You're bored and Kurt's re-doing his hair in the bathroom, and that's going to take ages, so you start scrolling through the videos on his laptop to see if he's got any good movies saved on there. But you're right, he's not the 'illegal downloading' sort, which makes you feel a little guilty about the number of films you've got saved on your laptop.

He has got a couple of videos of himself practicing singing though, and you feel the tears welling up as his beautiful rendition of 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' fills the room, his angelic voice taking you back to his first Warblers audition. As the last notes fade, the on-screen Kurt screws up his cute little nose and tells the webcam that he wasn't good enough. You shake your head in disbelief – such a perfectionist.

There's only one other video there, and it doesn't have a title, but you're sure it's another song, so you click on it, impatient as it loads. You smile as the opening chords of Beyoncé's 'Single Ladies' sound from the speakers, but then your eyes take in what's on the screen and your mouth falls open in shock. There's Kurt. And Brittany and Tina, but there's Kurt. And he's singing. And he's doing the dance. He's doing the freaking Single Ladies dance. In a leotard. And man, he's never looked so hot.

"Hey, Blaine, what're you doi-" and then he stops, because he recognises the music and he knows what it means. You turn to look at him, and you're not sure what expression your face is making as you drink in his perfectly coiffed hair, his flawlessly pale skin, his hand covering his mouth which is hanging open in shock, the fervent blush which is beginning to stain his features.

"I- I can explain! That was a long time ago! I was training for football! I-" but you're suddenly by his side and you're covering his mouth with your hand.
"Shh," you whisper into his ear, and he shivers. "You don't need to explain anything," you continue, in the same sultry tone of voice, "because I don't think I've seen anything as hot as that. Ever." And you emphasise the last word with a nip on his earlobe, and the little mewling sound which comes out of his mouth does crazy things to your body.

You kiss a trail down from behind his ear to the base of his throat, paying extra attention to the smooth skin of his neck, licking, sucking, biting. "You know," you mouth into his collarbone, "you should really wear leotards more often." And he chuckles breathlessly.

"Oh, you haven't seen me in my Cheerio's outfit, have you?" and that grabs your attention. You stop you ministrations and look up so abruptly that you almost fall over.
"You were on the Cheerio's?" you half-yell, your eyes wider than saucers. He just smirks and goes to sit on his bed.
"Maybe I'll show you sometime – if you're a good boy."