Kurt moved his hand beneath Blaine’s shirt, breaking their lips to sigh into the inch of air between them as he marveled at the new planes of flesh he started to explore. He dragged his fingers across the muscles in the smaller boy’s abdomen, surprised to find him much more defined than Kurt had assumed. Blaine was quick to reciprocate the action, tucking his own hands just underneath the seam of Kurt’s jeans. Again, Kurt was amazed by the other boy’s boldness. Taking the gesture as a challenge, Kurt pulled away from Blaine’s lips to nestle his head into the crook of Blaine’s neck. As soon as he began flicking his tongue across the tender skin underneath his jawbone, Blaine jerked his head up quickly to grant Kurt easy access to the spot. The young rebel felt a flush rise in his cheeks as he pushed his tongue ever harder against a particularly giving spot behind Blaine’s ear and Blaine let out a soft, stammering breath at the sensation.

Neither of them had bothered to turn on the light when they pushed each other into Kurt’s room. (Blaine didn’t know where the switch was; Kurt just didn’t care.) which only made the whole experience feel even dirtier. The ride over had been excruciating for both of them,and, for the first time in his life, Blaine Anderson sped. And not like, 5-miles-over-the-speed-limit fast. No, Blaine cruised through the neighborhood so fast even Kurt broke the tense silence to give an impressed whistle and say “A little eager, Anderson?” But Blaine didn’t even look from the road. He just sort of licked his lips and clutched the steering wheel even harder. For some reason, Kurt had the decency not to bring up the painfully obvious hard-on pushing up against his slacks, for which Blaine was quietly thankful.

The desperation of the kiss was what inspired Blaine’s mad driving and eagerness. The boy felt like he couldn’t do anything until he was kissing Kurt again because...Well, this was just something Blaine Anderson never saw himself doing, and it just seemed more logical to just get down to doing it. It felt bizarre and so obviously wrong, but every fiber of his being - Every inch of his body and every crevice of his soul- craved it so desperately. It somehow felt like he was making the right choice when some jock threw a bottle of water at Blaine’s windshield and yelled for them to “Get a room - preferably in another state, fags!” and he obediently wiped his mouth and nodded when Kurt breathlessly said “Alright, fine, we will, asshole. My place. Drive.”

The entire room smelled of Kurt and it was pushing Blaine to be more adventurous than he knew he could be with another boy he barely knew. He knew he had to be red in the face and the noises he were making were the epitome of embarrassing, but he knew Kurt had to be more experienced than him and the other boy didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, it seemed to be turning the rebel on, which just made Blaine eager to flush their bodies together and wrap himself around Kurt as he worked some sort of what had to be magic on Blaine’s neck and collarbone. He shifted his legs about so Kurt could pull himself in closer, flattening his back against Kurt’s headboard and gasping as Kurt pulled himself between them and curled his fingers deftly around the hook of Blaine’s belt and began to loosen it. As he watched Kurt move to the button of his slacks, Blaine found a moment of panic because this was not how he thought he’d lose his virginity. However, strangely, he was okay with this. As he watched Kurt slip down his pants and size up the way Blaine was straining up against the fabric of his shorts, the boy was strangely calm. The first time was supposed to be memorable, right? Well, he thought as Kurt smirked with a wordless deviance up at him before pressing his palm against the base of Blaine’s dick and causing Blaine to clench his eyes closed and moan, this was certainly memorable.

“Sensitive, huh?” Kurt cooed, his mouth so buried between Blaine’s legs he could feel the other’s breath falling hot against the inside of his thigh. Then, before Blaine could catch his breath, Kurt’s hand had surpassed the seam of his boxers and has created a steady fist around his cock. All of Blaine’s muscles tensed at once as he wrung his hands into the bedsheets, calling out...Some type of unexplainable noises.

Yeah, this was definitely memorable.

“God, I love newbies.” Kurt said, far too composed, and Blaine whimpered and bucked up into his hand. “H-How do you know I’m a newbie?” Blaine said shakily, trying to challenge Kurt, but all he got in response was one of those signature chuckles as he made a particularly hard stroke. Blaine had to slap his hand over his mouth to stifle himself.

He knew Kurt had to have been around the block a few times. He exuded sexualization, and was of course making it painfully clear right now, as he made lude comments and skillfully stroked Blaine until he was sweating and pushing himself into Kurt’s first.

For some reason, it didn’t matter, though. He didn’t feel like he was just another notch on Kurt’s bedpost. (Which, while he was shoved up against Kurt’s headboard, he was surprised to see he didn’t have.) The rebel was coming up from Blaine’s thighs to kiss him long and hard on the mouth, brushing any straying curls that had released themselves from his gel back so he could catch his eyes. He would make a point to explore Blaine’s body, pulling away from their raunchy, fast-paced kissing to run his hands down Blaine’s sides - grab his hands and guide them around his neck - before something would click in them that would make them feel like they shouldn’t be being that close and they dived back into pushing their tongues down each other’s throats.

Kurt slid his hand up and down Blaine’s length a few times before pulling a thumb over the head, smearing his hand and Blaine’s cock in the gratuitous amount of precome that had gathered there. With the extra lubrication, Kurt’s hand moved with a little more fluidity and Blaine lost it a little more, throwing his head back against the bed and groaning.

“Because only newbies go crazy when I do this.” Blaine didn’t even have the chance to look down or ask what he meant before Kurt had taken all of Blaine in his mouth. He kept him there, rolling his tongue over the base of Blaine’s cock as he squirmed above him, not pulling back until Blaine was calling out Kurt’s name repeatedly. By the time he did, Blaine was already left breathless and on the edge. Kurt was just wiping a bit of spit from the corner of his mouth with a dark smirk.

“God, Kurt...” Blaine muttered, his voice hoarse with pleasure, and Kurt chuckled softly.

“I know, I’m really the best there is. Now come here, it’s not every day the dashingly handsome villain gets to make the prince charming cream like that.” Kurt replied before he dipped back down, Blaine bracing himself for the wave of pleasure as he wrapped his mouth around his cock once more. As soon as Blaine had leaned his head back and let his eyes flutter closed, though, a loud slam shook the house that was followed by a familiar voice calling out “KURT!”

It was Kurt’s dad.

In an instant, the boy had changed from the cocky Kurt he had come to know to something much darker. Blaine looked down at Kurt as he pulled himself away from Blaine quickly, his eyes flashing dark. He ripped himself off the bed, grabbing his jacket from the floor where he had hastily strewn it on their way in and shrugged it onto himself. Without looking back at Blaine he picked up a box of tissues from his cluttered desk and threw it towards him.

“Here, finish yourself up or whatever. Just make sure you’re clean about it. I don’t need some other guy’s come all over my bed.” He said tonelessly before disappearing behind the door.

Blaine...Didn’t know what to do. Instantly, he felt dirty. Looking down at the box of tissues in his hands, he pursed his lips and felt tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. Of course. Why didn’t he see that this would happen? There was nothing special about what he and Kurt had just shared - Kurt probably just wanted to see if he could get somebody like Blaine into his bed. He was just a challenge - A prize to be won, then discarded. Blaine was the new toy that a spoiled Kurt yearned for, but when finally gotten, promptly got bored of. Every kiss he had mistaken as passionate, every trailing touch of the fingertips - Nothing. Blaine Anderson was nothing.

Unsteadily, he grabbed a tissue and blew his nose and ashamedly wiped himself up before he slipped his pants back on. He buried his face in his hands for a moment and let out a heavy sigh into his palms as he braced himself to leave, because there was no way Blaine was going to stay here. He didn’t want to have to face Kurt again. He just wanted to get in his car and go home. Thinking about the safety of his own bed and a shower hot enough to clean him of this filthy day, the boy grabbed his keys from Kurt’s disgusting dresser, kicked a pile of uncared for books out of his way, and made his way as surefootedly as possible to the front door. However, as soon as he opened the door from Kurt’s room and the angry voices instantly hit his ears, his plans of running unseen to the car were instantly dashed.

“No, Kurt. I’m so sick of this game. This car shop - It’s all we have. We can’t fucking fix every one of your fucking boyfriend’s shitty-ass cars for free.”

“It’s not for free. You’re just not the one getting paid. And trust me, you don’t want the payments I’ve been recei-” The Kurt Blaine didn’t know was speaking now, his voice cutting and emotionless besides the hint of anger lingering beneath every word.

“God DAMNIT!” He was cut off by his father’s voice bellowing and a loud slam, which, when Blaine fearfully peaked his head around the corner, saw came from the burly bald man slamming his hands on the kitchen table. “Go ahead. Go tell your mom that. Bring some flowers to the graveyard, sit down, get nice and comfy, and tell your mom how much of a slut you ar-”

“-And he’s NOT my boyfriend, Dad! I don’t fucking have a boyfriend. He’s just-He’s nothing. He’s the slut.”

Blaine felt a gasp of hurt rise up in his throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting it out. And, of course, Kurt’s dad’s eyes shot straight toward him and Blaine shrank under the large man’s unwavering, rageful stare. With Kurt’s same quick reflexes, his father ran up to him and grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him out into the center of their dingy kitchen. Blaine felt so little, being pulled around by someone who was supposed to be a father, his knees weakening with fear as he flexed his arm and felt the strength of the grip the man had on him. It didn’t even compare to how small he felt the moment Kurt locked eyes with him, however.

The minute Blaine had been exposed, Kurt seemed to have shrank three sizes. His jacket looked too big for him as he hid himself in it through hunched shoulders, and the way he seemed to slouch down suggested his knees had gone weak as well. His eyes glistened helplessly and his mouth fell open as his horrified gaze danced between Blaine and his father. There were words on the tip of his tongue, but all he did was swallow hard. He didn’t look like the cocky Skank who patrolled the hallways and parted crowds at McKinley; he looked like a scared, lost, little boy. It almost seemed impossible that the Kurt standing in front of him now was the same one he had seen pull a knife out in the middle of the hallway.

“Oh yeah? What the hell is this, then? Why don’t you just have him explain it? Huh?” The man gave Blaine a little shake and he uselessly tried to yank his arm away, in a slightly panicked state.

“Let go of me!” Blaine tried to spit, though his voice came out stuttered and nervous as the shake jostled his glasses off and he heard them slide across the floor. The older man must have proved his point, because he let go of Blaine’s arm immediately. He also seemed to have realized he had gone too far, because he backed up against the counter wordlessly when Blaine stammered “M-My glasses.” and Kurt rushed to the floor to swipe them up. Clambering up, he took Blaine’s shaking hand and placed the thick rims in them, but as hurt as he was, Blaine Anderson wasn’t a fool, and being jerked around by Kurt Hummel was not a game he was going to play. Now that he knew the monster behind the mystery, it was much easier to resist the dip of Kurt’s collarbone or the way his legs looked when he walked.

“Y-You too. Don’t touch me. I don’t know why I came here, but I know I-I won’t be doing it again.” Blaine tried his best to sound calm and in control of the situation as he yanked his hands away from Kurt’s and pushed his glasses back up his nose, but he could barely form words without stuttering over them, and his need to cry was beginning to build up a hoarseness in the back of his throat. “I-” Kurt tried to start, but Blaine cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I get it.” He said, throwing up his hands before Kurt could find a way to put his on Blaine again. He didn’t want Kurt’s hands anywhere near him - Just the thought of what they had been doing only moments before brought back that horrible, dirty feeling and made him queasy. Turning quickly, Blaine kept his chin up as best he could as he hurried toward the door.

“Blaine-”

He spun around, not wanting to hear Kurt’s stupid, beautiful voice again; especially saying his name. “You know, maybe your dad’s right. Maybe you are just a slut.” The statement had shocked both of them. His father shoved himself off of the counter, perhaps to move towards Blaine, but was hesitant. Kurt, who had began to scurry after Blaine the minute he set toward the door, froze in his tracks, his face going white.

Maybe it was a little drastic to call someone, even Kurt, that in front of their parents, but Blaine had to do something. He felt like he was drowning at the bottom of this struggle, and the only way to rise to the top was to play their game on the same level they were. No, Blaine was the victim,and he was going to make sure Kurt knew how wrong he was. Without lingering for another minute, the small, broken boy made his way to his car; a walk that seemed to take him a lifetime. And when he settled into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed, that’s when he started to sob. He cried violently into his steering wheel, only shifting the car into drive and peeling away when he saw a solemn Kurt open the door. Blaine wasn’t going to give him a chance to ruin him any more than he already had.

--

“That’s not all you are, Kurt.”

The young rebel repeated it to himself as he ran into his room and slammed the door behind him, scanning his immediate surroundings and finding a trash can to kick across the room. It didn’t satisfy him, however, so he rammed his forearm across his desk and shoved the entirety of its contents on the floor, car parts clanging painfully loud and pencils flying across the room to join the garbage the massacred trash can had spread. He still felt like he was going to fucking cry. Fuck that. Kurt Hummel doesn’t fucking cry over stupid boys like Blaine Anderson, even if they do agree with his stupid fucking father.

“Neither of them know the half of it.” He tried to reason, running his hands through his manicured hair in distress and sliding restlessly down in front of his vanity table. With shaking hands he flipped on the row of lights that encircled the large mirror, which was definitely the softest (and most well-kept) item in his room. With trembling hands he took a cloth from one of the drawers and wiped his face with it, then sorted through the large amount of products on his desk until he found his favorite black eyeliner. It always made him feel better in times like this. He could cover up his scared eyes and trembling upper lip and craft himself into a perfect menace.

Maybe he’d perfect it this time, he thought as he leaned in closer to the mirror and began running the stick of make-up around his eye. Yes, he’d make himself so terrifyingly handsome that everybody would notice him when he walked down the halls, but nobody would get close enough to hurt him. Kurt Hummel was a thing to be admired from afar, but too good to be touched. Too good for Blaine Anderson.

Halfway through his left eye his hand started to shake, though, and the perfection was lost with one flick of the wrist. Outraged, Kurt cursed at the stupid little fucking tube and slammed it back down on the table, his pent-up sobs coming down with it, the tears blotted with the failed make-up.

“Don’t listen to them, Kurt. They’re fucking stupid.” He told himself as he wrapped his arms around his head and let out a heavy, uncontrolled whimpering cry he prayed his dad wouldn’t hear.