Squeaky clean.”
An elegant eyebrow arched expectantly. Puck’s smile turned into a grin. He knew what would happen next.
He waited until he was asked before entering. He had some manners, after all, and he wouldn’t risk his prize after all the work he’d already gone through to get it – not when he was barely inches from the finish line.
He collected his payment and let his fingers brush against the smooth skin suggestively. It was enough to make both of them gasp quietly, and only moments later, he found himself pushed into the couch, and the apron was fluttering to the ground while they were kissing.
His rough fingertips ran along soft, pale skin, pushing and tugging at expensive designer clothes while those elegant, long fingers with the well-manicured nails scratched across his chest and fought with the buttons on his pants.
No word was spoken. There was nothing to be said – he was just the handyman, the pool boy, and they had no common topic to talk about in the first place; besides, it would interfere with their kissing. The rasp of skin on skin was the only sound filling the room, the rustling of clothes and the quickening of their breathing, muffled by the deep kisses they were sharing.
It wasn’t long until they both were naked and Puck had soft, long legs wrapped tightly around him, holding him close and guiding his erection into tight heat.
This.
This was why he had his business.
Sharp teeth closed against the skin of his collarbone, clamping down, and the small pain sent sparks along his nerve endings, adding to the steadily building arousal already in him. He came with a long, drawn-out moan.
For a long moment, he remained exactly how he was, collapsed and blanketing the smaller body underneath him, but then, he remembered the manners he had and rolled sideways.
“Dude,” he muttered while pulling the condom off his softening dick. “You bit me!”
A snort was his answer, and he lifted his head to glance at Kurt. His hair was tousled, his cheeks reddened, his eyes narrowed to slits as he gritted his teeth.
Puck rolled his eyes affectionately and pressed Kurt back into the cushions. He’d never left his partners unsatisfied, and he wouldn’t start now.
Bending down, he took Kurt’s dick in his mouth and started sucking. He didn’t slow down or speed up, just picked his own rhythm and stuck with it, even when he felt Kurt’s hands on his head, urging him on.
He knew what he was doing.
“Hurry up,” Kurt finally snapped. “The gardener will be here in twenty minutes!”
Puck’s eyebrows shot up – Kurt was smart, elaborating on their role play to get what he wanted – but he decided to give in and play along. He sucked harder and pressed the hell of his hand encouragingly against Kurt’s balls.
It wasn’t long after that that Kurt came, and Puck fell back against the arm of the couch and watched Kurt’s breathing return to normal while he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.
“Nice touch, with the gardener,” he finally said and lazily brushed his fingertips against Kurt’s leg.
“It’s true,” Kurt murmured. “Finn’s coming by to water the plants.” He glanced at his watch. “In about five minutes.”
Puck yelped a curse as he scrambled into his clothes, and Kurt’s lips twitched as he watched – Puck was certain that Kurt was laughing at him on the inside, but he just had fantastic sex with the guy and that was enough to stop him from plotting his revenge for the laughing. Instead, he concentrated on getting his clothes in order while catching glimpses of Kurt wriggling back into his own, tight, pants and putting on a fresh shirt before smoothing down his hair until it was perfect again.
By the time Finn’s car pulled up, they were sitting on the couch and were playing video games.
“Next time,” Kurt murmured as he shifted, “I’m the worker and you are the housewife.”
Puck snorted. “In your dreams,” he replied. “This is my fantasy. Besides…”
He leaned closer, close enough that he could almost kiss Kurt, and his breath ghosted hotly against Kurt’s cheek. “I own your ass.”
There was nothing Kurt could reply to that, especially as Finn came in at that exact moment, and Puck’s attention shifted away from his fantasy and toward Finn and the game.
However, Kurt’s mind was busy.
He would come up with his own fantasy, he swore, and then, Puck would be the one wearing the apron.
He couldn’t wait.
~end.
Author:
kathierif_ficFandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: slash, characters are underage (16)
Word Count: 1217
Summary: Puck was a good-looking guy and he knew it. Besides, housewives had the hots for the pool boy.
Author’s Notes: Written for
kink_bingo prompt domestic/tradesman. I love housewives and don’t mean to insult them in any way.He looked good. He knew he did – there were a lot of people how had told him that and had done a lot of things to get him to sleep with them. He wasn’t easy, he just liked sex and hadn’t always bothered about where he had gotten it from.
Besides, he had his own pool cleaning business. He was a wet dream come true – if housewives had wet dreams. He wasn’t so sure about that little detail, but then, it didn’t matter to him. What mattered was that they, more often than not, couldn’t wait to drag him inside and let him have his wicked way with them, and today wouldn’t be any different.
Housewives, he knew, would always dig the pool boy. It was, like, a fantasy they all had, like a genetic thing.
A biological imperative.
It was a match made in heaven – he liked older, more experienced women, and they liked to watch him as he cleaned their pools.
Shirtless, of course.
After all, he knew how to stay in business.
Chicks just loved ogling him from behind closed screen doors and kitchen curtains, and he made sure to display his body while he worked and the sun burned down on him.
And the tanned skin, gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, was a sure way to attract the kind of attention he craved; and if that wasn’t enough to get them interested, there still was the piercing that glinted in the sun like a beacon, guiding them to him.
Yeah, he really looked good, and he knew it.
The curtain was moving, he saw from the corner of his eyes, as if someone had carefully pulled it aside to catch a glimpse of the forbidden fruit of the pool boy, and he grinned and made sure to let his muscles play teasingly as he finished up and started to pack up his stuff. Bending over and angling it that his ass in the old, faded, but still tight jeans pointed toward the window was almost instinct at that point, but it couldn’t hurt him. Maybe he would get a nice little extra. He was a hard-working guy, after all.
Slowly, deliberately, he made his way to the door. He didn’t need to knock, he knew he had been watched the entire time.
He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds until the door was pulled open and he could let his gaze wander over the slender body of the person in front of him. The apron with the flowered pattern was a nice touch, he thought as he smiled winningly.
“I’m all done,” he reported. “Pool’s as good as new. Squeaky clean.”
An elegant eyebrow arched expectantly. Puck’s smile turned into a grin. He knew what would happen next.
He waited until he was asked before entering. He had some manners, after all, and he wouldn’t risk his prize after all the work he’d already gone through to get it – not when he was barely inches from the finish line.
He collected his payment and let his fingers brush against the smooth skin suggestively. It was enough to make both of them gasp quietly, and only moments later, he found himself pushed into the couch, and the apron was fluttering to the ground while they were kissing.
His rough fingertips ran along soft, pale skin, pushing and tugging at expensive designer clothes while those elegant, long fingers with the well-manicured nails scratched across his chest and fought with the buttons on his pants.
No word was spoken. There was nothing to be said – he was just the handyman, the pool boy, and they had no common topic to talk about in the first place; besides, it would interfere with their kissing. The rasp of skin on skin was the only sound filling the room, the rustling of clothes and the quickening of their breathing, muffled by the deep kisses they were sharing.
It wasn’t long until they both were naked and Puck had soft, long legs wrapped tightly around him, holding him close and guiding his erection into tight heat.
This.
This was why he had his business.
Sharp teeth closed against the skin of his collarbone, clamping down, and the small pain sent sparks along his nerve endings, adding to the steadily building arousal already in him. He came with a long, drawn-out moan.
For a long moment, he remained exactly how he was, collapsed and blanketing the smaller body underneath him, but then, he remembered the manners he had and rolled sideways.
“Dude,” he muttered while pulling the condom off his softening dick. “You bit me!”
A snort was his answer, and he lifted his head to glance at Kurt. His hair was tousled, his cheeks reddened, his eyes narrowed to slits as he gritted his teeth.
Puck rolled his eyes affectionately and pressed Kurt back into the cushions. He’d never left his partners unsatisfied, and he wouldn’t start now.
Bending down, he took Kurt’s dick in his mouth and started sucking. He didn’t slow down or speed up, just picked his own rhythm and stuck with it, even when he felt Kurt’s hands on his head, urging him on.
He knew what he was doing.
“Hurry up,” Kurt finally snapped. “The gardener will be here in twenty minutes!”
Puck’s eyebrows shot up – Kurt was smart, elaborating on their role play to get what he wanted – but he decided to give in and play along. He sucked harder and pressed the hell of his hand encouragingly against Kurt’s balls.
It wasn’t long after that that Kurt came, and Puck fell back against the arm of the couch and watched Kurt’s breathing return to normal while he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.
“Nice touch, with the gardener,” he finally said and lazily brushed his fingertips against Kurt’s leg.
“It’s true,” Kurt murmured. “Finn’s coming by to water the plants.” He glanced at his watch. “In about five minutes.”
Puck yelped a curse as he scrambled into his clothes, and Kurt’s lips twitched as he watched – Puck was certain that Kurt was laughing at him on the inside, but he just had fantastic sex with the guy and that was enough to stop him from plotting his revenge for the laughing. Instead, he concentrated on getting his clothes in order while catching glimpses of Kurt wriggling back into his own, tight, pants and putting on a fresh shirt before smoothing down his hair until it was perfect again.
By the time Finn’s car pulled up, they were sitting on the couch and were playing video games.
“Next time,” Kurt murmured as he shifted, “I’m the worker and you are the housewife.”
Puck snorted. “In your dreams,” he replied. “This is my fantasy. Besides…”
He leaned closer, close enough that he could almost kiss Kurt, and his breath ghosted hotly against Kurt’s cheek. “I own your ass.”
There was nothing Kurt could reply to that, especially as Finn came in at that exact moment, and Puck’s attention shifted away from his fantasy and toward Finn and the game.
However, Kurt’s mind was busy.
He would come up with his own fantasy, he swore, and then, Puck would be the one wearing the apron.
He couldn’t wait.
~end.