Kurt straddled the platform, finding no other way to reach and paint the little corners of the extended stage.
He knew what everyone thought of him. That he only worked on all of this to kiss up to the teacher so he could get a bigger role.
Let them think whatever they wanted to.
Kurt knew the truth.
Knew that he only did what he loved.
And he loved this.
He loved theater.
Not just the acting part, all of it.
The way that a simple bare stage could turn into an enchanted forest.
The way the costumes he made and helped design would become their own characters.
Kurt knew the truth.
Knew that no matter what anyone thought, this is what he loves, so this is what he does.
Getting a good part in the play doesn’t hurt either.
As he finished painting the last little edge that no one would see but Kurt’s perfectionism didn’t want to leave unpainted, he saw it. Right in front of him. Right on the platform some jerk had decided to crudely draw a penis.
Kurt breathed in and gritted his teeth, willing himself not to explode form anger.
I can just paint over it he thought to himself It’s not too bad.
He wiggled his hips around a little, his current position making his skin-tight jeans uncomfortable.
He leaned down, now not only straddling the stage, but lying on it.
I must look ridiculous he mused to himself, thankful that no one else was in the auditorium at that time, as he dipped his brush into the paint and started moving it toward the offensive drawing.
“Hummel” Somebody sat behind him, putting their hands on his waist and leaning down so as to lay their body on his “Do you know what you do to me, sitting like this in your tight little jeans?” the boy thrust his hips, pressing his obvious erection against Kurt’s ass.
A shiver went down Kurt’s spine
“Blaine” he tried to sound angry but the name came out too softly.
Blaine
The boy who just transferred to McKinley.
The boy who was a year younger than Kurt but somehow smart enough to be in most of his classes.
The one who wore leather jackets and ripped jeans.
The one that looked tough enough to kill you without even trying.
The one with the piercings and tattoos.
The one who constantly harassed Kurt and obviously transferred into drama to further said harassment.
The one who Kurt wanted to hate but couldn’t because of his stupidly perfect face and disgustingly beautiful voice.
The one with the constant cocky attitude but random moments of niceness that made Kurt slowly fall for him, lust after him.
“Get off Anderson” Kurt warned.
“Did you know” Blaine ignored Kurt and started whispering in his ear “That the position you’re in right now would be so much more fun if you were naked and I were under you?” He thrust his hips again.
Kurt bit his tongue to stop the moan that wanted to escape him.
“Stop” His voice was weak and breathless.
“Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear as he ran his hands up Kurt’s legs, getting precariously close to-
“Leave me alone” The words were more of a whine than anything else.
“Hmmm, are you really sure you want that?” Blaine started pressing kisses down the back of Kurt’s neck.
A soft breath escaped Kurt’s lips as he arched his back into the touch.
He could feel the smile on Blaine’s lips, then he did the only thing he could think of.
“What the fuck?!” Blaine screamed as he wiped at the fresh blotch of paint on his cheek. He stood up and looked down at Kurt who in turn looked up at him with his most innocent expression.
“Oops, my hand must’ve slipped” He widened his eyes and waved aroung the paintbrush he was holding.
A smirk took over Blaine’s face.
Stop that Kurt thought Stop being that attractive.
“One day Hummel,” he chuckled, a low, gravelly, much-too-sexy sound “One day you will be down on your knees Hummel, literally.”
As Blaine walked away Kurt moved around in his jeans, the position no longer the only thing making them uncomfortable.