They had been making out in the back seat of Blaine’s car the first time Kurt had been “caught”. Blaine had had Kurt pushed up against the inside of one of the doors in a rather compromising position, greedily sucking and nipping at his neck while palming him lustfully through his tight jeans. Short, sharp pants of breath had seen a steamy haw form on the windows around them; the heat of the two boys bodies grinding together, conflicting with the freezing January night outside. 

Kurt had had his hands buried in Blaine’s short, dark curls desperately trying to cling on to the edge of his sanity as he thrust up into Blaine’s hand, his nerve endings on fire. “Holy shit Blaine!” he had moaned into Blaine’s ear, his head lolling back against the window, granting Blaine more access to his exposed neck. “You like that?” Blaine breathed pulling back, his voice tight, a sly smirk forming on his swollen lips. Kurt’s eyes had flickered up to meet his and he nodded slowly. He had heard his Tag Heuer watch beep angrily signalling the end of his curfew about 30 minutes ago but hadn’t paid any heed when Blaine had began been mapping his neck and jawline with his heated tongue. 

Kurt had then untangled one of his hands from Blaine’s curls and slid it down his back, slipping it just inside Blaine’s waistband teasingly; eliciting the moan he had been hoping for from his boyfriend. He felt Blaine’s ragged, hot breath on his collarbone as he leaned back into Kurt’s touch. Then, the next thing he knew, he was falling backwards away from Blaine, out of the car door he had just been pushed against and that had been flung open suddenly from the outside. He had landed on the flat of his back onto the cold tarmac, to find himself staring up into the red, angry face of his father, Burt. Before he could say anything, he had been hauled up by the collar of his gun metal grey Marc Jacobs pea coat and promptly marched in the direction of his house with Burt shouting “A week! You’re grounded for a week!” and something about it being a school night.

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The second time Kurt had been “caught” was just a week later when, after being grounded for the week, Kurt had wanted to let loose. It was a Saturday night and Kurt and Blaine had stumbled home drunk in each others arms after another of Rachel’s now infamous house parties. ‘Shhhsing’ and ‘hssshing’ each other through fits of giggles, Kurt had emptied his coat pockets onto his front porch, fallen to his knees and busied himself with trying to find his house keys. Meanwhile, Blaine had giggled and hiccupped to himself while repeatedly switching the porch light on and off, a gesture that had made Kurt’s already hazy tunnel vision worse.

Finally, and with a loud “whoop whoop!”, Kurt had triumphantly held up his house keys above his head and after three attempts at slotting it into the lock the boys had fallen through the front door on top of one another in a crumpled heap. The house was dark and quiet, it’s inhabitants clearly asleep, tucked up in their beds. 

Drunken pangs of hunger had torn the boys two sets of alcohol laced lips apart and into the kitchen where they had proceeded to raid the fridge in search of “midnight munchies”, as Blaine had put it. Kurt had decided that a plate for his ‘Cheesy Puffs’ was much more civilised and with that had attempted to pull one down from the top cupboard before it had slipped through drunk fingers and smashed thunderously onto the kitchen tiles. Both boys had fallen immediately silent, their eyes snapping on the kitchen door as the hall light outside it flickered into life and footsteps could be heard on the upstairs landing. Kurt had scrabbled to cover the broken porcelain pieces with his coat, while Blaine had dived under the kitchen table in a horrifically sorry attempt to hide his after-hours presence in the Hummel household. Kurt had frowned down at his feeble attempt just as Burt wrenched open the kitchen door. His eyes had fallen first upon his only son who was desperately trying to hold himself upright using the marble countertop and then to the crumpled, giggling mess that was his son’s boyfriend under his dining table.

Kurt had been told in no uncertain terms to get up to his room and not even think about exiting other than for school for the next two weeks. Blaine, had had to be driven home all the way across town at that ungodly hour by Burt. A journey Kurt could only have imagined was extremely awkward for both parties especially when his father had returned home with vomit down one shoulder.

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The third time it had happened was during Kurt’s second week of being grounded for the drunken debacle. The grounding had meant that Kurt only got to see Blaine for an hour or two when Blaine was able to come and visit, and even those brief encounters had been supervised study sessions as a further element to Kurt’s punishment. It just so happened to be one of those supervised sessions when the eye on the back of Burt’s head had opened itself wide once again. The boys had sat opposite one another at Kurt’s kitchen table, their books and papers scattered over its surface. Burt was busying himself with an attempt at spaghetti Bolognese by the countertops, his back hunched over in frustration and his attention, for once, averted from the teenagers staring lustfully at each other behind him. 

“I miss you” Blaine had mouthed at Kurt, giving him big puppy dog eyes in the process. “I miss you too” Kurt had mouthed in reply before leaning in close to Blaine. Just inches from Blaine’s face, Kurt had smiled a little secret smile and pulled away from Blaine as quickly as he had leaned in grabbing Blaine’s pen from his hand. Kurt had then leaned back languidly in his chair before slowly raising the pen to his mouth. He had stolen a quick glance in the direction of his father to ensure his attention was still being occupied by chopping onions before he slipped Blaine’s pen into his mouth and sucked down it’s whole length. Across the table Blaine’s breath hitched at the sight, his mouth falling open. Kurt had then skilfully began moving the pen in and out of his mouth again and again, staring deeply into Blaine’s wide eyes and watching him shift uncomfortably in his chair as an obvious erection formed. He had sucked the pen steadily faster and faster, twisting it into his mouth at a relentless pace before pulling off it with a soft ‘pop’ that had dragged a minute moan from Blaine’s throat.

Then, considering the pen between his fingers, Kurt held it up in front of Blaine’s stunned face and began to slowly lick up the entire length of the green enamel casing, his eyes boring seductively into Blaine’s. “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” the sudden outburst came with a swift swipe to the back of Kurt’s head that almost caused him to inhale the object in question. “HOME!” Burt’s red face roared in Blaine’s direction. “YOU. HOME. NOW!”. It had taken Blaine a couple of seconds to regain the use of his legs before he awkwardly pulled his satchel up into his lap to conceal his erection and made his way out with a shuffle. 

An hour later, Kurt had found himself perched on a kitchen stool, eyes to the floor and cheeks burning with embarrassment as Burt illustrated the ‘inappropriateness’ of using inanimate objects as phallic sex items. 

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A steady rhythm of sharp taps against Kurt’s window late that night, pulled Kurt’s nose out of his GQ magazine. Raising from his bed and crossing to the drawn curtains, Kurt glanced out to find Blaine’s uniformed torso bathed in moonlight and throwing pieces of gravel up at his bedroom window. Catching Blaine’s attention, Kurt raised his finger to his lips in a silencing motion, signalling Burt’s presence in the living room directly below Kurt’s. Undoing the button on his blazer and loosening his tie, Blaine began to make the climb up the garden trellis to Kurt’s room. “Holy shit!” Kurt breathed to himself as he unhinged his window and stepped backwards into the centre of his room. A minute later, the subtle scent of Blaine’s aftershave filled the room as he climbed in skilfully through Kurt’s window as if he’d been doing it all his life. Kurt stared in awe as Blaine dusted himself down and then made his way silently to where Kurt stood, his gaze never once leaving Kurt’s. 

No words passing between them, language unnecessary, Blaine took Kurt’s head in his hands and captured his lips in a firm, commanding kiss. Moaning into Blaine’s mouth as he felt the delicious slide of Blaine’s tongue against his bottom lip, Kurt’s whole body relaxed and he threw his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and pushed himself impossibly close to him. Pushing Blaine back against the wall with a soft thud they proceeded to kiss, grind and pant, all tongues, teeth and hands. Putting their foreheads together, they both began undoing each others belts and buttons. Upon reaching the zipper, both boys eyes met, their breathing heavy. As they each carefully slid the zipper down with a dull vibration, Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hips and arrested his mouth once more for a bruising kiss. Steadily, he walked Kurt backwards towards the bed, their lips never parting.

Kurt’s knees hit the bed and he fell backwards onto the sheets, his loosened pants sliding down to his hips in the process. Blaine took hold of the hemline and pulled them down the rest of the way, exposing black, tented Calvin Kleins. Taking Kurt’s thighs in his hands, Blaine began to place delicate kisses along the soft inside skin, caressing, nuzzling and occasionally nipping. Kurt let himself fall back onto the bed, legs apart, allowing Blaine to unravel him. When he closed his eyes the sensation became more intense and he had to try and keep himself still.

With one last kiss placed dangerously close to Kurt’s erection, Blaine crawled slowly up through Kurt’s legs, onto the bed and straddled his waist. At the sight of the undone boy beneath him, he bit his lip and whispered a breathy ‘Hi’ before leaning down and putting his lips to Kurt’s with feather light pressure. Using the opportunity to take control of the kiss, Kurt deepened it accordingly, letting his hands roam up Blaine’s back and to the lapel of his blazer where he started to peel it off his broad shoulders. Sitting back, Blaine shrugged it off entirely and lowered himself back down to steal another quick kiss before going to remove his tie. “No!” Kurt stressed in a whisper, “Leave it on, shirt off”. As instructed and with a curious smile, Blaine was careful to leave his tie in tact as he removed his shirt. “Then I can do this” Kurt breathed as he pulled Blaine back down to him using his tie and encased his lips with his once again. Kurt bucked his hips up against Blaine’s and Blaine responded by grinding down onto him in time with the rhythm of their kiss. They spent what felt like hours kissing and grinding, lost in the sensation of the friction of their hips, lips becoming red and swollen, erections moving together, only two layers of cloth apart.

Gasping for breath, Kurt pulled away from Blaine’s mouth and stilled his hips. “Are we gonna do this?” he panted. Blaine looked back at his flushed face and answered, “Yeah, I think we are” with a smile. “Even with my dad downstairs?” “Even with your dad downstairs.”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!” came Burt’s thunderous voice along with the crash of a glass of warm milk from Kurt’s bedroom door.