Blaine was weighted down, heavy like his skin was drowning his mind and all he could do was sink back into the sheets and feel. Feel the lips ghosting over his, dragging lazily down over his throat to scrape hard over his ribcage, catching across a nipple until he was arching upwards, gasping out a harsh breath. A tongue trailed across his hip and Blaine shivered, fingers twisting into the sheets as he bucked against the mouth that smiled against his skin, a laugh vibrating across his stomach.

"Patience."

He whimpered, eyes squeezed shut and mind spinning and his skin felt too tight, constricting and wrapping around his mind and squeezing, throbbing and burning across every inch of him. Bright eyes and dark hair and rubbed red lips parted with a voice that flickered, burning over his thighs.

"What do you want, Blaine?"

His thigh pressed against a smooth cheek, wet mouth sucking hard against his skin, moaning into his leg as Blaine's breath hitched painfully, hands flying down to tangle into soft hair, something light and intangible between his fingers. Hands pushed his legs apart, holding and spreading them wide and open, sliding down to cup under his knees, nails trailing bluntly down his inner thigh.

"Tell me what you want."

Blaine choked out a string of words, too loud in his own ears as his brain fought the drowsy web over his bleary eyes, fighting to catch the gaze of the boy between his legs and he laughed, rough and throaty and fading into something high and wicked, breathy and panting against him with a teasing lilt.

Blaine was aching and useless, twisting beneath sheets and dancing fingers and the hot movements of a mouth sliding around the base of his cock, messy and slippery and working him into a blurred frenzy of twisting suction. He was too hot and too heavy, too helpless and breathless as his body tightened and snapped, rose and broke and fell.

"Kurt!"

His own shout woke him, dying on his lips as his mind jerked from sleep, one hand caught in his own hair as the other raked across the pillow, and he bucked desperately against the sheets tangled between his legs.

Fighting with his sleep-addled brain, Blaine's hand grasped his cock, jerking himself roughly and frantically until he came messily over his own chest and hand, squeezing his eyes shut to try and block out the bright blue ones staring back.

He sank back into the pillows, breathing hard and acutely aware of the come and sweat drying over his stomach. He groped at the table beside his bed with a heavy arm, lighting a cigarette and holding the smoke in his lungs until it hurt. The room was unequivocally still, music still drifting from the laptop on his desk, catching and drifting on the air and the smoke.

"Sebastian has blue eyes too," he muttered to the early afternoon sunlight pouring through the gap in the curtains, snorting as they shifted in a light mocking breeze.

He felt restless, like something wild was buzzing beneath his skin. Like a caged animal was ripping free of his ribcage and flexing in his muscles, something feral and strange and not altogether unpleasant.

There was a sense of unfulfilled desperation hanging through him, like his was teetering on the edge of a violent precipice and waiting for the fall, something Blaine had never felt before. Like the fleeting glance of panic when you realise you can't breathe and struggle towards the surface, scrambling for the break of water over your face and the quiet mercy that came with it.

He felt like static was rushing through his veins, like a caffeine rush on a sunny morning.

Like falling.

For once in his life he didn't know what to do. Blaine was stuck at a standstill and all he knew was that he wanted to bend Hummel over and fuck him until he screamed, that he wanted to see Kurt's mouth stretched wide around his cock, wanted to hear him moan and shout and whisper Blaine's name, hushed and throaty until his throat was raw.

Blaine wanted to taste him.

Blaine groaned and rolled over, stabbing the cigarette against the ashtray and dragging a pillow over his head, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that he'd somehow gotten himself in much deeper than he'd expected.

Kurt didn't know what he was expecting when the noisy space Blaine usually occupied over his shoulder was unnaturally quiet all day, and the only form of communication between them was a texted address and time.

It felt strange, backwards almost. Like when you start a sentence and forget the end, and spend the whole day chasing words around your mind in desperation, trying to recall it.

Kurt found himself tapping his pen impatiently against the desktop as he watch the hands crawl around the face of the clock, his heart thrumming in his ears and something nervously jittering under his skin.

He hadn't told Santana, and she'd stopped asking and fixed him with that glare that said they were going to talk about this, whether he liked it or not. But Kurt had his own questions to ask her and was more than happy to put them off for as long as he could.

The world seemed to be rushing too fast around him, but Kurt was stuck moving in painstakingly slow motion,

His heart jumped into his throat when the bell rang at the end of the day, and Kurt was forcing books into his locker and turning to leave when a steel hand caught his arm.

"Porcelain, step into the Oval Office for a minute."

Kurt swallowed against his suddenly bone-dry throat.

"Coach Sylvester," he said, ignoring the sink of dread in his chest, "You're not the President."

"Not yet. Have a seat."

He dropped into the chair opposite her, clutching his back to his chest and sitting up until his back was poker-straight and she nodded in approval.

"I'm going to cut to the chase here, Dollface. My underfed minions have heard on the tragic grapevine that is McKinley High, that you have been seen fraternising with one Blaine Anderson."

Kurt's mouth dropped open with a noise of protest, but she held up a hand to silence him.

"This is not a question, Porcelain. It's an order. Look, you can get your rocks off with that boy's junk heap of a motorcycle for all I care, just don't go public about it. I can't have my head Cheerio fraternizing with those so low on the social scale they're practically underground, okay?"

Kurt clenched his teeth in barely restrained frustration.

"Fine," he said when Sue just stared unblinking at him, her eyes fierce and unreadable, "Fine. I wasn't going to…I mean I have standards, I just…"

Sue rolled her eyes and leant forwards over the desk towards him, her eyes softening a barely noticeable fraction.

"Porcelain, I am only going to say this to you once. Get the hell out of my office."

Kurt bit back a shocked smile which she returned with a gesture of her wrist, turning towards a pile of books before the door had even closed behind him, and suddenly Kurt was alone with his buzzing mind.

He couldn't lose his Cheerios uniform, he just couldn't. Not when he had less than a year left to survive and especially not for a asshole like Anderson.

Kurt's hands drummed restlessly against the wheel as he drove to the address mapped into his GPS, copied from Blaine's text. His mind was riotous, agitated enough that he jumped two red lights and swerved to avoid a kid on a skateboard who swore and ran off, leaving Kurt blushing and whacking the dashboard in frustration.

He weighed up his options.

He could go out with Anderson tonight, leave early and tell him that he wasn't interested. Blaine had asked for one last chance and something within Kurt had almost cried with joy. He could feel himself preening under the attention as though it was new and different, like he didn't have the entire student body of McKinley under his fingertips, and he didn't know why.

He was tired.

Blaine was strong, but Kurt doubted he could fight off Puck and Finn and their entire hoard of mindless cronies if he told them to keep him away. And he always had Santana by his side, with her frighteningly sharp nails and stony glare.

Kurt could even report him to the school board for selling and doing drugs on the premises if he was desperate and he cringed internally at the thought of Blaine's face if he even dared. At the fury and the venom that would spit from his lips, fuck he'd probably punch him.

He sighed.

He'd never felt this much before. Not even when he was being slammed into lockers every day, washing icy slushie from his shirt collar and ducking into doorways to avoid being dumpster-tossed. It had just been painful. It had hurt right through his heart until Kurt could barely drag himself out of bed every day.

And when Coach Sylvester had caught his arm and forced him into his uniform and on top of the pyramid, it had faded. It had strengthened and cooled like burning metal, and suddenly Kurt was fierce and strong and everythinghe'd ever wanted to be.

But Blaine, Blaine made him burn. He made him rage and melt until Kurt was sweating and blushing and feeling things more than he ever had before. Blaine had touched him, felt him and moved him, sliding his hands beneath the steel of his uniform and against his skin and Kurt could still feel him there, like the itch of a wound as it healed.

Blaine was something Kurt never realised he was craving, and now he was there, constant and vicious and fading on his tongue.

Kurt hated him.

He stopped the car as his phone beeped, glancing from the address in his palms to the house outside and back again because he'd spent so much time agonizing over the boy he'd forgotten he had to live somewhere. That he had parents and a family and came home to meals and television every night.

And the Anderson house was huge. Not extortionate, but bigger than the Hummel-Hudson household, and older too. Heavy, ancient looking trees lined the front yard, deserted but for a battered vintage car covered in a light drift of leaves.

Kurt chewed his lip for a moment.

He could drive away now. He could say he got lost or wasn't coming, that there was an emergency or a family problem. That –

But he didn't, and with his hands already on the door handle he knew he wasn't going to. This was Kurt's last chance, his last moment to be selfish. He wasn't going to give Blaine anything, he was just going to take and feel and let himself drown in the burning heat of every second they were together.

And tomorrow everything would go back to normal.

There was no answer as he knocked sharply against the green door, and it clicked open at the light pressure, showing him the echoing emptiness of the hall inside. Kurt stepped in, letting the door fall closed and strained his ears over the silence to chase the faint thrum of music from deeper in the house.

He slipped off his shoes, leaving them by the door and trod softly over the immaculate carpet, padding up the stairs until the music grew louder and louder, leading him down the upstairs hall and towards a tightly closed door.

Kurt paused, one hand against the wood until he could feel the throb of music through the surface, beating against the palm of his hand. His fingers lingers, sliding down and pressing the handle until he could peer through the gap.

Blaine was facing the open window, curtains pushed wide until he was haloed in evening sunlight, the dappled sun falling soft against the plane of his back, stretching unbroken from dark hair to the waistband of his pants.

Kurt's breath caught in his chest, fingers tightening and pushing the door wider.

He saw the muscles of Blaine's back flex, rippling as he stretched and rubbed a hand through his hair. The rolling clench of his shoulder blades down to the dip and curve at the base of his spine, the ridges of his backbone shifting under his skin until Kurt was breathless, his heart stuttering.

Blaine turned, slowly, deliberately with one hand still in his hair, the other raised to his lips as he let smoke drift lazily from his mouth. His eyes caught Kurt's flickering in quick-disguised surprised before he gave him a lopsided grin and rolled his head back, clicking his neck with a rough groan of pleasure.

Kurt's throat was dry.

He'd never seen a boy topless before, not really. Not when he was allowed to look, to stare until his eyes were dry and fuck, this was a good place to start.

Blaine's chest was a bronzed, beaten gold, tight and defined with a thick stripe of dark hair that vanished between his hips. As he turned Kurt saw a flash of black ink, tribal swirls spreading up the side of his ribs to dip across and down his hipbones, and a bar glinted through his nipple as Blaine threw the cigarette butt out of the window and turned fully towards him.

He beckoned Kurt into the room, something darkly suggestive shining in his eyes that made Kurt blush as he perched primly on the edge of the unmade bed, fingers clasped over his knees as he fixed Blaine with a withering stare.

The music was hanging heavy through the air around them.

"Why weren't you in school today?"

Blaine stared at him for a moment before he shrugged, moving to change the song blaring from the computer and Kurt tried to tear his eyes from the deep stretch of skin as he leaned over the desk, the curve of his spine dipping down towards his ass wrapped in dark, tight denim.

"Something came up."

Kurt nodded although Blaine couldn't see him and swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at the boy in front of him.

Blaine's room was dark and typical; posters and a television opposite a couch littered with viciously ripped cushions and a battered guitar. An almost shockingly extensive collection of classic literature was piled haphazardly on shelves among empty coffee cups and liquor bottles.

The room made him feel hazy, heavy and languid as though he was drifting in the throbbing guitar chords and the traces of smoke still vanishing through the curtains and Kurt felt himself rocking backwards, sinking deeper into the soft mattress until he was proper up on his hands, letting his head fall backwards and eyes close.

When he opened them again Blaine was staring at him, his expression full of unreadable hunger. He stepped closer until their knees brushed and Kurt was looking up at him suddenly blushing and exposed and wishing he'd worn a darker t-shirt, rather than the almost transparent whiteness of the one wrapped around his torso, riding up his stomach. Blaine's eyes flickered down his chest and back up, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Are you ever going to put a shirt on?" He said, fighting the throatiness of his voice. Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asked, the word filled with such a thrilling huskiness that Kurt shivered, "Does it distract you too much?"

Blaine's hand was flat one his chest, pressing against the pounding of Kurt's heart relentlessly until he was flat on his back on the bed with a gasp and Blaine was crawling over him, knees digging tight around Kurt's thighs and hands splayed either side of his head.

Kurt caught his breath, fingers curling into the sheets to stable the spin of dizziness at Blaine's closeness, the swelling heat of their bodies as Blaine hovered over him, weighty and warm until Kurt's fingers itched with a burning intensity.

"N…no."

Blaine laughed, deep and guttural and it vibrated up through Kurt's body.

His face dropped lower, noses skimming together until their breath mingled between their faces and Kurt's chest was hitching painfully.

"Are you sure about that?"

There was a faint, gasping moan that Kurt was pretty sure came from his throat and his hands flew up to cup Blaine's hips, clutching onto the warm and god soft, so soft skin there.

Blaine gritted his teeth, barely hidden restraint clenching at his jaw as his mouth fell open, every breath falling hot against Kurt's face.

"Touch me."

Kurt wasn't sure if he'd imagined them but the words tightened over his skin like candlewax, his fingers curling in automated response into the dents of Blaine's hips, sliding slow up his ribs with hard, deliberate strokes and reaching around to palm at his shoulder blades. One smoothed along the nape of Blaine's neck, nails scraping bluntly across his scalp and into his hair and Blaine rolled back into the touch with a soft, needy hum.

Kurt swallowed, panted and choked out a whine, letting his fingers map down Blaine's spine. They skimmed along the ridges of his back, resting in the curve of his back until Blaine groaned and rocked faintly in his lap. Something hot coursed through Kurt's stomach, churning and tingling to his fingertips.

He could feel Blaine cock, hard through his jeans against his own hip and something powerful and emboldened blazed through Kurt's mind. He wasn't the only one who felt this much, who, despite the loathing and the disgust between them, could admit that fuck they were hot like this. Blaine felt it to, and suddenly Kurt wanted to tug his head forwards and kiss Blaine so hard his mind spun and the breath left his lungs.

He wanted Blaine to pin him down and kiss him with the intense ferocity that seemed to burn through his body, wanted to be bent and broken and twisted a million different ways until Blaine had him breathless and bruised and sweaty, spent and boneless on his bed. God, he wanted it.

And judging by the darkness of Blaine's eyes, his blown pupils and the sweat beading along his hairline, he wanted it too.

Kurt's fingers cupped Blaine's throat, brushing along the rapid beat of his pulse.

He closed his eyes and breathed out. Opened his mouth and –

"We should go."

Blaine was rolling off him and Kurt was cold, empty and shivering on the bed. He sat up in time to see the gloriously bare expanse of Blaine's back covered with a dark shirt, his hair ruffled and leather jacket scooped from the floor before he stalked from the room without a backwards glance.

Kurt drew his knees up to his chest for a moment, suddenly alone in Blaine's room and cringing with embarrassment. He was achingly hard, furious and rejected and the bed smelled like Blaine, so heady and rich that he wanted to bury his face in the sheets and breathe and breathe.

"Are you coming, Hummel?"

Blaine's voice echoed through the empty house, bouncing up the stairs until it reached Kurt and he sighed, standing and following it back down to the front door.

"I'm not getting on the back of that bike again," Kurt spat, not looking at Blaine as he bent down to refasten his boots, "No matter what you say."

"I'm driving us anyway," Blaine said, a hint of impatience in his voice, "Do you honestly think I'll be sober enough to navigate a bike when I've spent the evening with you?"

Kurt followed him outside, slamming the door with unnecessary force behind him.

"What, but you won't be so drunk that you can't drive a car?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and pulled the door open, swinging himself into the front seat.

"Just get in the fucking car, Hummel."

"You're going to kill us."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing," he snapped back, staring straight ahead, jaw set and eyes boring through the windscreen.

Kurt barely resisted the urge to stamp his foot and scream, boiling with the frustration of a child and sat heavily in the seat beside Blaine with an angry noise, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"I hate you, have I mentioned recently?" He muttered as Blaine pulled the car into reverse and swerved from the road.

"I could always do with reminding."

The drive was silent, giving Blaine plenty of time to scream inside his head as Kurt turned and stared out of the window with a determined resolution.

He'd had him. Blaine had had Kurt spread out and wide-eyed beneath him, fingers in his hair and lips right there. He could have finished this, could have fucked him right there and then and Kurt would have taken it and loved it.

But he hadn't.

Kurt had closed his eyes, something in his face relaxing and softening and there was none of the usual anger when he looked at Blaine, there was nothing. He'd been calm and beautiful and inches away from Blaine's grasp and it had terrified him.

Blaine had spent so long wriggling his way into Kurt's life, annoying him and stepping on his toes at every turn that he'd forgotten what he was there to do.

But now Kurt was willing, more than willing.

And Blaine wanted him, fuck he wanted him so badly.

But something had snapped with in him and Blaine had realised. If he fucked Kurt then this would be over; he would get Sebastian and lose Kurt, and Blaine knew Sebastian. He knew that the moment he caught wind of any sex between them, the bet would come lose and Kurt would find out and –

He wanted to fuck Kurt, over and over until they were raw and screaming and useless. He wanted to bend him over and spread his legs and put his fucking perfect mouth to good use. Because Kurt was gorgeous and responsive and filthily beautiful, fierce and fiery and flexible.

But he couldn't.

Because this wasn't about the bet anymore and Blaine wasn't foolish enough to believe that he actually had feelings for the bitchy cheerleader who did no more than irritate him, none more than basic primal desires that were richer and fiercer than anything he'd ever felt before.

He didn't want to fuck Kurt to win. He just wanted to fuck him.

A lot.

Possibly several times a day for a prolonged period of time.

And suddenly he couldn't, because then everything would shatter.

Blaine hadn't realised he was making faint, disgusted noises until he caught Kurt's eyes on him, one eyebrow raised in a scathing sneer.

"Do you need a moment to yourself?"

Blaine didn't bother answering; pulling the car into a rough standstill that had Kurt jolting forwards, hands smashing into the dashboard. He glared over his shoulder and unclicked his belt, flouncing from the car with as much dramatis as it was possible to muster.

Blaine rolled his eyes and followed.

"Are you sure they're even going to let us in?" Kurt said, eyeing the bar with a hint of disgust on his face.

Blaine scoffed.

"Please. I know the guys who own it, I'm here every week."

"What a delightful life you lead," he said dryly, following Blaine through the door and into the sweaty darkness.

The bouncer nodded at Blaine, clapping him on the shoulder as they passed.

"Who's you're friend?"

His eyes were skimming up Kurt's body, the bright white of his shirt almost transparent in the dark and Blaine could see the shadow of his nipples beneath it, the ripple of his stomach and the sharp angles of his hips. Kurt was blushing under the scrutiny, looking at the floor and shrinking sideways slightly into Blaine's body.

He was nervous.

"This is Kurt," Blaine said shortly, closing his hand tight around Kurt's wrist and pulling him through the door so fast he stumbled slightly.

"Have you never been to a club before?"

He knew the answer before Kurt shook his head, of course. The wideness of Kurt's eyes gave it away, the way he shuddered and swallowed at the slow drag of eyes across his body.

Blaine pressed his lips together, letting his arm slip around Kurt's waist until he relaxed slightly into his touch, fingers winding into the leather of Blaine's jacket as he shot him a grateful glance.

Blaine dipped his head, lips brushing the shell of Kurt's ear and felt him shiver slightly.

"Hey, it's alright."

Kurt nodded, face suddenly defensive.

"I know," he muttered, "I just…why is everyone looking at me?"

Blaine could barely bite back his laugh.

"Seriously, Hummel?" he said, steering them through the crowds towards the bar, "Have you seen you? You practically scream virgin jailbait. Especially in that poor excuse for a shirt."

Kurt blushed, mouth falling open in slight shock and glanced down at his shirt, back up at Blaine.

"Fine. Just…um," he stuttered on the words slightly, voice dropping lower as though he was regretting it even as he spoke, "For once can you not…you know. Leave me. I think I'm a little…"

"Out of your depth?"

Blaine's head snapped up at the voice, jerking his body away from Kurt's.

"Sebastian. What are you doing here?"

Sebastian grinned, something glinting in his eyes as he raised his drink in a mocking salute.

"It's Friday night B, where the hell else would I be?"

"Well at least you're not a mundane creature of habit," Kurt snapped, body suddenly stiff and straight in Blaine's arm as he fixed Sebastian with a glare, face drawn tight and sheltered as though curtains had fallen in his eyes.

Sebastian just smiled.

"No, no you're right. Because sitting at home alone on a Friday night waiting for the world to get up and do everything for me is so much more interesting, I can see your point."

Kurt's face was angry, and Blaine recognised his expression.

It was how he used to look at Blaine, during those first few days and only now could Blaine see the difference. Kurt had relaxed around him, taking the arguing in his stride like it was second nature.

But here he was on edge, he was tense and Sebastian wasn't helping.

"Anyway, I took the liberty of ordering you both drinks."

Blaine frowned as Sebastian pushed them over. Two tall glasses filled with a swirling, sickly pink concoction, topped with cherries and cream that screamed virginity metaphor.

Kurt gave his a disgusted look, glancing up at Blaine for a second.

Blaine took a sip, testing it on his tongue. Barely alcoholic and mostly sugary sweet, it dissolved and hung in his mouth like smoke. He nodded to Kurt who sucked on his own straw thoughtfully, pursing his lips around the taste and swallowing slowly.

"Honestly, you think you'd never tasted alcohol before, the pair of you," Sebastian said, getting up and moving closer to Blaine. Kurt's stance shifted automatically at his movement, like an animal sizing up a threat.

"Well Hummel, it's been fascinating conversing with you, really. But do you mind if I steal Blaine here, for a moment?"

"Seb –" Blaine warned, shaking his head and holding tight to Kurt's elbow.

"Oh relax, I just want to talk to you. We'll be right over there; you can keep watch on him from five feet away."

Kurt swallowed his mouthful of cocktail and shook his head.

"It's fine Blaine. Go."

Blaine opened his mouth in protest, but Kurt was unhooking himself from Blaine's arm and settling down at the bar, leaning back against it and chasing the straw around his glass with a hint of pointed tongue.

He swallowed and let Sebastian tug him into the corner.

Kurt sighed, bracing his elbows against the bar surface and trying not to think about the countless spilled and assumedly never cleaned up drinks he was leaning in. He scooped cream from the surface of his drink, sucking it off the end of the straw absently, annoyed at the pleasurable way the flavour dissolved on his tongue and made his mouth water.

The music was awful, too loud and too heavy and the air was too hot against his skin.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Kurt cocked his head at the man beside him, considering the warm smile and blonde hair, the fact that he must have been about thirty.

"I have one."

He looked down at the glass in Kurt's hand with a laugh.

"So finish it."

Kurt looked at the few mouthfuls of pink liquid left, barely remembering drinking it and glanced over at the corner.

Blaine had his back pressed to the wall, Sebastian leaning in close, one hand on Blaine's waist as he spoke. Blaine looked down with a laugh. Kurt tilted his head back, swallowing so fast his head spun and slammed the glass down on the counter.

"Fine."

Sebastian's face was leaning closer into Blaine's neck, pushing him harder against the wall with a smile and Blaine was catching his waist, turning his face away and laughing.

Kurt barely acknowledged the drink pushed into his hand, swallowing it in three burning gulps that left his eyes streaming and a catch in his throat until he coughed.

It burned through his veins like liquid courage.

His mind was dizzy, spinning and blurring with its first hints of alcohol and Kurt stumbled once as he slipped out of his chair, shouting a casual "thanks for the drink" over his shoulder and stalking through the crowds, elbowing bodies out of the way.

Blaine caught his eye, straightening as Kurt approached like a hurricane and pushing Sebastian away.

"Kurt! I –"

But Kurt said nothing, shouldering Sebastian roughly to the side and catching Blaine's waist to pull him close and press his lips against his ear.

"Let's dance, Anderson."

Kurt pulled back enough to see the shocked widening of Blaine's eyes, his stilted nod in response before Kurt caught his hand and dragged him across the sparse dance floor.

Blaine felt the tipsiness in Kurt's body immediately, the dazed widening to his eyes and the hint of a slur in his speech. He turned Kurt around hard, gripping his shoulders until their eyes met.

"What the fuck happened to you, I was only gone ten minutes."

Kurt smiled a wide, wicked smile that flashed with teeth and stained pink lips.

"I'm just getting in the mood Anderson, don't kill it."

His body twisted, slotting his back against Blaine's chest, dragging their links hands down over his chest to push Blaine's palm flat against his stomach, shirt sliding up until a hint of damp, soft skin brushed his fingertips.

Blaine's mouth was pushed against Kurt's neck, his head rolling back against Blaine's shoulder until his throat was stretched and bare, hitching under his lips with every breath as he rocked his ass backwards with slow, sensual rolls.

Blaine let his fingers dip lower, grazing through the light trail of hair that faded into Kurt's pants and god he shouldn't, he shouldn't be doing this. Not when he could feel Sebastian's eyes on his back, but Kurt's mouth was panting into his hair, his hands persistent as they pushed Blaine's under the waistband of his jeans until they were flat against burning hot skin, not low enough but Kurt gave a faint cry and dug his nails into Blaine's arm.

There were fingers in his hair, painful and tugging until Blaine's mouth was moving wet and sloppy over Kurt's ear and down his throat, sucking against the beating pulse of his neck as Kurt grinded backwards harder and faster, rocking and thrusting. Blaine could feel eyes on them from every direction, Kurt making tiny, delicious noises that drew attention from all sides but he didn't care.

He was hard, god so hard. Sensitive and throbbing, and pressing himself against the curve of Kurt's ass with reckless abandon, tiny sparks of pleasure shooting through his body at every movement. Their skin was plastered with sweat, bodies rubbing together with slick friction.

Blaine touched his lips to Kurt's throat, moving away slightly before dipping back down and pressing a kiss to the sweaty skin of his jaw.

Kurt stilled for a moment, turning in Blaine's arms and fixing his lips with a determined stare.

One hand still wound into Blaine's hair tugged lightly on his curls as he moved closer, still rocking with the music and rolling their hips together. His arm wrapped around Blaine's waist, forearm flat against his back as he hauled their bodies together with a frightening tender movement.

His lips were swollen and parted, dark pink with cocktail, wet and shining as they hung open with each gasp of breath that Blaine could taste in his own mouth.

He rubbed his own hand around Kurt's waist, feeling him tremble under the touch and held one hand flat against his back, under the shirt against sticky, sweaty skin.

A finger traced lightly down the side of Kurt's face, curving around his cheek to press and angle his chin up.

Kurt stumbled, his body falling heavy against Blaine's chest, their ankles tangling until Blaine caught his balanced.

Kurt's eyes were wide and dark, hazy and unfocused as they gazed blearily at him.

"I…I –"

"Kurt?"

Kurt's head lolled backwards and Blaine tightened his grip, holding him up straighter as Kurt lost his footing again, tipping like a puppet with its strings cut in his arms.

"I...need –"

His words were slurred and barely audible, eyes fluttering closed.

"Are you okay?"

Blaine knew it was a stupid question, because Kurt wasn't okay. Not in the slightest, and he managed to shake his head, letting it fall forwards and touch Blaine's collarbone with a heavy breath, all his weight dropping into Blaine's arms.

"Okay…let's…let's get you…"

Blaine struggled one arm around his neck, keeping his grip tight around Kurt's waist as he heaved him through the mass of bodies, fighting with Kurt's dragging, tripping feet.

He kicked the bathroom door open, forcing them both into a tiny cramped stall and Kurt collapsed onto the dirty floor, emptying his stomach noisily into the toilet bowl. Blaine crouched beside him, pushing back his sweaty hair until Kurt looked up, eyes bleary and watering and rested his pale cheek against the toilet seat.

His eyes were still glazed, mouth still hanging open and Blaine wasn't even entirely sure if he was conscious as he smoothed his hair back.

"Kurt?"

"Oh dear," a voice said, bubbling with a mocking humour as a figure leaned around the door, "Looks like someone can't handle his medicine."

"Sebastian."

Sebastian grinned and winked, shrugging and something clicked into place in Blaine's mind.

"Oh my god, what did you give him?"

He rolled his eyes, leaning his body against the doorframe.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Well you're not him are you? Jesus, Seb, he'd never even drunk alcohol before tonight."

Sebastian scoffed, "Well how was I supposed to know that. Look, he'll be fine; it was just supposed to loosen him up a little. You know, help him relax."

Anger was storming through Blaine's mind, incredulity and shock and he wanted to punch the grin right off his best friend's face. His fist clenched by his side, but Kurt made a feeble noise of discomfort, coughing and mumbling in distaste as his eyes fell closed and he curled closer around the toilet.

"Sebastian," Blaine closed his eyes, breathing out hard through his nose and letting his fingers brush along the back of Kurt's hand where it rested on the floor. It twitched against the tickle, their fingers linking together, "Just…just go, okay?"

"But –"

"Just go!"

He turned back to Kurt, blocking Sebastian entirely out of his mind until Blaine heard the door crash closed and the only sound in the room was Kurt's harsh, laboured breathing.

"Kurt?"

He touched his cheek lightly. Kurt hummed faintly, shaking his head at the touch.

"Kurt, we have to go."

"No."

Blaine choked with exasperated laughter.

"Of course that's the one word you can say when you're barely conscious. Come on, I have to get you home."

Kurt made a noise of protest, struggling weakly against Blaine's hands as he attempted to lift him and turning to retch into the toilet again.

"Kurt you can't stay here. You're…you're…you're dirtying your clothes."

Kurt froze, coughed twice.

"…Kay."

Blaine laughed again, hooking under his arms and pulling Kurt bodily to his feet. He swayed into Blaine's body, head against his shoulder and arms hooked around his throat. Blaine clutched at his waist, moving them slowly through the doors and the crowds, past the bouncer who looked determinedly in the other direction, and out into the cold of the night air.

Kurt shuddered against the wind, curling his body into Blaine's as they made slow progress towards the car.

"I hate you."

The journey back had made Kurt a lot more vocal, and he was tangled on Blaine's bathroom floor, drunk out of his mind, struggling into a sitting position to gag over the toilet every five minutes.

"So I've heard," Blaine said dryly, rubbing soothingly between his shoulder blades until Kurt crumbled back against his chest, a mocking mirror of how they'd danced and Blaine had not expected the evening to end this way.

"No…like, I really fucking hate you."

"Would you like me to point out that you are currently throwing up in my toilet? If you'd prefer I could leave you out on the street tonight."

Kurt managed a laugh, leaning heavily against Blaine's chest and attempting to fight the glass of water he pushed against his lips.

"Don't wanna…"

"Oh my god, Hummel. Just drink the fucking water."

He sighed and opened his mouth obediently, letting Blaine tip the water into his mouth until it slid down his chin and he swallowed noisily.

"I mean…you smoke like a fucking…like an exhaust…thing. On a car…"

"Is this a continuation of why you hate me?"

"Mmm. And t-shirts."

"T-shirts?"

"Yours are unnecessarily tight."

"You know you're alarming vocal when you're smashed. I should remember this."

Kurt forced his bleary eyes open, looking up at Blaine from his position against his chest.

"You know," he hiccupped, "When else I'm….vocal?"

"Kurt Hummel, are you flirting with me?"

"Me? Never."

Blaine laughed, letting his chin fall forwards and rest atop Kurt's head, his arms wrapping around Kurt's stomach, rising and falling with his steadying breaths.

"Why are you…being…so nice to me?"

Kurt was mostly asleep, his eyes closed and breathing evening out but the words still slipped from his lips. Blaine sighed and looked down, watching him slip further into unconsciousness. He touched his lips gently to the top of Kurt's head, breathing in the softness and scent of his hair just for a moment.

"Because you won't remember in the morning."