He was sex on ice. His magnificent curls would fly in the air during his jumps, and his tight leather pants made the girls- and some boys- in the audience swoon. He was the most badass figure skater in the history of the sport. His name was Blaine Anderson.

He was precise. Flawless. He was all technique, and all business. His focus was like a laser. He was in peak physical condition. His movements were more graceful than any other man on the skating circuit could dream of. When he skated, the angels cried. His name was Kurt Hummel.

The two were equally matched. For every win of Blaine's, there was one of Kurt's. They were rivals, always battling for the gold. Then, one day, everything changed.

"A tie?" Kurt hissed. "How could there be a tie?"

"I- I don't know, Mr. Hummel. It must be a m-mistake, or- or something-"

"It had better be a mistake, Farnsworth, or your ass is fired."

"Y-yes, sir. I understand."

From the stands, a rabid fan screamed out, vying for Kurt's attention. "KURRRRT! KURT I LOVE YOOOUUUUU! KURRRRT!"

"Sebastian, I swear to God, if you keep this up I'll increase your restraining order."

"I love youuu!" he whispered weakly before disappearing into the crowd. Kurt ran a hand over his face, sighing wearily, and sunk onto a bench.

A fair distance away from Kurt and his entourage, Blaine sat alone. He didn't need a crew, or a coach, or a manager. He got by on his own. I was better. And they knew it. How could it be a tie?

The two gold medalists took their places on the pedestal. The men jockeyed for the crowd's attention, both refusing to be left out of the spotlight. Finally, Kurt pushed a little too hard, and Blaine fell off. With a superior smile, Kurt waved to the crowd, until- WHAM! Blaine smacked into Kurt, knocking both of them to the floor. They began fighting, lost in pure rage. Silence filled the auditorium, broken by Sebastian's cries. "No! Don't hurt Kurt! Don't hurt my loooooveeeeee!"

An official came to stand over the men. He cleared his throat, and they froze, blood streaming from Blaine's face and Kurt's eye beginning to swell.

"Oh, shit…"

-o0o-

"Kurrrrt… Kurrrrt… Kurrrrrrrrrrrrrt!"

Kurt woke with a start. "Sebastian! Get out of here. I'll call the police."

"Kurt, you need to get back into skating."

"I was banned for life, Sebastian. I can't go back."

"Yeah, but I found a loophole." Sebastian pushed a rule book through the window of Kurt's bedroom. "You were banned in singles figure skating. But you can still do pairs. Pairs!"

Kurt grabbed the rule book, staring at the page, then at his stalker. "Sebastian…"

"I know. I'm awesome."

"You are… okay. Now get out of my house."

"I love youuuuuuuu…"

"GoodBYE, Sebastian."

-o0o-

"What the actual fuck?"

"I know. I know. I'm just as opposed to this as you are. But you and I both know that this is the only way."

Blaine glared at Kurt from over the table. "A male-male pairs figure skating team?"

"Yeah."

The leather-clad man surveyed Kurt with curiosity. "Okay, Hummel. We'll try it. But only to get back on the ice."

"Of course," Kurt agreed with a cold smile. He offered his hand, and Blaine took it.

"Okay, Hummel. When does practice start?"

-o0o-

Kurt's coach had demanded that the pair team live together as part of their training. They shared a bedroom and bathroom. In such confined spaces, the men couldn't help but notice their partner's body. Kurt's swaying hips. Blaine's defined abs. It was impossible to ignore these physical details. Tension mounted, day by day, until-

"Anderson! You left your shampoo in here with my stuff!"

"What? You got a problem?"

"Yeah, I do! With your face!"

"Yeah, well I have a problem with your face!"

At this point, Blaine had pushed Kurt, and Kurt had grabbed Blaine's arms, holding them above his head. There was a moment of sheer heat, when the men stared at each other, taking each other in as much as they were trying to intimidate. Kurt was shirtless, as he'd been getting ready to take a shower. Blaine had been working out, and sweat caused his clothes to cling in places that showed off the best of what he had. Neither man knew how one could feel so angry and, at the same time, so aroused. But there was only one way to break this tension…

Neither of them would say they started it. Really, it was a mutual snap decision. But somehow, their lips met, and their hands were traveling, tangling in each other's hair, wandering down each other's backs, gripping each other's asses. They ground their hips together, and the resulting friction made Blaine growl. Before he really took stock of what he was doing, Kurt slipped a hand into Blaine's pants, gripping hard. Blaine slammed Kurt up against the wall, writhing at the other man's touch. He pulled his shirt off, then began working on Kurt's pants. When they were fully naked, Blaine gripped Kurt's hips, mashing them against his, and using the convenient positioning of his hands to finger Kurt's entrance.

"Fuck, Anderson, I know what you're gonna do. Just do it already."

Blaine was shocked for a moment, not having realized that that noise, that language, could come from the all-business Hummel. Then he roughly flipped the man around and lined himself up with Kurt's hole, pushing in slowly and reveling in the man's tightness. He began to thrust, and Kurt's hands reached around to leave scratch marks on his back. He went faster, feeling himself nearing the edge. He came with a moan, thrusting erratically as he fell from his high, then pulled out and twirled Kurt around. He smirked up at his partner for a moment before flicking his tongue just once over the tip of Kurt's dick. Then Kurt was coming, groaning and sinking to the floor.

"No one is to hear about this, Hummel. Understand?"

"Yeah, no. I'm not telling anyone."

"Good," Blaine replied, offering his hand to help his partner up. Kurt winced.

"Shit. What're we gonna tell coach when I can't walk straight?"

Blaine laughed cruelly. "That's not my problem, is it?"

"Fuck you."

"Maybe next time, Hummel."