“Hummel, you’re an absolute fucking disgrace!”

Blaine’s clipboard slams down on his table in front of him. He jolts the table as he stands, stepping out from his cushioned seat in the audience of the theater and storming up the stage steps. They’ve been going over this stanza for over an hour, and Kurt has made absolutely no progress in convincing Blaine that he was Romeo, and he deserved to be Romeo. Kurt had impressed him at auditions, and he’d been doing rather well for the past two weeks of rehearsal, but for some reason he can’t get this goddamn scene down, so Blaine demanded a one-on-one session to work out the bugs.

“I’m sorry, ok? I’m trying!” Kurt bites back, glaring at his director as he stalks toward him. On the verge of angry tears, Kurt’s arms wrap around his own waist, gripping at releasing at his sides where he quivers center stage, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise empty theater. Despite his nineteen years, he looks like a child in this moment, shrinking in on himself.

“Bullshit, Hummel! You’ve delivered that damn line exactly the same way five times in a row, despite my direction against it! You have no passion! None!” True, years of being an actor-turned-director have subjected him to all types and skill sets of actors, but if those thirty-nine years have done anything, they’ve hardened him. And kick-started the sparse grey streaks in his hair.

“I’m just not feeling it! I can’t—it won’t come out right! I don’t know what to do!” Kurt argues.

Blaine’s fingers dig through to his scalp through his heavily gelled hair, tugging a little as he removes it again. He’s been told he’s a bit of a masochist. He believes it. Otherwise he would never subject himself to the life of a theater director.

“Do. Your fucking. Job, Hummel!” Blaine’s advanced so he’s about a foot away from a fuming Kurt. “You’re an actor! So, act!”

Kurt shifts his weight anxiously, scratching the back of his calf with the toe of his boot. “I’m having an off day! I’m allowed to have one once in a while.”

Blaine huffs, attempting to calm himself down. He scrubs his hands over his face wearily, and sends them back to smooth out the damage to his hair. “Do it again.”

Kurt raises his head toward the ceiling, tilting the threatening tears back into his head and breathing deeply. Once he’s got a stronger hold on himself, he solidifies his stance again, staring straight ahead into the empty audience. “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the—”

“Stop!” Blaine commands, scuffing his foot hard against the barren stage, looking out toward the audience before returning his gaze to a cringing Kurt. “Just…stop.”

“Can we just come back to this one? Please?” Kurt begs. “We can try again tomorrow.”

“That depends, do you think you’ll fall in love by tomorrow?” Blaine poses. Kurt’s face crinkles in confusion. “Or at least get laid?”

Kurt reels back in shock at the statement. “Excuse me? That’s not any of your—”

“It is when you’re stiff as a goddamn board and have about the same emotional range as one, on my stage and in my production.”  

Kurt’s gaze drops to the floor, shifting on his feet again. “That’s still not any of your business…” His voice trails off at the end, finishing off in a near-unintelligible mumble. His cheeks are flaring up with color as Blaine paces back and forth.

The redness adds to what Blaine has been trying to get Kurt to reach all afternoon. Get flushed, get passionate, and feel. He can’t help also noticing how beautiful it makes his youthful, yet masculine face look. “Have you ever been in love, Kurt?”

Kurt stutters, staring down at his feet as the sole of his shoe slides back and forth across the ground. “I—Well I—I don’t—I think…”

“You haven’t.” Blaine summarizes bluntly. Kurt doesn’t justify him with a response. “Are you a virgin?” Blaine presses further, feigning that he’s unaffected by Kurt’s outrageous blush creeping up his neck and face.

Kurt’s mouth hovers open for a moment. “Still not your business, but no, I’m not.”

“But I’ll take a wild guess and say you haven’t been laid, say, within the past couple of months.”

“Five.” Kurt mutters, sitting on the edge of the stage and kicking his feet, his heels knocking against the wood.

“Alright then.” Blaine says, stooping down to where Kurt is seated, his fingers steepled on the stage floor as they balance him in the position. “Homework assignment. Get laid. By tomorrow.” He instructs. By me. He adds in his head.

Kurt makes a sound of protest, his neck snapping sideways toward where Blaine is crouched, his expression neutral. “Tomorrow? I can’t just go out and get fucked, it’s—”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “You’re in New York, Hummel. Throw a dildo on the street and you’ll hit a gay man who’ll stick it up your ass.” Like me.

Kurt grits his teeth. “I have a type, Blaine. I can’t just fuck anyone.” His eyes dart everywhere but to Blaine’s face as he speaks the words, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

Blaine takes note of how jittery Kurt is getting now, especially with his own proximity. Blaine smirks slightly, sliding down to sit next to Kurt. “And what exactly is your type, Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt swallows nervously, rubbing his sweaty palms against his skinny jeans. He mumbles his answer. Even in the echoing theater, his answer is inaudible.

“What was that?” Blaine pushes, leaning in dangerously close to Kurt. Kurt doesn’t budge, and Blaine’s shoulder meets Kurt’s resistance, their skin pressing hotly against each other. Kurt shivers, vibrating along his skin and onto Blaine’s as he does.

Kurt repeats his answer. “Older men.” He shares, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

Blaine feels his head spin and his cock twitch at once.

“Yeah?” Blaine responds, his breath hitting at Kurt’s neck and goosebumps rise up on his flesh from it.

Kurt nods minutely before expounding. “You.”

In a second, Blaine’s broad hand is cupped around Kurt’s soft jaw, urging him to look towards him. His eyes flicker from Kurt’s eyes to his lips, so pink and perfect and, in some way, so innocent. And Kurt wants him.

In reality, Blaine doesn’t suspect that twenty years is that much of an age difference (or else, that’s what he’s been telling himself since he set eyes on the boy that first day he auditioned), but Blaine feels so much wiser than Kurt. So much more experienced than his mere nineteen years on this earth.

Blaine thinks there’s so much he could teach Kurt. So much he could show him.

He figures he can start here.

Blaine’s lips mold to Kurt’s perfectly, feeling his precious lips part a little under Blaine’s skilled mouth. His eyes stay open as he takes in the way Kurt’s eyes flutter closed at the first contact, clenching shut as his mouth works in tandem with Blaine’s for the very first time.

Their lips break apart briefly, and Kurt takes the moment to whisper out Blaine’s name over his lips before capturing them again in a dirtier manner that Blaine is so happy to assist in.

Guiding Kurt firmly onto his back, Blaine crawls on top of him, his tongue working Kurt’s mouth open in the filthiest of ways as he alternates fucking his mouth and biting his lips. He feels oddly like he’s stealing Kurt’s virtue due to his age, despite him not being a virgin. Blaine loves it.

The first moan Kurt lets out echoes so beautifully in the deserted auditorium, and all Blaine can think of is making more noises come out of him that sound just like that. Blaine begins to talk.

“So, you like older men, Kurt?” His hand palms at Kurt’s bulging crotch and Kurt bucks up into it frantically. “Older men like me who have fucked dozens of other men? Doing things you couldn’t even dream of doing at your age?” Blaine works Kurt out of his pants, and shuffling them down his legs till he tosses them across the stage.

Kurt starts making gorgeous noises again. “Oh, fuck, please, Blaine.”

As Kurt’s underwear flies wherever and Blaine takes Kurt’s cock firmly in hand, his voice rasps in Kurt’s ear. “That’s Mr. Anderson to you.” Blaine dares. He immediately knows he’s gone down the right path when Kurt’s eyes roll back in his head, moaning as Blaine strips his cock hard and fast.

“Mr. Anderson, I—” Kurt starts, breaking off in a whimper when Blaine’s thumb glides over a soft spot on the underside of his cock.

“What do you want, baby? What do you want me to do to you?” Blaine’s hand stops completely, releasing his hold and sliding up the silky expanse of Kurt’s stomach and chest. His fingers play at the sensitive skin on Kurt’s throat, following the trail with his tongue and teeth.

“Please, Mr. Anderson. Fuck me.” He whines as his leg wraps around Blaine’s waist, using it as leverage to thrust up and get friction to his aching cock, but Blaine is just out of reach.

Blaine tuts in Kurt’s ear, placing a wet kiss below it. “Come on, Kurt. Really mean it. Think about what you’re saying, and mean it.” Fingers ghost up and down the length of Kurt’s cock, and it twitches, as if it knows that Blaine’s touch is mere inches away.

Kurt buries his face in his shoulder as his hips continue to roll upwards in search of Blaine’s body. “I need you to.” Kurt almost whispers. “I need you inside me.”

“For god's sake, baby, you’re an actor. You have to make sure the back row can hear you.” Blaine teases further.

“Sir, please, just fuck me!” He cries out, and it definitely resonates, his words pounding from wall to wall and back to them as a devilish smile creeps onto Blaine’s face. Blaine definitely did not miss that hidden “Sir”.

Kurt encourages Blaine further, turning him on more than he thought possible as he speaks. “Fuck me until I scream. Fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked a guy before. I need you to fuck me until I know I’ll feel it even until the show opens.” By the time Kurt’s done, he’s breathing hard, staring Blaine down and challenging him.

Blaine’s eyes glisten as they take Kurt in, young, flushed and wanting below him. “Now that’s the passion I’m looking for.”

In no time at all, they’re naked and Blaine is pulling out a condom and a small packet of lube from his wallet. Kurt hisses as Blaine’s thick fingers stretch him wide, but hastily. Blaine lines himself up and pushes inside, Kurt’s back arching against the cold, hard stage floor and moaning at the feeling of being filled again.

As soon as Kurt has adjusted to Blaine’s length, he’s pulling out and thrusting back in hard, and he keeps going, not even pausing to let Kurt catch his breath. Blaine’s hands clutch at Kurt’s, bringing them up above his head and pressing them into the floor—the floor that Blaine is intent to fuck Kurt into rather thoroughly.

Blaine knows from experience that hard floors like this are killer on the back, but Kurt doesn’t seem to care. He can see the streaks of sweat from Kurt’s back dragging along the distressed wood, and he knows that it’s only getting slicker as Blaine picks up momentum and Kurt’s sounds get more animalistic by the second.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, Mr. Anderson.” Kurt blabbers, his nails digging into the backs of Blaine’s hands where they’re still trapped. “Uh, god, please!”

The sharp smacks against Kurt’s thighs and ass ripple through the empty room, as do Kurt’s moans and whimpers as Blaine continues to talk him up. “You like my big cock, don’t you, baby? Like it fucking you open right here on this stage where you’re going to do so fucking well once those curtains open?”

Kurt whines as he nods frantically, rolling his hips back down onto Blaine’s cock as it fills him over and over again at a lightning-fast pace. He hardly has time to get a breath in the space of time it takes Blaine to pull out and fuck back in again. “God yes, don’t stop.”

Blaine’s hands release Kurt’s to stroke down his chest and tweak at his taut nipples, pulling quiet, squeaking gasps from Kurt’s throat as he does so. “Might have to fuck you again before the show opens so you remember how much work I’m putting in to you. Over. And over. And over again.” Blaine grunts out, fucking in particularly sharp at each repetition to emphasize just how much he’s putting into Kurt.

“I’m close, fuck, I’m close!” Kurt cries out, his hands flying around Blaine’s shoulders as Blaine fucks into him.

“You going to come on my cock, baby? Squeeze that stretched out ass around my cock.” Blaine commands. Kurt’s ass flexes, and Blaine moans in retaliation. “Gonna make daddy come so hard.”

That one word, Daddy, and Kurt is gone, shooting his come between them with a deafening shout and pumping his hips down onto Blaine’s length, his cock twitching with the force of his orgasm.

Blaine growls as Kurt’s ass clenches down onto him, thrusting his hips deep inside of him as his orgasm builds in his stomach. “You want daddy to fill that tight little ass of yours with his come, huh?” Blaine’s noticed what that name did to Kurt, and he wasn’t about to switch tactics now, right on the cusp of his release.

Kurt whimpers pathetically as the sensitivity starts to take over, but he nods anyway, tugging Blaine’s neck down for a wet kiss. Blaine’s hips snap forward, his cock throbbing as it searches for anything to push him over the edge.

“Tell me what you want daddy to do, baby. Daddy needs to hear it.”

Kurt gazes up at Blaine as innocently as he can conjure, even with his head knocking painfully against the wood of the stage with each impact of Blaine’s hips. “Come in your baby’s ass, daddy.” He whispers, voice crackling with overuse. “Show me it belongs to you.”

Blaine’s orgasm hits like a freight train after that, slamming into Kurt’s ass a final time as jets of come fill the condom, Kurt squeezing around him as best as he can to help him work through it.

Blaine pets softly at Kurt’s hair as he comes back to himself, placing light kisses to his skin anywhere he can reach as Kurt giggles beneath him.

Kurt smacks his palm to his forehead lightly after they’ve pulled apart and caught their breath. “Oh my god, I just slept with my director.” He groans.

Blaine laughs loudly, turning on his side and propping his chin on his hand to stare at Kurt, still gloriously naked on the shiny wooden floor. “That’s so classic Broadway, Kurt. You’re one step closer.”

Kurt snorts, pushing a hand through his disheveled hair. “Not exactly a habit I want to form. Even if it would get me Fiyero.” He says, his arms folding behind his head to pillow it against the hard floor.

“Do you have any other discrepancies with fucking me other than the moral fact that I’m your director?” Blaine asks. “Accidentally revealing your boner for older men? Or your orgasmic daddy kink? Or…fucking on the stage of a theater?”

Kurt smiles, laughing silently, his chest fluttering with the action. “Nah. Everything else I’m fine with. All I can say is I’m glad you fucked me after I was cast as Romeo. Otherwise people might get suspicious.”

Blaine hums as he scoots closer to Kurt, curling his arm around his waist and diving down until their noses brush with one another. “This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beautious flower when next we meet.” Blaine recites flawlessly, pressing his lips to Kurt’s in a hot, sultry kiss.

Kurt sighs into the kiss, pulling Blaine closer as his arms wind fully around his neck. Their lips part sweetly, and Kurt rests his forehead against Blaine’s. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

Blaine’s eyes fall closed, breathing softly as he takes in Kurt’s presence, his beauty, his youth, his…perfection. With a brief kiss to Kurt’s lips, he whispers, “You nailed it.”

“Guess it took you nailing me first.”

A laugh sputters out of Blaine’s mouth as he presses his face into the dip between Kurt’s collarbones. He sucks another kiss to the skin under his lips. “Well,” He says smugly, “Daddy does know best.”