Fic: Getting By with a Little Help (Glee, Puck/Finn)
Title: Getting By with a Little Help
Pairing: Puck/Finn, Finn/Cake
Rating: R
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Glee, not me.
Word Count: ~2900
Summary: With both his arms broken, how can Finn eat his cake? Puck is a good friend and steps up to help a bro out.
A/N: Written for the prompt ‘feeding- erotic’ on my schmoop_bingo card. Betaed by the wonderful mintyfiend; any remaining mistakes are mine. Concrit always welcomed. Title adapted from The Beatles.
“Only a fucking idiot could break both their arms,” Puck says when he’s finally allowed into Finn’s hospital room.
As the door swings shut behind him, he can still hear Rachel freaking out because Sectionals are less than a month away and how can they possibly win when the male lead can’t dance with her. Puck thinks that they’re more likely to win if Finn is physically incapable of getting down with his bad self, but he’s keeping that to himself from now on. Rachel is scary when she’s freaking out and Puck isn’t going to let himself be the target for her rage.
“I’d flip you off if I could move my hands,” Finn replies but he’s grinning, a little sheepishly.
Puck slips onto the chair beside Finn’s bed, dropping his football helmet and pads down on the floor beside him. They’d been in such a rush to get Finn to the hospital that Puck hadn’t even thought to remove his helmet before climbing into the ambulance and nodding at Mr Hummel as he said they’d meet them at the hospital.
“They all still out there?” Finn asks, nodding towards the doorway. They can hear someone being hysterical and if Puck had any money, he’d bet it all on him being able to guess who it is.
“Mr Schue promised he won’t let Rachel back in until she’s calmed down. I think he’s going to try and take her and the others home.”
“My mom?”
“She’s gone home to get your stuff. Kurt went with them- said something about you needing your facial cleanser and toner.”
Puck rolls his eyes and then smirks when Finn doesn’t roll his back. Instead he looks away, like he’s embarrassed and Puck files Finn’s apparent skin care regime as something to mock him for later.
“You’re sticking around?” Finn asks after a minute, cheeks still slightly pinker than normal.
Puck shrugs. “I guess. Someone has to keep you company, right?”
Finn gives him a smile that Puck interprets as grateful and he lightly punches Finn on the shoulder, snatching his hand back when Finn winces.
“Broken in three places, huh?” Puck asks, surveying the plaster casts that cover both of Finn’s arms from fingers to shoulder.
“Four,” Finn replies, sheepishly, like it was somehow his fault that dickweed of a linebacker who rushed him weighed as much as a truck.
Puck pounds his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I’ll break his face,” Puck assures him. “I’ll make him pay. See how he likes being in plaster.”
Finn half laughs but shakes his head. “He could totally take you, dude.”
“What? No way. I could take him in my sleep,” Puck insists, because he totally could. Puck is a badass, and that douchenozzle didn’t look that tough.
Finn opens his mouth as if to further insult Puck’s asskicking ability (and seriously, hasn’t he seen Puck’s guns? He could take on fucking Chuck Norris and win) but the door opens and a nurse bustles in.
“Your casts look to be setting nicely, Mr Hudson,” she says, putting down a tray and leaning over Finn to readjust his pillow.
She’s hot and Puck’s eyes slide easily to her cleavage. He wants to ask her for a sponge bath or a prostate massage or something else that involves her wearing her sexy uniform and latex gloves but instead he asks, “So I can sign it then?”
Finn’s eyes snap up from the nurse’s boobs to Puck’s face just in time to avoid being caught as the nurse leans back and smiles.
“I’m sure that’ll be alright,” she says, and places the tray next to Finn. It’s covered in food that makes the school cafeteria seem like one of those gourmet restaurants Puck’s mom watches shit about on TV.
“You’re lucky you’ve got the room to yourself for now,” the nurse says. “Now be a good boy and try and eat something,” she adds and sweeps from the room.
Both Puck and Finn stare at the plate of food, and then at each other.
“Hot, but stupid,” Puck concludes. “How the fuck are you supposed to eat when you’re walking around like Frankenstein?” Puck sticks his arms straight out and lurches around for demonstration.
“I’m trying to kill you with my mind,” Finn informs him and Puck snorts.
“I won’t worry too much then,” he says and then makes a face. “D’you think she expects me to feed you? Because no fucking way. What’s next, changing your diaper too?”
Finn laughs but then gives Puck a hopeful look.
“Fuck off,” Puck says, and they sit in silence for a moment. When Puck looks over at Finn he’s practically pouting and about three seconds away from-
“Hey, remember that time you knocked up my girlfriend?” Finn asks conversationally and Puck grunts in annoyance as he jumps up and grabs the stupid tray.
“I hate you,” he says, loading a fork with what can only be called pasta surprise and lifting it towards Finn’s mouth. “Open up! Here comes the choo choo.”
Puck smirks as Finn’s eyes narrow. He opens his mouth to attempt some smartass reply but Puck shoves the fork in and dumps the food, cutting Finn off.
The food looks truly awful but Finn gives a little moan as he chews, like it’s the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. And considering it’s Finn, Puck thinks it probably is. Puck continues to feed him the pasta, ignoring the happy noises Finn makes until the plate is empty.
“D’you want that salad thing next?” Puck asks, pointing at a limp bowl of lettuce and Finn looks at him like he’s insane so Puck picks up a small plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it. It’s the most appetising thing on the tray, but it still looks like it’s been sitting around for a few days.
Finn’s eyes light up when Puck holds it up though, and so Puck breaks off a piece and lifts it to Finn’s mouth.
The cake feels coarse and dry, frosting thick on his fingers as he pushes it between Finn’s lips. Finn’s tongue swipes across Puck’s fingertips and he jumps, pulling his hand back.
“Sorry,” Finn says, not meeting Puck’s eyes as he licks at a crumb in the corner of his mouth.
Puck shrugs. “S’okay,” he says, and feeds Finn another bit, biting his own bottom lip as Finn’s tongue tickles at his fingers. It feels strange- good, but weird and the ticklish feeling runs straight through Puck making him feel shivery.
He pushes the feeling down and focuses on steadily feeding bite-sized pieces to Finn, trying not to pay too much attention to how Finn’s quiet moans have grown a bit louder and how Puck’s fingers are sucked further and further between Finn’s lips each time he licks them clean.
The cake is more than half gone when Finn turns his face away as Puck reaches for another piece. Finn’s neck and ears are pink and he seems to be trying to twist his body away which looks uncomfortable.
“Finn?” Puck asks, worried in case Finn is in pain, in case Puck has fucked up and hurt him somehow.
Finn turns back, and his eyes flick south before looking somewhere over Puck’s left shoulder.
Puck frowns as he glances down Finn’s body, then stifles a laugh.
“Dude,” Puck says, staring at the way Finn’s hospital gown is tented. “What is it, the smell of sick people turn you on or something?”
“No,” Finn says, defiant and embarrassed at the same time. There’s something odd about his tone and it takes Puck a moment to put two and two together and come up with a reason for the laughter to falter.
“Oh.”
Puck knows it isn’t him that’s caused this. Finn must just really like cake or something. But still. It’s weird. And awkward and he doesn’t know what to do.
“You can leave, if you want,” Finn tells him, and his voice sounds strained.
Puck thinks about Finn’s tongue on his fingers, the way his cheeks had hollowed as he’d sucked them into his mouth and licked them clean. He wants to leave, because this is out of the comfort zone where Puck is the in-charge badass with a cocksure answer always to hand. Puck hates not being in that zone.
But he doesn’t leave. Partly it’s guilt, that it isn’t him lying on that bed with two broken arms. Partly it’s because Puck sucked as a best friend for most of a year and he’s been trying not to suck so much this year. Partly it’s because Finn has no one else right now. But mostly it’s because Puck wants to know what happens next.
“I’m good,” Puck says and there’s surprise on Finn’s face when he finally looks at Puck again.
“More cake?” Puck asks, before Finn can say anything and Finn nods, slowly, like he thinks it might be a trick or something.
Puck reaches for another piece of cake, breaks it off and feels the frosting ooze between his fingers, then pauses. He looks at where Finn’s dick is lifting the thin material of his hospital gown, and thinks of all of the times when he’d been hard and aching and unable to get off. It had felt like torture but it hadn’t lasted long- when class or Temple or whatever it was stopping him was over he could slip away and jerk off (or better, get someone to get him off).
But two broken arms mean that Finn can’t do that.
Puck looks back at Finn, who is frowning at him.
“You okay?” Finn asks. He sounds hopeful and worried and kind of like he expects Puck to walk away or punch him.
Puck nods and switches the piece of cake to his other hand. He holds the now empty one up to Finn’s face.
“Lick,” he says and when Finn doesn’t do it Puck sighs. “Bro, lick my fucking hand.”
Finn looks confused, but he sticks out his tongue, licking at the frosting and crumbs on Puck’s fingers and palm. It makes something tighten low down inside Puck whenever Finn’s tongue slips between his fingers, a tugging sensation that Puck isn’t going to let himself think about. Instead he waits until Finn has finished and his hand has a light sheen of spit coating his fingers and palm.
“Sorry man,” Finn says. “I kinda slobbered on you.”
“That was the point, dumbass,” Puck says and nudges the blankets across Finn’s lap away to slide his hand underneath the hem of the short hospital gown.
“What’re you-”
“What do you think?” Puck asks, and when Finn starts to ask again, Puck shoves the cake into Finn’s mouth at the same time as his hand finds Finn’s dick.
Puck has never had his hands on another dude’s junk. He isn’t gay or anything and he’s pretty sure this would be a gay thing if it wasn’t about one bro helping another bro out with a sticky situation. He’d expected it to be weird, whenever he’d thought of jerking another guy off before, but really it’s a lot like jerking himself off. Kind of like giving himself a dead arm so it feels like someone else is doing it, except the other way around.
Finn’s dick doesn’t feel too different than Puck’s although Puck is pretty sure his is bigger and anything that suggests otherwise is probably just because he’s coming at it from a different angle.
The spit on Puck’s hand isn’t really enough lube and it’s rougher than Puck likes, but Finn seems to be enjoying it. When Puck glances up, Finn’s eyes are closed and he’s biting his lip, like he’s trying not to groan too loud.
Puck picks up another piece of cake and presses it against Finn’s mouth until he opens to it, and tightens his grip on Finn’s dick at the same time.
And gets showered with crumbs for his troubles when Finn gasps, “Fuck,” at him.
“Dude,” Puck says, letting go of Finn’s dick for a moment. “Not cool.”
Finn looks abashed and if Puck was actually as big an asshole as everyone thinks he is, he’d sit back for a few minutes and let Finn think he wasn’t going to continue.
Instead he picks up the last piece of cake. It’s bigger than the other pieces but he shoves it into Finn’s mouth anyway, and waits for Finn to chew and swallow with a happy hum, before sliding his fingers around Finn’s dick again.
Puck rubs his thumb across the head and Finn groans again. It’s different to the moans and groans he’d made just eating the cake and the curious part of Puck wants to know what’s Finn’s enjoying more- the cake or the handjob.
He’s pretty sure Finn would say the cake and it gives him a strange jolt of annoyance. Puck had nothing to do with the cake, other than shovelling it into Finn’s face. Even though it’s not like Puck’s enjoying jacking Finn off (and any twitching of his own dick is purely coincidental and probably just because it’s been a few hours since Puck got off) he still has some sense of professional pride. He wants Finn to like the handjob more than the shitty hospital issue dessert.
He moves his hand faster, alternating between keeping his grip tight and loose until Finn is lifting his hips to meet Puck’s hand. Finn is making little gasping noises and Puck doesn’t realise he’s left his other hand resting against Finn’s face until Finn moves his head and sucks two of Puck’s fingers into his mouth.
Finn sucks hard and it runs through Puck, straight to his dick where it presses uncomfortably against his cup. Puck wishes he’d had time to change, to have the familiar press of the seam of his jeans instead. At least then he’d have the option of the weight of the heel of his hand against his dick.
But he doesn’t. His dick is pressed against rough fabric and hard plastic with no relief from the building pressure with every suck of Finn’s mouth on his fingers, every stroke of Puck’s hand on Finn’s dick.
Finn’s close, Puck thinks when his hand slips out of Finn’s mouth and Finn leans his head back, breathing quicker than before. It’s a sound that Puck shouldn’t want to hear again, but he does. He wants to know if Finn always sounds this way or if it’s because of the cake too.
It makes his mind wander to whether the guitar calluses on Puck’s fingers make it hard for Finn to pretend he’s not just jerking himself off, and whether Puck would be able to tell the difference if it was Finn’s hand on his dick.
“Puck, I’m,” Finn says, which is all the warning Puck gets. He loses concentration, doesn’t quite hear what Finn says but he stares at his hand, a smear of frosting on his fingers and a smear of come on his palm, for a moment before wiping them both on Finn’s sheet. Puck is sure the nurses have seen weirder stuff than that on sheets before.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment. Puck shifts in his chair, trying to get comfortable because there’s no way he’s admitting Finn isn’t the only one who just shot his load, and at least Finn has a decent excuse.
“So,” Finn says, and the word hangs in the air.
“You’re good now?” Puck asks and looks at Finn as he nods.
“Yeah. Uh, thanks. For...feeding me and stuff.”
“No problem.”
Puck looks away again and stares intently at the remains of the food tray. A thought occurs to him and he almost doesn’t ask.
“You in those casts for long?”
“Six weeks, maybe longer.”
“Fuck,” Puck breathes. That’s a long time. Puck’s pretty sure he’d drop dead if he couldn’t use his hands for that long, and that’s with him knowing a lot of chicks who’d still bang him even if he couldn’t touch them. A guy like Finn would have no chance of surviving that long.
Puck looks at Finn. Finn looks back.
Puck thinks that he’s a really, really awesome friend and Finn better recognise that.
“If you need any more...help,” Puck settles on the word after a moment of thought, “lemme know, okay?”
Finn looks surprised but nods. “Thanks,” he says, looking embarrassed and Puck shrugs.
They fall into silence.
Awkward.
“Oh honey, are you okay?” Mrs Hudson hurries into the room and Puck shoves the chair back with a screech of metal on cheap linoleum and jumps up.
“Yeah, mom, I’m okay,” Finn says, looking more composed than Puck can manage.
Puck grabs his football pads and helmet when he sees Mr Hummel and Kurt follow Mrs Hudson in.
“I should get going,” he says, and Mrs Hudson flashes him a grateful smile.
“Thank you for helping out,” she tells him. “I think Finn really needed that.”
Puck stares at her, then at Finn who laughs nervously.
“He’d have hated being on his own,” Mrs Hudson continues and Puck’s shoulders slump in relief.
“It’s no big deal,” he says. “Anytime.”
He makes his way to the door, catching Finn’s eye on his way out. There’s an amused smile on the corner of Finn’s lips. And some chocolate frosting.
“You’ve got something, right there,” Kurt says and Puck makes it out of the door before he can witness Kurt trying to wipe it off Finn’s face.
Pairing: Puck/Finn, Finn/Cake
Rating: R
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Glee, not me.
Word Count: ~2900
Summary: With both his arms broken, how can Finn eat his cake? Puck is a good friend and steps up to help a bro out.
A/N: Written for the prompt ‘feeding- erotic’ on my schmoop_bingo card. Betaed by the wonderful mintyfiend; any remaining mistakes are mine. Concrit always welcomed. Title adapted from The Beatles.
“Only a fucking idiot could break both their arms,” Puck says when he’s finally allowed into Finn’s hospital room.
As the door swings shut behind him, he can still hear Rachel freaking out because Sectionals are less than a month away and how can they possibly win when the male lead can’t dance with her. Puck thinks that they’re more likely to win if Finn is physically incapable of getting down with his bad self, but he’s keeping that to himself from now on. Rachel is scary when she’s freaking out and Puck isn’t going to let himself be the target for her rage.
“I’d flip you off if I could move my hands,” Finn replies but he’s grinning, a little sheepishly.
Puck slips onto the chair beside Finn’s bed, dropping his football helmet and pads down on the floor beside him. They’d been in such a rush to get Finn to the hospital that Puck hadn’t even thought to remove his helmet before climbing into the ambulance and nodding at Mr Hummel as he said they’d meet them at the hospital.
“They all still out there?” Finn asks, nodding towards the doorway. They can hear someone being hysterical and if Puck had any money, he’d bet it all on him being able to guess who it is.
“Mr Schue promised he won’t let Rachel back in until she’s calmed down. I think he’s going to try and take her and the others home.”
“My mom?”
“She’s gone home to get your stuff. Kurt went with them- said something about you needing your facial cleanser and toner.”
Puck rolls his eyes and then smirks when Finn doesn’t roll his back. Instead he looks away, like he’s embarrassed and Puck files Finn’s apparent skin care regime as something to mock him for later.
“You’re sticking around?” Finn asks after a minute, cheeks still slightly pinker than normal.
Puck shrugs. “I guess. Someone has to keep you company, right?”
Finn gives him a smile that Puck interprets as grateful and he lightly punches Finn on the shoulder, snatching his hand back when Finn winces.
“Broken in three places, huh?” Puck asks, surveying the plaster casts that cover both of Finn’s arms from fingers to shoulder.
“Four,” Finn replies, sheepishly, like it was somehow his fault that dickweed of a linebacker who rushed him weighed as much as a truck.
Puck pounds his fist into the palm of his other hand. “I’ll break his face,” Puck assures him. “I’ll make him pay. See how he likes being in plaster.”
Finn half laughs but shakes his head. “He could totally take you, dude.”
“What? No way. I could take him in my sleep,” Puck insists, because he totally could. Puck is a badass, and that douchenozzle didn’t look that tough.
Finn opens his mouth as if to further insult Puck’s asskicking ability (and seriously, hasn’t he seen Puck’s guns? He could take on fucking Chuck Norris and win) but the door opens and a nurse bustles in.
“Your casts look to be setting nicely, Mr Hudson,” she says, putting down a tray and leaning over Finn to readjust his pillow.
She’s hot and Puck’s eyes slide easily to her cleavage. He wants to ask her for a sponge bath or a prostate massage or something else that involves her wearing her sexy uniform and latex gloves but instead he asks, “So I can sign it then?”
Finn’s eyes snap up from the nurse’s boobs to Puck’s face just in time to avoid being caught as the nurse leans back and smiles.
“I’m sure that’ll be alright,” she says, and places the tray next to Finn. It’s covered in food that makes the school cafeteria seem like one of those gourmet restaurants Puck’s mom watches shit about on TV.
“You’re lucky you’ve got the room to yourself for now,” the nurse says. “Now be a good boy and try and eat something,” she adds and sweeps from the room.
Both Puck and Finn stare at the plate of food, and then at each other.
“Hot, but stupid,” Puck concludes. “How the fuck are you supposed to eat when you’re walking around like Frankenstein?” Puck sticks his arms straight out and lurches around for demonstration.
“I’m trying to kill you with my mind,” Finn informs him and Puck snorts.
“I won’t worry too much then,” he says and then makes a face. “D’you think she expects me to feed you? Because no fucking way. What’s next, changing your diaper too?”
Finn laughs but then gives Puck a hopeful look.
“Fuck off,” Puck says, and they sit in silence for a moment. When Puck looks over at Finn he’s practically pouting and about three seconds away from-
“Hey, remember that time you knocked up my girlfriend?” Finn asks conversationally and Puck grunts in annoyance as he jumps up and grabs the stupid tray.
“I hate you,” he says, loading a fork with what can only be called pasta surprise and lifting it towards Finn’s mouth. “Open up! Here comes the choo choo.”
Puck smirks as Finn’s eyes narrow. He opens his mouth to attempt some smartass reply but Puck shoves the fork in and dumps the food, cutting Finn off.
The food looks truly awful but Finn gives a little moan as he chews, like it’s the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. And considering it’s Finn, Puck thinks it probably is. Puck continues to feed him the pasta, ignoring the happy noises Finn makes until the plate is empty.
“D’you want that salad thing next?” Puck asks, pointing at a limp bowl of lettuce and Finn looks at him like he’s insane so Puck picks up a small plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it. It’s the most appetising thing on the tray, but it still looks like it’s been sitting around for a few days.
Finn’s eyes light up when Puck holds it up though, and so Puck breaks off a piece and lifts it to Finn’s mouth.
The cake feels coarse and dry, frosting thick on his fingers as he pushes it between Finn’s lips. Finn’s tongue swipes across Puck’s fingertips and he jumps, pulling his hand back.
“Sorry,” Finn says, not meeting Puck’s eyes as he licks at a crumb in the corner of his mouth.
Puck shrugs. “S’okay,” he says, and feeds Finn another bit, biting his own bottom lip as Finn’s tongue tickles at his fingers. It feels strange- good, but weird and the ticklish feeling runs straight through Puck making him feel shivery.
He pushes the feeling down and focuses on steadily feeding bite-sized pieces to Finn, trying not to pay too much attention to how Finn’s quiet moans have grown a bit louder and how Puck’s fingers are sucked further and further between Finn’s lips each time he licks them clean.
The cake is more than half gone when Finn turns his face away as Puck reaches for another piece. Finn’s neck and ears are pink and he seems to be trying to twist his body away which looks uncomfortable.
“Finn?” Puck asks, worried in case Finn is in pain, in case Puck has fucked up and hurt him somehow.
Finn turns back, and his eyes flick south before looking somewhere over Puck’s left shoulder.
Puck frowns as he glances down Finn’s body, then stifles a laugh.
“Dude,” Puck says, staring at the way Finn’s hospital gown is tented. “What is it, the smell of sick people turn you on or something?”
“No,” Finn says, defiant and embarrassed at the same time. There’s something odd about his tone and it takes Puck a moment to put two and two together and come up with a reason for the laughter to falter.
“Oh.”
Puck knows it isn’t him that’s caused this. Finn must just really like cake or something. But still. It’s weird. And awkward and he doesn’t know what to do.
“You can leave, if you want,” Finn tells him, and his voice sounds strained.
Puck thinks about Finn’s tongue on his fingers, the way his cheeks had hollowed as he’d sucked them into his mouth and licked them clean. He wants to leave, because this is out of the comfort zone where Puck is the in-charge badass with a cocksure answer always to hand. Puck hates not being in that zone.
But he doesn’t leave. Partly it’s guilt, that it isn’t him lying on that bed with two broken arms. Partly it’s because Puck sucked as a best friend for most of a year and he’s been trying not to suck so much this year. Partly it’s because Finn has no one else right now. But mostly it’s because Puck wants to know what happens next.
“I’m good,” Puck says and there’s surprise on Finn’s face when he finally looks at Puck again.
“More cake?” Puck asks, before Finn can say anything and Finn nods, slowly, like he thinks it might be a trick or something.
Puck reaches for another piece of cake, breaks it off and feels the frosting ooze between his fingers, then pauses. He looks at where Finn’s dick is lifting the thin material of his hospital gown, and thinks of all of the times when he’d been hard and aching and unable to get off. It had felt like torture but it hadn’t lasted long- when class or Temple or whatever it was stopping him was over he could slip away and jerk off (or better, get someone to get him off).
But two broken arms mean that Finn can’t do that.
Puck looks back at Finn, who is frowning at him.
“You okay?” Finn asks. He sounds hopeful and worried and kind of like he expects Puck to walk away or punch him.
Puck nods and switches the piece of cake to his other hand. He holds the now empty one up to Finn’s face.
“Lick,” he says and when Finn doesn’t do it Puck sighs. “Bro, lick my fucking hand.”
Finn looks confused, but he sticks out his tongue, licking at the frosting and crumbs on Puck’s fingers and palm. It makes something tighten low down inside Puck whenever Finn’s tongue slips between his fingers, a tugging sensation that Puck isn’t going to let himself think about. Instead he waits until Finn has finished and his hand has a light sheen of spit coating his fingers and palm.
“Sorry man,” Finn says. “I kinda slobbered on you.”
“That was the point, dumbass,” Puck says and nudges the blankets across Finn’s lap away to slide his hand underneath the hem of the short hospital gown.
“What’re you-”
“What do you think?” Puck asks, and when Finn starts to ask again, Puck shoves the cake into Finn’s mouth at the same time as his hand finds Finn’s dick.
Puck has never had his hands on another dude’s junk. He isn’t gay or anything and he’s pretty sure this would be a gay thing if it wasn’t about one bro helping another bro out with a sticky situation. He’d expected it to be weird, whenever he’d thought of jerking another guy off before, but really it’s a lot like jerking himself off. Kind of like giving himself a dead arm so it feels like someone else is doing it, except the other way around.
Finn’s dick doesn’t feel too different than Puck’s although Puck is pretty sure his is bigger and anything that suggests otherwise is probably just because he’s coming at it from a different angle.
The spit on Puck’s hand isn’t really enough lube and it’s rougher than Puck likes, but Finn seems to be enjoying it. When Puck glances up, Finn’s eyes are closed and he’s biting his lip, like he’s trying not to groan too loud.
Puck picks up another piece of cake and presses it against Finn’s mouth until he opens to it, and tightens his grip on Finn’s dick at the same time.
And gets showered with crumbs for his troubles when Finn gasps, “Fuck,” at him.
“Dude,” Puck says, letting go of Finn’s dick for a moment. “Not cool.”
Finn looks abashed and if Puck was actually as big an asshole as everyone thinks he is, he’d sit back for a few minutes and let Finn think he wasn’t going to continue.
Instead he picks up the last piece of cake. It’s bigger than the other pieces but he shoves it into Finn’s mouth anyway, and waits for Finn to chew and swallow with a happy hum, before sliding his fingers around Finn’s dick again.
Puck rubs his thumb across the head and Finn groans again. It’s different to the moans and groans he’d made just eating the cake and the curious part of Puck wants to know what’s Finn’s enjoying more- the cake or the handjob.
He’s pretty sure Finn would say the cake and it gives him a strange jolt of annoyance. Puck had nothing to do with the cake, other than shovelling it into Finn’s face. Even though it’s not like Puck’s enjoying jacking Finn off (and any twitching of his own dick is purely coincidental and probably just because it’s been a few hours since Puck got off) he still has some sense of professional pride. He wants Finn to like the handjob more than the shitty hospital issue dessert.
He moves his hand faster, alternating between keeping his grip tight and loose until Finn is lifting his hips to meet Puck’s hand. Finn is making little gasping noises and Puck doesn’t realise he’s left his other hand resting against Finn’s face until Finn moves his head and sucks two of Puck’s fingers into his mouth.
Finn sucks hard and it runs through Puck, straight to his dick where it presses uncomfortably against his cup. Puck wishes he’d had time to change, to have the familiar press of the seam of his jeans instead. At least then he’d have the option of the weight of the heel of his hand against his dick.
But he doesn’t. His dick is pressed against rough fabric and hard plastic with no relief from the building pressure with every suck of Finn’s mouth on his fingers, every stroke of Puck’s hand on Finn’s dick.
Finn’s close, Puck thinks when his hand slips out of Finn’s mouth and Finn leans his head back, breathing quicker than before. It’s a sound that Puck shouldn’t want to hear again, but he does. He wants to know if Finn always sounds this way or if it’s because of the cake too.
It makes his mind wander to whether the guitar calluses on Puck’s fingers make it hard for Finn to pretend he’s not just jerking himself off, and whether Puck would be able to tell the difference if it was Finn’s hand on his dick.
“Puck, I’m,” Finn says, which is all the warning Puck gets. He loses concentration, doesn’t quite hear what Finn says but he stares at his hand, a smear of frosting on his fingers and a smear of come on his palm, for a moment before wiping them both on Finn’s sheet. Puck is sure the nurses have seen weirder stuff than that on sheets before.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment. Puck shifts in his chair, trying to get comfortable because there’s no way he’s admitting Finn isn’t the only one who just shot his load, and at least Finn has a decent excuse.
“So,” Finn says, and the word hangs in the air.
“You’re good now?” Puck asks and looks at Finn as he nods.
“Yeah. Uh, thanks. For...feeding me and stuff.”
“No problem.”
Puck looks away again and stares intently at the remains of the food tray. A thought occurs to him and he almost doesn’t ask.
“You in those casts for long?”
“Six weeks, maybe longer.”
“Fuck,” Puck breathes. That’s a long time. Puck’s pretty sure he’d drop dead if he couldn’t use his hands for that long, and that’s with him knowing a lot of chicks who’d still bang him even if he couldn’t touch them. A guy like Finn would have no chance of surviving that long.
Puck looks at Finn. Finn looks back.
Puck thinks that he’s a really, really awesome friend and Finn better recognise that.
“If you need any more...help,” Puck settles on the word after a moment of thought, “lemme know, okay?”
Finn looks surprised but nods. “Thanks,” he says, looking embarrassed and Puck shrugs.
They fall into silence.
Awkward.
“Oh honey, are you okay?” Mrs Hudson hurries into the room and Puck shoves the chair back with a screech of metal on cheap linoleum and jumps up.
“Yeah, mom, I’m okay,” Finn says, looking more composed than Puck can manage.
Puck grabs his football pads and helmet when he sees Mr Hummel and Kurt follow Mrs Hudson in.
“I should get going,” he says, and Mrs Hudson flashes him a grateful smile.
“Thank you for helping out,” she tells him. “I think Finn really needed that.”
Puck stares at her, then at Finn who laughs nervously.
“He’d have hated being on his own,” Mrs Hudson continues and Puck’s shoulders slump in relief.
“It’s no big deal,” he says. “Anytime.”
He makes his way to the door, catching Finn’s eye on his way out. There’s an amused smile on the corner of Finn’s lips. And some chocolate frosting.
“You’ve got something, right there,” Kurt says and Puck makes it out of the door before he can witness Kurt trying to wipe it off Finn’s face.