A collaborative effort between myself and my loving, wonderful husband, Charlie.
…
He listens to Liza Minelli as he does his work. He can't stand the quiet as he puts his red pen to the paper. Finally, unable to focus, he rests his head on the couch and slips into the same daydream he's had for the last week.
Kurt comes out of the bathroom, clad in only a towel. His long, slender fingers slide across his iPod, and suddenly Liza's voice fills his ears. Bare feet slap against the cold floor as he dances, his wet hair flapping across his forehead. He whips the towel off of himself and dries off the front of his body.
That body. Pale white, smooth skin, toned abs from hours of dancing in Glee and Cheerios practice. He is dry now, discarding his towel on the floor and swiveling his hips to the rhythm like it was his life's work.
It doesn't take long for his thoughts to send him over the edge, the inside of his jeans becoming sticky with his own come. Terri emerges from the kitchen with a beer in her hand. Will's head snaps down to the stack of papers splayed across his lap and pretends to be immensely interested in them.
"You're really focused on grading those papers, huh?" Terri asks, kissing him on the cheek and handing him the beer.
Oh, she had no idea.