The night Blaine wore his skintight jeans
and made mischief of one kind and another
Kurt called him “WILD THING!”
and Blaine said “I’LL EAT YOU UP!”

Kurt gave him a long, searching look. 
“Was that an innuendo?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Blaine asked, suddenly coy.

So he was sent to bed without eating anything.

That very night in Blaine’s room a forest grew and grew —
and grew until his ceiling hung with vines
and the walls became the world all around
and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Blaine
and he sailed off through night and day
and in and out of weeks and almost over a year
to where the wild things are.

And when he came to the place where the wild things are
they clicked open their terrible lube
and waved their terrible dildos
and snapped their terrible cock-rings
and brandished their terrible butt plugs
until Blaine said “BE STILL!”
and tamed with the magic trick
of trying all their sex toys without coming once.

And they were frightened
and called him the most wild thing of all
and made him king of all wild things.

“And now,” cried Blaine, “let the wild orgy start!”

“Now stop!” Blaine said,
and sent the wild things off to bed
without any orgasms.

And Blaine, the king of all wild things, was lonely
and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.

Then all around from far away across the world
he smelled good things to eat
so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.

But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go —
we’ll eat you up — we love you so!”

And Blaine said, “No!”

The wild things waved their terrible dildos
and snapped their terrible cock-rings
and brandished their terrible butt plugs
but Blaine stepped into his private boat
and waved good-bye
and sailed back over a year
and in and out of weeks
and through a day
and into the night of his very own room
where he found Kurt waiting for him…

And he was still hot.