A/N This story has been floating around my mind for a while, but with different characters. For some reason those characters morphed into Kurt and Blaine and the Warblers. In this story, Kurt and Blaine don't meet until Kurt transfers to Dalton. I hope you all enjoy this.
Rated M for dubious consent and mature themes.
…
He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped his lips. He couldn't believe this was happening, that he wanted this to happen.
His fingers fisted in the oh so soft hair of his lover, gasping as the other boy's lips skimmed along his jaw and down his throat. He was panting for breath, writhing in need as hands caressed his naked flesh.
He'd never gone this far before, hadn't been ready. Hell, he hadn't even had a boyfriend before, never been properly kissed. And now he was all but begging the other boy to take him.
He could feel teeth scraping along his throat. His breathing hitched. A hand glided down his chest. He let out a hoarse shout when fingers wrapped around him, his hips bucking off the mattress.
"Oh yes! Please!" He pleaded, sobbing in pleasure. The hand stroked him, slow but firm, the ecstasy almost unbearable. His heart raced, his blood throbbing in his veins. The fingers played his body like an instrument, building the music inside him, taking him higher and higher.
Twin points of white hot pain pierced his throat, only to be forgotten as pleasure crashed through him. He shouted a name, and then...
…
Kurt woke up on a cry of pleasure, his body bowed in half, hips arched off the mattress as an orgasm ripped through him, his release erupting like a volcano.
When he settled enough to realize what had happened, he flushed bright red. What the hell was that? He'd never had those kinds of dreams before, and certainly never woke up coming like that.
He tried to recall the details, but all he remembered was the sensations. He couldn't even remember what his dream lover looked like. Had his mind simply conjured up a random form, or had it been someone he knew? Was it bad if it had been some faceless boy who had made him feel such overwhelming pleasure, even if it was only in a dream?
Only in a dream? Yeah, right. The evidence of how real it had felt was all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. And what the hell had happened to his pajamas? He could have sworn he hadn't been naked when he'd gone to sleep. Then again, he'd always had a weird relationship with sleep. He'd been known to walk, have full conversations, and even occasionally shop in his sleep. Now he supposed he could add stripping off his clothes and folding them neatly on the chair to the list, he thought as he spotted the aforementioned clothing.
He sat up slowly, feeling a little weak and light headed. He made his way unsteadily to the bathroom and got in the shower, leaning against the wall. His legs were still shaking.
He carefully washed his hair, and as he ducked his head under the flow of water to rinse away the foam, he felt a twinge on the side of his neck. He touched the spot with his fingers. The area was sensitive, and he moaned as his fingers slid lightly over the flesh there, his cock twitching with the shock of pleasure that that light touch brought.
Shaken, confused, he hurriedly finished cleaning off and moved to the mirror over the sink, wiping the steam from the glass, he examined his neck. The area was smooth, unblemished. His skin did seem to be a little paler than usual, however. Forcing himself to remain calm, he began his usual morning routine, moisturizing, brushing his teeth, and doing his hair.
It was only his second day at Dalton Academy, and he was looking forward to that afternoon. Warbler auditions would take place in the Warblers' Commons after classes were finished. He just had to make it through World History, English Lit, Phys Ed (his least favorite class,) AP Calculus, Art, Advanced French (his favorite class,) and Social Studies.
He dressed quickly, having severely limited options with Dalton's dress code. He'd made a few minor adjustments to the blazer and slacks, tailoring them to compliment his build better. One last look in the mirror, he grabbed up his messenger bag and left his room, making his way to the dining hall for breakfast.
He didn't look around as he filled his tray with fruit, yogurt, orange juice, milk, and after a short internal debate, added two sausage patties to the plate with his egg white omelet, feeling the need for the extra protein. He sat at an empty table near the windows, taking out his history homework to review it for any mistakes as he ate, unaware that he was being watched as his fingers absently caressed the tender spot on his throat.
…
He studied the beautiful boy from behind his lashes, seeing how the sunlight made those impossible eyes sparkle like sapphires, the pale skin glow like dew kissed petals. He knew other boys noticed the fair one, noticed how beautiful and delicate and innocent he was, but none of them saw the passion in him. They were blind.
He saw it. Unfortunately, so did the Other. They'd had a glimpse of it the night before. He wanted to coax it out of the delicate looking boy. Wanted to watch him burn with it. And so did the Other. But only one of them could win the boy's affection...
…
Kurt tried to pay attention to Madame Debois, but his mind (and eyes) kept straying to the dark haired boy two rows over from him. They had three classes together, and he'd found his eyes and thoughts captured by the handsome boy. He had learned that the boy's name was Blaine Anderson, he was a sophomore (although he appeared older,) and that he had transferred from public school as well.
He also knew the boy was a Warbler. He'd heard him singing casually in the dining hall with David, whom he'd met the day before. The dark skinned boy had been assigned as Kurt's Senior Guide, to show him around campus and see that his first few days at the school were as stress free as possible. It had been through him that Kurt had learned about the Warbler's auditions that afternoon. There had been a few other boys with them at the time; a tall thin Asian, a large blond who resembled a linebacker and was beat boxing along with the tune they'd been jamming to, another blond who was slightly shorter and much skinnier and had laughing eyes, who had been draped over a shorter dark haired boy. There were others too, but once Kurt had spotted Blaine, everyone else seemed to fade into the background.
With Kurt's luck, the boy would probably be straight.
He sighed and returned his attention to the teacher as she asked for a volunteer to properly translate the paragraph written on the white board. "Oui, Monsieur Hummel?"
"Les alpes françaises sont parmi le plus beau au monde. Le village médiéval de Yvoire est situé sur les rivages du Lac Léman et attire des touristes de partout dans. C'est renommée pour lui est les affichages floraux et les ateliers d'artisinal."
"Magnifique! Votre accent et la prononciation sont impeccable!"
"Merci."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaine looking at him, a pleasant smile on his face. He pretended not to notice, although a faint blush crept up his neck. His fingers absently traced over the tender spot on histhroat.
After the bell rang signaling the end of class, Kurt hurriedly gathered his books and bag and headed towards the door, when a soft voice stopped him.
"Your name is Kurt, isn't it? I'm Blaine."
"Uh, hi, yes, I'm Kurt. Nice to meet you." He shook the other boy's hand when it was offered.
"You're very fluent in French, you speak almost as well as a native." The curly haired boy hadn't released Kurt's hand as he spoke.
"Um, thanks."
"So, David said you were thinking of trying out for the Warblers this afternoon. Good luck!"
"Thanks. I can't wait for tryouts. I love to sing." He was subtly trying to take his hand back. The shorter boy didn't seem to notice that he still held it. And why couldn't he look away from those melted gold eyes? He could feel his heart racing, his pulse throbbing in his throat. That spot on his neck seemed to be radiating heat like a beacon.
The dark haired boy smiled, and for the briefest of moments Kurt thought there was something almost feral about it. But it was gone before he could really register it. "You'll do great, I'm sure."
And then he was gone, and Kurt had to relearn how to breathe.
…
"What do you think you are doing?" He hissed once they were alone in his dorm. The Other simply looked bored.
"What ever do you mean?"
"I saw him touching his throat, saw the glazed look in his eye. You Marked him, didn't you?"
"So what if I have? He wouldn't be the first. You never got upset over it before." The Other looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, and straightening his tie.
"Was he willing?"
The Other smirked. "They're all willing, once they've had a little taste."
"In other words, you didn't give him a choice. Sometimes I really hate you." The boy began to pace.
The Other watched him, an arrogant smirk on his face. "You want him, don't you? We can share him, if you like. Remember Jeremiah? You enjoyed sharing him."
The boy looked at the other in disgust. "You forced me! I'm nothing like you! And I'm warning you to leave the boy alone! You'll destroy him like you did Jeremiah."
The Other laughed. "He's stronger than you think. You could take him, make him your own. He'd enjoy it. I know you certainly would."
"Enough! I told you, he's off limits!"
The Other walked towards the door, but stopped before opening it. He didn't bother to turn around to face him. "You're not strong enough to stop me. I can make him mine so easily, and there is nothing you can do about it."
…
Kurt sat nervously, watching the other boys audition. He began to question his song selection as he listened to various top forty hits, a few rock anthems, and one impressive aria. The song he'd chosen had been one of his Mother's favorites. She'd sung it often when she hung laundry out to dry, or while cleaning the living room.
When his name had finally been called, he stood before the council table, straightened his tie, and smiled. Although the Warblers were an a capella group, they allowed musical accompaniment when auditioning, or for very specific occasions. Kurt handed his CD to the dark haired boy sitting beside David, who had been introduced as Thad.
"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel. I've chosen a song that is very special to me. My Mother used to sing this when I was growing up."
When the music began, Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs On the corner is a banker with a motorcar Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
Of every head he's had the pleasure to have known
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mac
In the pouring rain, very strange
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen
He likes to keep his fire engine clean
It's a clean machine
A four of fish and finger pies
In summer, meanwhile back
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then the fireman rushes in
From the pouring rain, very strange
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
Penny Lane
As he finishes, he is met with a polite round of applause like all those who had gone before him. He notices several of the Warblers speaking in hushed tones, which they had only done for a couple of the other boys. Hoping this was a good sign, he returned to his seat. He spotted Blaine watching him. The dark haired boy smiled encouragingly.
There were a few more auditions after his. After the last performance, they were all asked to wait out in the hall while the Warblers considered their performances. After nearly an hour, the double doors opened, and the Asian Warbler who had introduced himself as Wes stepped forward.
"Would the following gentlemen please step forward? Brian Gerard, Gabriel Lassiter, Kurt Hummel, and Samuel Kingston. The four of you may enter. The rest of you, I regret to say have not been selected. You may audition again in one month's time. Thank you for your time. You may go."
After the others had left, Kurt and the other three boys stood in front of the council. Wes smiled at them. "Welcome. You have each shown that you have the talent to join the Warblers. Each of you have shared your unique voice and style with us. We hope that you will fit in well with the group. Please, be seated, new Warblers."
Kurt silently cheered inside. He'd done it. He'd gotten in.
…
He stretched and yawned as he saved the document he'd been working on and shut down the computer. Glancing at the clock he noted that it was nearly eleven at night. Only his second day and he was already swamped with homework. He went through an abbreviated moisturizing routine before changing into his red silk pajamas. Exhausted, he slid into bed.
Sleep pulled at him like a weight, dragging him under so deep.
He was burning up. He could feel his lover's hand slide slowly up his thigh. A moan was drawn from him. He wanted to see the face of the boy who brought his body to life, but the room was dark. Only a silhouette was visible.
"Please!" He gasped.
"Please what, my pet?" The voice was thick, deep, very masculine. The sound sent shivers of anticipation through Kurt.
"I need...I need..."
"Tell me love, what do you need?"
The pale boy whined in the back of his throat. He didn't know how to articulate what his body was demanding.
The hand reached his groin. A finger feathered up the shaft, the touch barely there. The boy writhed, aching for more. And then his lover was there, laying over him, kissing him, hands caressing his sides, teasing his nipples.
The kiss was broken, that mouth sliding lower, a tongue rasping over his chest.
Lower. Moisture tickling his belly button. He begged wordlessly.
Lower. A heated breath on his turgid length.
He cried as the mouth closed over him. Moist heat surrounded him, took him deep. All he could do was reach down with one hand, fingers slipping into baby soft hair, gripping at it as if it were a life line.
He was close. So close. He looked down as his lover pulled away, one hand still stroking him. The phantom boy turned his face, kissing his inner thigh. Suddenly his lover looked right into his eyes. It was still too dark to see his face clearly, but when he opened his mouth, a flash of white drew his attention. He screamed as he saw the fangs sink into his femoral artery, just as his orgasm stormed through him.