"Know what you should do?" Kurt breathed out, palming harshly at his cock which was painfully straining against the front of his black calvin klein boxers.

"What?" Blaine returned, voice shaking with every thrust against Kurt's perfect ass, he pulled at the waistband of his boxers flinging them down in one hit.

"You should fuck me against this wall," He smirked, stepping out of his underwear to which were pooled around his ankles.

Blaine groaned at the thought of himself buried the tight heat, "I really should."

"Then do it, baby, I want you pounding deep into m—ohh," Kurt was cut off by a ravinous Blaine sucking one nipple into his mouth whilst trailing his finger lower, lower, lower until he found Kurt's tight entrance.

"We—we need lube, baby," Blaine announced, kissing his way up to Kurt's jaw.

"No."

"No, but baby, it'll—"

"Please, Blaine, I want to feel you so badly, just, please," Kurt whined grinding back onto the finger placed at his hole and trying to get some delicious friction on his cock at the same time, failing epically.

"Y-yeah, okay," He replied in haste, "at least let me stretch you out first, yeah?"

"Mhm, hurry."

Blaine pushed Kurt forwards and bent him slightly over, emoting a small hiss from the pink-brunette haired boy as his sensitive cock came into contact with a cold wall.

His hands started to trail down again along with his tongue, over the small dimples of Kurt's lower back, over the swells of his perfectly shaped ass, to his beautiful puckered hole, licking a small strip over, and again, again and again.

"More, baby," Kurt moaned, pushing back onto Blaine's hotwetwarm tongue.

"..laine? Blaine snap out of it—Blaine!" Rachel's voice took over his daydream, groaning in annoyance and murmuring a sorry, he turned back to his textbook and started writing down calculations he probably wasn't going to use in the real life anyway, well, after he got out of his hell hole.

"So, what was the daydream about now, huh? Was he on all fours this time? Or was it y—"

He turned to gape at her with the most bitchiest glare he could succumb.

"Rachel. Stop. I'm still pissed at you for telling almost everyone that I like Kurt, and now Kurt himself knows, and I'm going to be even more of an outcast now, thank you, very much." He huffed, scribbling down more notes, this time wordlessly, the thoughts of the daydream flooding back to him, would it be too obvious to ask the teacher to excuse him for the bathroom? Yes, Rachel would get curious and probably come looking for him, ugh.

"I'm sorry, Blaine, but how many times do I have to repeat that? It's been over one week since Kurt's random outburst about no-one loving him in glee club, and that duet you did—being amazing as it was—it was wierd, literally nobody has spoken to him since, apart from Quinn, so just, forgive me or not, me telling everyone about your crush, got you a duet."

About to open his mouth, the bell rang for 4th period, Art, fantastic, Kurt was sat directly next to Kurt, at the back, together, well he would be, if he actually showed up.

Collecting up his notebooks and shoving them into his bag he slumped out of the room, with Rachel hot on his trail, "I said I was sorry, so stop walking away from me like that."

"I need to go to my locker, Rach, like I do all the time before Art class starts," He retorted flicking her away with two movements of his hand, then walking in the opposite direction that she was heading in, purposely.

Blaine didn't hate Rachel, no, she was his bestfriend but sometimes like proven before, she couldn't keep secrets, that was the only disfigurement about Rachel that annoyed him, while she had many other flaws which got on his nerves but that was her strongest one.

Rolling his eyes and clicking in his locker combination with the numbers 45, 76, 3, 9, he stuffed his school bag into the small space, Quinn passed him and shot Blaine a sort-of death stare, but a more kind gentle death stare, the kind that didn't leave you quaking in your boots, or something unadorned like that, so he just smiled straight at her.

Wait, he thought to himself, his face unconciously breaking out into a half smile, why is Quinn in school? She's never in unless Kurt is..

Sighing to himself he closed his locker shut, locking the combination and pondering to Art class and trying to grab his coursework off the very stupidly high shelf.

"Need help with that?" A familiar voice spoke behind him.

Kurt.

"Oh—thanks, I guess.." He blushed as the taller boy took his art folder off the top shelf, how Kurt even got that tall he didn't know, did he grow over night or something?

Or it was the really tall boots he was wearing. Probably the boots.

"I never knew you were in my art class," Kurt spoke, getting down his folder, which looked like it hadn't been used in century's, "what other classes do we have together?"

Blaine coughed and tried to avoid eye contact, the daydream from maths class still clouding his thoughts, "Art, obviously, English, Glee and uh—History."

"Cool," Kurt nodded, "we sit next to eachother in like, almost all those subjects right?"

"Yeah, I think."

Silence filled the gap while they both sat on their chairs, the corner of the table knocking awkwardly against Blaine's crotch and he couldn't help but let out a low hiss, and started to shift in his seat to get into a better position, luckily Kurt was most distracted with his old art work so he didn't notice. Thank god.

"So you're a pretty confident person, uh, right?" Blaine asked, just because the gap was empty and he just felt the need to talk to him, to get a conversation going.

"Yeah, I guess, what about it?" Kurt half-snapped, and Blaine was caught of guard, he uttered a quick nothing and got back to distributing most of his work.

Twenty minutes into the two hour lesson of doing absolutely nothing, the teacher had asked the majority of the students that had actually finished with their Unit One assignment—which was neither Kurt nor Blaine—to start with Unit Two, and those who had not finished Unit One, to continue with their final piece of clay moulding—making their vessel to be graded in one week.

"Could you, get me some clay from up front please, Blaine?" Kurt muttered, almost inaudiable as he continued to click his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and scribbling some ideas down on a sheet of A4 paper.

"Sure," Blaine raised an eyebrow but retrieved two large clumps of clay for both of them, along with some metal carvers and a square expanse of clean sheet.

"Thanks," Kurt whispered, pushing the clean sheet onto his side of the table, then taking the square cut clay and rolling it out with his palms gently.

"Sorry if I'm over stepping here or—or something, but, is everything okay, at—at home?" Blaine asked, feeling genuinely worried for him.

"Is this because of what I said last week in glee club? Because you didn't seem to care back then."

"Of course I care about you," Blaine lowered his voice to just a minimum whisper, "Always have."

"What?"

"Nothing—just," He sighed, "nothing."

One hour and twenty eight minutes into the lesson Blaine finally decided to speak again, but his breath got caught in his throat when he turned to the side, how did he not see Kurt's art work before?

Kurt had moulded and sculpted, rolled, engraved and ribbed his piece of clay to perfection.

"Wow," Blaine breathed out almost sharply, "Kurt, your art work is—"

"Is it bad?" He asked, dropping his hands into his lap.

"No! No, no, no, I mean. No, it's actually really, really, good." Blaine admitted, pointing towards the handle that had been placed onto the side of the clay, "I like the way you've stuck that, it's, pretty."

"Pretty?" Kurt snorted, "that's not what I was really aiming for here."

"A-amazing, then, look, Kurt, I'm trying to give you a compliment here," He huffed out, "the least you can do is say thanks."

"Thank you Blaine, for your very lovely opinion on my very disheveled piece of clay work, better?"

"Welcome," he smirked, "so how long have you been into art?"

"Who said I even liked doing this stuff?"

"Well I jus—just thought, that because you're good at it, you, I, th—" Blaine stuttered out.

"Woah, wow, do you always stutter or is it just me that makes you do that?" Kurt laughed, "but yeah, I am into art, why I'm telling you this I have no idea, but my love of art turned very ephemeral very fast, but however my love of smoking, is sempiternal."

"Those things are bad for you, you know that right?"

"Sorry, father, but that line has been used on me a lot, it's dilettante."

"Are you sure you weren't part of an english litterature class? Because your volcabulary is Euphonious," Blaine laughed, his eyes clinquant.

"I spend alot of time with my nan I guess, I mean, after my dad kicked me out," Kurt half smiled, "she's pretty posh, can't understand half she says but, she's cool."

"Your dad kicked you out what—when?"

"Uhm," Kurt coughed, pressing down harder on the clay he was working on, "I got a phone call, before our duet in glee club, that's when."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Kurt, I'm so sorry," Blaine sighed, Kurt finally looking up to him with wide eyes.

"It's not your fault, me and my dad never had any type of redamancy going on—"

"Know what I'm going to do?" Blaine announced, standing up from his seat and pushing a piece of carving metal into the bin, he continued, "I'm going to make you feel loved."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow up and started to scrunch his nose up, "Is this because of your little crush you have on me becau—"

"No. Well. Yes. Stop looking at me like that, everyone deserves to feel atleast a little bit of love in their lives Kurt," He stopped because the bell signaling the end of Art class rung, "now I know you don't really even know me, but I promise by the end of next week, there will be at least a small amount love streaming through your bones, Kurt Hummel."

"Wait, how do you know my last name?"

"Just go with it."

And with that, Blaine put his art folder back onto a much lower, reach-able shelf, his clay back, and all the equipment and pondered out of class with what you could call a smile on his face.

"He said what?" Quinn asked, dropping her burning cigarette on the pavement, linking arms with his bestfriend.

"He said that he was going to make me feel loved—like, what does that even mean?" Kurt groaned, blowing out smoke from his mouth skillfully in small 'O' shapes.

"Beats me," She shrugged, "but if anything has the word 'love' entailed to it, something bad is bound to happen."

"How serious do you think his crush is on me?" Kurt inquired, stubbing his cigarette out.

"I heard it's been going on for a while, that Rachel chick—who's mouth could literally run on for days—told me that it's been happening since he first saw you, love at first sight or some crap like that."

"Yeah," he smirked, turning his head sighing to himself, "some crap like that.."

"Wait, I know that sigh," Quinn laughed, opening her mouth in shock, "Y-you like him! Don't you! Oh god this is gold—"

"No Q," Kurt grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side, "remember, I don't do love, not since my family decided to fuck my life over."

"But you think he's cute right? Because did you see those eyes, they fucking sparkle!"

"He's—He's okay, can we just, stop talking about this for one second and just go home, break into your dad's liquor cabnet and get wasted?"

"Ah, Hummel, always the safe one."

"Oh shut up," He unlatched their linked arms to flip her off, "don't tell me you want to stay sober, after all this crap today?"

"Well, believe it or not but my day was excellent, thank you for asking, I got hit on by six boys, one girl, and all because I stood up infront of my English class and read out a fucking page in a book," She laughed, her smile reaching up towards her blue eyes, she twirled some of her blondish-pink short hair between her fingers, "I love this school."

"Didn't you once tell me that if love was entailed that something's bound to go wrong? Or was that my other bestfriend, the one that's not on loopy drugs," Kurt giggled, actually giggled.

"Oh, please, I'm your only bestfriend and you know it!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Same goes for you by the way, bestfriends, remember that, no matter what?" Kurt squinted at her, frowning a little.

"Obviously," Quinn kissed his cheek sweetly, and smirked at Kurt rubbing her lipstick off his porcelain cheek, "now, let's go and get my gay bestfriend drunk off his very, very, sexy ass."