You're in French class, and you love French, so normally you'd be paying close attention and scribbling in your notebook, but, see, since Blaine joined you at McKinley, you'd noticed your 'paying attention in class' level was slipping somewhat. And in this particular lesson, it's because you sit right behind him, and he knows just how distracting he can be. At the moment, your eyes are raking over his back, admiring how the tight shirt clings to the muscles there, imagining how it would feel to peel it off, to run your fingers over the smooth skin, to run your tongue … Blaine coughs loudly and rolls his shoulders, and you feel a blush rise on your cheeks – apparently he had been able to feel your hungry gazing. You see that nobody else has noticed, though, so you don't care enough to stop. You trace his broad shoulders with your eyes, admiring how his arms are practically bursting out of the short sleeves. You lick your lips at the way his biceps ripple as he writes, making the bluish veins stand out more starkly from his skin. He glances at you over his shoulder for just a second, but it's long enough for him to catch the glint in your eyes, and for you to notice the devious glimmer in his.

You shiver in anticipation – this is going to be fun.

Firstly, he shifts a little in his seat, just so that you have a better view of his left arm, before proceeding to tense and un-tense it in time to whatever French the teacher is spouting. You can't stop a little giggle from bursting from your lips, which hurriedly turns to a lady-like cough as the French-spouting teacher glares. Soon enough, Blaine's bored of this game, so he tries another – lifting his arms into a comically exaggerated and slow fake yawn-and-stretch. You know this is supposed to make you laugh, but instead you find your breathing starting to speed up as his already-short sleeves ride further up his arms, and you are left with a view that makes you want to leap on him. His tanned arms are on display for you, tantalisingly close, and all you want to do it reach out and touch them – run your fingertips over the muscles, the veins, press kisses into the warm flesh and hard sinew. Your panting is just beginning to become embarrassingly audible, when he drops his arms, and you just catch sight of a smugly satisfied grin before he turns to face the front again.

Now it's your turn to shift in your seat – a little more uncomfortably than he did – but your eyes are still glued on him. He rolls his shoulders a few times, just to show you he's still in the game, but then just sits there, and actually looks like he's paying attention to the lesson. You huff, indignantly, and try to subtly catch his attention again, but to no avail. The next fifteen minutes comprise of you undressing him with your eyes, whilst wandering what sort of move he's planning next if it's taking him this long … but then you decide that he's just doing it to tease you, and you resolve not to get riled. Admittedly, that failed a little bit, and with twenty minutes of the lesson to go, you feel like you're about to spontaneously combust. And that's when he makes his move. To the rest of the class, it looked like he just simply raised his hand, but to you –oh! He did it oh-so-slowly and sensuously, allowing his other hand to brush along it on its way up. You were certainly ready to explode at this point, and didn't even care that people were starting to notice your blush, not to mention your trembling.

You've completely lost track of what's going on in the lesson, but Blaine's voice cuts through your distraction.

"Excusez moi, est-ce que je peux aller au toilettes s'il vous plait?" and then he's leaving. He's actually, genuinely just getting up and leaving. You're sure the outrage on your face must be showing, because your teacher asks if you're feeling alright.

"Umm … non - es ce que je peux aller a l'infirmiere?" she nods hurriedly, and you stride out of the classroom. Thankfully, he's waiting for you at the end of the corridor, but as soon as you see him, he starts walking in the opposite direction. You let out a sigh of frustration and follow him as quickly as you can. You catch up, little by little, and you figure that he's heading to the choir room, because it'll most certainly be deserted at this time, but it's just too far away. You finally catch up to him in the middle of a deserted corridor, and you really can't stop yourself from grabbing him from the waist and pushing him up against the wall. His honey-gold eyes widen in surprise, and he gasps, his breath fanning your face.

"You," you growl menacingly, "are the biggest," and you press your lips to his neck, biting none-too-gently at the sensitive flesh, "cocktease," and you do it again, nipping and bruising his skin, "I have ever met." He lets out a breathy little laugh, which quickly turns into a breathy, drawn out moan. Your lips leave his skin, satisfied that you'd marked him enough, and you turn your attention to his glorious arms. "These," you say, in the same threatening tone, "have been taunting me all afternoon." And then you're kissing them – peppering them with tiny kisses that slowly get sloppier and messier and wetter, making Blaine writhe and groan beneath you. "Shh, now, babe – we wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?" and he tries to shove his fist into his mouth, but that would put his arm out of your reach, and you can't have that, now, can you? He stifles another sound, so it comes out strangled, and you chuckle into the soft skin at the crease of his elbow. You lap at the flesh there, and he starts to whimper, pitifully.

The sounds he's making are just so adorable that you kiss your way back up to his mouth, just so you can drink them in. He starts to deepen the kiss, but you pull away, sharply. He looks so lost for a moment that you kiss him again, but only briefly.

"Wha … why?" are the only sounds he can get out, so you smirk at him and start to head down the corridor.

"Well, certaines personnes ont besoin de se concentrer en classe" you say with a grin, and you can see the little crease on his forehead deepen as he tries to figure out what you said.

"Hey, wait up!" he calls after you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on your ass as he follows you, so you just smirk again, and walk with a bit more sway to your hips.