Kurt - Blaine and Showers

The first time that Kurt Hummel starts to think about sex – the actuality of having it with another person as opposed to this thing that terrifies and turns him on simultaneously – is after he walks in on Blaine in the shower his first week at McKinley.

It's accidental and he doesn't tell Blaine about it afterwards because … well, he's rather mortified and truth be told … aroused by what he saw but isn't sure what to do with all the new images he has in his head about his curly-haired boyfriend.

Not that Kurt had never thought about the way Blaine's lips felt against his, or how nice his tongue was when it teased and tasted inside his mouth and against his own or how he might look without his clothes on before – as a matter of fact, his fantasies about the lead vocalist of the Warblers had for a time been what sustained his libido at Dalton late at night – but the thoughts had always just been these … abstract things.

As intangible and ghostly as smoke curling up from flame in the dark.

Even now that he was with Blaine he didn't focus very often on sex.

He liked holding Blaine's hand; enjoyed the way the other boy always rubbed his thumb over his knuckles when they first linked fingers and oh, he loved kissing. He loved it a great deal more than he ever thought was possible after that first disastrous imitation of it with Karofsky. Then it had been all sweaty palms clamped over his ears and bruising teeth and splitting lips and hot, hard hate pulsing in the air and hissing from nostrils.

It had repulsed him and frightened him and broken his heart a little that his fairytale notion of kissing and experiencing a real, honest first one had been so abruptly and totally shattered.

But then Blaine had come along and replaced sweaty palms with warm gentle and bruising teeth with soft lips and broken skin with the delicate intrusion of a tongue and suddenly kissing was a discovery and a thrill and he loved all the angles and pressures and lingering moments before breathing became an issue and all he could hear was his heart thundering around his chest like a rather rambunctious puppy.

–

Kurt finds himself thinking about Blaine in English.

He's supposed to be researching an essay topic but instead is remembering how the water had run in little rivulets down his back and the steam had been flowing around his body; capturing and teasing glimpses of Blaine's shoulder, thigh, ass and Kurt had been frozen; fingers worrying the strap of his satchel; blue eyes wide and fascinated.

His heart had been stuttering and starting anew with a different, faster rhythm as Blaine rubbed fingers through his hair and shook his head like a wet dog; flicking water everywhere and turning to rinse shampoo out under the spray; shoulders braced; dark hair flattening to his neck and further down more arrowing over his chest and belly … down to …

Kurt snaps his pencil in half in the middle of class and feels eyes on his blushing face.

Among them are Blaine's.

–

He thinks about Blaine and showers and what water really does for Blaine all day and at night in bed he's awake with his hands flat either side of his body above the covers simply staring at the ceiling, fingers twitching the fabric now and then.

He wants to touch himself but he hasn't done that since before Blaine kissed him and it feels strangely like a betrayal to put his hand around himself and jerk off to memories of his boyfriend in a shower when he didn't know he was being watched.

It's also very, very hot.

Kurt groans and rolls to his side; curling up a little against his erection, insistently declaring its presence where it pokes at his stomach and hugs his pillow; burying his face in it.

–

Kurt wants to have a conversation with Blaine about what's going on inside his head (and in lower regions) but he's alarmed to find that everything his boyfriend does and says has taken on sudden sexual implication and he's not at all sure if this is something he's awoken with like a new zit or extra kilo or if its something unnatural.

He has a ridiculous conspiracy theory worked out in his head for fifteen minutes about radioactive teenage hormones as he tries to surreptitiously watch Blaine nibble at a carrot stick during lunch break and not take the way his fingers slip into his mouth as a deliberate invitation to do lewd and inappropriate things to said mouth.

Or with said fingers.

Regretfully, he doesn't even notice his own tortured expression until Puck leans across the table and thoughtfully points it out. “Dude, did you eat the macaroni too? That's the same gassy look I got before I had to rush to the men's room.”

He snaps his head up, opening his mouth to cattily refract Puck's statement when Lauren leans in and adds to the growing concern spreading around his friends like wildfire.

“He does have that same sallow colour you got ...”

“I have vomit bags in my locker.” Rachel, chirping from the end of the table where she's sitting, impossibly close to Finn without being on his lap. “Why do you have vomit bags in your locker, again?” Finn, torn between confusion and the food on his plate.

“One time I thought I was going to vomit but it turned out I'd just forgotten to swallow.”

Brittany's flat admission, followed by more of Rachel defending the need to have everything in case a performance overwhelmed a person and Mercedes insisting he was just fine and somewhere in the midst of stares and concerns and inane conversations rising from all of it he hears Blaine's voice.

“Kurt, are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the Nurse?”

Dark eyes, full of concern find his and a warm hand reaches for his across the table and since when had Blaine's voice been that velvety and smooth? It was what he imagined auditory seduction would be like if there were a definition for it. Kurt finds a smile, dredges it up from the corners of his lips and covers his boyfriend's outstretched palm with his own.

“No, no. I'm fine,” He bucks up a breathy laugh and it feels forced. “Everyone, really. I'm fine. I just had a passing queasiness and am strictly off the pasta from now on.”

Mercedes offers some of her tots his way and Kurt leans against her shoulder a little in gratitude; feeling Blaine's hand give way beneath his as he sits forward a little; foot brushing Kurt's beneath the table.

Kurt feels his stomach doing somersaults at the expression on Blaine's face.

“You sure? You still look a little pale.”

“Positive.” I'm just suffering from an acute case of lust, he adds silently; biting his lip hard as Blaine picks up another carrot stick.

Gaga help him, this had to end.