2.

Kurt walked the short distance to his dorm with his face on fire.

He'd just been propositioned, hadn't he? Really, truly, sex-propositioned. It wasn't a “where should we watch a movie” kind of question, was it?

He'd known it might happen one day. If he was being honest, he'd kind of hoped it would, once he finally escaped Ohio – that some time down the road, somewhere in New York he would meet a man who would want to date him, and kiss him, and more. Kurt had spent so much time thinking about it, these last few years when loneliness bit harder every day and his body kept reminding him, with increasing urgency, that it had needs that were not being met. But now that it had actually happened, he didn't feel ready at all. After only three weeks in New York, he wasn't even used to the way his straight roommate, Justin, changed in front of him, completely unfazed.

And now, for the first time in his life, he met a guy who seemed interested in him. And what a guy! Kurt was pretty certain there was no one as attractive as Blaine in that ballroom, and he'd been watching for an hour – he had really allowed himself to watch, like he'd never dared before. There had been several good-looking boys in the crowd, and at least two of them had seemed very, very gay.

But once Blaine came in, everyone else immediately paled in comparison.

The dark curls that Kurt could tell were masterfully styled to look that free and tousled. The sparkling honey-brown eyes. The easy smile, so joyful that Kurt had felt warm and tingly just from having it directed at him. And that was before they even started talking.

Blaine was a stunning, interesting man – a man who, without a doubt, knew what to do with those full red lips and those beautifully expressive hands.

Obviously, Kurt had to reject him.

He couldn't have just agreed to jump right into a stranger's bed after an hour of conversation, no matter how attractive the stranger or how much Kurt's body reacted to the prospect, touch-starved as it was. Blaine clearly wasn't interested in asking him out on a date. And Kurt Hummel hadn't come to New York to hook up with the first willing man he met.

But as he went through his evening routine in his dorm's shared bathroom, and then lay in bed, Kurt couldn't get Blaine out of his head. What if he hadn't said no? Would he be in Blaine's bed now instead of his own? What would that be like?

Justin wasn't back from the dance yet, and Kurt decided to take his chances. Breath quickening with excitement, he slid his hand up under his sleep shirt and closed his eyes, fantasy unfolding.

They would start kissing as soon as they were alone behind closed door somewhere. Blaine's lips would be warm and soft against his, and he would still taste sweet like the punch they'd drunk. Heat twisted deliciously in Kurt's belly at the thought of sliding the tip of his tongue across Blaine's lower lip to catch that tiny speck of glitter that had been stealing Kurt's attention earlier. Blaine would hopefully take it as an invitation to deepen the kiss, dive in, and Kurt would be more than happy to allow it and reciprocate.

He brushed his fingertips over his lips, gasping as his other hand found a nipple.

In his fantasy, they still haven't moved far from the front door, he realized. Blaine had him against the wall, his hands wandering up under Kurt's shirt as he kissed him hungrily, and Kurt had never suspected it would be such a turn on for him – being pressed between the cold wall and warm firm flesh, enveloped by the subtle scent of the cologne Blaine had been wearing when they had danced.

Fantasy Blaine pressed his hard, muscled thigh between Kurt's legs, and up on his bed, Kurt moaned as his hips strained up, his cock seeking friction. By the time he pushed his pajama pants down and retrieved a small bottle of lubricant from between his headboard and mattress, the fantasy had taken a turn for the bolder.

They were on the bed now, making out horizontally in nothing but their underwear. Blaine's hair looked mussed, his lips kissed red, and Kurt knew that it was just his imagination making it so, but he could see the perfect definition of the muscles in Blaine's arms and stomach, the warm tan color of his skin, the smooth expanse of his chest. He could tell Blaine was turned on, desperate even, so he lost no time bringing his hand down where he really wanted it, against the black cotton of Blaine's briefs where he was hard and straining. But before he could slide the briefs down, his imagination made a wild flip and suddenly he was on his back, pressed into the bed, Blaine's gravelly voice whispering into Kurt's ear, No, let me touch you, please.

And Kurt wanted to protest, to say that he'd waited so long to actually touch a… a cock – of course he wouldn't say penis, or god forbid a member or something equally ridiculous – that he wanted to touch and taste, to get Blaine off and see what his face looked like when he was taken apart with pleasure. He wanted to know if Blaine was loud, if he would moan Kurt's name when he came. He wanted to do so much, but the desperate need to be touched grew stronger by the second and then all words left him when Blaine's hand gripped him, warm and slick with lube somehow, skin on skin even though he'd just been wearing underwear. Then Blaine was stroking him, tight and fast and perfect, and everything became a blur except for those eyes, golden and smiling, watching Kurt as he arched and whispered his name and came all over–

His own hand.

Kurt lay there, gasping for air, his whole body tingling with the force of his orgasm.

Well, wow.

He fell asleep thinking about Blaine, wondering. What if. What if…

*

The morning brought back reality.

As much as he'd enjoyed his little fantasy the night before, Kurt was glad he hadn't thrown all reason to the wind and gone home with Blaine. No matter how good it might have been, he would have definitely freaked out in the light of day, and he didn't want to remember his first time as “that night I made an impulsive hookup decision and then had to quit NYADA and leave New York to avoid the guy forever.”

Blaine was hard to forget, though, especially since he appeared to be one of the most popular students at NYADA, as Kurt soon learned. People talked about him and gravitated towards him whenever he was around, and he was apparently a leader of a great many extracurricular activities at the school, including a goofy, yet generally adored acapella boy band, named Blaine's Birdies.

And he was clearly able to be in several places at the same time. Wherever Kurt went in the next few weeks at school, there he was – a glimpse of his curls in the cafeteria; his compact, graceful form seen through the window during a lecture; someone mentioning him in passing; his voice floating through an open classroom door. Kurt was starting to suspect he might have developed selective Blaine-radar because how could everything suddenly revolve around one guy?

Or maybe it was a crush. Again. Except now he was in New York and the object of his affection was gay and somewhat interested, if only in the sex. That was definitely progress.

Either way, revisiting his little fantasy scene became Kurt's favorite bedtime activity. He tried to feel bad at first, but honestly, what could it hurt? After all he'd heard about Blaine's reputation – and he was apparently a veritable Casanova, if rumors were to be believed – Kurt was sure he wouldn't mind if he knew. He might even take it as a compliment. The truth was, with nothing more than a slowly fading memory of one dance and some talking, Blaine had single-handedly improved Kurt's sex life by about 300%.

And then one day Kurt literally fell into Blaine's arms.

He was hurrying to Miss July's class, already late and cutting a corner too fast, when he stumbled over someone's bag left carelessly on the floor. He would have fallen if not for a pair of well-muscled arms that caught him around the middle and steadied him as he regained his balance.

“Whoa, careful.”

The voice registered before Kurt even looked up, and there really was no time to steel himself before he was looking into Blaine's golden eyes. Up close, they had green speckles around the irises. Kurt found it impossible to look away.

“Hi, Kurt. Everything alright?” Blaine smiled at him and oh, those lips were even more sumptuous than he remembered them, the smile even warmer.

“Yes. Sure. I'm fine. Thank you.”

He really should go or Miss July would invent some special kind of torture just for him. But he just realized his hands were on Blaine's biceps that filled the sleeves of his red polo shirt in the most delicious way and – oh, that was just embarrassing, the way Kurt's breath was quickening already, tendrils of arousal growing through his body just from this proximity, the subtle scent of Blaine's cologne. Which, he admitted, must have had something to do with the way he'd let himself imagine this particular scent surrounding him with Blaine above him, against him, so close with nothing between them and–

With a tiny gasp, Kurt pulled away before Blaine could notice the effect he was having on him. He cleared his throat and straightened the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

“Really, thank you,” he repeated lamely. “Have a good day.”

He was turning to go when Blaine reached out and caught his hand to stop him. “Hey, how about we go get some coffee or–”

“I can't. Dance class,” Kurt practically squeaked. Blaine's hand was large and warm, and again, brought back sensations that were only imagined and yet so potent. Kurt slid his hand free. “I have to go. See you around!”

For the second time in less than a month, he was leaving Blaine and running away, Kurt realized. But he couldn't be concerned about it now. He had bigger problems to solve. Like tight dance outfits and lingering effects of Blaine's touch.

*

Kurt tried to resist the siren call of his favorite fantasy that night. Justin was fast asleep, and he slept like a log, Kurt knew by now. The circumstances were not a problem. The problem was that things were clearly getting out of hand.

What was he doing?

Ever since meeting Blaine, Kurt hadn't masturbated once without thinking about him, envisioning his body and his actions like it was a custom-made porn movie in his head. And while it was fundamentally harmless, his today's reaction to being this close to Blaine, even in the most innocent situation, was worrying. If it went on like this, he would start getting a boner every time he even saw Blaine, and that would be not only embarrassing, but also not fair to himself. What use was nurturing such a strong attraction to a man Kurt could never have?

But Kurt's body was yearning for release of the tension he'd carried since he'd stepped out of Blaine's arms that morning, and so, with a sigh, he allowed himself one last indulgence. Sliding his hand under the waistband of his pajama pants, Kurt recalled the feeling of Blaine's hand grasping his, large and warm, and closed his eyes.

What if he could have Blaine, even just for a bit?

As his hand worked slowly and expertly, well practiced after the last two years since his hormones caught up with his age at last, Kurt didn't focus on any particular image. The familiar glimpses ran through his head – kisses and touches and the naked body he'd never actually seen – but his mind meandered that night.

Would it be that bad if he'd said yes, back after the gala? Having his first experience like that – with a nice, handsome, charismatic guy who affected Kurt like no one had before and reportedly knew perfectly well how to please a man? Yes, it could only be one time, no relationship could come out of it, but was that really such a problem?

Hand quickening its jerky motions, Kurt couldn't believe how close he was already. Allowing himself the thought of really, truly getting what he'd only fantasized about so far was like flipping a switch from great to mind-bogglingly intense, and before he knew it, he was coming, barely managing to muffle the moan of Blaine's name against his forearm.

A few minutes later, as he opened his eyes and reached for a tissue, the idea still felt tantalizing.

*

“This is your urgent need?” Rachel scowled at Kurt across the table. “I skipped my Beautiful Ballet workout to talk to you about Blaine Anderson?”

“And to have coffee with me in your favorite vegan-friendly coffee shop. You deserve a break and a little pampering now and then, I know how hard you work,” Kurt said smoothly. “Coffee's on me. What can I get you?”

By the time he was back with her organic soy latte (not too hot, with one and a half shots of sugar-free caramel syrup and sprinkled with equal amounts cinnamon and dark chocolate), Rachel seemed to be appeased. She beamed at him when he put a piece of vegan green tea cheesecake in front of her.

“Thank you, Kurt! I really shouldn't though, my weight–”

“Your weight is perfectly fine,” he said firmly. “One piece of cake won't change that.”

“I guess,” she murmured, reaching for the fork. She moaned around the first bite.

Kurt smiled and sipped his coffee, waiting.

“Okay, so what's this about?” Rachel asked a moment later, licking off the milk foam from her upper lip. “Why are you interested in this guy? Did he try to get into your pants already?”

“No,” Kurt lied. “We just talked and he seemed really nice. Friendly. But since you seem to hate him so much, I thought I'd ask about him before I become friends with, I don't know, a puppy strangler. Or an illiterate brute, or something even worse. So tell me, what's so terrible about him?”

“Well, he does sleep around an awful lot, the whole school knows that.”

Kurt frowned. “So did Puckerman back at McKinley and you never held it against him. So what makes Blaine so bad?”

Rachel sighed. “Okay, maybe he's not bad bad. I mean, it's not like he pretends it's anything but casual, from what I know. Guys rarely hold it against him. They tend to boast about sleeping with him, actually.”

“Right,” Kurt said, still confused.

“And he is nice,” Rachel said. “Charming, really, as you might have noticed. And extremely easy on the eyes, I have to admit. Quite talented, too,” she added begrudgingly, then paused and busied herself with her cheesecake.

“Okay, then I don't understand–” And then he did. “Oh. Talented you say? As talented as you, perhaps?” A slow grin spread over Kurt's face. Of course.

Rachel scowled at him. “Well not that talented. I did beat him at the Winter Showcase.”

“But it was a close call, I heard. Rachel Berry, you are just jealous!” he said in a mildly ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­astonished voice.

“I am not jealous of a sophomore,” she huffed, but the way she failed to meet his eyes defied her words.

“Of course you're not,” Kurt teased. “So wait, Blaine's big flaw is that he's… too good?”

She just glowered at him for a moment before changing the topic to the classes he was taking.

Walking out of the café an hour later, Kurt already knew. He was going to find Blaine Anderson and talk to him. For starters.