Hello my goooourgeeous audience! I've brought you another installment of Klaine(:

Kurt's POV:
I opened my eyes to a gorgeous brunette lying next to me, the past night came flooding back to me and I smiled.
"Something funny?" Blaine asked me, wrapping his arms around me.
"Just thinking…about last night." I said, blushing idiotically.
Blaine rolled onto his side and kissed my temple, wrapping his arms still former around my body. I met his kiss, and quickly broke it, leaving him pouting. I walked to my bathroom, still a little woozy on my legs. I looked at my naked body in the full length mirror. I was still pale and skinny, but my pasty skin was now patterned with scratch marks and fingerprints. And, oh shit...
"Blaaaaiineee!" I wailed
"Yes darling?" Blaine appeared behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and laying his head on my shoulder.
"Ugh, I'm going to have to wear a turtleneck AND a scarf to hide these!" I groaned, referring to the many hickies dotted along my neck and jaw line. They framed my collarbones and hips too. Sweet.

"Kurt, it's about 65 degrees outside. Plus, are you ashamed of them or something?" Blaine teased.
"I need clothes." I said, walking over to Blaine's massive closet.
"Help yourself."
I dug out a pair of skinny jeans, hidden under mounds of *what are those short pants called that Blaine wears?* a wife beater, boxers, and a white v neck, and shrugged them on. The v neck was of one that Daniel Tosh would be proud of. (AN, for those of you who don't watch the show Tosh.0, Tosh is ridiculously famous for his crude sense of humor and extremely deep V's.) the shirt showed off my extremely hickey-ed neck. Deciding that the shirt might give Finn an aneurism, I threw on a sweatshirt that smelled just like Blaine which made up for the fact it wasn't designer.

Blaine's POV:

Fuck Kurt.

Here I was in the middle of French and I couldn't even think, let alone speak another language, while Kurt was wearing skinny jeans that hugged his ass like nobody's business. My jeans. Kurt was wearing my clothing. As stupid as that sounds, it's fucking hot. And Kurt's just doodling in the margins of his notebook, swinging his crossed ankles forward and backward. That boy has no idea what he does to me. My toes squirmed in my Converse; Kurt didn't have any of his products for his hair this morning, seeing as he was at my house, so his hair was unusually tousled. (A/N See Born This Way. Damn, his hair.)

"Blaine, please say one phrase you picked up from this lesson today." Said who was subbing

I hesitated. I only remembered one phrase. It wasn't extremely appropriate. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ci sior…" I murmured flushing. (A/N: That mean 'Would you sleep with me tonight.' For those of y'all that haven't heard Lady Marmalade)

then literally laughed out loud.

I slid down in my chair, prepared to hide in my locker for the rest of the day, but mercifully the bell rang.

Hope you liked it, super short I know, but I'm thinking of making a chapter when Santana or Puck realizes that there was some major boy-on-boy lovin' last night, what do you think. And maybe they can both come back to Kurt's after Glee and Burt find condoms or something and there's awkwardness? R&R?