Title: Dealing with Blaine
Summary: Kurt is the new teacher at a reform school called Dalton. Blaine is a student there, and a total jerk. Mr. Hummel can't stand him.
Rating: M
Warnings: Semi-exhibitionism, blowjobs, and much swearing (oh, Blaine).
Disclaimer: No ownage involved here.
X~X
Kurt took a deep breath as he looked up at the huge building in front of him. He really didn't know what he had gotten himself into. After high school, he and Rachel had gone to New York, intent on finding their dreams. Rachel had discovered there were a lot of other Rachels out there, all vying for the Broadway stage. Kurt had gone to college, wanting to continue his education. When they both came to the realization that Broadway was not really that possible, he had gotten a degree in teaching. If he couldn't live his dream, he would teach it, dammit.
Kurt had visited his dad the summer after he graduated, saying he was there just to see him but also looking for jobs. The only school he had found available was a reform school called Dalton Academy for Troubled Boys in Westerville, Ohio. Didn't that sound inviting?
Kurt showed his ID to the armed guard in front of the doors. What kind of kids went here, that they needed a guy with a gun to keep watch? He climbed the steps and pushed open the doors. The place was stunning. It looked more like a Victorian mansion than a school. By the plaque near the door, Kurt guessed it used to be. He found the front office with little difficulty.
The receptionist was a redheaded woman. She looked up when he entered, and Kurt was reminded of Emma Pillsbury, the OCD counselor at McKinley. "Hello, how may I help you?"
"Hi, my name is Kurt Hummel, and I'm the new teacher," He said.
"Oh yes, Mr. Hummel. Teaching English, is that correct?" Kurt nodded in affirmation.
"Okay then, here's a paper to sign and a map of the school. If you'll look, your classroom is highlighted. Oh, and your keys. This one is for the class," She held up a small silver key, "and this one is the teacher's lounge," She indicated a bronze key on the ring. That's all you need, but if you have any questions, you can ask me," She smiled.
"Thank you," Kurt said, and slipped the papers into his bag after looking at the map. He left the main office as the first bell rang. He panicked momentarily before realizing he did not actually have a first period class. He double-checked his schedule. Second, third, fifth, seventh, and eighth. Not bad at all, considering first through fourth periods were on one day, and fifth through eighth on the second. Kurt believed it was an "A"-"B" schedule.
Kurt was excited to be teaching AP level English. That had always been one of his favorite subjects, and he wanted to show as many kids as possible that reading was in fact fun. He had planned out a loose syllabus for the year, and it included reading a couple plays. If he was lucky, the students wouldn't be averse to acting them out.
As Kurt slowly found his way to his classroom, he began to notice students in the hallways. Many of them had eyes downcast. Some looked his way, and he almost preferred the kids who looked at the ground like it would give them the answers to the math homework they didn't do. The stares he received were dark, and a little curious. Of course, he was barely four years older than the seniors, and he still looked a bit like one himself. His hair was a little longer than it was in high school, and slicked back loosely. He had taken to wearing reading glasses as well. Not only did they make him look more sophisticated, the thin grey frames also helped him see. That was an added bonus, Kurt supposed.
At long last, he arrived at the door to his class. He fumbled with the lock for a split second. The thick wood swung open to reveal a standard-sized classroom, complete with oak desks in rows. Immediately, Kurt disliked it. After deliberating for a moment, he decided it was the desk arrangement. He drew up a quick diagram using a pen and paper from his bag. A nice icebreaker would be to have the boys help him change the desks around. He wanted something more open, and had opted for a semi-circle two desks wide, with the opening toward his desk and the huge picture window on the far wall. It would also allow for more reenactment space.
As Kurt looked around the room, he marveled at how different it was from McKinley. How could a private reform school have so much money anyway? Maybe the parents of the boys who went here were rich, or something. Kurt himself could barely afford a three-room apartment ten minutes away, with noisy neighbors and air conditioning that made the whole place smell mildly of cat piss. But it was home. He straightened his tie and checked the clock. 9:45. Classes started at 9:15 and were 90 minutes, which meant Kurt had an hour to get everything set up. The suddenness of this job had required him to decorate the classroom today instead of over a weekend or after school. He got to work.
Forty-eight minutes later, Kurt was a tad sweaty, but the room was completed. Posters from books and plays such as Romeo and Juliet, Wicked, and 1984 hung on the walls. His deep mahogany desk had a small amount of pencils and other writing utensils in a row on one side, and a stapler, tape dispenser, and pencil sharpener on the other. His desk design was on the table in front of the projector. Kurt had been fascinated by it at first. This projector was so much more high-tech than the ones at McKinley, which had a light that shone up through. The teacher would put translucent paper on top of it and a slightly blurry image would appear on the screen. These, however, had a camera in them or something, and one just set the paper or book of choice underneath the head of the projector and a crystal-clear image showed up. So much in four years, Kurt thought, shaking his head. So much, but the fundamentals are the same.
He checked the clock, which said 10:42 on its face. Three minutes. Kurt fell into a panic, not knowing if he should sit at his desk, or stand at the door to shake hands, or enter the classroom a minute after his pupils. He settled on sitting at his desk at 10:44. His shaking hands straightened his tie once more. The bell rang. Boys began filling the classroom, sitting heavily in their desks. Kurt noted that over half the desks were empty when the final bell rang, signifying the start of class.
"Good morning, class," Kurt said. "My name is Mr. Hummel. Ms. Larson is unfortunately out for the rest of the year with lung cancer."
"Good. I hated that old smoker anyway," A voice sounded from the back of the room. Kurt traced it to a blond boy with a lip ring.
"And what might your name be?" Kurt asked tightly.
"Flint," The boy said.
Kurt nodded once. "Flint, I would appreciate if you didn't disrespect Ms. Larson, or any teacher for that matter, in my presence."
Flint scoffed. Kurt chose to ignore him. "I have a couple activities to get to know you all better. First, however, I need your help rearranging the desks. This current format is so boring. Don't you agree?" A couple boys murmured their consent. "I drew a diagram of what I want them to look like. If you could push the-" Kurt was interrupted by the door banging open. A boy with curly black hair and tie undone stood in the doorway. When he looked at Kurt, his eyes burned into Kurt's.
"Excuse me, who are you?" Kurt asked, annoyed at having his first class interrupted.
"Blaine Anderson," He said shortly.
"Well, Blaine, I expect you to be on time for my class, or at least come in quietly. Can you do that?"
"Sure. What's your name, then?" Blaine inquired rudely.
"My name is Mr. Hummel. I am your teacher, and you will not speak to me that way," Kurt said, affronted.
"First name?" Blaine replied, for some inexplicable reason.
"Kurt, but you shall call me Mr. Hummel," Kurt bit out. He was well aware of the other students watching closely. Maybe they thought of it as a test.
"Alright then, Kurt. I'll be sitting down now," Blaine said, and sauntered off toward the back of the classroom. Kurt was speechless. He watched as Blaine put his feet up on top of the desk and pulled out his phone.
"Mr. Anderson, see me after class," Kurt said. "Now then, here is the drawing for the new desk formation. If you could arrange them like this…" He put the drawing up on the projector. Almost all his students got up and began moving the desks. All but one Blaine Anderson. What a surprise, Kurt thought angrily.
"Mr. Anderson, I expect you to help with this." Blaine merely jerked his head once in acknowledgement. Kurt blew a strand of hair out of his face with an angry huff.
Once the desks and been pushed into a semi-circle, Kurt leaned on the front of his desk with his legs crossed at the ankle. "Now, obviously I need to know your names, but first I'd like to talk about the syllabus for this year. Since it's already October, we will be reading Lord of the Flies and The Scarlet Letter. Second semester, I have something a little different planned. We're going to start off with reading Romeo and Juliet as a play, which means I will be assigning parts." Kurt was not excited to hear the few groans throughout the classroom. "It won't be that bad. Besides, it's a lot better than just reading it monotone. How can you not act out one of the most famous plays ever written? Anyway, after Romeo we'll be reading the screenplay for Wicked. It isn't the most challenging text, but I want you all to understand that even simply written things can be entertaining as well," Kurt slowly grew more animated as he spoke. "Some of you may be aware that this is a musical. That means we will be singing. I don't care how good your voice is," He said quickly as most of the boys protested. He noticed Blaine was still texting or playing games or whatever on his phone. "But I want you all to try your hardest. Now, however, I need to know your names. We'll go in a circle –see, this format is better- and I want you to tell me your first name and something interesting about you. I'll go first," Kurt volunteered. "My name is Kurt Hummel, and I went to New York City to be on Broadway. Obviously it didn't work out that way," Kurt said, smiling a little. "Your name?" He asked a brunet on his far right.
"I'm James, and um, my sister is famous."
"Very good, but what is something interesting about you?" Kurt asked.
"I… I'm only 16," He replied. "I skipped a year." Kurt nodded his approval.
A boy with eyeliner and black clothing grumbled out his information. "Kyle. My old principal thought I was a vampire." Kurt barely suppressed a giggle as he was reminded of Tina.
"I'm Andrew," A blond said from next to Kyle. "I didn't actually do anything bad on purpose. I was blackmailed," He said brightly. Kurt's gaydar went off. He nodded.
"I'm Wes, and I'm a supergenius," An Asian boy grinned. Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"No he's not, he just says that because he's Asian," An African-American student said from next to him. "And I'm David, by the way."
Kurt looked surprised when the boy on the other side of Blaine spoke, effectively skipping him. "Excuse me, but we missed Mr. Anderson," Kurt said. Blaine rolled his eyes.
"Blaine. I'm a fucking sex symbol in this school," He said, not even looking up from his phone. Kurt was speechless.
"Okay, Thad, is it?"
X~X
Kurt thought it was amazing what one could learn in an hour and a half. But of course, now he had to talk to Blaine, who was still sitting in his desk. Kurt felt his anger flare up.
"Mr. Anderson, what are you trying to pull? Are you proving that you're too badass to listen to the teacher, or is it just because I'm new?" Blaine didn't answer. "Mr. Anderson, I am talking to you! Put your phone away," Kurt practically growled. Blaine looked up again. He wore a skeptical expression, and one eyebrow was pulled up on his forehead.
"Can I go?"
Kurt spluttered. "No, you may not! As the teacher, I demand you respect me!" He said angrily. He stalked up to Blaine's desk, resting his fists on it. He looked at Blaine with a tight jaw, seeing that he looked totally unaffected. "I can have you thrown from this class, Mr. Anderson, unless you change your attitude," Kurt growled.
"Interesting," Blaine said.
"What?" Kurt faltered. He had expected anything but that.
"Nothing, Kurt."
Kurt nearly saw red. "Blaine Anderson, you will call me Mr. Hummel or you will never see this classroom again!" He shouted.
"Calm down," Blaine said. "You're not very attractive when your face is all red."
"What?" Kurt gasped. "Mr. Anderson! That is hardly an appropriate thing to say to your teacher!" He said, but his steam was escaping.
"Well, Mr. Hummel, what is the correct thing to say?" Blaine asked coolly.
"You shouldn't be saying anything like that!" His fists tightened on Blaine's desk. He was leaned over the wood, a foot from Blaine's face. Blaine was reclined in his seat, still wearing that amused-raised-eyebrow look. He reached up, patted Kurt's cheek, and left, taking advantage of Kurt's stunned reaction to walk out the door.
"Mr. Anderson!" By the time Kurt had recovered, it was too late.
The rest of Kurt's classes went absolutely fantastically, compared to second period. At long last, he trudged to his car. He crossed his fingers it would start, as usual, and smiled when it did. He drove to his apartment and exhaustedly slipped off his tie and jacket, climbing into his bed for a nap. When he awoke, it was seven at night. He warmed up some leftover pizza he didn't want, ate it while watching Project Runway, and then decided just to go to bed. By the time he was actually between the sheets it was just past eleven. I really am an old man now. Going to bed at eleven? For shame, he thought, sighing. But nevertheless, when he closed his eyes, he was gone.
When Kurt woke up in the morning, he forgot where he was for a moment. He had only rented this apartment a week and a half ago, and he still wasn't used to it, really. He yawned and trudged to his kitchenette, making a pot of coffee with bleary, sleep-blurred eyes. After he had had one cup of coffee, black, and a bowl of cereal with an orange he got into the shower, feeling decidedly more awake than twenty minutes prior. The hot water soothed his slight nerves at having another day of meeting students. He didn't know if he could remember everyone's names. Luckily, like his second period, his third had a very small number of students. While second had 14, third had only 13. Kurt wondered why they didn't just combine the classes, but he found out from another teacher that all the classes were that small because anything larger than 15 was considered "too large to handle properly". He had three more classes today. Luckily, it seemed like most of the boys were on their best behavior, trying to get out and far away from Dalton as soon as possible.
And then there was Blaine.
Kurt really didn't know what to do with him. He was just so disrespectful, and Kurt had nowhere near enough teaching experience to know how to handle him. There's a thought, his brain supplied helpfully. What, no! He's a student, and he's obnoxious. It's just his eyes. Wait, what? Kurt groaned and rubbed at his eyes, turning off the water. He just thought he was attracted to Blaine because his emotions were mixed up. That's all.
Kurt chose a simple shirt-vest-jeans-scarf combo for that day after the slacks, dress shirt and tie from yesterday. Then he brushed his hair carefully and drove to work. He had no desire to socialize, and got to his room eight minutes before the first bell rang.
When Kurt woke up the following morning, it was with a sick slithering in his stomach. It took a moment before he realized why. Second period. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes, hitting his alarm.
He decided on super-tight dark wash jeans and a slim ocean blue button-down that brought out his eyes. Not that he needed to. Besides, he was the adult. Right?
He arrived ten minutes before first period ended. He sorted the papers on his desk, not noticing someone slip through the door. Thus, he jumped violently when a throat was cleared right in front of him.
And of course it would be Blaine. "Yes, Mr. Anderson?" Kurt asked coolly.
"Can you do me a favor?" Blaine said, with an odd roughness to his tone.
"It depends on what it is, doesn't it?" Kurt replied, eyebrow raised.
"Can you take off your shirt?"
"What?" Kurt was stunned. The nerve of this kid.
"No, no, I just want to see if you're pasty everywhere," Blaine smirked.
"Get out of my classroom," Kurt said through clenched teeth, standing from his chair. He felt suitably safe with the desk between them. A student wouldn't dare attack a teacher, though, would he? His unspoken question was answered as a hand shot out and wrapped itself in his collar.
"No."
"Mr. Anderson! Let go of me right now!" Kurt shouted, startled. A quick glance to the door revealed the lock turned in the handle.
"Do it," Blaine growled, and pulled his free arm back like he would punch Kurt, who was pressing up against the desk, pulled toward Blaine. Kurt was trembling as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, starting from the bottom. Blaine's hand released him so he could undo the top button. Kurt had tears in his eyes, terrified as to what Blaine would do.
But he merely trailed a finger down the sliver of exposed skin, stopping a centimeter from the waistband of Kurt's jeans.
"Mister Hummel," He said, almost mockingly, "you give in too easily. You won't last at this school if you do everything your students tell you to," He smirked.
"You were- punch-" Kurt was still shocked by what had happened. Four years ago, he was forced to be as tough as any of the guys here (okay, maybe not any, but certainly a few), but college at NYU had softened him up. He hadn't needed to be constantly alert for slushies, or dumpster tosses, or a jock to shove him into lockers.
"Like I would actually punch you, and mess up that pretty face of yours," Blaine leered. "Now do up your shirt, your class is waiting." Kurt took a glance at the clock, panicking when he realized he was two minutes over the start of class. As Blaine took a seat in the back of the class, Kurt flew to fix his shirt and the pencils that had been knocked askew. He opened the door to find his class waiting impatiently outside. They all gave him looks when they realized Blaine was in there, and that the door was locked.
The first half of class went perfectly, Blaine didn't speak, the other boys paid attention and worked diligently.
Then there was that circle activity Kurt had planned to discuss the book they were about to begin reading, 1984. Kurt joined the group, obviously, and of course Blaine stood next to him. A boy named Thad was on Kurt's other side. Thad was tall, with dark brown hair and a slightly pointed face.
"We're going to go around the circle and say one thing you think will happen in 1984 based on what you know about it," Kurt announced. "Thad, will you go first?"
The boy nodded and spoke. "I think it's a utopian-dystopian society." Kurt smiled his approval. The circle went like this until they reached Blaine.
"I think the main character, Winston, will rebel against Big Brother and keep a diary, and then fuck this girl and do some other shit," He said, examining his nails.
"Language! And Mr. Anderson, have you read this book before?" Kurt asked, trying to stay calm and professional.
"Eighth grade. It's a shitty book."
As Kurt took a slow breath through his nose, he realized what Blaine was doing. Trying to rile him up by using expletives and very nearly spoiling the first half of the book.
"Mr. Anderson, please see me after class," Kurt said slowly, dangerously calmly. Blaine smirked.
The bell rang forty-eight minutes later. A certain feeling of déjà vu sunk into Kurt's esophagus as he watched everyone but Blaine leave the classroom. As the last boy exited, Kurt went over and closed the door.
"Mr. Anderson-" Kurt started.
"Stop calling me that," Blaine interjected.
Kurt was startled. "That's your name, is it not?" He rested his hands on his desk, gazing at Blaine, who was in the back.
"My last name. You call everyone else by their first name, but not me. Why?"
"You- but- you haven't earned that right," Kurt said firmly.
"Then figure out some other name. Mr. Anderson is my dad," Blaine said. Kurt noticed a certain animosity when he said "dad". His anger melted a little.
"Blaine?" He asked gently. "What did your dad do to you?" He neared Blaine, standing next to his desk, effectively pinning him into the chair, which was bolted to the desk.
Blaine growled. "Screw you," He said, standing suddenly and sending Kurt off-balance, for he was in no way expecting it. He tipped backward, flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright, to no avail. He closed his eyes, anticipating the impact of the floor, but instead receiving arms wrapped tightly around his waist. When his eyes shot open in surprise, he realized it was Blaine who caught him (obviously, his brain told him. He's the only other one in the room). Of course, that didn't prepare him for the deep brown eyes inches from his own stun-widened ones. Neither moved. He's a minor, Blaine's a minor, he's-
"I'm eighteen," Blaine broke the silence.
"You're my student," Kurt countered.
"No one needs to know."
"It's wrong," Kurt said.
"Then why aren't you moving?" Blaine smirked. Kurt cleared his throat and moved to separate himself from Blaine. But he seemed to be stuck. Oh. Blaine's hands pressed into the small of his back. He was taller than his student by two inches, but Blaine was apparently stronger.
Blaine tucked his head into the nook of Kurt's neck. "Lock the door," He breathed into his teacher's ear. His hands released Kurt, who stumbled to the door, slightly dazed. He looked down to see his hand on the knob. He could easily open it and leave, or force Blaine to. He opened it.
"What are you doing?" Blaine demanded angrily.
"Leave," Kurt said quietly.
Blaine scoffed, lifting his bag over one shoulder. When he exited through the door, an elbow was pushed into Kurt's stomach, though on purpose or accident, Kurt didn't know.
"You're just scared," Blaine growled.
Kurt watched him walk down the hall. "Blaine!" He said, when the boy was almost too far, "Meet me after class," He finished. He didn't see Blaine's expression, but the change in his gait made Kurt smile. And then frown and hit his head with the palms of his hands.
"I must be insane! Completely mental!" He said aloud.
The other two periods that day passed too quickly. When the bell rang signifying the end of the school day, Kurt startled from the papers he had been grading to take his mind off that bell approaching. Almost three minutes later, his classroom door opened. Blaine strutted in, wearing something that was definitely not his uniform. A leather jacket hung off his body, open, and a tight white t-shirt clung to his chest. He had on dark blue jeans that were just ridiculously tight.
"Blaine, where is your uniform?" Kurt asked quietly.
"I changed," He shrugged simply.
"Oh," Was all Kurt could manage. His eyes zeroed in on Blaine's fingers turning the lock. Before he could even compute it, Blaine had materialized in front of him and there were fingers in his hair and under his shirt and lips on his and pelvises lined up and thirsty need consumed them both.
Blaine's mouth was warm and tasted like cinnamon, Kurt noted. Their tongues battled and Blaine won out. Oh, so this is how it's gonna go, Kurt thought with a smile against Blaine's mouth. Kurt could feel Blaine's youth digging into his leg. He was only half hard, himself. Blaine tore off Kurt's shirt at the same time Kurt realized it was unbuttoned. He looked down as Blaine took in the new expanse of skin just revealed. He felt his cheeks redden from the gaze his own student was giving him. His eyes widened as a finger pulled his chin up. Blaine looked him in the eyes.
"You are so fucking sexy, you know that?" He said. The room was silent for a moment. Then, like some unspoken agreement, they flew at each other, stumbling to Kurt's desk, kissing, biting, touching. Blaine was divested of his jacket and skin-tight shirt, and Kurt ran his trembling hands over Blaine's lightly toned stomach. He was surprised to find a light dusting of hair on Blaine's chest and in a trail down his lower abdomen. His lips left Blaine's and trailed down his chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth but soon continuing on. He pressed his mouth into an open kiss just above Blaine's waistband. Blaine leaned back on the desk, bracing himself with his hands. Kurt's hands curled around the top of Blaine's pants and pulled down. The friction caused Blaine to cry out.
"Kurt!"
Kurt groaned, his face inches from Blaine's erection. "Call me Mr. Hummel," He said.
"M-mister Hu-Hummel…" Blaine gasped as Kurt's mouth sank down over his cock.
"Oh god Kurt-" Kurt chuckled around Blaine's erection, causing his student to yell out. He experimentally swirled his tongue around the tip and Blaine jerked his hips forward. Kurt pushed him back with one hand and pulled off Blaine's cock.
"Now, now, it wouldn't do to get overexcited, would it?" Kurt smirked.
Blaine growled and shoved his hips toward Kurt's face. Kurt stood.
"What the fuc-" Kurt silenced him with a hard kiss.
"I'm your teacher. Do what I say," He grinned against Blaine's lips. Blaine just groaned. Kurt ducked his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. He pulled down his own pants and underwear, lining up his cock with Blaine's. The first thrust was very nearly the last. Blaine's toned body bucked into Kurt's, and their lips were trying to meet each other but not really succeeding because of the fast pace of their bodies. Kurt wrapped a hand around both of their erections and tugged, bringing moans from both parties.
"Kurt, I'm-" Blaine breathed against Kurt's collarbone.
"Come," Kurt commanded, and Blaine did, though whether it was just good timing was unknown. The sight of Blaine shouting his orgasm did it for Kurt, and his stomach clenched white-hot. He growled Blaine's name as his come mixed with Blaine's. They both stood there, Blaine more or less seated on Kurt's desk, for multiple moments. Kurt silently hoped Blaine wouldn't ruin the moment, but seeing as he was a teenage boy in a reform school, it wasn't likely.
"Shit," He said, and Kurt sighed quietly, moving away from Blaine to pull his pants back up and find his shirt.
"This is a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea! What was I thinking?" Kurt groaned, pacing once his pants were secure around his waist.
"For the record, you are much better at that than I expected," Blaine commented, making no move to pull his pants up.
"Than you expected? Did you plan this?" Kurt shouted, tearing at his hair.
Blaine got up and wrapped his arms around Kurt, who was slightly startled at the only mildly kind thing Blaine had ever done in his presence. "Calm the fuck down, Mr. Hummel," He said against Kurt's ear. Kurt groaned.
"You can't call me that after what we just did," He said.
Blaine chuckled. "Yeah, that was pretty hot," He agreed.
A knock sounded at the door. Kurt flew away from Blaine, looking for his shirt. "Just a minute!" He called, and the knocking stopped. "Get dressed," He hissed at Blaine, who grabbed his clothes and disappeared behind Kurt's desk. Kurt hurriedly tried to fix his hair and straighten his shirt. When he unlocked and opened the door, he was met with the face of the headmaster of the school, John Apelton.
"Hello, sir," Kurt said, startled by the appearance of the man he had only seen once during his job interview.
"Please, call me John. We are colleagues, now, after all," He smiled warmly. "May I come in?"
"Of course, of course," Kurt stepped back to allow John to enter. He stood awkwardly as John slid into one of the desks.
"You may sit, Kurt," He said, smiling. Kurt sat at his desk, slightly flustered. He had forgotten Blaine was hiding under it, and nearly shouted when a hand appeared on his thigh. He shoved it off, but it came back.
John seemed unaware of his struggle. "I just came by to see how you were doing. I trust the students have been good to you?"
The hand undid his pants and slid them down his thighs. "They have. It seems that most of them are very intelligent, and they are very well behaved in class." Kurt thought he did a good job of speaking normally, considering the hot air currently being breathed on his growing erection.
"Good," John said. "I know you have Blaine Anderson in your class. How is he?"
A tongue connected with the tip of Kurt's cock, and he tried to cover his gasp with a cough. "Why do you ask?" He inquired politely.
"He's one of our main problem students. He is rude to teachers, his classmates, and his parole officer. We don't know why, really. But he has top marks in all his classes, despite this. He's an anomaly, that's for sure," John explained.
Kurt nodded through the thick haze of lust threatening to overcome him. "He was problematic on the first day, but he seems to have calmed down." Then Blaine took him all the way. Kurt jolted his hips forward.
"Are you alright?" John questioned, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Fine," Kurt choked out. "Muscle spasm."
John nodded, looking slightly appeased. Blaine somehow managed to get a finger behind Kurt and traced his hole. His teeth clenched with the effort of not shouting out.
"Well, I believe that's all. I'll just be going now," John said slowly, standing. Kurt nodded.
"Nice speaking with you. Take care," He said, and John walked out the door, closing it behind him.
"What the fuck was that?" Kurt shouted at Blaine, who looked up at him with a grin.
"I wanted to see you squirm," He said, and proceeded to suck on the head of Kurt's cock, ending all conversation as Kurt's head fell back and he wrapped his hands in Blaine's curly hair.
"Blaine," He murmured. Blaine hummed around his cock. Kurt shouted. "I'm going to-"
Blaine swallowed. He tucked Kurt back into his pants in a surprisingly touching gesture, and climbed out from under the desk, preferring to sit on top of it and grin at Kurt, who was still a little out of it. He pulled his own cock out of his pants and started jerking himself off. Kurt made a noise and wrapped a hand around Blaine's cock. Blaine braced himself with both hands and arched his back. Kurt's only warning was a low shout, and then Blaine's come was on his stomach and Kurt's hand. Blaine groaned.
"Well, Mr. Hummel, since I am now an hour late for Warblers practice, I should go," Blaine said.
Kurt blinked. "You're in the Warblers?"
Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Believe it or not, I'm the soloist. And you could do to not make assumptions. Just because I'm badass doesn't mean I can't fucking sing."
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Then do it," He said. He had a strange feeling that Blaine was lying.
Blaine rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.
"You're so delicious.
You're so soft.
Sweet on the tip of my tongue.
You taste like sunlight
and strawberry bubblegum.
"You bite my lip.
You spike my blood.
You make my heart beat
Faster.
"Satisfied?" Blaine asked, sounding bored. Kurt was sure his jaw was somewhere around his knees.
"You- you can-"
"-Sing really fucking well? I know," Blaine smirked. "One more thing I can do better than you."
Kurt grinned. Blaine didn't know what he had gotten himself in to.
"It's time to try
Defying gravity.
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you won't bring me down!"
Kurt looked expectantly at Blaine, who had the strangest look on his face. He did not anticipate the sudden hard press of lips against his own, but he welcomed them. Blaine broke away shortly after, but stayed a hair from Kurt.
"I want to make you scream my name in that high F," He grinned.
Kurt just kissed him again.
xxxxx
Sucky ending, I know. I might continue it if I feel nice. Cheers.