AN: Hello! This is my first fic, so please be gentle, and if you have comments or critiques regarding story, characters, or ANYTHING, please review! I will take it to heart. Any and all technical errors are simply me taking poetic license. This chapter is a flashback that encompasses "The First Time," and I try to stay as true to the characters as I can. Again, if you have any advice, please submit a review.
I do not own Glee. If I did, it'd have to be on HBO for all of the graphic realism I'd portray-namely, the language and sex.
Nor do I own the song used in part 4: "As Long As You're Mine" (with Idina Menzel and Leo Norbert Butz in the Original Wicked Cast Recording)
As a little tip before you read: Part 1 is from Sebastian's POV; Part 2, Karofsky's POV; Part 3, Kurt's POV; and Part 4, Blaine's POV. There are sexual themes throughout, but the rating is thanks to Part 4, which recounts Klaine's first time, according to my smutty mind.
Please enjoy! 3
"And could I also get a shot of Courvoisier in that?"
"A shot of what, sir?"
"Courvoisier. It's like a shot of espresso, only French, and much stronger."
"Sir, I apologize, but we don't carry that here. Would one or two extra shots of espresso suffice?"
"No thanks. I'll take it as it is."
"I can't believe you asked for a shot of Courvoisier in your coffee!" Blaine laughed, as they were walking away. His face was pricelessly incredulous, and as he walked in front... yep. Staring at that perky ass would not get old anytime soon.
"I forget how lame this town is. When I lived in Paris, I drank it like it was mother's milk."
"When you... lived... O-okay. Wow."
"What?" I asked, my face cracking in another stunning grin, seeing the expressions flit across Blaine's face rapid-fire. Let's see, amusement, intrigue, incredulity... the usual ones I get when I mention Paris and my-shall we say frivolous?-conduct there.
"You're just so... You're, you know, you're out there."
"And you're whole bashful schoolboy thing? Super hot." I smirked. I do that a lot. I not only saw Blaine trying to reign in a barely rude comment like 'crazy' or 'weird,' but he's always so polite and reserved. I saw the slight discomfort plastered all over Blaine's face now that the flirting began again. Well, it's true! People as hot as Blaine who act this repressed usually were even more fun to watch fall apart. Preferably underneath me, very vocal and very sweaty. Now there was a thought... I certainly hoped that Blaine would make use of my latest pass. I'd certainly made enough! You'd've thought that nobody could be this oblivious for this long, though from what the Warblers said, maybe Blaine was a special case...
"Look, Sebastian... I have a boyfriend."
"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you," I immediately responded. I'm not stupid; I expected that someone like Blaine might already be in a relationship. Like infidelity is an issue! At least Blaine was getting where I was going. If Blaine was worried that I would scamper away from him because of pristine morality, then he's not just sweet for the sentiment and admirable for the honesty, but also sorely mistaken and not to be disappointed.
"N-no... I-I mean, I really care about him."
"He doesn't have to know." Then this was about his personal morals, not mine. Blaine was so obviously a virgin, it was both comical and endearing. If I could somehow sneak in a few stories of my sexperiences, maybe Blaine's hormones would override his small-town, goody-two-shoes, idealistic morals. He wouldn't be the first that that'd happened to. I just had to give him a few encouraging smiles, and maybe he'd succumb. Boyfriend, not husband, meaning no issue for me. I offered an encouraging smile. His stutters were adorable and somewhat telltale. Much longer, and I'd have him.
"I... just... never want to mess anything up with him, in any way... He's really great-"
"Who's really great?" asked some imperious elf, hair perfect, color coordination impeccable, and tight top surprisingly not setting off the sprinkler system. Who would want to frame such a girly figure, anyway?
Before I could finish wondering who this prissy bitch thought he was to interrupt, Blaine guiltily choked out, "Y-you!" Oh, sure, Blaine, make it sound like we were setting a time, place, and position, why don't you! "We were just talking about you!" Stutter and sputter anymore, and I may as well have been jerking you off under the table! Oh well. So this was the boyfriend? Maybe getting into Blaine's pants was going to be easier than I anticipated. Both of them positively reeked of virginity, and it's easy to see this boy as an ice queen, and the frigid ice-blue glare he was directing at me did nothing to disprove that. There was Blaine, the adorably repressed schoolboy, and then there was this uptight man-child.
"Sebastian, this is Kurt, my boyfriend, who I was just-wow..."
"Got it," I said, trying to warn him that he was being so obvious. Who was I kidding? He wouldn't get anything so subtle if my flirting was so easy for him to miss.
Oh my God! Even the way this bitch was extending his hand was stiff! Ugh! I met it with my own, beginning the game. That glint was something I see in many boyfriends' eyes: possessiveness and a little fear.
Obviously, the warning that Blaine missed did not go unnoticed by him. He got what my game was. Okay. Let the power play begin.
"Pleasure." Kurt venomously oozed, his now sharp and, appropriately, green eyes boring down on mine as he sat next to Blaine and, just to drive the point home, just to beat the dead horse, took his arm in his own. "And how do we know Sebastian?"
Damn, bitch, wanna accuse us any more? 'We?' Blaine might as well be screaming with the look on his face! Oh no... maybe I should try to diffuse this before his eyes fall out of their sockets. It'd be too easy to crush Mickey Mouse if I retaliate, anyway. Before Blaine could continue with his awkward explanation, cute as it may be, I cut in as a mercy, my charming facade up.
"We met at Dalton." True. "Was dying to meet Blaine." After seeing some of their performance videos, also true. "Those Warblers just won't shut up about him. Didn't think he could live up to the hype, but as it turns out..." Oops. I just made another pass. In front of the Snow Bitch. Oh freaking well. This guy was blushing and smiling so much that it was obvious that this... that Kurt never impressed how sexy he was. Sweaters and dress pants only hide so much. Besides, that last part was so true that if Blaine couldn't've lived up to the hype, it would've been devastatingly pathetic and disappointing.
And not only had I just told the Scouts' Honor truth, I'd only made one little, harmless pass!
"Yes. He's even more impressive in the flesh."
That priss, with his creepy awkward laugh, probably had no clue as to how great an innuendo that would be...
Oh. Wait. Oh, he knew that this was a power play, and that bitch was gonna continue, even though I had given him a perfect out! In which case, that was a definite innuendo, and would have given me pause if there was any way that those two were even tapping second base. Kurt likely had no clue about any 'impressive flesh' unless he had also been sneaking glances at Blaine's pants.
The same Blaine who looked uncomfortable again. Come to think of it...
Blaine had never flat-out said that he was uninterested; he'd only outlined his unwillingness to hurt his beloved boyfriend, the same one who was treating him like he practically owned him, sitting down only so that he could grab onto Blaine. It looked like a chain being clamped onto his arm. He was also not joining Kurt in this silent battle.
Was he this-this!-oblivious? Maybe he was really interested in me, too? If we were to get alone, maybe a little drunk, then those walls would come tumbling down, and clothes would hopefully follow.
Fine. Ball in my court, now? Bring it, because this bitch will.
"Hey, what are you guys doing tomorrow night?"
"Well, we're rehearsing for the school musical, and then, at bedtime, we do a rigorous skin-sloughing regimen over the phone together."
Skincare. He said that with a straight face, which was surprising with how gay it was. That, and that was really what they did at night over the phone. Oh My Fuck. They were absolutely sexless. Unless, of course, they had awkward virgin phone-sex with innuendoes about facials and moisturizing hand and body creams. Which I doubted. It was time to call them out on their frigidity. My smiles toward Blaine, when Kurt looked away from me, were met with blushes and downcast eyes. He wanted me, but was too whipped to voice it, somehow.
The only reason that this pathetic Kurtsy would be so threatened by me would be because of my seductive charms; otherwise, overhearing my persistent propositioning and seeing how Blaine received my passes would not be such a big deal. Therefore, calling Kurt out on being snowy would probably be an effective blow.
"And as... sexy... as that sounds," I said, grinning at an impassive Blaine when Kurt bristled at the particularly condescending and not-too-subtle sarcasm, "Whaddaya say we shake things up: I get you guys a couple of fake IDs and we head over to Scandals, in West Lima." The farther away from any prying eyes, the better. Especially the judgmental gazes of my future inferiors in the Warblers.
"Scandals? Uh... Th-that's the gay bar..." Blaine explained to Kurt, though he actually looked a little disapproving; maybe he was just wary. It was kinda seedy, but the next best place was in Columbus. Maybe some encouragement, with a hint or two about my skills...
"The last time I was there, I met the man of my dreams on the dance floor." Maybe he'll get jealous?
"That's so sweet. And... are you two still together?"
"Sadly, no, we broke up about 20 minutes after we met." Well, more like 10 minutes; very few guys could last with me. Oh no, blank stares! Losing them! Did they not know the concept of fun? Even if it is in a grimy backroom?
"Come on, guys, live a little!" Woah, I sounded way too desperate! Maybe I could pass it off as incredulity at the sticks up their asses.
"We would love to, Sebastian, thank you for the offer-that's very nice of you-but... ah... that just... isn't our kinda thing."
Okay, Blaine was taking the safe road. I guess I lost him on going to Scandals. Though that look Kurt had... He looked like he was thinking very hard, and he wasn't dumb, so what was he thinking? Was he gonna agree and try to prove that he could be just as sexy as I am, hubris as that is?
"Let's do it." Really? Ha! He was still trying to win the game.
"What?" Come on Blaine, agree... You need to have more fun... Specifically, with me...
"Yeah! I mean, we have a whole bunch of firsts to start crossing off our list," said Kurt sweetly to Blaine, even though going to a gay bar was not the most dire first that Blaine needed, and Ice Bitch was not the best candidate for any of those firsts. He turned to me, an intense but mediocre game face replacing his saccharine expression, and, out loud, said, "We're in," while surreptitiously saying, with his hardened tone, You don't stand a chance.
Yeah. We'll see about that, Queeny.
"Great," I said on the outside, while conveying with my triumphant grin something a little more like, Oh, no, I've got this in the bag. This is MY territory, now.
"Great. Yeah." Blaine seemed both confused and a little ticked with Kurt. Their dissent was is delicious. I could practically already taste victory. He was nervous about being tempted before, in the safe walls of Dalton's cafe and this quaint shop? Now, he looked like he was a dog on a shock collar planning a night with a T-bone in front of him. And I planned on making it very hard for him to resist me, pun intended.
I looked around before getting out of my car. True, I'd never seen anyone from school or church around here before, but you can never be too careful. I went from a school where I was the top homophobe to a school that made me look like a softy. I couldn't risk numbers like those knowing that I was gay. My life would be absolutely ruined.
I looked around one final, final time before I got out and jogged to the door. The bouncer knew me, knew my type of closet case, and let me in without checking for ID. Considering how miserable he looked, he probably understood the closet more than me. I went to the bar, in the corner, and ordered a beer.
This was my normal Tuesday night. It was my normal Friday night. It was my normal whenever-I-can-get-away-long-enough night. My parents thought that I was going to a party, or hanging out with friends, or whatever. So long as I wasn't threatening to kill fairy-boys, they didn't care where I went, so long as I was home before midnight. It was both relaxing and depressing.
Why couldn't I come out to them? Dad had said to Mr. Hummel that he was okay with gays, and I believed him. He did love me, and while mom was a little (okay, a lot) overbearing and fussy, she loved me too, though she and her church friends somewhat resented all sinners, which, yes, includes gays. Maybe having a gay son would change her mind?
No. I wouldn't take that chance. Not yet. Maybe after high school, or college, if that was an option, though it probably wasn't, with my grades. Maybe I could get someone to tutor me. Like Kurt, maybe, in my wildest dreams. He's mega smart. And he's beautiful. Maybe he'd fall for me?
Fat chance, even in your wildest dreams. You threatened to kill him, for God's sake! The absolute best you can hope for, in your wildest dreams, is an awkward friendship, and that's pushing it.
Well, I'd take what I could get, I guess. I finished the beer and contemplated getting another. I would have to drive home, but I was probably big enough to take another without getting anything more than buzzed...
And then I heard it. He was here. And he was beautiful. And alone. He was probably going to try for a quicky in the back room, again. He knew how to get a guy with little more than a bright, dimpled smile, a blunt pickup line, and, maybe, if you were lucky enough, a wink. And with as many guys as he got with little more than that, he was probably freaking awesome in the sack... I wish I knew what kissing a guy (when he wanted to kiss me back) was like.
Kurt was my first kiss, and that was a disaster. My twisted crush on him exploded in that locker room, and I scared him off. I was so mad at myself for being so stupid, so mad at him for not loving me, that I scared him off and out of the school, out of the city, out of my life. Just when I found a place where I could be gay and quiet and enjoy myself a little, I had nobody to share it with. Nobody my age, anyway.
Is that what people mean when they say, 'karma?'
I ordered another beer while I heard Sebastian ordering a gin and tonic. He always went for strong and expensive drinks. He was pretty addicted to alcohol. It must've been easier to come by in Paris, which I sometimes heard him talk about to the bartender. When he talked about himself and not sex, you knew he was wasted.
I tried to get up the courage to ask him for advice, but when I turned over to see if he'd already gone with some model, I nearly spit out the beer in my mouth, instead choking it down. Kurt! Kurt was here! In Scandals...
Why was Kurt here? This place was seedy and gross. Kurt didn't seem like the gay bar type, or if he did, it'd be some flashy place, like a kind in Columbus, or the ones in New York. Oh! Then I saw Blaine, the shorty who tried outing me after I kissed Kurt. I guess if they weren't dating then, they must've been now.
Sebastian was handing them drinks almost immediately. Wait, what? They were friends with Sebastian? Those two were so blindingly moral, and most of Sebastian's friends... weren't. If he had any actual friends. That weren't fuckbuddies, as well. Which I doubted.
I saw Kurt get something red... A Shirley Temple. So Sebastian was mocking him for being a responsible designated driver and a virgin, judging by the extra cherries. And Blaine got a beer. Something to start off a newcomer who could be fun, but get them loose. And probably undressed. And Sebastian had a gin and tonic. Mature, experienced, and expensive, and not for the weak-bodied, not with how he drank them like a fish breathes water.
I've been watching his drink code for a while now. I still drank beer. He never gave me one, since he only gave it to virgins that he was willing... to... screw. Oh. Blaine. Not good for Kurt.
Blaine and Sebastian were talking pretty animatedly. I couldn't hear any of their conversation over the beat on the loudspeakers, but I thought I heard, "Warblers" and "Dalton" and "Glee" every now and again. Kurt was glaring at Sebastian and holding onto Blaine like a lifeline, while Sebastian was leaning onto the bar, looking very much at home. Which, to some extent, he was. He was here every night that I was, and I was a pretty frequent patron. I guess that's how I knew his drink code.
Sebastian wasn't making any of his normal moves, though he did keep smiling. Blaine's face was getting flushed, and his eyes were starting to glaze. He finished half of his beer in one swig. The look on Kurt's face was one of mild fear, and I knew why. I heard in the locker room about Berry's party, when he got a little drunk and made out with her, even though he's 100% gay.
Apparently, this kid got floozy with the boozy. And Kurt knew it. And as smart as Kurt was, he knew that Sebastian would take advantage of it. And with as touchy as Blaine was starting to get, Sebastian was figuring it out. I could tell by the smile; it was getting wider, brighter, more dimpled.
Just as Blaine finished the second half of the bottle and almost slammed it on the bar with a thunk that I could hear from my spot, the music changed, and it was another heavy dance beat. If Blaine had been a puppy, he'd've perked up his ears and peed himself with how excited he was. His mouth looked like he said, "I love this song," but I was only sure that he'd said that when Sebastian took his hand and led him to the dance floor.
I watched them dance, looking from them to Kurt, watching him as he leaned against the bar and... that was a pretty intense stare. He held up his chin in defiance, but he still looked worried, past the mask. I kinda got where he was coming from. He was pretty, but wasn't as sexy as Sebastian (who was trying to figure out Blaine's dance pattern, though there didn't seem to be any pattern in his drunken stupor, and looked a little awkward dancing by someone half a foot shorter and many times drunker. That, and it wasn't much a grinding song, which Sebastian would own, so they were twirling around each other, smiling at each other), so he didn't want to embarrass himself on the dancefloor. He knew Blaine would behave, and with him watching, so would Sebastian. He also probably figured out that Sebastian was slippery, so he was also probably worried.
It had been so long since I'd seen him, and while I remembered his face so well, he kept maturing and becoming more and more beautiful. I gripped my beer and choked back a sigh-even when he was mad, he tugged my heart to my throat.
I wanted so badly to talk to him... And why not? He was alone, and Blaine was too preoccupied to walk in on our conversation. I wanted to check up on him, and, more than anything, I wanted him to care about how I was doing at Thurston High, hoping against hope that he would be friendly, that he wouldn't shy away. Take a page out of that Blaine kid's book? Have some courage. The worst that could happen is that he hates you. And that scenario hurt almost as much as never speaking to him again. But... Courage.
So, I grabbed my near-empty beer, walked over to a seat a few feet away from him at the bar, and sat down, my ball cap still over my face. I couldn't stop staring for about another minute, because now I could see his eyes, and I tried to figure out what color they were... deep blue, I decided. I took a quiet, deep breath, moved to the seat next to him, and said, looking at my beer, "Better watch your boyfriend." This was going to go badly, I just knew it... "Another beer, please.," I said to tall, dark, and handsome behind the bar. Better prepare myself for... whatever was next.
I expected him to be surprised at anyone addressing him and breaking his concentration. as he was. What I didn't expect was his face breaking into a smile-a beautiful smile that melted my worries-once he recognized me. It was infectious. I smiled, too, looking down at my drink before I said anything stupid.
"So. How's life at your new school?"
"Fine," I answered, wondering how someone could be so perfect. I turned his life to Hell, and not only did he forgive me when I apologized as a Bully Whip, but he actually cared about how I was doing. I realized that he wanted me to elaborate, which took me by yet another surprise. I nodded, collecting my thoughts. "Y'know, I just wanted to have a normal senior year, play football without my teammates hearing rumors about me." Not that Kurt would tell. I trusted him when he said that outing people wasn't his thing. It was more if Santana needed leverage, or Blaine got drunk and... talkative.
"Just to let you know, I would've never told anyone," he assured me, leaning toward me with a look on his face that was something between hurt and bitter and sincere. Shit! He thinks that I meant him! Smooth move, dumbass! Unfortunately, I was taking sip of beer, so I just nodded. "It's not who I am." I know. And then I lost him. He was turning back to Blaine and Sebastian, who were still dancing together. "So, you come here all the time?" Wait, he was still talking to me?
"People like me here. I feel accepted. I'm what they call a 'bear cub'," I said easily. It was true. Guys thought I was cute, but few were ever interested in me with all the other potential fucks. I didn't want a quickie in the back like Sebastian, though. Unless, maybe, it actually was Sebastian. Or Kurt, but he wasn't that type, which probably made him all the more attractive to me.
"Because you look like Yogi?" he quipped. I didn't know if he was slamming my chub or saying I was cute. Probably not the second one. I decided to laugh at it.
"I dunno... 'Cause I'm burly, or something?"
Then I looked away, a little embarrassed and remembering him calling me 'chubby' and 'ham-hock' in the locker room. Those thoughts were not cool, since that was when he judged me so immediately without knowing the whole story. I looked back only to see him looking away as well, nodding a little. Was he judging me again? My gut, and smile, fell. "What, is... is this the point where you judge me?"
"No! As long as you're not beating people up, I'm... all for being who you have to be at your own speed."
I thought about that. He accepted me, so long as I was peaceful, and he seemed to be forgiving me for what I did to him, because he understood my fear, to some extent. Then I saw him look back at his drunk boyfriend, getting a little bit more friendly with Sebastian. I could tell that the conversation would have to end soon, so that he could intercept. Wrapping it up so he could watch his boyfriend.
"Right now, I'm just trying to get through high school..." I said, and he sighed, and then smiled.
It was so genuine, so beautiful, I had to look down for a moment to get my bearings. I wished that I could read his thoughts, but, since he had to get to Blaine, I finished up with a toast that meant more to me than it probably did to him.
"Here's to baby steps." My bottle clinked with his half-finished Shirley Temple, and I thought of getting through high school, of my apparently possible friendship with this amazing man in front of me, and, unfortunately, about how Sebastian was going to take those baby steps to get into Blaine's pants. Knowing his reputation, it'd happen.
"Baby steps," Kurt murmured. I would have talked more with him, but he got up then, and, after staring for long enough, I'm sure he had been itching to do this, and our toast was the perfect segway. He got up, and... 'walked' couldn't describe how he moved. It was graceful and sexy and... it was like a sashay and a skip melted together, and... Wow, that was a great butt. I turned back to my beer once I saw that he had everything under control. The look he shot Sebastian was hilarious.
After a while, Sebastian gave up and ordered a glass of bourbon at the bar. Not that it'd get him drunk. It took about a full bottle of vodka to get him somewhat hammered.
Hrm... maybe Sebastian wouldn't mind giving me some advice on how to get a guy if he was hammered. He certainly knew how to make men go weak at the knees and strong in the dick. Maybe he had some pointers for me. Next time, probably Saturday night, when I had better clothes on, I'd gather up the courage to ask him, so I could, maybe, maybe, get Kurt to fall for me as hard as he got me to fall for him.
The next Saturday night rolled around, and I got in a black button-down and a nice dark jacket. Dark colors are slimming, right? If Sebastian was going to give me any free advice... I just wanted to look like someone he might go for, I guess.
I saw him go over to a CD display, picking out a song to play over the loudspeaker, so I followed him after draining my third beer. Needed to loosen up. Kurt was nice. Sebastian... not so much. He was known to cut guys down, like he could smell low self-esteem. I came up behind him as he was bent over, examining the shining CDs hanging inside of the display and the song choices, and gathered my courage for the second time that week. It had gone very well for me, before, and I needed it even more this time.
"So... So how do you get a guy to like you?"
"You? Get a guy? Please," he laughed, barely glancing at me before returning to the display. This was not going well. He wouldn't even look at me while he laughed at me.
"Why? What's wrong with me?" I asked, somewhat ashamed of even asking for his advice by now.
"Well, first off, you are about... 100 pounds overweight. Quit waxing your eyebrows-you look like Liberace... In fact, just stay in the closet, buddy," he rattled off, finally picking a song, looking at me only at the end as he patted my shoulder, still laughing at me with his liquor-loosened grin, and he walked away, leaving me there to rot in those insults, which were probably right.
So much for courage. I need a beer.
Who knew someone so small could be so heavy? Or that someone so hygienic could stink so badly? Or that someone so prim and dapper could be so freaking fluid?
Oh, these were just some of the questions that had crossed my mind when I half-dragged Blaine out of the parking lot. True, the weight was probably from muscle, of which he had plenty, and true, the stink was from the beer in his breath, but really, how could he be so controlled when sober but such a floozy when tipsy?
Blaine staunchly kept our hands above the belt (or above the navel, once he realized that I kept wearing pants with lower belts) during our make-out sessions, and would always stop just as someone's pants got a little tight. Seriously? Even the baby penguin needed some heat here and there! And now? NOW? Now he had tried having sex in the back of my car. And he'd been too close to Sebastian when they were dancing at Scandals. So close that Sebastian was smiling, and Dave felt like he had to warn me. When I finally cut in, Blaine was happy, and Sebastian was miffed. Ha ha. But trying to go down on me after trying to get down with that... Incubus? Let me pull a Mercedes and just say, 'HELL TO THE NO!' to that. I tried conveying as much, but, apparently, while smart and dapper sober-Blaine would have understood, fluid drunk-Blaine was too dense to get the picture.
Now I don't know what to think. Was I being frigid? Was he being an ass? Who do I blame? Sebastian, for giving him alcohol and bringing us to Scandals? Me, for accepting the invitation? Blaine, for accepting the booze and making the moves? Should I have taken Blaine's advances? Goodness knows that I've been making hints that I want more, but he's been slowing us back down. Maybe this was his way of saying that he's ready to go further? And I just shot him down. Smooth, Hummel! Ugh...
I mean, when he pulled me into the back seat, I thought that he was being clumsy, or silly. Then he started spouting nonsense about how we didn't need to have a perfect setting, because us being together would be perfect. I see the sense in that, but he was forgetting that he was dancing with another man most of the night, and that he only danced with me because I intervened. Then he started getting handsy, and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't turned on by the fact that I was on top of him, and he was willing, not to mention the man that I love with all of my heart. But the sight of him and Sebastian dancing together never left my head for a second, and it made me feel dirty to have his hands on me so soon after that, so I kept prying his hands from my crotch, telling him to stop, and no.
The fact that he didn't stop until I scrambled out of the car, yelling at him, really hurts and bothers me. I'm starting to second-guess whether or not I can trust him. I mean, I've read that hormones during sex are just as intoxicating as some drugs, like alcohol, and if Blaine can't take, "No," for an answer when drunk, then how do I know that he'll stop mid-coitus if I tell him that I want to stop, that something hurts?
I'm also scared. I'm glad nobody was in the lot to see or hear it, especially Sebastian, but what if this little spat is grounds for a break-up? What if me saying 'no' to sex makes Blaine want to go to Sebastian, who seems all too willing to do anything and everything with Blaine, sober or not?
We needed to talk. But neither text nor phone call were wise with his current state, and neither of the two was a particularly good medium for this topic. School was not a good place to talk about our sex life (or lack thereof, even), so that left before or after the musical. Before the musical would be too hectic and distracting... So I had to wait until tomorrow night. Oh dear. That was plenty of time for Sebastian to get to him while he was drunk, to take advantage of him. I didn't know if seeing him at the musical tomorrow in the audience would be a good thing or a bad thing. It could mean that they were some kind of item, or it could mean that he was still trying to get into my boyfriend's ankle-flaunting pants.
I was so glad that I had called Finn to drive Blaine back to his house. Why did West Lima have to be 40 miles from Blaine's house? At least he didn't live all the way in Westerville.
I hoped everything would turn out okay.
The drive back from the musical was both awkward and exciting. We were in my dad's car, since I don't have one, and we intended to spend the night. Burt and Carole were away on a campaigning trip, and my parents were at an afterparty for parents. Knowing them from when they go to a party, and according to the drunk text from dad, they would be too sloshed to drive home. Apple and tree, apparently. So we had the house to ourselves for the night.
We would probably only focus on my bedroom though, judging by the look Kurt had given me after asking to come here. After what I had pulled in the parking lot last night, I thought that I'd scared him off. That smolder said otherwise. I could barely breathe out a confirmation.
And here we were. In my room. Any and all hormones were at bay as the anxiety set in. Talking would be so awkward. We'd basically left our mid-make-out discussions to, "I'm not ready for that. Let's wait," with a return to kisses. I had been facing the door, deciding on whether or not to shut it. I turned around to check on Kurt.
He was standing right in front of me, facing away, seeming to be just as nervous, though he'd been the one to suggest it. He also seemed to be a little more ready than I was. He was down to an undershirt and his jeans, and socks. I guess he wanted to make it easier, without any damned layers. No matter how stylish or form-fitting his many clothes were, none of them truly flaunted his perfect, flawless, creamy skin and tight, toned body. I decided to follow suit and discreetly strip to my undershirt, taking off my socks for good measure.
After, I closed my door quietly, walked up behind him, wrapped my arms around his chest in a hug, and kissed just under his ear.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." No hesitation, though his voice shook a bit.
"Should we sit down and talk about..." I trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
"Maybe we should... make out as usual. See where we go from there?" He turned around and looked down at me as he asked. My arms were still wrapped around his chest, so I could feel his heart beating as hard as mine was.
"On one condition. I play one of the most romantic songs I know. And we sing along. You know... to relax." That earned a chuckle.
"Says the guy who thought that he was terrible at romance."
I pressed play and snuck a peak at Kurt's face. The warmth there would have melted my heart if the very sight of it didn't do that, anyway. As the first few piano notes gave way, he began to sing, sitting on the edge of my bed.
Oooooo, Oooooh, Ooh.
Kiss me too fiercely.
Hold me too tight.
I need help believing
You're with me tonight.
My wildest dreamings
Could not foresee
Lying beside you
With you wanting me.
Just for this moment,
As long as you're mine,
I've lost all resistance
And crossed some borderline,
And if it turns out
It's over too fast,
I'll make every last moment last
As long as you're mine.
His angelic countertenor blended perfectly with Idina Menzel. His eyes held so much love and warmth, it was like I was swimming in the deep blue they currently were. As his voice died down, I sat down on the bed next to him, holding his hands, and continued, thinking of our time at Dalton.
Maybe I'm brainless.
Maybe I'm wise.
But you've got me seeing
Through different eyes.
Somehow I've fallen
Under your spell,
And somehow I'm feeling
It's up that I fell.
He tightened his grip on my hands, and as we were relaxing with each other by singing both the past and present, and, hopefully, future, of our relationship, he joined, and we harmonized.
Every moment,
As long as your mine,
I'll wake up my body
And make up for lost time.
We blushed, and he looked down. This next part always got to me, since I hoped that we'd make it past high school.
Say there's no future
For us as a pair,
And though I may know
I don't care.
He joined in with the harmony, and even though that was the way the song was written, he seemed so completely sincere about it. Carpe diem, I guess.
Just for this moment,
As long as you're mine,
Come be how you want to,
And see how bright we shine.
Borrow the moonlight
Until it is through,
And know I'll be here
Holding you,
As long as you're mine.
Somewhere in the middle, we'd ended up laying in the middle of my bed, holding hands, one of my arms wrapped around me, his under a pillow. Elphaba said the last few words, and we both rubbed our noses together in eskimo kisses. Afterward, there was only the silence punctuated by the rustling of the comforter as we moved to hold each other, not even kissing yet. We'd move up to that. We had all night.
I took one hand out of his and stroked his jaw, his smooth-as-silk jaw. This was already as naked as we'd ever been with each other. Now I was actually touching him. I let my fingertips lightly trail down his chest, over his shoulder, down his arm and back up, as my other hand was still intertwined with his, as he shivered from my light caresses. His free hand was holding my face close while I traced every curve, dip, and flex of his chest, moving under the shirt to better memorize it all. He was so smooth, I could hardly believe it. I looked down to see that his shirt was already hiked up to his chest, and I gave him a questioning look. He blushed, sitting up and parting our hands to take off the undershirt.
Before I could so much as sit up, comment, or continue mapping the topography of his body with my fingertips, he pressed one finger down on my chest to keep me down, quirking an eyebrow. He took that finger and dragged it lightly down my chest, so slowly that I knew that he was doing the same mapping with me, eliciting the same shivers. When he got to the end of my shirt, instead of going back up, though, he kept going down. Not much further, but he let his fingertip trace along the waistband of my pants, setting my skin down there on fire. Among other things. He was watching me from above, propped on his arm above my head on a pillow. When his hand stopped, he looked down, blushing and smiling both shyly and smugly. How he pulled that off, I'm not sure, but his hand kept moving, and now his fingers were stroking along my hip, down to my leg, down to the inside...
I took in a sharp breath as the heat pooling down there was getting to be more intense than I'd ever felt it with him, and the sudden movement caused him to retract his hand and place it against my stomach, muttering, "Sorry."
"Don't be."
He smiled at this and bent down to kiss me, looking at me through his eyelashes, but he stopped a few millimeters short, looking me in the eye, our breath mixing together almost too hot and quick. I picked my head up to fill the gap; that kiss had to be one of our best ones. The anticipation made it all the sweeter. Though, the sweetness very, very soon gave way to need. Our pulsating, closed-mouth kisses became open mouthed, with one of us sucking and nibbling on the other's lips at all times. Our hands finally could roam... wherever. That fact finally sunk in. And Kurt was finally shirtless.
He still had one arm holding him up and over me, while his other hand was pressing all along my chest under my shirt. I was reciprocating and feeling, for the first time, that beautiful skin that he always kept hidden away, and I was trying to memorize it all before he left it all to the imagination again. I moved my hands to his lithe back, lightly pulling him closer. He had hiked up my shirt before he obliged, and I peeled it off, our lips separating for an empty moment before they reunited, our tongues joining the mix, remapping each other's mouths from the last time we'd made out.
He took my shirt from my hand and flung it across the room while moving to straddle me. It was then that I felt, more than saw, that we were both quite hard. He felt it too, and we both gasped against the friction of our groins rubbing against one another for the first time. Oh God, I would have agreed to this so much sooner if I'd've known! We both ground into each other at the same time, and it was like heat was being poured from my belly into my dick, and I could feel him getting harder against me, too. Then I heard a moan, and another, and I think the first one had come from me, maybe. I tried to control myself, but he kept grinding. That is, until he noticed that I had stopped.
"Oh God! I'm sorry, was that too much?" He was starting to get up and off of me, and I immediately missed his heat and weight, not to mention the feel of his entire body against mine, with so much skin all at once.
"No!" I stopped him, and we rolled over so that I was on top. I tried to keep our bulging crotches from touching as I pulled him upright by his hands so that we were almost eye-to-eye, my arms wrapped around him, his around my waist, our mouths finding each other before I pulled away to continue, "I don't want to stop, but that's just it. How far are we going, Kurt? Better yet, how far are you willing to go tonight?"
"... I don't know. I can see us... I can see us really doing it. All of it."
"Oh. You mean even...?"
"Yeah, even... Even that," he murmured, blushing profusely, and looking down in embarrassment. I breathed a sigh of relief, now that he'd said it.
"You too?" His head shot up, a wary smile gracing those beautiful, now swollen, lips. "We go as far as we want tonight, okay?"
"Sounds... Sounds great! But I have one question. If we do get... that far..."
"Who pitches and who catches?" I offered helpfully.
"Yeah. I mean, you have the lead tomorrow night, as well, and you have to dance so much, so should I...?"
"Only if you're comfortable with it. We don't have to do it tonight, we don't have to decide on that yet, unless that's where we end up. Besides, Officer Krupke-"
"Still, you're Tony," he said, cocking his head to one side with a look that allowed for no debate.
I leaned in and kissed him lightly, settling my hips down a little, his legs wrapping around my waist. Even after that quick cool-down, we were still very hard, and as we ground into each other, our moans got louder and more desperate as we kissed harder and harder, our tongues battling for dominance. I think he won when he started to suck on my tongue, moving his head back and forth slightly, sliding his lips along like he was blowing me...
That imagery sent my hips into a violent thrust against his, and I was trying to get my tongue out of his mouth before he sent me over the edge. He took one hand from my waist and grabbed my ass so hard and fast that it slammed my crotch into his lap, keeping it from moving, but his other hand went to the back of my head, keeping our mouths attached and my tongue inside of his, as he went slower, moaning lightly. I whimpered into his mouth involuntarily, and he pulled back, his pupils blown out and his hair a little mussed. I was relieved that he hadn't made me cum in my pants. Yet.
"You like that, eh?" Oh my fuck, yes! I just nodded, letting out a shuddering breath as I regained control of myself. "Want me to do it again?" I blushed and nodded, a little more hesitantly. He rubbed at my ass, grinding my hips into his own, and when he felt how much harder I was, he gave me such a knowing and lust-filled look that my cock twitched against his, which only elicited a smirk as he leaned to my ear, taking his other hand from the back of my head and sliding it into the crotch of my pants until he was rubbing at my erection, and whispered, "Want me to do it here?"
By now my stomach was turning into knots, from the way he was unabashedly touching me, talking to me, and looking at me. I barely squeaked out a shuddering, "Please, yes," before he lowered me down, kissing me slowly but more heatedly than he had before, and began unzipping and unbuttoning my pants with slightly shaky hands, peeling them off and letting my cock spring freer inside of my boxers. He lifted his face from mine, and began kissing his way down my jaw, down my neck, collarbone, chest, licking and nipping and sucking here and there. I tilted my head back to give him more skin to taste, and oh, fuck, how could he be so good, when he was a baby penguin not six months ago?
He found his way to my nipple, and began licking languidly at one before blowing on it and getting it to pucker up, latching his mouth down on it and flicking his tongue back and forth rapidly, just barely grazing it. My breath quickened as he kept teasing me, the shocks of sensation shooting across my skin. He brought his lips back up before going back down to give one more lick and then a sharp bite. All that time, I had been trying my best to not moan, groan, whimper, or breath too low and shallow and interrupt him, but that bite had me crying out unintelligibly. Kurt looked up at me, grinning, and moving to the other nipple, giving it the exact same treatment, but I didn't hold back any more moans and whimpers, and when he bit down, I cried a little louder and bucked up a bit. His hands, which had been roaming my shoulders and hip bones, pressed my hips back into my mattress while he continued, dragging his tongue down my abs, dipping it briefly into my navel, and stopping to kiss right above my waistband of my boxers. He took the waistband and dragged it down, slowly, but didn't pull my boxers off. Instead, he kissed his way along the newly exposed skin, nipping and licking at the hollows just inside my hipbones, brushing his nose lightly along the bit of fuzz leading down to his eventual destination.
He finally pulled my boxers off, lifting his head before my cock could smack him in the face. Instead of taking it into his mouth, though, he continued to kiss down my thigh, along the inside, sending more and more blood rushing to that area. He moved onto the other thigh, licking short trails before asking, "Do you want me to go to the one place I haven't tasted, yet?"
It took what little self-control I had left to not shout, "Oh God, Kurt, please! Yes!" even though I was still pretty loud. I was breathless and going insane, since my cock was aching to be touched, let alone licked and sucked.
"Yes, what?"
Was he really doing this? I breathed out, "Yes, Kurt, please taste my cock! I want you to suck my cock! Please, baby-" but I cut myself off with a loud, long moan elicited by Kurt licking a stripe from the base of my cock to the tip, and Oh Holy Mother of Fuck, that felt amazing. He continued to lick all along my length until I was slick, and then he lowered his mouth over it, encasing my dick in soft, wet heat. He licked lightly at the head and dragged his lower lip and tongue along the underside, before taking as much of me as he could into his throat. Fuck! Virgin... so good... How? He kept bobbing his head up and down, from base to tip, licking at my glans at every pass and swallowing around the head at every plunge, hollowing out his cheeks the entire time, encompassing me in even more wet heat. His hands remained on my hips, keeping me from involuntarily bucking into his mouth. He left one hand to do it while the other slid down to my balls, lightly squeezing them and rolling them around. His middle finger was prodding about...
Oh God! He was brushing my perineum, and it (somehow!) felt even greater than before. He hummed around my cock, looking at my face, and I just kept watching him through half-lidded eyes, when they weren't squeezed shut in holding back an orgasm every other time he plunged down and swallowed around my cock.
"How... Ungh... How are... you so good?" I whimpered.
He didn't answer, he just quickened his pace and lifted his other hand and used it to pump at my cock, which sent me over the edge in no time. It might've been four pumps of his insanely soft hand mixed with a few squeezes from the other equally soft hand and another brush into my perineum from a long, graceful finger. He sucked at my head and lightly stroked a few more times, lightly squeezing my balls again, taking every last drop of my cum before stopping, just before the oversensitivity made it all hurt. He swallowed, which, being so hot, made my dick twitch painfully, and rested his head on my leg, stroking his hands along my legs and sides, smiling up at me.
"I've been practicing with bananas when nobody was looking, and I've been killing my gag reflex with my toothbrush when I brush my tongue. And I've been reading up and... experimenting. You know... when I masturbate."
I was taking all of this in and taking a few notes while catching my breath and letting the sated bliss take over. I would have fallen asleep if it hadn't been for Kurt kissing the inside of my thigh, sending electricity straight into my dick, which was still too sensitive. I gasped and sat up. He sat up too, and I saw that he was still very hard, and still in his pants. I felt bad for almost falling asleep without reciprocating in some way.
He noticed where I was looking and looked down at me, grinning and saying, "You looked really hot just now. And those pants you wear? They don't do you justice. I mean, damn, hon!"
"Well, now that you're seeing me naked, I want to see you."
Our lips met while I fumbled to undo his pants, and when I was peeling them off, I realized why his usually sweet breath was now more bitter: I was tasting myself. I was caught midway between being grossed out and turned on. I licked a little around his lips while I finally got the pants over both his hard cock and perky ass, and I gingerly licked his tongue while I grabbed his ass hungrily, pressing his hips to mine. I ran one hand along his back, pressing his body flush against mine, the only area not skin-to-skin being our hips, thanks to his boxer-briefs.
"Want me to return the favor, Kurt?" I asked while running a few fingers along the inside of his waistband, like he had done with me. He kissed along my neck and nipped at the crook, eyes closed, and he hummed in affirmation while blushing a bit more. I pressed my lips to his, then kissed each cheek, his nose, his chin, and worked my way down his neck, pulling his boxer-briefs off while pressing feather-light kisses along his chest, only lightly flicking my tongue along his nipples, before sliding his underwear all the way off and throwing it across the room. I also slid off his socks, just for good measure.
I sat back a bit, admiring the sight of my naked-finally, fully, 100% naked-boyfriend in front of and under me, waiting. I wrapped my hand around his dick, slowly jerking him off while I moved back to his mouth and kissed him hard. He moaned into my mouth when I twisted my hand a bit at the top, squeezing my thumb and forefinger together. I kept it slow, picking up speed when I felt ready to go down again. He was writhing under me, biting his bottom lip, trying not to make any noise. I got my face just over his throbbing erection, looking at him dead in the eye while I moved one hand to his balls and squeezed lightly, dragging my lips over the head of his cock. He threw his head back and moaned at the contact, and I licked at the underside experimentally. I realized how much easier it would be for my mouth to bob up and down his length if I kept slicking him up with my tongue, so while my hand kept fondling his balls, the other pumped what wasn't in my mouth, and I kept licking along every inch of his dick, letting my lips drag along softly. Eventually, my spit ran down to my hand, and I kept up a steady rhythm of pumping, rolling, and licking while Kurt whimpered slightly from in front of me. After I realized that I was getting hard again, I retracted the hand that was jerking him off into my mouth and used it to brace my head above his hips, giving my neck and thighs a slight break. I then plunged my face as far down his length as I could manage, and I was about an inch or so from the base before my gag reflex kicked in. I held back from choking, because he was breathing so hard, starting to sweat on his forehead. I looked up, trying to distract my throat from gagging by looking at his beautiful face twist in abject pleasure, my prim boyfriend coming apart in shambles in my hands and mouth. I wanted to see him cum. He was holding back, but I wanted to hear him scream and shout by my doing. And I wanted to be face-to-face when it happened.
I took one finger and, on an upward bob, left his dick just long enough to slick my finger up, and then I tried again to deepthroat him. I relaxed my throat, and I got further down, eliciting a shuddering moan from him.
"Fuck, Blaine! I'm so close..."
I took my hand and pumped his cock while I moved back up to kiss him.
"Kurt... Do you wanna... Uh, do it?"
"Yes! Please!"
I went back down and continued to suck his dick, taking that still-slick finger and tracing his hole, letting my fingertip slip in and out. He tensed up and got very quiet. I muttered for him to relax and push on me, and he did. I pushed in to my knuckle, wriggling it about to get further in. He looked really uncomfortable.
"Kurt, look behind my tissue box," I said, lightly pushing forward some more, moving my face down to his dick, licking and sucking, deepthroating more and more while he sighed at the renewed pleasure and rummaged on my bedside table until he found my small bottle of lube. He handed it to me, and I used my other hand to pour a little onto my finger, gently pumping it back and forth, slathering my finger and his hole with lube. He seemed much less uncomfortable now that he was slightly more stretched and that I was using lube instead of quick-drying spit. I crooked my finger up a bit, feeling something new, and he tensed up with a low groan of what I hoped was pleasure. "There?" I asked, receiving a nod in return. I kept my finger curled just enough to keep brushing his prostate and took the lube to get another finger slicked up. "More?" He nodded again. I gently pressed the other finger in, immediately crooking both fingers to make him feel good, instead of uncomfortable. I spread my fingers in a scissoring motion every few thrusts, and he started to move onto my hand in time with my motions. I don't think I'd ever seen anything hotter than Kurt, rock-hard in front of me, thrusting his hips into my hand while fingering him. I took a bit more lube for a third finger and pumped it in, scissoring all three to stretch him out for my cock, which was plenty thicker than a few fingers. I pumped in and out a few more times, brushing his prostate, feeling him loosen up a bit, hearing him moan softly to himself.
I took my fingers out and quickly lubed up my own cock while he whimpered at the loss. I refrained from jerking off too much as I slathered it on, since I wanted to last with Kurt, especially since it was our first time and I probably wouldn't. I lined my dick up with his entrance and gently pressed. I barely got the tip in before his breathing became high and slightly pained. I pulled out and pulled him up into a hug.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," I said while pressing butterfly kisses across his face.
"It's fine. I expected it. Please don't stop."
"Wait. Get up for a sec." I took one of his legs and got him to straddle me, his hips hovering over my dick. "Go as slow as you need."
He nodded and did so. It took a long time. Like, a really long time. At least, 5-ish minutes seemed like forever when the most impossibly tight heat was slowly, centimeter by centimeter, enclosing itself around your cock when all you wanted was to thrust up into it. But I controlled myself. I couldn't imagine (yet) how he must be feeling. Finally, he bottomed out. We rested there for a few seconds. He shifted about, wincing as he did. I held him still.
"No rush, Kurt. We have all night. I love you." That last one changed the atmosphere from hot need to gentle warmth.
"I love you, too, Blaine. I truly love you more than I know how to express."
"How's this? What we're doing?"
"This shows some of how much I love you. Only some."
"If you hadn't brought up the musical, I'd've switched places with you in a heartbeat."
"You really trust me so much? You've been considering this so much longer than I have... I'm still just a baby penguin with gas-pain faces, in comparison."
"I trust you just as much as I love you. You'd never hurt me, and I'll never hurt you. Like you said that you'd never say goodbye to me, I'll never say goodbye to you. I love you with all of my heart."
He cut me off from saying any more by kissing me deeply, passionately, and lovingly. No tongue, no lust, just a silent reciprocation of all that I just said. We both knew that's what it was, and we rested our foreheads against one another's after, just breathing and being together. I kept holding him close, and he started to move, bringing the fact that my cock was still balls deep in his hot, tight ass. We both gasped, me from the tightness and heat and friction, him from the fullness and dull pain, if his face was anything to go by. He moved up and down so slowly, so painfully slowly, that I thought that I might lose control of my hips, except that the look on his face when he finally landed on his prostate was priceless, and the breathless shout he emitted sent heat cascading into my belly. Hearing him, seeing him, feeling him, smelling him, still tasting him-all I knew at that moment was Kurt. And he was enjoying himself, quite immensely. He began to move a little faster, moving his hands from behind me to my shoulders. I couldn't hold myself back any longer. When he was coming down, I grabbed his hips and thrust upward, into his sweet spot.
"Fuck! Blaine! Oh, fuck!"
And he kept screaming profanities punctuated by my name as he and I continued to thrust into each other, slowly but passionately. I groped around for the lube and poured some into my hand, letting it warm a bit before slathering it on Kurt's cock, pumping back and forth in time to our bodies. He was too tight for me to last, and I was going to be cumming soon. Holding back to prolong this was great, but my stamina for it had run out, especially after already cumming once. With each thrust, Kurt's moans and shouts got higher and more desperate, and his cock was throbbing so hard, precum seeping out and mixing with the lube, that I knew that he was close, too. I quickened my pace, both in my hips and my hand, and before long, he slammed his mouth onto mine and screamed what felt like my name into the kiss. For once, I didn't mind him trying to keep it quiet. That one might've woken the neighbors. When he came into my hand and a little onto my chest, he clenched down on me so hard that I came completely undone, seeing and hearing nothing for a good minute or so, glad that his mouth was still on mine.
When my brain finally started working again, I noticed that we were both lying on our sides on my bed, breathing hard. I slid out of Kurt, who whimpered from the sudden emptiness, and drew him into my arms.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"I love you more."
"Impossible."
We snuggled and drifted off a bit, in spite of the omnipresent stickiness and musk. I jerked back to consciousness when I felt Kurt pulling from our embrace. I grumbled something unintelligible, even to me, and he giggled softly.
"I'm gonna go wash up."
"Mmm... Sheetsh're shticky."
"Do you want to change them?"
"No. Too obvious. So's keeping them here. Wash them?"
"Okay. I'll help you strip the sheets."
I was slightly more conscious now, so I saw the disappointment on his face. If we washed the sheets, then there'd be no hot water for a shower. At least, that's what I knew he was thinking.
"Sheets get washed in cold water. Hot water's not going anywhere." He perked up at that. "And then I could join you in the shower," I added slyly, all lethargy out the door.
I don't think my sheets were ever stripped and washed so quickly before.
I think that's the first time the hot water ran out on me, too.
So many First Times, tonight.