I loved it. I was reveling in it. My brain was lost at the moment, lost in his tongue, his lips, his teeth. Lost in his hands, fingertips, the urgent press of his cock on my thigh. I felt deliciously caught between his frantic body, tight with desire, and the solid oak bathroom door, my thin summer t-shirt riding up, his fingers curving me roughly at the base of my spine.

“Blaine,” I breathed, as his fingertips dipped dangerously beneath the waistband of my loose khaki shorts. I felt like my skin was pulled tantalizingly taut, his every touch dusting my skin with heat…and he slipped his hands lower to cup my ass freely for the first time.

He pulled his lips from my throat and groaned.

“Kurt….you are so…”

He ground his cock against mine as he swallowed my moan with an open-mouthed kiss.

“…fucking…”

He sucked my tongue into his mouth.

“…hot.”

And at that his hands, previously occupied with grinding me to him, slid cautiously over my hipbones and stopped to rest tentatively on my already aching cock.

I shivered against Blaine and he pulled his body away from me, his brown eyes searching mine. His fingertips brushed the head of my cock and a needy sound unlike anything I’ve ever made escaped my throat.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

My gorgeous boyfriend, who had not-so-stealthily ushered me from Mercedes’ party, hands already in my pants, ON MY COCK, was asking permission to get. Me. Off.

I would’ve laughed out loud if my chest didn’t feel like it was ten times too small, my breath caught six ways from Sunday, and my cock wasn’t straining to be stroked.

“Blaine,” I whispered, raking my fingers through his curls and tugging his head back, “I think we have already established that I. Am. Yours. Now…please. PLEASE. Finish what you’ve started.”

His eyes danced teasingly and his fingertips ghosted down my length, teasing, torturing. He smirked, leaned forward and traced the outline of my ear hotly with his tongue.

“Why Kurt…”

I groaned as his fingertips traced the crown of my cock, smoothing the precum gathered there, and heightening the sensation of his fingertips that much more. My knees shook and my balls ached with fucking need.

“…are you begging me to touch you?”
I tried my best to control my voice and steel my shoulders. “Blaine Anderson. If you are trying to kill me the first time I let you touch me, you are rapidly succeeding. If you ever want me to let you touch me again, then you will Get. Me. OFF. NOW.”

“Ah,” he chuckled into my ear, “There’s the Kurt I know.”

And at that his right hand slipped rapidly from my shorts, unclasping and unzipping them, left hand freeing my cock and fisting it rapidly.

“This? Is this what you need?” he demanded.

He switched hands, his right picking up the pace, his left reaching low to palm my testicles. He dragged his tongue down my throat, licking and laving at my sensitive skin, spurring my want.

“Yes” I breathed. My body was surrounded, enveloped in his touch, his smell, his taste. His curls tumbled against my cheek, and I moaned into them.

“Blaine…Blaine…JesusFUCK…I can’t…”

He kept his steady pace, leading me expertly toward my orgasm, my hips rutting in time to his strong strokes.

“Kurt, I love touching you. You’re so gorgeous like this.” Blaine gasped as he pulled back to look me full in the face, lips inches from mine, cock throbbing against me. His words went straight to my groin, ratcheting me to the edge.

“Blaine,” I panted against his open lips, “I’m…I’m gonna…”

“…come…” he finished, tongue licking into my mouth.

And I fell over the edge, calling his name against his lips, biting back moans, pulsing out through my cock and flooding out and over Blaine’s hand. He pumped me through it and stilled his hand when things got too sensitive; wiping my length and tucking me back into my shorts, his forehead against mine.

“That,” he murmered, “Was just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” And he kissed me again, soft and sweet.

I lifted my eyes to his and giggled. I couldn’t help it.

“Blaine, you are so lucky you didn’t get anything on my clothes!” I tried to admonish him, failing miserably as my legs were still shaking.

“You liked it,” he growled, nipping my bottom lip. “Besides, we’re in a bathroom. Easy cleanup.”

He went to the sink to do just that and I couldn’t help but notice that he still had…problems.

“Um, Blaine, can I help you with tha-“

There was a hard rap at the bathroom door.

“Kurt! C’mon! I need your help out here! Santana is crying again and she is ruining my buzz!” Mercedes sounded urgent, if a little tipsy. “Plus we can’t find Blaine. Do you know if he has had anything to drink? We don’t want him on the garage roof again!”

I glanced at Blaine, down to his erection, and back to his eyes.

“Owe-sies?” I asked innocently.

The End. Maybe.