”I’m climbing uphill daddy, climbing uphill…”

It honestly was not Blaine’s fault that he was so bored. All he wanted to do was try his hand at producing. Seeing as he already had multiple Tony’s under his belt within the areas of acting, composing, choreographing and costume design, he’d figured Producing a Show could be the next thing to check off his Broadway Bucket List. How was he to know that his perfectionism would cause him to fire (and verbally abuse to everyone he knew) three different casting directors before they had a chance to make a decision on even one character, finally causing him to just assume the post himself in his anger.

Why the hell did he even have a Broadway Bucket List anyway? It’s not like he was planning on leaving Broadway until they kicked him out or, more likely he thought, he died. This was easily the stupidest idea he’d ever had and now, because of his lapse in judgment, he was stuck here, watching “two hundred girls who have already been to the gym” attempt to worm their way into the role of his Cathy. How ironic.

On the (very, very small) bright side, in an hour this particular brand of torture would cease and auditions for Jamie would commence. Hopefully there he would at least have some eye candy. In the meantime Blaine would just have to suck it up.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

Two hours later, Blaine was no closer to his perfect cast than before. He was, however, about four latte’s closer to a heart condition. They were really all that was keeping him going.

It was only eleven o’clock.

As if hearing his thoughts as she always seemed to, his better half and one time beard, the lovely and illustrious Rachel Barbra Berry, flashed him a look. Latte’s are bad for your vocal health, it said. I’m not in a show right now, he answered her with a raise of his eyebrows. That’s no excuse for abusing your most prized possessions, she countered with a narrowing of her eyes. Fine, I’ll make it a chai tea, you want anything? His assent was achieved by a pout and answered by a smug smile and a small shake of the head as his oldest friend turned back to the latest man subjecting them to his rendition of I Could Never Rescue You.

“Yes, thank you, that’s enough, callbacks will be posted… Soon. Good bye.”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

Freedom smelled like caramel macchiato. As Blaine slipped into his favorite coffee shop down the block from his theater, he was briefly seduced by the idea of buying his normal caffeine and downing it before Rachel had time to use her spidey-senses to stop him. But alas, knowing her she would smell the beans on his breath from the seat next to him and decide if he wasn’t going to listen to her he was better off casting all by himself. The woman was relentless when it came to his vocal health, mostly because she harbored a not so secret dream of them starring in something side-by-side one day. Her leading men were never allowed anything that would jeopardize her show.

Lost in his thoughts, Blaine did not immediately see the boy staring at him. Too be fair, people stared at him a lot, especially when he was in New York.

This boy was not just anyone however, as the great Blaine Anderson realized quite quickly when he did notice him. This boy was something special. It must be the casting director instinct kicking in at last because Blaine just knew this boy had talent. What kind of talent though, remained to be seen.

Pale as porcelain skin. Average height. Flawless hair. Impeccable taste in clothes.

Grabbing his tea (with non-fat, vocal chord coating milk, take that Berry) from the barista and flashing her a grateful smile, he turned from the counter and assessed his options. One: He could walk right up to the boy and ask if he wanted to have sex. No, no, even for him that was a little much in the middle of a coffee shop. Two: He could meet the boy’s eyes, paste a patented Anderson smirk on his face and walk slowly across the room. The propositioning could come later. Why was he even thinking about this anyway? It’d been a long time since either option had failed to work.

It didn’t matter anyway. When he finally got the nerve up to look up, it was to find himself face to face with the boy.

Damn.

Anything he might normally have said in this situation was lost with any semblance of coherence as eyes that were a sort of indefinable piercing blue met his. The mouth beneath them fell in to a smirk he recognized. That was actually an Anderson smirk being used on him, but he could not find it in him to care as the mouth opened to let out a voice if possible more angelic than his own.

“You’re Blaine Anderson.” It was not a question. The voice spoke in a slow, sensual drawl. Time seemed to slow down with it. “I’m Kurt Hummel.”

A hand was stuck into the chasm between them, the gesture so discordant with the fantasies playing in his head that it sparked a light in Blaine’s head. Yes, he was Blaine Anderson, Actor/Composer/choreographer/costume designer/casting director extraordinaire. He was head bitch on Broadway. He was NOT undone by six words on a stranger’s tongue.

Resisting the urge to shake his head to clear it, he grasped the proffered hand and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. As it turned out, his words weren’t needed.

With a tug indicative of a strength unsuspected in a boy so delicate looking Blaine found himself pressed up against a muscled chest, his hand still trapped, and that voice lilting in his ear.

“It’s always been a dream of mine to do a project with you. I’d do just about anything to be your Jamie…”

This of all things shook Blaine out of his daze. As a rule, he had vowed a long time ago that the casting couch would never play a part in his career. But… technically this wasn’t his career. And when it was offered in that voice… how could he refuse?

Throwing caution, and his inner Rachel Berry, to the wind, he let a slow smile cross his face before turning and whispering in a pale ear,

“Anything?”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

The afternoon passed and in a blink of his eye he was kissing Rachel on both cheeks, thanking her for her help keeping him sane (and relatively vocally healthy) through the whole day, and telling her to go home to her husband already, because god knows Finn did not need to be alone in their penthouse for longer than strictly necessary. Shutting off the lights and closing the door behind her he hurried to the back of the theater where his office, with its separate alleyway entrance, waited.

When he opened the door, it was to a dark room. But as he reached for the light, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist.

“I’m ready for my close up, Mr. Anderson.” That voice again. He was prepared for it this time. Stepping further into the room, he simultaneously found the waist that belonged to that voice and wrapped one arm around it, pulling the muscled chest flush against his.

“In order for that to happen, Mr. Hummel, I need to be able to see you.” With his free hand he reached behind him and flipped the untended light switch. Striking blue eyes opened wide and Blaine felt hands grip his face and lips crash into his. Yes, those lips were exactly as soft as they looked. Taking control of the situation, he nipped experimentally at the lip of his beautiful counterpart and they parted obligingly, a shy tongue coming out to slide against Blaine’s upper teeth.

A small moan slipped into the quiet air between them and they both froze for the space of several heartbeats. Then, as if the moan had broken any tension, had cast out any doubts or misgiving’s either of the two men had had, there was suddenly a frantic scramble to shed as many clothes as possible while simultaneously tripping towards the small couch at the back of the room.

Nimble finger’s unbuttoned Blaine’s shirt and he rushed to return the favor as hands wandered to undo his belt and unzip his jeans and and and dear god why the hell had he decided to put on this many clothes this morning because shit that felt so good and to think that could have happened threepointsevenseconds faster oh my god. The hand pulled out of his underwear and he almost growled at the loss of contact before feeling those hands grip his shoulders and force him backward onto the couch where he landed hard. Kurt followed him, immediately landing with his legs on either side of Blaine’s hips and fuck there was his dick, oh so very hard and oh so very close to Blaine’s. Shit Anderson what the fuck have you gotten yourself into ran over and over in his head until he literally could not think anymore because merdemerdemerde Kurt. Was. Grinding. Thrusting his hips down and crashing their pelvises together and moaning with this reckless abandon. And then, just when Blaine was about to scream in frustration because son of a bitch this was not enough contact Kurt stopped again. This time the dark haired man did let out a growl as his eyes snapped open to find Kurt hopping off his lap and standing up.

“Oh shut up.” Kurt’s answering growl was a full octave and a half lower than his normal voice, and Blaine couldn’t help but obey as his lust blown pupils took in the sight of the younger man hurriedly shimmying out of his designer jeans. It is the undeniable truth that there is no sexy way to take off your socks, but Kurt made the best attempt Blaine had ever seen and at long last stood before the older man completely, unashamedly naked. It was only then that the shell-shocked and motionless other was spurred into divesting himself of his clothes. No sooner was that task accomplished than Kurt took the lead again, pouncing on him and attacking hip lips just as soon as he was done flinging his shirt across the room. With the weight of the younger man firmly on top of him, Blaine’s hands ran down Kurt’s back and quickly found his ass, using it as leverage to facilitate the friction he so desperately craved between their achingly hard cocks.

“H-h-holy shit.” That Voice, gasping and moaning obscenities in his ear in an octave no self professed counter-tenor should ever be able to reach, was driving Blaine to new heights of arousal and he knew without having to think at all that if it kept it up he would be coming in about three seconds. Once again taking the lead so that this adventure wouldn’t be ending embarrassingly quickly, he flipped them so that Kurt was below him, his gorgeous eyes wide open and that fucking mouth open in an oh shape. “F-f-fuck.”

Blaine chuckled deep in his throat and said nothing but let a smirk slowly materialize on his face. His hands tugged out from under Kurt’s back and slowly, teasingly ran down his chest until they rested on and gripped his hips tightly. Maintaining his silence, he leaned down to capture Kurt’s lips in a searing kiss before trailing his lips downward to follow the same path his hands had abandoned, sucking, biting, nipping, kissing his way down the heavenly body of the boy stretched out before him on the small couch until he reached the spot where his hands had stopped and choosing to forge on ahead with his tongue. Kurt, his eyes screwed shut, his lithe body trembling, let out a shriek of pleasure when that tongue snaked its way down the length of his cock and Blaine immediately felt fingers twist painfully through his hair and tug on his curls when he sucked the tip into his mouth. Delicately, with all the finesse of the practiced man he really was, Blaine swirled his tongue around the head, wrenching another growl of ecstasy from his partner. When he was sure Kurt was preoccupied with what his mouth was doing, his hand slowly slid off his hips and down to cup his ass, fingers carefully searching out and finding his hole, one probing digit slipping in silently up to the knuckle. This got Kurt’s attention in the best possible way, if the shrill keen of pleasure it wrenched from his throat was any indication. Blaine decided he could quickly get used to the sounds the other boy made. They were absolutely delicious.

Another two fingers joined the first because now Kurt was positively writhing beneath him and, oh, this was new and delightful, begging him, “Please Blaine, please god I need you, I need you inside me right fucking now, holy shit, your fingers.”

And because he was never one to deny such a request and because this boy in particular was fast becoming irresistible Blaine obliged, his mouth coming back up to meet Kurt’s, swallowing the man’s cry of surprise as Blaine’s hard cock slipped inside him.

“Mmmrraahhh hard and fast Blaine, hard and fast.” The word’s Kurt managed to put out into the air between heavy pants and delicious kisses were quickly obeyed as Blaine began to pump in and out of his partner as fast as he could, his legs shaking in exertion and his own moans probably embarrassingly loud as Kurt’s increased tenfold in volume the moment Blaine was able to find and hit that spot inside of him over and over again. What felt like hours, minutes, days later Kurt let out one last shriek of bliss at an impossibly high decibel and they were both coming unimaginably hard.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

A few hours later Blaine trailed his index finger up and down the arm of an adorably almost asleep Kurt Hummel. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “When I suggested, jokingly mind you, that if you had sex with me I would cast you in my production, I didn’t think you would go for it, much less go for four rounds of it.”

Kurt lazily lifted his head from where it was resting on Blaine’s chest. “Meh. You’re hotter than you think you are, which is probably saying something. Plus I’m a budding actor in New York City, I have to take all the opportunities that come my way. I’ve done much worse than you.”

Blaine tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Done much worse than you’ was interesting to think about and oh, crap he was getting hard again.
Kurt stiffened, obviously feeling his excitement. “Oh no mister. I already will not be able to walk for a week. You get whatever dirty thought is in your head right now out of there. Besides, we have to talk about my upcoming role as the star of your production. I absolutely love the role of Jamie and I have some fresh idea’s that I think could really brighten it up. What do you think about Jamie singing a snippet of When You Come Home, it’s always been a dream of mine….”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Three months later, Blaine thanked his lucky stars Kurt was actually a brilliant actor and singer. It would have been highly embarrassing if he had cast an incompetent just because he was (so, so very) good in bed.