"It doesn't matter if you love him…"

Oh, okay, wha –

"…Or capital H – I – M…"

Blaine Anderson's jaw damn near hits the ground. When Kurt had invited him along to watch their 'Born This Way' performance, Blaine certainly hadn't been expecting…well, now he doesn't even know what he was expecting because whatever it was, well, that was no longer even a thought in his mind.

But he sure as shit wasn't expecting Kurt to open the song with this almost gritty, deep voice, the voice he'd only ever had the pleasure of hearing twice before.

The two times they'd actually had each other all alone and participated in decidedly hot sexual acts.

He also wasn't expecting Kurt to have the front of his jacket clawed open by two girls, two hands that were definitely not Blaine's when they should have been.

And what – where did he learn to move his shoulders like that? Sweet hell, Kurt Hummel could dance. And this wasn't little bits of side stepping and hopping and all those other silly things the Warblers generally got up to, this wasn't Kurt trying far too hard to be sexy, this was Kurt being sexy.

Flawlessly so.

His hips…what – where – how?

Those. Hips.

Oh fucking great, now all Blaine's thinking about is digging his blunt fingertips into the soft, pale skin that stretched over Kurt's hip bones because really? How could he not?

Blaine watches, eyes locked on Kurt's ass as he walks upstage, up a set of brightly lit risers. He literally has to shove his jaw closed with his hand, otherwise it'd still be stuck on the fucking ground. There was a sway in those hips, a suggestive confidence about Kurt's body that Blaine hasn't even realized he's missed until this very second. Uniforms were nice and all, sure, but this…a pair of tight jeans…

"…I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way…"

Oh god.

Kurt's walking back downstage, peeling off that pesky jacket and he tosses it, of course he tosses it, of course he does, right down to where he knows Blaine's sitting in the front row.

Blaine doesn't even catch the stupid thing. It smacks him in the face and then falls into his lap.

Oh okay, maybe that's a good thing.

Because his hard on is fucking ridiculous right now.

"Don't be a drag, just be a queen…"

Blaine's very thankful for the music being so loud.

Otherwise everyone would have heard the pitiful, broken cross between a moan and a whimper that tumbles out of his mouth when he catches his first solid glimpse of Kurt's perfect pale arms. He notes the way the edges of the sleeves are rolled up a bit and god damn, is that thin, white shirt tight enough across his front or was he dreaming?

Oh and the hips are back…oh holy mother of everything, those hips, he's backing up and those hips those hips those hips.

All Blaine wants is those hips against his, grinding with fervor, with need, with heat until he can come long and hard in the dip of Kurt's pelvis.

That's all he wants.

Please.

Blaine gave up his boyfriend, watched him leave to rejoin his friends, gave up his chance to see him every single day.

Can't he just have this one thing?

He's been really good so far.

He swears!

And that voice! What the hell, is this a new form of teenage torture?

He watches Kurt stride forward again and –

"Nnngh?" Blaine groans because it really is a question as much as it is the sound of repressed sexual desire. The thing he's questioning is his sanity.

Did he really just watch Kurt drag his hand down his stomach and almost grab his dick?

Did that really just happen?

Did he seriously watch those slender yet defined arms make that journey?

Blaine did.

That totally just happened.

Blaine crosses his legs, Kurt's jacket balled up in his lap and still hiding his painfully obvious erection.

There's more dancing.

How is this song not over yet – oh, Kurt's sauntering his slim little hips back up those risers and turning around.

Fucking hell, his pants weren't even that tight, not as tight as others he's seen Kurt wear, but oh god his ass looked so good.

So. Good.

Blaine's squirming in his seat as New Directions plus their Glee teacher and their guidance counselor continue dancing and singing but he can't stop staring at Kurt, can't stop drinking in his form with lust-blown eyes and –

No.

It's over?

Why, though?

Why is it over?

Yeah, okay, not two minutes ago he was pleading with pretty much every deity to end his pain and suffering but he doesn't want it to be over now.

But – but the hips? He wants the hips back!

Oh, Kurt's hopping off the stage now, sauntering, sauntering towards Blaine, leaving his friends behind him while they laugh and hug. He's a little out of breath and his hair is all over the place and Blaine thinks he sees a slight sheen of sweat over Kurt's forehead from all the activity under the hot lights.

Blaine clutches Kurt's jacket like a lifeline.

"So what'd you think?" Kurt asks with a too bright smile as he wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand.

You were great, oh my god, you're so hot, can you take me now, please take me now, let's do everything the bible says not to, can I lick at your pale arm, can you be naked now please, how about we both get naked, we can get sweaty too, you can use that voice again, we can –

Blaine clears his throat. His voice comes out far too high pitched for his liking.

"That was really good."

Kurt huffs a little breath and perches his hands on his hips.

Hips.

What?

"It was really good? That's all you've got to say?" Kurt prompts in slight annoyance. "It was amazing!"

"Yeah," Blaine squeaks out and he can't stop his eyes from raking Kurt's body up and down, up and down, up and do – "Amazing."

Kurt bites out a laugh and shakes his head.

"That performance was better than anything – Blaine? Are you – Blaine."

Kurt snaps his fingers in front of Blaine's eyes.

Eyes that are locked on Kurt's crotch.

Blaine's head whips back up to stare at his boyfriend with a slack jaw.

"Are you okay? You look…I don't even know. What-"

"You need to follow me," Blaine suddenly states, standing quickly. With one hand, he drags Kurt away from the group and with the other he's holding the jacket in front of his still very, very hard dick.

"What're you – Blaine, why-"

Blaine answers none of Kurt's questions. There's a fire bubbling beneath his skin at the moment, pure need coursing through his veins and seeping into his bones as he leads Kurt up, up, up to the control booth that overlooks the auditorium.

"Get out," Blaine grinds out at the poor, unsuspecting technical student who's busy adjusting things on the light board.

The kid takes one look at Blaine's face and darts out of the booth without another glance.

Blaine flips off the light switch.

"It's dark as hell – mmf!"

That last little noise Kurt makes is caused by Blaine crashing their lips together in a heated, possessive, almost primal kiss. He forces Kurt backwards, successfully shoving him against a wall and Blaine's elbow knocks some CD case off the rack nearest them but ha, he could give two fucks about property damage right now.

"Oh god," Kurt moans when Blaine attacks his long, elegant neck with a hot tongue. "Jesus, not that I – ah! Not that I mind, but what-"

"You – you," Blaine breathes heavily into his ear. "You dance like that and you move like that. You dress like that and your arms…"

"M-my arms?" Kurt breathes in question.

"I want to taste them," Blaine hisses, finally dropping the jacket on the floor, grasping one of Kurt's hands and slamming his arm against the wall next to his head.

Kurt whines helplessly, his head tossed back as Blaine licks a slow, wet trail over Kurt's exposed, taut bicep. Blaine groans, deep and low whenever he gets a taste of the skin there, all warm and stretched over slight, wiry muscles.

"B-Blaine," Kurt whimpers.

Blaine presses his body flush against Kurt's and he can feel the heat of him through his thin, white t-shirt.

The one that tells the world that he likes boys.

Thank god for that.

Blaine certainly wouldn't have him any other way.

If the statement on that t-shirt wasn't true, he wouldn't have his ridiculously fine ass boyfriend against a wall right now and he wouldn't be able to do this.

Blaine snaps his hips forward, arching into Kurt's body as he continues to suck a purpling mark right next to sleeve of Kurt's shirt on his arm.

"Oh, fu – Blaine," Kurt mumbles, dropping his head to Blaine's shoulder. "T-touch me, please, oh god, please!"

"Yes," Blaine bites out, pressing hot kisses to Kurt's shoulder, to his neck, to his jaw while his free hand reaches between them and yanks Kurt's fly open. "Yes, fuck…"

The jeans are tight but Blaine slithers his hand inside, palming Kurt roughly through his underwear. He seems to be about as hard as Blaine now and god if it wasn't nice to be wanted like this, even though they've never done anything quite like this. They'd had a seriously hot make out session on one of the couches in the senior commons at Dalton and nice rutting session on Kurt's bed one afternoon before his dad and Carole got home from work.

But it was never like this.

All frantic hands in the mostly-dark, hot little gasps ghosting across exposed skin.

It wasn't enough.

Blaine wanted to taste again.

He detaches his mouth from where he's sucking at the hollow of Kurt's throat and drops to his knees.

"Wha-"

"Wanna suck you," Blaine says in a gravelly voice, tugging Kurt's jeans and his underwear down to his thighs. "Can I – please say yes, please."

He looks up at Kurt with desperate eyes, pleading wordlessly for the chance to suck, tongue, touch, taste –

"Fuck yes," Kurt gasps, hands already finding their way into Blaine's gelled hair, mussing it with shaking fingers.

Blaine doesn't need any other prompting. He swirls his tongue around the head of Kurt's dick, gripping the base with one hand while the other grips at his pale hip, digging his fingers into the flesh just the way he wanted earlier. He opens his mouth wide, slipping his wet lips over the hard, hot flesh in front of him. Blaine sucks for all he's worth. He's never actually given a blowjob before but he's far too gone, drunk off Kurt's masculine scent and he's far too eager to be timid in the act.

Kurt moans loudly above him, fingers twisting tightly in Blaine's hair when Blaine presses his tongue firmly to the underside of Kurt's dick. He figures he must be doing pretty good, even if it's his first time, because he's never heard Kurt make those sounds before.

Those sounds make Blaine even harder, if that's physically possible.

He drops the hand he's got on Kurt, unable to stop himself from fumbling with his own zipper and shoving his hand inside his own pants to tug jerkily at his dick.

"Blaine, you…oh my god," Kurt's panting now as Blaine sucks him, working him with his lips, tasting every inch of him he can reach with his eager tongue. "I'm so – so close, I'm-"

Blaine promptly releases Kurt's aching arousal, saliva dripping down the length of firm flesh.

"What, no! That wasn't – you can't, please, don't-"

But Blaine doesn't even respond, doesn't even explain. He simply stands and tugs his own jeans down to mid-thigh, boxers following in one swift motion. He takes a long, flat, wet lick at his hand and slicks his dick up as quickly as he can before jerking his hips forward to collide with Kurt's.

"Oh, mmm, yes," Kurt moans in his throat, arms coming up to drape lazily on Blaine's shoulders.

"This is all I could think about," Blaine admits breathlessly. He presses his decidedly sweaty forehead against Kurt's equally sweaty temple. "All 'cause of you and your – ohyeahmmm - your fucking hips."

"But what-"

"These," Blaine grinds out through clenched teeth as he grips the hips in question, pressing down hard on Kurt's jutting hip bones with his thumbs, "you move and you – you sway like you don't know what the fuck you do to me."

"Ohgod," Kurt whimpers, pulling Blaine closer, thrusting his hips back, giving as good and he was getting. "Blaine…"

"I sat there, hard," Blaine breathes into Kurt's ear, wet lips tickling at his earlobe, "as soon as you opened your pretty little mouth. Wanted to do this the whole time."

"Don't stop, don't stop," Kurt keeps repeating, like a mantra.

Blaine laughs, though it comes out as a strangled little sob as his dick rubs just so, just right, just against that dip in Kurt's pelvis and he can feel Kurt against his own hip, hot, hard, and he's pretty sure there's a fire bubbling under Kurt's skin now too.

"Kurt, you – I'm-"

"Please," Kurt whines, burying his head into the crook of Blaine's overly warm neck. "I want – leave bruises, hold me tighter, wanna see them tomorrow."

It's an unusual request because Kurt's generally been a little more vanilla but fuck if Blaine doesn't comply, clawing his fingers into perfect, pale flesh, scratching and bruising, holding and squeezing those hips that had tormented him so blasé-like earlier.

"Yeah," Kurt nods against Blaine's neck, pressing heavy kisses to the skin there. "Yeah, yeah, oh, fuck, I-"

"Come," Blaine demands, sucking at that tiny spot right below Kurt's ear because he's right there, right there and he knows when he feels –

"Blaine," Kurt whispers, voice shaking, hips bucking and suddenly Blaine feels Kurt coming, just like he wanted and as soon as he feels Kurt's hot, slick come on his own dick, Blaine comes too.

He ruts his hips forward once more, coming all over Kurt, all over himself, eyes squeezing shut, gripping Kurt's hips with every ounce of strength he has left.

"Holy shit," Kurt's panting, hands slipping up the back of Blaine's neck to scrunch in his now ruined hair. "God, Blaine…"

"I'm sorry," Blaine breathes raggedly against Kurt's cheek. "I couldn't – you-"

"I definitely meant 'god, Blaine' in a good way," Kurt assures him and Blaine thinks he can feel Kurt smile when he kisses his forehead.

Blaine laughs shallowly, finally pulling his head away from Kurt's face when there's enough blood rerouting its way back through his veins properly.

"Are you – your hips-"

"Are just how I want them," Kurt says, leaning in to press a gentle, slow kiss to Blaine's reddened lips. "That was hot as hell. Who knew wearing a shirt that says 'likes boys' would get you so riled up?"

"Well, that combined with the way you move your hips and the way your arms look and the sound of your voice…"

"I get it," Kurt laughs happily.

Blaine makes to pull away and the stickiness between them is absolutely disgusting and their mixed come is becoming cold on their skin.

"Oh…I didn't think about this part," Blaine admits awkwardly.

"My jacket was cheap," Kurt offers, bending down oddly and snatching the jacket in question off the floor. "Well, cheap to me. I can always get another one."

Blaine snorts but he doesn't protest when Kurt wipes away the evidence of their activity, cleaning them off as best he can before balling the thing up and tossing it over into the small trashcan next to the door.

They're grinning like mad as they adjust their clothing, zipping zippers, buttoning buttons and just as Kurt reaches for the door handle, Blaine covers Kurt's hand with his own and kisses the back of his neck.

"I really…I'm really gonna miss you," Blaine tells Kurt. "A lot."

Kurt doesn't turn around, but he hangs his head and closes his suddenly sad blue eyes. "I'm gonna miss you too, Blaine. But we've got nights and weekends, right?"

"Yeah," Blaine grins against Kurt's neck. "You're all mine then."

"Deal."

The both silently decide they should leave the little projection room above the auditorium seeing as how they've been gone suspiciously long now anyway.

"There you dudes are! What happened to your hair, shorty?" Puck shouts in greeting when they both clamber onto the stage. He strides over to pull Kurt into a hug. "We – whoa. You reek of sex, oh my god."

Blaine blushes to the tips of his ears, and Kurt smacks his forehead with his palm. Everyone else (besides Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury) seems to hear the comment and turns to stare at the couple with wide eyes.

Puck then proceeds to gallop around the two boys, whipping his jacket in circles over his head.

"GIT SOME!" he shouts for all to hear.

Well at least Blaine doesn't have to deal with this embarrassment tomorrow in school like Kurt does.

End.