The thing you need to know is... it’s all about sex. It’s true. In fact, they say men think about sex every twenty eight seconds. Of course that’s straight men, with gay men it’s every nine. You can be at the supermarket, or at the Laundromat, or buying a fabulous shirt when suddenly you find yourself checking out some hot guy, hotter than the one you saw last weekend, or the one you went home with the night before, which explains why we’re all at Babylon at one in the morning, instead of at home in bed. But who wants to be home in bed, especially alone, when you can be here, knowing that at any moment you might see him, the most beautiful man who ever lived. That is, until tomorrow night.

Like I said, it’s all about sex. Except when you’re having it. Then it’s all about, will he stay, will he go, how am I doing, what am I doing? Unless of course you’re Kurt Hummel. And then it’s who gives a fuck what you think, you’re lucky to have me.

Blaine Anderson felt the world tilt, spin, and right itself beneath his feet. So many people: boys holding hands with other boys, Drag Queens, girls kissing girls. And men. So many men. Old, young, slim, chubby, and every variation in between. His lips parted, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself, tried to breathe through his panic.

He was doing this. Actually doing this. He was here. Liberty Avenue.

Closing his eyes for a second to center himself, he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit up, to calm his nerves, to settle his stomach.

One foot in front of the other as he took a long drag off the smoke, lips pressed tight around the filter as he tried to take it all in. It felt like coming home.

He could feel the fake I.D. burning a hole in his wallet. He’d spent a hundred bucks on the thing, and planned to put it to good use. But he didn’t know where to go. He knew he wanted to… actually he didn’t know anything; it had taken all his courage just to come here.

A man was leaning against a lamp post. Old. Way too old for his seventeen years, although the I.D. in his pocket said he was twenty one.

“Excuse me? Do you know a good place to go?” Blaine bit his lip as he asked the question uncertainly, trying to appear older, more relaxed than he actually was. He could feel every muscle in his body trembling.

“Depends on what you’re looking for. You want Twinkies, go to Boy Toy. You want leather, go to the Meat Hook. You want snotty conceited assholes, go to Pistol.” The man gave him a considering look, glancing from his feet upwards. “Kind of late to be out on a school night though, isn’t it? Why don’t you come home with me?” His hand gripped Blaine’s neck, massaging gently.

“Uh, no thanks.” Blaine tried to politely decline.

“Go on home to your mommy. Go on.” The man shooed Blaine away, giving him a look of condescension, before turning away and ignoring him completely.

Blaine stumbled away, absolutely positive that he’d made a mistake. This wasn’t the place for him. He quickly made his way down the street, leaning against a lamp post to catch his breath, to re-evaluate the plan that he’d had in his head for this night.

And that’s when it happened.

There was a man, older, but not old, staring at him. Coming closer.

Invading his personal space.

“How’s it going?” The dark haired stranger said, “Had a busy night?”

“Just… checking out the bars, you know?” Blaine’s voice trembled, before he sucked in a breath, gained confidence. “Boy toy, Meat Hook.” Blinked coyly up into the taller man’s eyes.

“Meat Hook? Really?” The man’s eyebrow rose. “So you’re into leather?” The slight smirk on his lips left Blaine breathless, stole whatever breath he’d managed to inhale into his quivering lungs.

Confidently staring up into the stranger’s eyes, Blaine pursed his lips, “Sure,” he agreed even though he had no idea what it meant. Leather? Like… biker gear?

The man licked his lips, smelling the lie, before nodding and making his decision. “So… where you heading?” His eyes tracking down to Blaine’s mouth as he bit his full lower lip.

“No place special.” And all Blaine could think, could feel, was his pounding heart, that it was going to give away the lie he’d placed on his face, the confidence in his eyes.

“I can change that.” Smirking as he gave a slow blink, the stranger nodded his head once, before taking his hand and pulling him towards his truck.

Blaine couldn’t look away as the stranger got behind the wheel, barely even glancing at him as he shifted gears. They sped out of the parking lot, down the street, slipping and sliding through traffic.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked hesitantly, afraid that he’d made the wrong choice.

“My place,” was the succinct answer he got.

Blaine hesitated at the wide double doors. He wasn’t sure what to do. To stay. To go. To get down on his knees and worship at the altar of one Kurt Hummel. They’d exchanged names briefly during the ride to Kurt’s loft. More so, Blaine had insisted on an exchange of names. He’d been bold, smirking, and curling his lips around the words.

“I need to know what name to cry out later.” Arching an eyebrow, he’d waited for the unknown man to take the bait.

“Kurt. Hummel. And I don’t plan on you being able to cry anything out later. Your mouth will be too full.” Kurt smirked at Blaine’s small gasp of sound. “What? You thought we’d be playing Parcheesi?” Kurt’s eyebrow rose once more, as he glanced back at the road. “Clue? Scrabble?”

“I like scrabble! I’m usually very good at it… at least I always win when I play against my parents…” Blaine trailed off at the laughter emitting from Kurt’s curling lips.

“We’re not playing scrabble.” Kurt’s lips firmed, getting an idea of just how young Blaine really was.

“I know,” Blaine murmured keeping his eyes downcast.

“We’re not playing Parcheesi either.” Kurt snarked sarcasm thick and heavy in his tone.

“I hope not. I don’t even know that one.” Blaine huffed raising his eyes coyly.

Kurt had turned his eyes back to the road. Lips firm, eyes hard, finishing the trip in silence.

Which brought them to here. Standing outside Kurt’s loft, Blaine shifted his weight from one leg to the other, brows drawn in consternation as he tried to decide his next course of action.

“Are you coming?” Kurt’s voice came from inside the dimly lit room.

Blaine slowly made his way in, glancing around at the hardwood floors, the modern art deco furniture, eyes slowly tracking back to Kurt standing in the middle of his kitchen, a bottle of water in his hand. Blaine’s lips parted in surprise as he watched Kurt place the bottle of water on the kitchen island counter, and pull his designer T over his head, throwing it in the general direction of what Blaine assumed was the bathroom. Kurt grabbed the bottle of water, twisting the cap off and poured it over his head, across his face, letting the droplets rain across his torso, splashing onto the floor.

“Close the door.” Kurt’s voice came hot and wet, slithering across Blaine’s nerve endings, making his spine tingle, and his toes curl. “Close the door,” Kurt said again, voice dark with promise.

Blaine walked to the door, standing there a moment, collecting himself before he made his decision. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath… and slid the door closed.

The loud clang of the metal door banging closed had Blaine trembling with the finality of the sound. He was going to do this. With a stranger. Admittedly a hot stranger, but a stranger none-the-less.

Closing his eyes with his hand still on the door, Blaine steeled himself before turning around and opening them, his mouth dropping open and breath exhaling in a loud whoosh at the sight before him.

Kurt stood there in his painted on jeans, water glistening on his skin, one lone drop running down his abdomen to catch in his navel. Blaine’s eyes followed the path, catching at the visible indentation around Kurt’s hip bones.

Kurt brought his hands to the fly of his jeans, watching Blaine watch the movements of his fingers. Undoing the button and zipper, Kurt pushed them slowly off his hips letting them pool around his ankles for a moment before stepping out of them. The tight white jock didn’t leave any doubt about Kurt’s masculinity. It was right there, bucking and straining against the confining threads holding it prisoner.

Throwing his hands wide, Kurt smirked at Blaine, “So… are you coming or going? Or… coming then going? Or coming and staying?” Kurt kept his arms splayed as he waited for Blaine’s decision, never having any doubt as to what it would be, seeing as Blaine’s eyes had not left the bulge below Kurt’s waistline.

Shrugging off his coat, Blaine threw it… somewhere, without looking. Raising his eyes to Kurt’s, he toed off his shoes before moving in a daze straight into Kurt’s outstretched arms.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s back, one gripping his neck, the other wrapping tightly around his waist, pulling him in firmly against his body with a groan. The already hard bulge in Blaine’s own pants rubbed against Kurt’s own, as he gripped Blaine tighter.

Bringing their faces parallel, Kurt let his breath waft over Blaine’s lips, listening as the younger man gasped. Kurt met Blaine’s gaze squarely before bringing their lips together.

It was wet.

Hot.

Gasping for air as his mouth was invaded, Blaine held onto Kurt, clutching and grasping for purchase as Kurt stole his legs from under him. Kurt’s muscled shoulders were slick under Blaine’s hands, hot and hard as Blaine clung, tried to hang on as the world dissolved beneath his feet.

The room was smaller, the world narrowed to the slick sliding heat of Kurt’s tongue in his mouth. Nothing existed outside of the clashing of tongues, the gasps for air, and Kurt’s hands grounding him to the earth.

Kurt’s hands, one of which was still clutched around his hips while the other was… the other was…

There was white noise, static in his brain as he tried to comprehend. There was a hand undoing his jeans, slipping inside, calm as you please, as Kurt’s tongue continues to do wicked sinful things inside his mouth, mimicking the grind, slide, of cock slicking inside, and Blaine couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t discern when the world stopped turning, when the room sped up until he was dizzy, crazy, sick with the need driving through his body.

Kurt gripped him harder by his hips, one handed, as his hand continued to press, grind, steel his breath from him, with a flick of the wrist. His feet had left the floor, and he was floating, pressed so tightly to Kurt’s chest, the slick wet skin making his t-shirt damp, clinging to the contours of his abdomen as he struggled for air, to breathe, to not float away on the kiss of an exhale bursting through his lips.

There was a bed behind Blaine’s knees, and he wasn’t sure where it came from, where they were, or if he even still existed with his body bursting at the seams. His pants are half hanging onto his hips now, pushed there by Kurt’s expert hands, clinging to him, hugging his ass, the way he was clinging to Kurt’s shoulders as the world tumbled, righted, trembled beneath him. The bed is firm against his back, and Kurt followed him down into the mattress, pressing him, grinding him down with lips, fingers, and a hiss of breath against his tongue.

Pulling back slowly, Kurt finally broke the kiss that seemed, to Blaine, to have lasted hours. Blinking dazed golden eyes up into Kurt’s blue ones, Blaine breathed. One breath, two, eyes sliding closed, a hissed expletive, as Kurt’s fingers slipped beneath the band of his boxer shorts.

Firm.

Slick.

Blaine blinked his eyes open, trying to figure out how Kurt’s hand is wet, slick, gliding across his cock with sure steady strokes. Turning his head to the side he spotted the open bottle of lube, the long strip of condoms littering the red sheets, golden and perfect in their terrifying certainty of where this was going.

“Pants off,” Kurt breathed out, before giving a firm twist, flick, jerk of his wrist, “unless you want to come in them.” Chuckling darkly, Kurt stood abruptly, leaving Blaine bereft, cold, shivering at the loss of contact.

Scrambling, tugging, nearly falling off the bed in the effort to get his pants off, hastily, Blaine closed his eyes, fingers trembling as he pulled his underwear off too. Shirt, socks, everything falling to the floor in a haphazard mess of eagerness.

Turning around, Blaine’s breath caught in his throat.

Kurt had taken off the jock.

Taken off the jock.

There was no time, not a moment when he thought, moved forward, wrapped his hands around Kurt’s hard cock. He was just suddenly there, lips trembling with suppressed… with everything he’s supressed for years. With all the honesty he has in him, he wrapped his fingers around Kurt’s cock, and it was hot, hard, silky in his hands, lips trembling, and Kurt was kissing his trembling mouth.

Still.

His lips are still beneath Kurt’s. Calm, certain as he takes, plunders, thrusts his tongue into Kurt’s mouth in a mimicry of what’s going to happen a foot behind him on the bed, as soon as he can will his legs to take him that far.

“I want…” Blaine breathes out against Kurt’s lips, and then the shoe is on the other foot, Blaine’s falling, pressed, pushed, shoved down to the bed on his back, and Kurt is once again following him down, knees, and fingers, pressing him open, slick with lube and knowledge.

His lips were wide, mouth open, as he swallowed Blaine down without drawing breath.

Slick, wet, heat sliding over his dick with such feline grace that all Blaine could do is stutter, gasp, arch into the mouth, as his fingers clutch, grip, scrambled for purchase on the bed sheets.

There was a moment of oh god, more, please, anything, before Blaine was coming in long thick ropey strands down Kurt’s throat, and if he wasn’t seventeen he might actually be embarrassed that he’d only lasted thirty seconds in Kurt’s mouth, but oh, it was thirty seconds that went on for a lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine breathed, choked, gasped out through aching lips that he’d bitten in his haste to muffle the sounds being torn from his throat.

“I think that’s what’s supposed to happen,” Kurt smirked, looking up through his lashes at where Blaine is splayed across his bed, arms akimbo, jelly-fishing in the sea of orgasmic bliss.

Lashes drooping a little, Kurt flicked his gaze down to the softening erection nestled between Blaine’s thighs. “I’m sure we can get you there again.” Kurt licked a long wet stripe up Blaine’s dick, and it twitched. Twitched as though it wanted to stand up and say hello.

Breath hitching, Blaine’s eyes close at the sensation, too much, more, not enough, and he was sure he was going to die.

Kurt climbed up from between Blaine’s splayed knees, settling in atop Blaine’s thighs, erection still hard, angry, red and leaking as Kurt fisted himself with one hand, the other on Blaine’s chest to keep his balance.

“What are you into?” Kurt’s lips barely moved, and Blaine was transfixed by the movement of Kurt’s hand, the red head of his cock disappearing into the circle of his fingers, the dark hole of his fist.

“What?” Blaine mumbled as he moved his hand, placing it over Kurt’s as he let himself be guided, slick, and slippery down the length of Kurt’s dick.

“What are you into? Do you like to top? Bottom?” Kurt’s asked, making conversation as he let go of his cock, letting Blaine jerk him, setting the rhythm.

“Top.” Blaine blurted out, as he felt the silky slick glide of his hand, the head playing peekaboo as it disappeared into the tight circle of his fist.

Raising an eyebrow, Kurt looked skeptical, and Blaine quickly backtracked, having no idea what Kurt was asking him. “Bottom. I mean… I like both. Top and bottom.” And Blaine could only hope he’d gotten the answer right as Kurt’s lips quirked.

“Versatile. I like that.” Kurt thrust once into Blaine’s fingers, reached down to adjust Blaine’s grip, tighter, firmer, then thrust again and nodded his head. “What about rimming?” Kurt’s eyes slipped closed for a second, as Blaine seemed to understand what the tighter grip would do, could do, and tugged a little firmer than he had before, pressure, slick, wet, pressure.

“Rimming? I love it.” Blaine blurted out, once again lost in the conversation, his dick making a valiant effort to rise again for the occasion.

“Well. Get to it.” Kurt smirked at the lost, bewildered look on Blaine’s face. “Well… I’m waiting.” Kurt thrust into the circle of Blaine’s fingers, and leaned forward to breathe across Blaine’s lips.

“I…” Blaine trembled beneath the onslaught of new sensations, Kurt’s breath, the flick of his tongue wetting his own lips, the steady thrust, pull, thrust of his cock through Blaine’s fingers.

“Just how old are you, Blaine?” Kurt murmured.

“Twenty one.” Blaine froze at the look on Kurt’s face. A smirk and a leer as he continued thrusting into, through, Blaine’s fingers.

Grabbing the bottle of lube, Kurt squeezed some onto his hand, moving Blaine’s hand away, laughing softly at Blaine’s groan of disappointment. Kurt’s hand slid lower, slicking up Blaine’s cock as well, before pressing forward, pressing them together, and Blaine’s eyes rolled back in his head, and all thought disappeared like fleeting glimpses through his empty head.

“How old are you really?” Kurt surged forward, sliding their cocks together with a shift of his hips.

“Twen... Twenty.” Blaine stuttered out, unable to open his eyes, close his mouth, get enough air into his lungs.

“I call bullshit,” Kurt breathed, leaning down and licking a wet path across Blaine’s lips, licking into his mouth, eating his breath until Blaine couldn’t stay still anymore.

His hips thrust, slick sliding grace, and they’re moving in tandem, and Blaine never thought it would be like this. All those times alone in his room, he’d never thought it would feel like the world was ending and being remade all in the same breath.

“Seven… sev…“ Blaine stuttered and couldn’t get the words past his lips as Kurt thrust particularly hard against him. “Seventeen,” Blaine practically shouted as his dick found the nice wet hollow of the indentation of Kurt’s hip bone, and the friction sent him spiralling down the rabbit hole.

***

The world was torn asunder. Shuddered, shook, broke apart, and left nothing for Blaine to cling to.

“There now. Breathe.” Kurt’s voice soothed, soft, firm, wrecked.

Blaine’s body drew another shuddering breath, forced to do so by Kurt’s calm words.

Anchored him down as he tried to drift away.

“Another.” Firm, unyielding, demanding that Blaine draw another breath into his lungs.

“I know I’m good, but hyperventilating when you cum is not exactly a good idea.” Kurt smirked, staring down into Blaine’s shocked eyes.

“I’ve… done it on my… own before,” Blaine stammered, blush rising to his cheeks. “But it’s… it’s never been like that.”

“I’m pretty certain there’s a rule somewhere that says it’s supposed to be better with a partner… as you’ve just found out.” Kurt huffed in annoyance.

Blaine closed his eyes, flushing, wanting to die of embarrassment.

“Look. We were all seventeen once. You probably should have looked for an experience with someone closer to your own age though.” Kurt hummed thoughtfully.

“Why? All the guys at my school are religious nut jobs who think the word Fag is an adjective for everything.” Blaine rolled his eyes, pushing against Kurt’s chest as if to get up.

“You’d be surprised what’s out there. Mine? Biggest closet case in the school. Used to throw me into dumpsters, shove me into lockers, attempted to give me a swirly once. We were both on the football team…”

“Football team?” Blaine looked at Kurt in disbelief.

“Kicker… let me finish the story.” Kurt placed his hand over Blaine’s lips, effectively keeping him silenced. “As I was saying, high school is always rough when you’re different, and with my particular taste in fashion and cock, I was definitely different. We were both on the football team and one night after a game we were the last two in the locker room. I was in the showers, he was already dressed, and I’d honestly thought he’d left. I was usually the last guy in the room, as the other guys were uncomfortable showering with me. So there I am, casually soaping up, when I open my eyes and there he is. Standing at the doorway to the showers just staring.”

“What did he do?” Blaine’s voice held honest curiosity.

“He walked right into the showers, got on his knees, and sucked my cock like a pro.” Kurt smirked, pressed Blaine down into the bed a little firmer. “He opened his mouth and just sucked me down, like a dying man offered a drink of water.”

“And you let him?”

“Let him? I shoved my cock so far down his throat he choked on it.” Kurt laughed, breathless for a moment. “I also used it to blackmail him the next time he shoved me into a locker.”

“So you’re saying I should… what? Sleep with a closeted jerk just because he’s closer to my own age?” Blaine groused.

“No. I’m saying you could have gotten yourself into a lot of trouble tonight, going home, alone, with a stranger. What if I’d been some axe wielding maniac?” Kurt huffed, rolling off Blaine, to stare at the ceiling.

“Will I at least be getting laid before you use your axe on me, Mr. Axe murderer?” Blaine raised his own eyebrow as he tried to imitate Kurt’s expression.

“Nap first. We’ll have plenty of time for round two later.” Kurt’s higher than normal voice, came out breathy, sleepy, as Blaine turned to look, watching Kurt’s eyes slip closed.

Blaine lay on his side for a few moments, watching Kurt sleep. Reaching out a finger, he traced the high line of Kurt’s cheekbone, over the soft contours of his lips. A soft smile turned up the corners of his own lips as he closed his eyes.

***
Blaine wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he slowly made his way up through the thick fog of orgasm. The ringing of the phone brought him up and out, eyes blinking open as he heard Kurt’s rich voice answer.

“’Lo?... What? When?” Kurt stared down at Blaine for a moment, meeting his eyes, and raising his eyebrow. “I’ll be right there.”

“You have to go?” Blaine asked, voice gravelly with sleep.

“I have to go. My beautiful baby girl was just born.” Kurt rolled his eyes, slipped out of bed, and tugged on his pants.

“Baby?” Blaine’s eyes widened comically.

“It’s a long story, that I really don’t have time to tell right now. Get dressed, I’ll take you home.” Kurt stared at Blaine’s naked chest for a moment.

“I… I can’t actually go home. My parents think I’m at a friend’s right now.” Blaine muttered as he looked at Kurt through his lashes.

“Right… seventeen wasn’t it? It is a bit late to be out on a school night.” Kurt stared for a moment before he shook his head. “Fine. You can come with me.”

“To the hospital?” Blaine questioned.

“To the hospital. We just have to pick someone up first.” Kurt stared for a moment more, watching as Blaine rose, naked, from the bed. “You get dressed, I have to make a phone call.” Kurt shook his head again, phone in hand, heading towards his couch as he heard Blaine struggle into his clothes.

Dialing the number by memory, Kurt waited impatiently for the other end to be picked up.

“God Kurt, it’s like, three in the morning! Don’t you ever sleep?” Were the first grumbled words after the phone had been picked up.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. It’s time. I’ll pick you up in ten.” Kurt intoned, voice as dry as the desert wind.

“Time for what? Your lobotomy?” The voice warm with wry amusement.

“No, Dumbass. Time… that we’ve been waiting for… for the last… let’s see… forty two week.” Kurt grumbled, looking up to see Blaine standing on the stairs leading to the bedroom.

“Shit! Tonight? Now!” A loud thump sounded down the line, then a hasty scramble for clothes.

“So… I’ll pick you up in ten?” Kurt’s voice was just as dry.

“Just get here already!”

Hitting the end call button, Kurt met Blaine’s eyes for a moment. Stalking toward him, watched his eyes widen comically, his teeth bite at his lower lip. “You know what we’ll be doing as soon as we’re done in the breeder ward, right?” Kurt breathed softly, letting his exhale wash over Blaine’s lips, flicking his tongue out to taste Blaine’s gasp of surprise.

“What?” Blaine squeaked, voice high, breathy, quivering in need.

“Fucking.” A hard kiss to Blaine’s lips and Kurt pulled away.