The First Time
"Hello, Mr. Hummel! I'm Blaine, Kurt's b-"
He pulls me aside before I can finish, smiling at his father in an oh-so-forced way.
"Blaine, stop. I'm lucky enough as it is that he doesn't mind me blasting Idina Menzel's latest album in the middle of the night, he really doesn't need further confirmation that I'm the gayest person on the planet."
"I'm sorry."
We go back, and sit down for dinner.
"So, how's Dalton goin' for you, Kurt?" he asks, stuffing food into his mouth quicker than Heidi Montag gets a nose job.
"It's fine, Dad."
Burt merely raises his eyebrows and turns to me.
"How d'you know Kurt, then, Blaine?" he asks. Like Kurt's smile, it's forced. He doesn't like me, I can tell.
"Well, it all started when he came to spy on us!" I laugh, and glance to Kurt, who's next to me. He's looking at me so innocently, and his eyes are gleaming like… I can't even think of an adjective. They're really bright.
"And it's only gone uphill from there."
I look at him again. Those lips, they're so small and pink and before I know it I'm leaning in to touch mine on them –
"Don't." he says, jolting me back to reality.
The Second Time
We're about to get into his car, when I see that guy Karofsky. I roll my eyes at Kurt, and he just frowns back at me.
"Hey, homos."
"Just ignore him." Kurt whispers to me, closing his door and putting the key in the ignition.
"Oh, what, you're just going to leave me hanging?" Karofsky continues. "That's not very nice of you at all."
He pulls out a switchblade.
"Fuck."
"Just drive, Kurt, drive away. Now."
"Don't run away from me."
"Kurt! Fucking drive!"
Karofsky grins, and walks over to Kurt's door. I can see now why Kurt wasn't driving, he's white as a sheet, and he's shaking like crazy. What can I do, though?
"Hey, Neanderthal. Back off." I say, and Kurt just looks at me.
Karofsky glares at me, spits, and then walks away.
Kurt looks like he might do the same.
"What?" I ask him.
"Don't."
The Third Time
We're in his bedroom. I've never been there before, it's exciting. Well, as exciting as sitting in a basement listening to the Les Misérables soundtrack can get.
"I want to audition for Grantére in this. It's, like, my dream role," he says, and I only nod at him.
I've never seen Les Mis, but he's a big fan. He went to the London production on opening night, he tells me. He's talking, I think, but I can't really hear what he's saying. I'm just looking at that smile of his, and the prim and preppy way he wears his uniform.
"So, Kurt…"
"Yes?" He's so excited, like a puppy.
"Does your dad… know?"
"About me being gay? Of course!"
"So, he wouldn't mind if I did this to you."
I lean forward and kiss him lightly again. He doesn't refuse, unlike that time at the dinner table. His lips are soft, supple – he's not had much experience, but he's a natural. I let my tongue dash around his, he responds with a quick flick, and I'm holding him so tight.
I can't take it any more.
Letting go of his head, I clutch his tie, and start to unravel it.
"Blaine!" he says, pulling away.
"What?"
"… don't."
The Fourth Time
"Kurt, do you want to come around again tonight? I could cook some dinner."
He's so quiet on the phone, I can't help but wonder if there's someone else.
"I'd love to, but I have that audition tonight – remember?"
Shit. I was supposed to go to that.
"Oh, yeah, of course. I meant… after the audition."
"I've got to go home after the audition, they go on until about 11, and it's a school day tomorrow."
He must be so disappointed with me.
"Well, you know when I said 'Cook you dinner', that's not really what I meant, right?"
I can hear a loud sigh.
"What?"
"Blaine, just stop."
"But wasn't that amazing on Saturday?"
"Don't."
The Fifth Time
We're kissing. On my bed. Never thought this would happen, but there you go.
I board at Dalton, my parents are on a trip to Europe, so I just stay here all the time. The perk is that they never check on you in your room.
I run my fingers through his hair, and he just leans in closer.
"Blaine… take off your shirt."
I follow his command, and slowly unbutton my shirt, throwing it on the ground to match its brothers, my tie and my jacket.
Kurt does the same.
And we just do that for a while, kiss half-naked, rub our bodies against each other.
Soon, I can feel a bulge in his lower regions. I grin, and he notices.
"What?"
"You're just getting a bit… excited, is all."
"Oh, sorry, should we stop?"
I look into his eyes, and I take his hand, and I lead it towards my slowly growing tent.
It takes him a second to realise.
I unzip my trousers, and pull down my pants.
Before I know it, my cock is against his, and I try to turn him over so I can enter him, but…
He pulls away.
I pull him back, thinking he's playing coy.
He jolts up, and nervously gets dressed, hiding as much of himself from me as he can.
He whimpers a little.
I look at him, raising my eyebrow.
He brings his hand to his mouth and starts biting his fingernails.
I get up and go over to pat him on the shoulder, but he hits me away.
"Don't."
The One Time I Stole His Line
"I love you."
"Don't."