"Monsieur Hummel?"

Kurt looked up from his paper-strewn desk. Blaine Anderson was standing in his doorway, wrapped in a black, knee-length trench coat. A pair of three-inch heeled black boots clung to his calves, meeting the coat right at the hem.

Kurt stared.

Blaine had been a problem ever since he started teaching French at Dalton. Although Kurt had only been teaching professionally for about three years, he had never suffered such an attraction to a single student.

Then Blaine Anderson walked into his Senior Honors French class. All of a sudden, skintight jeans that left nothing to the imagination were not an option to wear while teaching Blaine's class. A small penance he was willing to pay in order to retain his decency, as well as his job.

Blaine wasn't only hot, he was also incredibly smart. He was usually the first to show up in class, the last to leave, and the most frequently expected to answer questions. His grip of the language was near impeccable as well, as represented by his Honors status in his final year at Dalton.

From the way that Blaine looked at Kurt sometimes, he was pretty sure Blaine was harboring a bit of a crush himself.

Quickly gathering himself once more, Kurt spoke.

"Honte à vous, Monsieur Anderson. It's late." He admonished. Blaine blushed the most beautiful shade of red.

"I know, Sir. Je suis vraiment désolé." He shuts the door behind him.

Shit. Kurt has a feeling he knows where this is heading.

Blaine clutches at the front of his coat, and advances slowly toward Kurt's desk, the sharp clack clack clack of those sinful heels following. Kurt swallows, struggling to retain decorum.

"What can I do for you, Blaine?" Kurt asks politely.

Blaine fingers the buttons on his coat timidly, eyes flitting from Kurt's to the floor and back again.

Kurt stares at Blaine's fidgeting hands.

"I was just...wondering..." Blaine stammers, "If you could possibly help me with this..." he trails off.

Without another word, Blaine begins nimbly slipping the coat buttons through their holes. Kurt's knuckles are going white with the intensity he is clenching the edge of his desk. His eyes don't leave Blaine's body.

When the trench coat falls to the floor, Blaine is left standing in those gorgeous boots, a black, front-laced corset, and a checkered, classic sexy school girl mini skirt.

So mini, Kurt notes, that he figures he would be able to see Blaine's cock hanging between his legs, were it not being held in by something.

Kurt gulps.

Blaine is wearing panties underneath.

When Kurt rakes his eyes back up Blaine's body to his face, Blaine is biting his bottom lip. It's most likely out of self-consciousness, but Kurt can't help but think it's part of the innocent school boy act.

"Monsieur?" Blaine says for the second time that night. It sends an odd, so wrong, so right shiver down Kurt's spine.

Monsieur. What if he called me that while he was bent over my desk?

Another chill courses through Kurt when he realizes that's exactly what Blaine wants Kurt to do.

I'm going to hell, is all Kurt can think.

He clears his throat, but his voice still breaks. "Oui, Blaine?"

The clack of Blaine's heels starts up again as he rounds the desk.

Kurt watches like a hawk as Blaine approaches Kurt, and oh god he shaved his legs. Kurt suppresses a moan in his throat.

"I've got this one phrase that I've been practicing. I'm wondering if you can tell me if I have it right?"

Kurt swallows again, eyes following Blaine as he finally straddles Kurt in his chair. Blaine's hands slide their way up Kurt's chest, and wrap around his neck.

"Okay." Kurt breathes out.

Blaine's lips skim over his cheek as they make their way to Kurt's ear.

He feels Blaine's hot breath on him, causing the hair to rise up on Kurt's arms.

With no further prompting, Blaine whispers hungrily in Kurt's ear.

"Monsieur...pouvez-vous, s'il vous plait..." Kurt's eyes close, and his mouth falls open slightly at the gorgeous French spilling from this boy's-this student's mouth. "S'il vous plait, baise-moi sur votre bureau." Blaine finishes, with a tiny kitten lick to Kurt's earlobe.

Kurt can't breathe anymore. Everything in him, his breath, his blood, his mind, stampedes into his pants.

This is a student. Albeit, he's eighteen, Kurt checked. Even still, a student.

Kurt feels his hands moving of their own accord to grip Blaine's ass, stretching out a pair of black lace panties. Blaine moans in Kurt's ear, and Kurt whimpers in return, massaging the flesh in his hands.

Blaine's face presses into his neck, his breath slithering its way around the expanse of skin while little sounds of pleasure tip out of the boy's mouth.

"Monsieur..." Blaine moans, and it sounds like...Christ, Kurt doesn't know what to compare it to, but it's perfect.

"Blaine," Kurt whimpers in response, beginning to rock his hard cock into Blaine's equally hard erection. "Blaine, you're making it really hard to say no right now."

"If I had wanted-hnnnnn-for you to say no, I wouldn't have dressed-ah-this way, Monsieur."

"Fuck, don't stop calling me ‘Monsieur'" And Kurt loses it. He grips the back of Blaine's head, and captures the boy's lips with his mouth, coaxing them open with his tongue. Blaine moans into it, instantly allowing the intrusion. Welcoming it.

Kurt's hips buck up wildly, reciprocated by the unrelenting grind of Blaine's cock back down.

Kurt's fingers inch under the fabric of his panties to brush at Blaine's hole.

It's already wet.

"Fuck, Blaine!"

"Please!" Blaine says, no other description for the word except begging.

Kurt growls, shoving Blaine off his lap. He lands on his ass, his skirt flipping up to give Blaine a full view of his cock straining against the lace. Kurt pounces.

His mouth dives towards Blaine's encased cock, soaking the material with his tongue as he devours the feel of him.

Blaine's hands fly to his head, clawing their way through his hair. Blaine bucks into Kurt's mouth, keening with a mix of lust and pleasure.

"You fucking little slut, Blaine." The boy just moans louder at the words. "Juste une putain désespérée. Coming in here, in that stupid coat, and I knew what you were doing." Kurt doesn't know where this is all coming from, but he doesn't stop.

"You're practically a child, Blaine. You can't come in here, dressed like this, and just expect to get whatever you want."

"But I did get want I want, Monsieur." Blaine reminds with a laugh. Kurt cuts the boy off with a hard squeeze of his cock. Blaine falls back into those breathy little gasps that have Kurt's dick throbbing for attention.

Kurt runs his hands up and down the cage of the corset, feeling the strings underneath his fingers.

"You only got what you want because I allowed it, Blaine. And I never said I'd fuck you, mon cher. So eager with your wet little asshole, aren't you?" Blaine nods violently. "Already all wet for my cock, like a little pussy. A soaking pussy to match that slutty little school girl skirt of yours, huh?"

"Please." Blaine whimpers again. "Fuck my ass. It's yours. C'est tout à toi, please!"

Kurt groans, running his finger along the band of Blaine's panties.

"Look at your cock, Blaine. C'est beau. Stretching out these panties just for me."

"Yes," Blaine breathes out, his eyes falling shut as Kurt's fingers grope at his dick. "Oui."

"What if I fucked you with your panties still on, Blaine? Just slid them to the side to get at that pretty, slick asshole? Rub your cock through the fabric and feel your hot come stain those gorgeous panties." Blaine didn't seem to object to that idea whatsoever, if the sounds he was making were any indication.

"Please, Monsieur." He says once more.

And as tempting as that notion was, Kurt really wanted to see all of Blaine's ass. He wanted the heavy feel of Blaine's bare cock in his hand.

Kurt maneuvers himself to straddle Blaine's hips, pulling the boy into another hungry kiss, full of tongue and teeth and desire.

"Condom and lube?" Kurt asks.

"Right coat pocket," Blaine pants out.

Kurt scrambles to get around the desk, scrounging through to find the proper pocket with the little bottle and foil packet. He grips them, triumphant.

On impulse, he jogs for the door, insuring that it's locked, and his blinds are shut.

He heads back to Blaine, yanking off his tie and undoing his belt and pants as he goes, with his shoes and socks. By the time he reaches the boy, still lying on the floor, palming himself, Kurt is in his boxer-briefs and his white dress shirt and loosened tie.

"Up." He commands, placing the supplies on his desk. Blaine obeys without hesitance.

Kurt presses at Blaine's lower back, propelling him face first into the whiteboard behind Kurt's desk. Kurt's sure the marker ledge is digging into Blaine's stomach, but all he wants to see is the sweat from Blaine's skin leaving smudges on the pristine white surface.

Kurt's fingers trace the curve of Blaine's ass underneath the skirt. "What if I took you just like this, Blaine? Pressed up against this board that I write on every day? Hmm?" He whispers. "Whenever I'd write on it during class after tonight, I'd watch your cheeks turn red. Watch that pretty cock of yours start to stir in your khakis. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please, Monsieur." Blaine whimpers against the white board.

Kurt, at last, slips his fingers underneath the band of Blaine's panties and lets them drop to the floor. Blaine steps out of them and kicks them to the side.

"I'm so ready for you, Monsieur, please." Blaine begs again

Kurt runs a finger down the cleft of him, circling Blaine's entrance enticingly. "But what about that original idea of yours, Blaine?" Kurt punctuates the thought by sliding a finger into him.

Blaine arches into the digit, attempting to get it deeper. "Whatever you want, Monsieur," Blaine moans. "Please, I need it."

Kurt adds another finger, fucking into his ass roughly.

"Just bend you over my desk and fuck you comme une bête, ouais?"

"Anything! Anything, fuck, please!" Blaine shouts, nearing hysterics, and fucking back onto the fingers inside of him.

Kurt wrenches his fingers out of Blaine, shoving him around, and bending Blaine over his desk, slamming his cheek down against the myriad of papers there.

Kurt clambers out of his underwear, not bothering with his shirt. In fact, Kurt finds the image extremely hot, fucking Blaine over his desk in his little corset and skirt, with Kurt in his rumpled shirt and askew tie. His cock twinges once it's free from its confines. He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls the latex onto his shaft. He quickly applies a coat of lube to his cock.

He allows the head of his erection to rub at the base of Blaine's exposed spine, guiding it down his crack slowly.

Kurt mouths wetly at the skin below Blaine's ear, as the boy grinds his ass back onto Kurt's cock.

"What if I asked you to spill your come all over your classmates' papers, Blaine? Would you do that for me?"

Blaine moans.

"You would, wouldn't you? You'd do anything I asked you to, ma petite chienne."

Blaine whines into Kurt's ear. "Make me your bitch, Monsieur. Make me take it, please."

"Make you take what, Blaine?" Kurt teases. He wants to hear him say it.

"Make me take your cock, Monsieur. Fuck my ass with your cock." He begs.

"En français, Blaine." Kurt croons, continuing to taunt him, dragging the slick head of his cock over Blaine's hole.

"Baise-moi, Monsieur! S'il vous plait, baise-moi! Please!" Blaine practically sobs.

"Mmm, such un bon petit garcon, Blaine." Kurt coos, stroking at his cheek.

"Please." Blaine whimpers out one last time.

Kurt takes pity on him. He flips Blaine's skirt up completely, revealing the fullness of his ass.

"Spread your ass for me, Blaine." Kurt directs. Blaine promptly sinks his fingers into both cheeks, pulling them wide for Kurt's viewing pleasure.

"Incroyable." Kurt expresses. "You're so beautiful, baby."

Finally, Kurt presses his cock to Blaine's hole, entering him slowly. Kurt moans with the sensation of Blaine wrapped hot and tight around him.

"Vas-y, Monsieur, I can take it. I won't break." Blaine insists, encouraging Kurt to speed up.

Kurt doesn't need telling twice. He slams the rest of the way into Blaine, pulling a groan from the boy beneath him.

"How do you want it, Blaine?"

"Hard. As hard as you can. Wanna feel it."

Yeah. Kurt was going to hell.

Kurt fucked into Blaine with abandon, pulling the most obscenely gorgeous sounds from Blaine's lips.

Blaine's ass had slipped from his own sweaty grip, and flung themselves to cling to the opposite edge of the desk. With each thrust, papers and essays and miscellaneous objects cascade off of the desk, littering the floor.

Kurt's intense grip on the back of Blaine's head forces his face to remain smashed against the mess of papers that continue to crinkle and slide under him. Kurt's sure the sweat from Blaine's hairline is leaking onto the sheets of paper as well. He'll have to make up some bullshit excuse for the state of them, but he can't be assed to worry about that right now.

The smack of Kurt's hips into Blaine's ass, and the subsequent banging of Blaine's hips against Kurt's desk creates an erotic rhythm, harmonizing with the verbal chants of raw fucking and ecstasy coming from the two boys. The desk lurches forward at least a foot since they began, and they have to adjust their footing to keep up.

Still, Blaine can't help moaning, "More, Monsieur."

Growling, Kurt grips the back of Blaine's knee, and hoists his leg up onto the desk. The change in angle makes Blaine cry out, "There! Oh my god, oh my god, there! Juste là!"

Kurt obliges, thrusting harder at the spot inside him. "Tell me when you're close, Blaine." Kurt grits out.

A few more thrusts, and Blaine is calling it out, "I'm close! God, so close, please!"

Contrary to Blaine's pleas, Kurt pulls out of Blaine entirely.

"Kurt, please!" Blaine lets slip.

Kurt freezes. "What did you just call me?"

Blaine turns around slowly, eyes wide with shock. "Monsieur. I meant Monsieur, I'm sorry." He babbles.

Kurt glares icily at him. "On your knees, pute."

Blaine shudders. He drops to his knees obediently. Kurt tugs off the condom, and tosses it to the side. He traces Blaine's reddened lips with the head of his dick.

"Sucer." Kurt orders.

Blaine swallows, dropping his jaw, and taking Kurt into his mouth.

Kurt's head falls back, moaning. Blaine works his over swiftly, sucking and licking him, inch by inch. When he is finally on the brink, Kurt pulls Blaine off of him, the younger boy panting with his efforts.

Kurt grips himself, stroking his cock faster and faster.

"Gonna come all over that pristine little corset of yours. See how pretty it looks when it matches the black and white of your skanky little skirt." Kurt huffs out, getting closer and closer, as Blaine whimpers at the sight of Kurt jacking himself off in front of him. A final twist at the head, and Kurt is coming, painting the black silk of Blaine's corset with the pearly stripes of his come.

Kurt admires the view, before noticing how Blaine is desperately fisting himself, trying to finally find his release. Kurt grips his forearm, halting his movements. Blaine stares up at him longingly. So innocently. If he hadn't just come, Kurt's cock would already be twitching.

"Stand up." Blaine wobbles himself back on two legs, in front of Kurt.

"Go stand in front of your desk."

Blaine's breathing speeds up, his eyes boring into Kurt's. It's intoxicating.

But Blaine complies, moving to stand at his front-and-center student desk.

Kurt slides up behind him, silently.

"Put your hand on your cock." Kurt instructs. Blaine does so. Kurt then wraps his hand around Blaine's.

"Êtes-vous prêt?" Kurt asks. Blaine nods. "Aller."

As Blaine begins to stroke himself, Kurt plants wet kisses to Blaine's neck, slipping his tongue and teeth into the skin.

As Kurt feels Blaine's hand speed up under his, his mouth speeds up as well, sucking frantically at the salty skin.

Blaine begins moaning again, pouring out half-formed words, both French and English, as he approaches his orgasm.

When Kurt feels Blaine begin to let go, he whispers in his ear. "Come on your desk, Blaine."

With that encouragement, Blaine shouts out his release. Kurt watches as the boy's come lands on the surface of the desk, a few stray spurts ending up on the back of the chair.

As Blaine slowly fades back down, he leans forward onto the soiled desk with his head in his arms, spent.

Kurt strokes up Blaine's soft, bare thighs, and cups Blaine's abused ass, kneading his cheeks once more.

A small moan escapes Blaine's throat.

"Muy bien, Monsieur." Blaine croaks out.

Kurt chuckles. "That's Spanish, Blaine."

"Shut up, I can't think straight. I'm still trying to piece my brain back together. You're lucky you got ‘monsieur' out of me one more time."

Kurt smiles admirably at the exhausted boy beneath him. Still, he tugs insistently at the base of Blaine's corset.

"Come on. You're lounging in your own come."

Blaine groans, but hoists himself off the desk. "Gross." He says, surveying what a mess he is.

"Very sexy, actually." Kurt corrects, grabbing for the box of tissues lying on the floor from their previous activities.

As Kurt wipes up the smudged come from the desk, Blaine speaks behind him.

"You made me come on my own desk, you sicko!" He jokes.

Kurt grins widely, tossing the used tissues toward the trashcan.

"And you found it completely hot. Don't even try to lie."

And after all they've just done together, Blaine still has the dignity to blush at the accusation.

"My bashful little boy." Kurt laughs, licking a rogue splash of come from Blaine's cheek.

As Blaine laughs lightly, Kurt winces at a new discovery.

"What?" Blaine asks.

"Seems you're going to have a bit of a reminder of tonight after all." Kurt grimaces, padding his finger over a purpling bruise on Blaine's neck. "Whoops."

Something flares in Blaine's eyes. "I don't mind, Monsieur."

"Yeah, right after you tell the class why their essays are all fucked up, you can explain where you got that." Kurt teases.

"Hey, a guy has to keep some secrets, doesn't he?"

"Like being fucked senseless by your French instructor in his classroom?" Kurt wonders.

"Yeah, yeah, like that!" Blaine says, laughing.

Kurt smiles mischievously, wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine's waist.

"Like being fucked senseless by your French instructor in his bed after being fucked in his classroom?"

Blaine's face resembles that of a person who just won the lottery. "R-really?"

Kurt purrs in his ear. "Vraiment."