"And that's the cafeteria. It does have a sign above it so hopefully you won't miss it but –"

"Rachel."

"– You know you've got my number, I put it on speed dial so just hit 1 and I will come running –"

"Rachel."

"This is so exciting! I wish I was in your first class, could you imagine? You could chose me for all your demonstrations, of course I know how to play the quintessential dramatic female protagonist of any contemporary novel, and –"

"Rachel Berry!"

"Was that your attempt at a teacher voice? Oh Blaine you sounded so adorable, this is going to work out so well!"

Blaine sighed and tuned her out, barely noticing the strong grip of her tiny hands around his elbow as she steered him fiercely down the hall, stopping outside a classroom to straighten his tie and push back a wayward curl from his forehead.

"You look perfect. Well of course you do, I chose the tie. It's a classic, it just screams friendly-and-approachable while still remaining stern-and-superior."

"Rach this tie has butterflies on it."

"I know," she sighed, rubbing her fingers across the silk with a dreamy expression, "I borrowed it from Dad's closet. It's from that cruise they went on, the one where they met Gloria Gaynor? You know she complemented it –"

"I know Rachel, I've heard the story as many times as you have."

"– So what better accessory to wear on your first day of your first real job than one blessed by the queen of disco?"

"I can think of a few."

"Oh hush," she snapped, pinching his cheek and reaching on tiptoes to kiss his jaw. Her hand lingered on his face for a moment.

"You know I'm really proud of you, right?"

Blaine smiled, taking her hand in his.

"I'm seven years older than you, I'm the one who should be proud of you."

"Oh you will be, big brother. And by that time I won't have time to be proud of you, I'll be too busy being proud of myself, so –"

"Charming."

She rolled her eyes as the bell screamed through the halls, and bounced on the balls of her feet with a bright smile.

"Break a leg!"

And she was gone, weaving between the sudden crowds of students until even the garish shades of her somewhat hideous sweater had faded and Blaine found himself desperately missing her.

Maybe coming back to Lima after college wasn't everybody's dream plan, and Blaine was fully aware that it hadn't been his first choice. But practicality won over dreams in the end, and it was so much easier to return and live with his Dads and sister for a few years, working at McKinley High until he could afford his own flat.

And McKinley really wasn't that bad.

Sure he wasn't giving thought provoking lectures on the homoeroticism of British Victorian literature to hundreds of college students like he wanted to do, but he would get there eventually, and Blaine was perfectly happy to move slowly.

And it was quite nice to be back at home after so long away, and Rachel might have been his worst enemy growing up, but now she was seventeen and had marginally matured it was comforting to be around her so much.

Blaine settled behind his shiny new desk, still deep in thought as the student filled the room, boisterous and noisy and he smiled, letting them finish their conversations before he stood and called for silence.

"My name is Blaine Anderson, and I'm going to be your new AP English teacher this year –"

And then he tailed off, because at the sound of his name one face among the many had snapped up to meet his eyes, lips quirking with a strange amusement.

Blaine stuttered to a halt, glancing down at the list of names in his hand until it settled on one.

Kurt Hummel.

Oh.

Blaine remember Kurt Hummel the way you remembered a song, unheard for years but the lyrics still somewhere in your mind, flowing to the front naturally with little encouragement and suddenly it was stuck in your head all day.

The Anderson-Berries had grown up next door to the Hummels, and Blaine could remember the first day they met, the first day Rachel had caught sight of the tiny boy in the bow tie playing tea parties on his front lawn and ran to join him. He could remember the spike of jealousy as she'd stopped trailing him around and started linking arms with Kurt instead, and how suddenly Blaine wasn't the cool older brother, he was the annoying grumpy older brother she would shut out of his room when Kurt stayed over and roll her eyes at.

In fact, when Blaine thought about it, Kurt was probably the main reason him and Rachel had grown apart during their teenage years.

The class was still staring and Blaine felt himself blush, tearing his eyes away from Kurt's face and frantically trying to remember what his lesson plan had been.

"If you…um…turn to chapters two and three, read them silently and then consider the use of imagery used, and how it represents what Fitzgerald is actually trying to communicate to the reader," he stumbled, sitting back down and rubbing a hand through his hair, dislodging the almost neatness of his curls.

There was some mumbling, the shifting of pages and squeaking of chairs but eventually they were silent aside from the occasional rustle of a turning page.

Blaine chanced a glance upwards.

Kurt was staring hard at his book, his pen dipping absently between his lips to catch and twirl between his teeth. He blinked once and looked up, catching Blaine's eyes and holding them for a moment before he grinned and ducked his head back down.

Blaine could remember that last time he'd seen Kurt, a glimpse caught through a crack in Rachel's door a few months ago but it had seemed inconsequential at the time. The memories filtering through Blaine's mind with Kurt a constant figure in the background of his childhood hadn't prepared him for the harsh reality of having the boy sitting a few rows away from him.

Because Blaine had never considered the fact that Kurt Hummel was mind-numbingly gorgeous.

The rest of the double period passed without incident, and Blaine learned to stare hard at the wall over Kurt's head, or to let his eyes flick easily over the impassive faces as he spoke, rather than let his eyes fix on Kurt's.

He stared at the desk as they drifted from the room after the bell, piling papers and straightening his pens, taking off his glasses to rub them against his cardigan and he was sure he was free when –

"Hey Blaine," Kurt said, his voice lilting and bright as he leaned against the front of the desk, "Or is it Mr Anderson, now?"

Blaine choked a laugh, forcing the glasses back onto his face and taking the assignment Kurt handed him, trying to ignore the quick brush of fingers beneath the paper.

"It's Mr Anderson in the classroom I'm afraid," he said, shuffling Kurt's work to the top of the pile and Kurt laughed.

Was he flirting with him?

Blaine scoffed internally; of course he wasn't. This was normal for them.

He'd seen Kurt when he'd just woken up, sleepy and rumpled from a late night with Rachel; he'd seen him laughing across the dinner table, taking the plates offered to him and asking Blaine to past the salt. He'd seen him dance with Rachel at birthday parties and seen her cry onto his shoulder, seen him sprawled across their family couch watching musicals and heard him and Rachel belt out show tunes until their throats were hoarse.

So why was this suddenly any different?

"I'll see you later," Kurt said, jerking Blaine from his train of thought.

"Yeah, yeah of course. Bye, Kurt."

Kurt paused with his hand on the doorframe and turned back over his shoulder.

"Bye, Mr Anderson."

This was different because there was a desk and a title between them.

This was different because suddenly Kurt was seventeen and Blaine was twenty-four and in a position of power and authority, and Kurt was young and beautiful.

He was untouchable.

Much to Blaine's chagrin, as the weeks progressed, Kurt proved to be nothing more than a perfect student.

He wasn't sure why there was a spark of annoyance every time Kurt's work came up full marks, every time he handed in a well thought out and beautifully crafted paper that Blaine had to reread three times to make sure he wasn't imagining it.

Maybe because his brain refused to believe that Kurt was that attractive and that good at English, and Blaine was still living in denial that he'd managed to develop a ridiculous school-boy crush on the one person he couldn't have, leaving him searching the boy for any flaws he could think of to help him get over it.

It seemed impossible, however, to find a flaw in Kurt Hummel.

He was punctual, if not early to classes, folding his legs and following every word Blaine spoke with unashamed interested across his face. He was sarcastic and clever, biting quick-witted comebacks at the football players who took up the last row of seats, leaving them confused and shrugging at each other in response.

He was still Rachel's best friend, and Blaine would see them walking with linked arms through the halls, flinching when Rachel caught his eye and would bounce up and tweak his bowtie or fuss with his shirt collar like a mother, while Kurt stood back barely hiding his laughter as he watched them.

Blaine found himself phasing out during classes, watching the twirling spin of Kurt's pen between his fingers, the way his lips pursed pink and perfect around the end, the way his tongue would dart out to wet his lips as he wrote, flashing a damp glistening trail until his mouth was shining and Blaine could feel his shirt sticking to his neck with sweat.

And it was like Kurt knew, like he could sense that he was toeing the wrong side of professionalism when he argued against Blaine's every point, insisting he was wrong and spilling a verbose tirade of his own critical opinion that left both Blaine and the rest of the class silent with shock, before he settled back into his seat with a shrug and "well that's just my opinion, anyway."

Because there was a flash and gleam in his eyes every time he opened his mouth to speak, every time Blaine called on him for an answer and every time he saw the 100% well done, scrawled messily at the top of his work in Blaine's untidy red pen.

He was almost seductive in his smug expression, with his pen in his mouth and the shrug that said, "well I know I'm good, but thank you for telling me."

Blaine was going mad.

He'd never wanted someone so badly, and there had been countless men over the years of college and parties and school, boys he could barely remember when he saw Kurt's eyes.

Because Kurt was unbelievable, and he was proud and ridiculous and Blaine wanted to clamp his hand over his mouth and tell him to shut up. He wanted to pin him against the chalkboard so hard the only noises Kurt could make were muffled groans of his name. He wanted to –

"Mr Anderson?"

"Kurt!"

Kurt gave him a strange look, "Yes. Um…I wanted to ask why you don't think I deserved full marks for my work on the American Dream. I thought it more than covered the topic, and deserved well over 87%"

Blaine stood and moved to the front of the desk, and Kurt looked nervous, playing with the strap of his bag and not looking up at Blaine as he spoke. The rest of the class had vanished, shouting their way to the lunchroom as the bell sounded and the door banged shut, and suddenly they were unequivocally alone.

"Ah, yes," Blaine looked down at the work in question and rubbed a hand over his eyes because he honestly didn't know why he hadn't given Kurt full marks. Because he was tired and unprofessional and it was a childish form of retribution.

"My mark is final Kurt. That's why I'm the teacher."

"I thought maybe you were punishing me," Kurt said quickly, and he was blushing as he met Blaine's eyes and suddenly the confidence of the boy he'd seen over the last few months had vanished, and he was nothing more than a student who wanted to do well and Blaine felt terrible.

"Why would I want to…to punish you?"

Blaine hoped Kurt didn't hear the crack in his voice and his mind was screaming at him. Had he been imagining it this entire time? Had his addled brain conjured up some kind of sexual deviant in its frustration, projecting the image onto his student? His sister's best friend who saw Blaine as a teacher, nothing more and nothing less?

"I thought maybe…maybe because you wanted to?"

Blaine had no idea where this conversation was going, but his fingers were digging groves into the edge of his table and Kurt was still playing with the strap of his bag.

"Kurt, I –"

And then Kurt was kissing him, his bag abandoned somewhere on the floor as he forced himself between Blaine's legs and crashed their lips together with such ferocity that Blaine fell forwards, thighs clenching around Kurt's hips automatically as Kurt's fingers wound deep into his hair.

He was frozen, stiff was shock but Kurt continued undeterred. He twisted his head, knocking Blaine's glasses and pushing his tongue past his lips, licking up and under Blaine's teeth.

Blaine grasped his back, fingers scrabbling around Kurt's shoulder blades and suddenly he was kissing back, a groan rumbling through his chest as Kurt's mouth opened wider and panted wetly against his.

Blaine's head was spinning, he was short of breath and Kurt was pulling closer with gentle tugs to his hair, until their chests were flush together and he was turning his head to switch angles until Blaine was dizzy and Kurt tasted like peppermint and strawberries, and Blaine's tongue was licking across Kurt's own as he tried to fuse the taste into his memory.

"Blaine," Kurt groaned, pulling away to breathe over Blaine's wet lips and his eyes were shut and cheeks stained red.

"Kurt."

Blaine's hands closed around his shoulders, pushing him away until he couldn't feel his body aside from the heat burning up through his palms.

Kurt strained forwards against him, pulling Blaine's face closer in wild desperation and dropping kisses to his lips over and over.

"Kurt, no."

"Fuck, Blaine please."

"Kurt –"

"It can't just be me," he gasped breathlessly, eyes opening and huge as he peppered kissed over Blaine's cheeks, "Fuck, you have to feel this too."

"Kurt," Blaine tried again, but Kurt was smiling against his lips and laughing, and all other thoughts had flown from his mind.

"I like it when you say my name," Kurt whispered, his mouth sliding up over the angle of Blaine's jaw to move over his ear, "Fuck, I'd want to hear you scream it."

Blaine whimpered, his hands gripping at Kurt's hips to yank him in closer and kissing him desperately, messy and reckless and hooking him closer, one foot digging into the back of Kurt's thigh, leg hitching up around his waist as Kurt forced him backwards against the desk.

"Kurt, I'm your teacher," he managed to gasp out as Kurt pulled back for breath.

"You're also Rachel's brother," Kurt said with a faint smile, rubbing his thumb over Blaine's cheekbone with a laugh.

Blaine groaned, head falling against Kurt's neck and shivering as his fingers skimmed over the back of Blaine's scalp, carding through his loose hair.

"I don't know which is worse," he muttered, muffled into Kurt's shirt.

"Would you rather face the wrath of the school board or the wrath of Rachel Berry?" Kurt teased and Blaine shuddered against him, revelling in the warm press of his body.

"Neither," Blaine sighed.

"But you want to."

"I want you," he said and Kurt trembled slightly beneath his fingers, exhaling hard into Blaine's hair, "But –"

"I can make you forget, you know," Kurt said, pulling back and scooping up his bag, "Just give me a chance."

And then he was gone and Blaine was blinking in shock, suddenly aware of how hard he was in the tight confines of his pants, rubbing a palm over himself and biting back a moan.

"I can make you forget."

Somehow Blaine didn't doubt it, and the thought sent a hard jolt through him.

Blaine had fallen asleep as soon as he arrived home, ignoring Rachel and crashing straight onto his bed to deflect from the hot tingle that had remained on his skin for the rest of the day after Kurt had left him.

He reached one hand down sleepily, somewhere between waking and dreaming and rubbed lazy fingers over his erection.

"I can make you forget"

"I thought you wanted to punish me"

"Blaine"

"I like it when you say my name"

"You have to feel this too"

"I'd like to hear you scream it"

"Blaine!"

His eyes snapped open, jerking upright with one hand still cupped lazily around his cock and Rachel pounding on his bedroom door.

Blaine flushed scarlet, pulling his hand from his pants like a guilty teenager and wiped at his sweaty face with his shirt sleeve.

"Yeah?"

He hoped she couldn't hear the rough crack to his voice.

"Dinner is ready!"

"Oh...okay. Coming," he shouted back, flinching at his own words and staring dismally at the unbidden erection straining at his pants, seemingly unwilling to go away.

Not when Kurt was on his brain.

Blaine sighed and pulled his shirt from his belt, letting it hang loose and crinkled over his pants because that was better than nothing. His tie was wrenched off and abandoned on the bed, sleeves pushed up as he splashed cool water over his face and hair, fading the blush back to normal and pushing his glasses back on.

He made it downstairs feeling almost human again, barely registering the buzz of voices behind the door as he yawned his way into the kitchen and stopped dead.

Because Kurt was sitting at their family table, opposite Blaine's empty chair and taking the salad bowl offered to him with a smile. His eyes flickered vaguely over Blaine as he entered, raking up his dishevelled form with a hint of amusement on his lips, before he turned back to the greenery.

"Um…"

"You remember Kurt, right Blaine?" Rachel said, sipping her water and gesturing towards him, "We were studying."

Blaine pulled out his chair and frowned in confusion, meeting Kurt's eyes for a second before he picked up the food.

Rachel was introducing them, which meant Kurt hadn't mentioned that he was in Blaine's class. And neither had Blaine.

Kurt seemed to be thinking the same thing, raising an eyebrow as he speared a carrot.

"Hi," he said, biting into it with a sharp crunch.

Blaine smiled and spooned himself some potatoes, turning to his dad to ask a question as Rachel nudged Kurt's arm and drew him back into conversation.

It started subtle and Blaine barely noticed, but then there were toes pressing against his under the table, trailing lightly over the top of his foot and sliding underneath to press against the ball.

Blaine gulped, clutching his glass and swallowing a mouthful of water, ignoring Kurt's face the way Kurt was ignoring him.

But it didn't stop, and Kurt's foot moved higher, sliding up the back of Blaine's leg oh so softly, rubbing against his calf in a delicate movement, up to move over his knee.

Kurt's toes brushed Blaine's inner thigh and he slammed the glass back down so hard that water sloshed over the rim and splashed against his fingers.

Rachel gave him a strange look.

"Nothing. Tired," he mumbled, shooting a glare towards where Kurt was steadfastly ignoring him.

His toes set into a gentle, kneading rhythm, moving further up his thigh to brush back down and how long were Kurt's legs, Blaine didn't even want to know because they seemed to stretch unbridled for miles.

The ball of his foot knocked against Blaine's erection, toes curling up his length and Blaine's breath caught in his chest, unable to hold back the soft moan that slipped from his lips.

Kurt bit his lip.

"Um…it's really good…fake chicken," Blaine said, gesticulating wildly towards the vegan-friendly meat substitute on his plate, giving one of his dad's the thumbs up with one hand and catching Kurt's foot beneath the tablecloth with the other.

Kurt's gaze snapped towards his, panic fleeting across his face and Blaine grinned wickedly, pressing his thumb hard into the ball of Kurt's socked foot.

Kurt swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing frantically in his throat as pink spots flashed across his cheeks.

Blaine chewed his carrots nonchalantly, spearing vegetables with one hand while the other worked slowly over Kurt's foot.

He rubbed his fingers up, threading through his toes and back down to cup his heel. He moved slowly, methodically upwards, caressing across his ankle and brushing his palm flat against Kurt's leg hair until he felt his leg twitch. He massaged across his calf, sliding his hand higher as he shifted his chair closer to the table until he could hook his thumbs under Kurt's knee and press.

Kurt's toes curled into his thigh, his face reddening and Blaine could see sweat beading under his collar. He'd given up all pretence of eating and was staring dumbly at Rachel's face, gripping his fork until his knuckles turned white.

And then Blaine slid his hands back down, dropping Kurt's foot to the floor and standing.

"That was awesome, but I've got tons of work to do. So I'll be in my room."

He left without a second glance, feeling Kurt's glare burning off the back of his head and trying not to laugh.

"That was not teacherly or best-friends-brotherly behaviour," Kurt hissed as Blaine opened his door an hour later

"Rachel?"

"Thinks I'm in the bathroom."

"Right."

"You can't tell me no and then go and do that," Kurt snapped, his eyes blazing with anger as he prodded Blaine hard in the chest.

Blaine shrugged, "You started it."

"Oh and I'm the child out of the pair of us."

Blaine rolled his eyes and tugged Kurt inside his door, clicking it closed and backing Kurt against the wood. He was seven years older and three inches taller, and Kurt looked up and gulped, his eyes darkening slightly.

"Kurt, I want you so badly," he said, not even slightly embarrassed by the desperate whine that broke through his voice, and Kurt's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into Blaine's body with a hitching breath, "Fuck, you have no idea."

"I think I do," Kurt whispered.

"But –"

"I know."

"I can't."

"I know."

They hovered for a moment, two bodies pressed together against the wall; Blaine's palms flat on the plaster either side of Kurt's head.

"I have a plan," Kurt said suddenly, with a Mona Lisa smile that sent a thrill down Blaine's spine, "I bet I can make you forget all your morals."

"You have that effect anyway," Blaine groaned, pressing their foreheads together.

Kurt laughed.

"Clearly I'm not being effective enough. But I will be."

He ducked under Blaine arms and pulled the door open, winking once over his shoulder and turning back down towards Rachel's room, leaving Blaine with a very, very bad feeling about this.

But three days later and there was nothing, and Kurt hadn't changed in the slightest. He was still smart in class, still answering questions and laughing.

His eyes still darkened when Blaine looked his way, and maybe he was crossing and uncrossing his legs more than usual, holding Blaine's gaze for longer as he sucked the end of his pen into his mouth.

But Blaine was so turned on by this point that it barely fazed him, and he was writhing damp and sweaty in his sheets every night, seeing Kurt's eyes imprinted onto his own lids every time he tried to sleep.

He was so far gone that a few flirty looks across the busy classroom barely had any effect.

"What are you so happy about?" he muttered after class one day, as Kurt handed in his work with a bright smile.

"Why, Mr Anderson, it's football season," he said and left it at that, walking away with a sway in his step and leaving Blaine even more bewildered, because he didn't want to play into gender-normative stereotypical roles but Kurt just didn't seem like the sort who was interested in football.

Blaine settled on the bleachers between his colleagues, chancing a glance over his shoulder but couldn't spot Kurt in the crowds beside Rachel, who waved brightly.

He frowned again.

And why on earth was Sue Sylvester looking so uncharacteristically happy with herself?

Blaine barely had time to wonder before the lights in the gymnasium dropped to pitch black, and a heavy metallic beat reverberated through the ground.

"Before we watch the game, let's give it up for the McKinley High Cheerios!"

And then Blaine's throat was dry, because Kurt was strutting fast down the centre of the floor, a bright spotlight highlighting him as he moved in time to the music.

And he was dressed as a cheerleader.

His body was wrapped in the tight red and white polyester, legs and chest smothered in the tight fabric that flexed as he moved, clinging tight to his ass as he spun and froze.

And then he started to sing, and this was nothing like Blaine had heard during those late nights when he sung with Rachel. This wasn't Barbra or Patti, or Broadway.

This was a voice too low and too rough, a deep growl that rose from Kurt's chest and spread through the mike to echo around the gym and pulse right through Blaine's body.

Turn it up, heat it up, I need to be entertained

There were cheerleaders dancing behind him but Blaine couldn't look away from Kurt, as he twisted his body to the music. He dropped to the floor, spreading his legs along the ground, letting himself be hoisted up by two girls.

Give it to ya, 'til you're screaming my name

Kurt rolled his body against Brittany's as he sang, their legs sliding together and chests pressed in a move almost indecent.

Blaine could see him sweating, see the strain in his biceps as he lifted girls and spun them, see the flex of his thighs as he ground and walked and twisted, rolling his hips and raking his hands down his own chest.

I'm here for your entertainment

Blaine was frozen stiff, crammed between teachers and pitched in darkness as he watched Kurt slide and shake and growl out something filthy. He couldn't move, could barely even think anything that wasn't Kurt, that didn't scream Kurt, and Kurt was under his skin and pounding with every beat of his heart.

Take the pain, take the pleasure I'm the master of both

Blaine wanted to close his eyes and look away, but he couldn't. He wanted to scratch until the itch under his skin was gone, he wanted to jerk off until he came so hard he passed out.

He was aching and hard, his cock throbbing and heavy between his legs and his shirt was sticking to his back, his tie suddenly too close around his neck.

I'm about to turn up the heat, I'm here for your entertainment.

Kurt stopped, head thrown back and a girl's arm around his waist, his chest heaving and panting into the air and Blaine could see one drop of sweat slide below his collar.

The crowds were on their feet screaming, applauding and somewhere in the raucousness Blaine pushed himself to his feet and marched from the room.

His head was buzzing and his fists clenched, his skin burning all over and he made it to his classroom automatically, leaning against the desk and gripping the edges until his hands screamed.

He heard the door close, and knew Kurt was behind him.

Blaine turned in a whirl, seizing the boy and slamming him against the desk so hard it wobbled, sending piles of papers swirling to the floor.

Kurt choked, clutching the sides as Blaine pressed his cheek to the surface, fingers twisting into Kurt's hair.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed, hooking himself along Kurt's back and leaning in to bite hard beneath his ear. He pressed his staining cock against Kurt's ass and he moaned, grinding backwards against it.

"Exactly…exactly what I promised I would," Kurt gasped out, his voice cracking as Blaine pulled him backwards, forcing him upright and tugging his head back harder to bare his throat.

"You did this on purpose," Blaine said, his voice low and hoarse as he moved his mouth over Kurt's neck, "You wanted to push me."

"Yes," Kurt whispered, trembling under his mouth, one hand flying up to clutch Blaine's head closer against his skin.

"You wanted to drive me crazy."

"Yes."

"You wanted to push me to the limit."

Kurt let out a half sob, pressing Blaine's face to his neck as Blaine dug his teeth into the soft skin, sucking hard as Kurt writhed backwards.

"Fuck, yes I just wanted you. I want this, I need this."

Blaine's hand slipped down his back, pressing against the base of his spine where the shirt rode up and Kurt's skin was damp and warm from the dancing. He pushed it lower, beneath the tight waistband of the pants to squeeze the hot swell of Kurt's ass, letting his nails scratch down to the crease of his thigh.

"Blaine."

"That's not what you call me in the classroom, Kurt," Blaine said, mouthing over the bitten red marks of his neck and squeezing his ass harder.

Kurt cried out, turning his head to press his mouth to Blaine's ear, his tongue darting over the lobe as he breathed hotly over his skin.

"Mr Anderson."

Blaine groaned, his grip on Kurt faltering as his hands shook.

"You did a very bad thing, Kurt."

"Are you…" Blaine could feel Kurt's breath hitching with every word, "Are you going to…to punish me?"

He growled, forcing Kurt's pants down to his thighs with one hand and pushing him forward with a palm between his shoulder blades until he was bent fully over Blaine's desk, head pressed to the side and body heaving with heavy breaths.

Blaine stood back for a moment, tugging off his cardigan and tie and glasses, dropping them to the ground and swallowing hard at Kurt's ass, round and pale and perfect, raised and curved over the edge of his desk, with five red lines scraping down across it from his fingernails.

Blaine brushed his hand down the skin softly, watching Kurt tremble under the touch, his breath quickening with frenzied anticipation.

Then he bought his palm down hard, the smack echoing through the room and Kurt's responsive cry shooting straight to Blaine's cock.

He bought his hand down again, and again, until the skin was pink and raw, and Kurt was whimpering with his face against the wood, pushing his ass backwards as Blaine stooped to kiss where his hand had fallen.

"Please," Kurt was begging, and his eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks red and hair stuck to his face with sweat, "Fuck, Blaine please."

Blaine hummed, pushing up his shirt and moving his mouth up as he kissing along every ridge of Kurt's spine until he arched upwards like a cat, curving his body into Blaine's.

He pulled at Kurt's shoulders, rolling him over and hitching him higher up the desk until he was flat on his back, Blaine straddling his thighs and hands either side of his head.

Kurt's face was wrecked, his eyes heavy lidded and lips and cheeks stained with a deep flush, and he stared up at Blaine for a long moment before tugging his head down and kissing him hard.

And then Blaine's mind sparked, and he was grappling with Kurt's shirt, ripping it up and over his head and dropping back to his lips as Kurt's hands fumbled with his buttons, tearing down the fabric in desperation and showering buttons across the floor, throwing the ruined cloth after them and dragging their chests to slide together.

Kurt's skin was hot and smooth, his hipbones digging sharply into Blaine's stomach as his arms wrapped tight around his neck, rocking up into him as their mouths moved messily together.

Blaine ground down, matching Kurt's every thrust, his thighs pressing between Blaine's to rub upwards against his cock until he was moaning and rutting harder, and Kurt was hooking a leg up to hitch over Blaine's waist and rock against his leg.

But it wasn't enough, and Blaine could feel the slow build burning in the base of his stomach and fuck he didn't want it to end like this, not when the rest of the school was confined to the gym and he had the opportunity to make Kurt scream.

He pulled off, undoing his own pants with scrambling fingers as Kurt pulled off his own, leaning down into the bottom drawer of his desk to find the tiny bottle of lube he'd hidden there.

Blaine knew Kurt would roll his eyes usually, would mock him for being presumptuous in any other situation, but he was flat on his back with his chest heaving, the head of his cock bobbing against his stomach, trailing precome over his skin and he barely seemed to noticed Blaine douse his fingers roughly with the cold liquid.

His hips jerked up as Blaine's hand closed around his cock though, eyes flying open with a gasp as Blaine worked him slowly.

He straddled Kurt's thighs again, sliding one hand behind his cock to push two fingers deep inside himself. It was rough and it burned, but Blaine pressed on, pumping two fingers in time with the hand moving over Kurt, fucking himself hard against his own hand.

"Blaine," Kurt croaked, as Blaine stopped and shifted forwards, the head of Kurt's cock pressing against where he was open and slippery. Blaine paused and nodded as Kurt scrabbled for his hand, linking their fingers tightly as Blaine rocked down, filling himself with one swift movement.

Kurt arched upwards with a cry, hips frozen as he buried himself deep within Blaine's body, and Blaine threw his head back with a gasp, one hand in his hair as the other clutched onto Kurt's.

He paused for a moment, adjusting before he lifted himself up and dropped back down.

Kurt was panting his name, his fingers grabbing uselessly at Blaine's skin before they settled on his hip, gripping him tightly as Blaine rose and fell on his lap, riding Kurt's cock at a frenzied, quickening pace.

His thighs were screaming but he moved faster, Kurt thrusting up to meet him as Blaine rolled his hips, his cock bouncing against his stomach with every movement.

His hands skimmed Blaine's shoulders, pulling him down until his face pressed into Kurt's neck and he was kissing and breathing the skin there, rocking in his lap and kissing his mouth and cheeks, forehead and nose and crying his name over and over.

Kurt's hand closed over Blaine's cock and he gave a desperate shout, fisting him tightly and working his hand in time to his thrusts until Blaine was burning and too hot, shivering and sweating as he rode Kurt harder.

Kurt was breathing hard into his hair, gasping his name and swearing, making tiny broken noises of encouragement and "come on Blaine, fuck, harder…oh, just like that, fuck, come on, come for me,"

And Blaine couldn't hold back any longer and he came hard, harder than ever before and pulled back to see it streak up Kurt's chest, splashing over his collarbone and jaw as he jerked Blaine through it until he was shaking.

Blaine rocked backwards, settling against Kurt's thighs with his cock still deep inside him and every movement burned in the best way, his oversensitive cock twitching with every shift of Kurt inside him. Kurt moaned, his hands sliding up Blaine's thighs, rubbing his palms over the skin.

Blaine rolled his hips, slowly, gasping at each twinge of pleasure that sparked too much over his skin, but Kurt was still pleading and begging underneath him, clawing at Blaine's skin and whimpering his name over and over.

He moved slower, riding against the burn and the jolts of too much too soon, and Kurt was building and burning beneath him, his head and back arched until he was up on his elbows, eyes shut tight and each breath a whine.

And Blaine leaned down to kiss him, softly and just once as he came with a drawn out cry, one arm seizing behind Blaine's back to hold them together as his mouth stretched wide and shouting against Blaine's own.

Kurt didn't let him go, and Blaine carried on kissing him as he panted, trembling bonelessly in Blaine's arms.

His lips trailed over Kurt's mouth, dipping between them slightly to drop down to his throat. He kissed across the red marks he'd left there, licking at drips of his own come that slid downwards.

"Fuck," Kurt said eventually, falling backwards against the desk and rubbing his hands over his face.

"Astute observation," Blaine said, pulling off him with a gasp of discomfort and letting his body fall over Kurt's in exhaustion, "I don't know if I have the energy to do that every time you wear that uniform, you know."

Kurt laughed breathlessly, fingers playing with Blaine's hair.

"I wonder if this is a good time to tell you that the Cheerio's have a tournament next week."