Why, why, why did Kurt agree to go to these parties? They always ended in his embarrassment, and he always ended up with a pounding in his head, alcohol or not.

And if he was going to end up with a pounding head, why didn't he go ahead and drink?

Oh, he would remember why. Later. But later doesn't help anyone, does it?

And Truth or Dare- oh, dear Lord, the Truth or Dare. If Kurt had learned anything at all from his time at high school, it was this: never, ever play Truth or Dare with Santana. She will ruin you.

But when you've downed a few shots of Vodka, you forget a few lessons.

"MY TURRRRRN!" Santana called, clutching an empty bottle of booze and waving her hands in the air. "Blaine! Truth or Dare?"

Not Dare please not Dare oh please don't pick Dare please oh please don't pick-

"Dare!" Blaine called gleefully.

Fuck.

"I dare you to..." Santana searched for a good dare. Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "I KNOW! I dare you to do something to Kurt that you've never done before! Something sexual! And we get to watch!"

Cheers erupted from the Glee club, including Blaine, who hadn't heard much more from that sentence than "sex."

Kurt, who still had some sense left in him, began to protest. "Santana, it's Blaine's dare! Don't drag me into this!"

"Yeah, well," she hiccuped, "if you do this dare, you won't have to do another one when it comes back around."

Kurt considered this. "...Deal."

More cheers.

"What're we gonna do, Kurt?" Blaine slurred,

"I don't-"

"I KNOW!" Blaine whispered a word in Kurt's ear: "Rimming."

"Oh my... Oh... Okay... Just a sec." Kurt proceeded to down two more shots. "Okay. Ready."

Blaine shuffled over and began removing Kurt's pants. Kurt took a deep breath, trying to drown out the jeers of the teenagers around him.

He had to admit, the alcohol helped.

Blaine started by grazing his tongue lightly over one of his boyfriend's ass cheeks. Kurt shivered. That felt... surprisingly good. Blaine's tongue crept nearer to Kurt's entrance, and Kurt had to stifle a moan. Around this point, Finn fled the room, not caring to see Blaine do unspeakable things to his step-brother. But Kurt didn't notice Finn. Or the rest of the New Directions. What he noticed was that his boyfriend's tongue was creeping closer and closer to his entrance, and he was becoming harder and harder, and at last he couldn't take it any more. "Fuck, Blaine," he growled. Then he flipped himself around, attaching his mouth to his boyfriend's and fumbling with his shirt. Then clothes were thrown off and hands were wandering and tongues were licking. Both boys moaned with unbridled lust. "Blaine. I need you."

Someone- probably Santana, as she came to parties prepared- tossed a condom and some lube into the fray, and Kurt hummed gratefully. Blaine slathered lube over his fingers and inserted the first one up to the knuckle, giving Kurt time to adjust before adding a second, then a third.

"Please, Blaine."

As quickly as he could, Blaine pulled on the condom and poured more lube over his painfully hard dick. He entered Kurt slowly at first, and Kurt uttered something that sounded like "asdfghjkl!" Blaine pulled out, then pushed back in again, groaning.

"Faster," Kurt begged.

Blaine began thrusting, angling himself to hit Kurt's prostate and stroking his boyfriend's cock in time with the thrusts.

"Ohhh, Kurt, I'm gonna come!"

And Blaine came, thrusting erratically as he rode out his orgasm, his teeth grazing Kurt's shoulder. Then he ran his thumb over his boyfriend's dick, and Kurt came, too, screaming out Blaine's name.

It was only after they'd begun cleaning up did they realize that they had just fucked in front of the New Directions.

"Damn," muttered Artie, Sam, and Mercedes.

"Santana, what happened?" Brittany asked.

"MY INNOCENCE! IT BURNS!" Rachel screamed.

Yep. Kurt was never going to another party again.