"Aren't they fabulous? I haven't worn heels in so long – Blaine hates them; they play on his Napoleon Complex, and then he gets irritable and demanding, and it's incredibly unpleasant – so it feels fantastic to be the in them again," Kurt's saying as he's sitting on the piano in the choir room, staring at the red three-inch monsters on his feet.
Sam wishes he could say that he's been listening to Kurt's rant about how freeing it is to be back at McKinley after the "fashionable tyranny of Dalton," but he can't. It's not that he didn't want to listen – he did, for the most part. It's just that Kurt's wearing heels. And those heels manage to make his legs look even longer. (Which Sam didn't think was physically possible, but – the proof is in the pants.)
So it's safe to say that Sam's mind really isn't on Kurt's explanation of his choices in attire for his first day back. In his defense, he is thinking about Kurt's clothes, to some extent – the extent in which he really wants to tear them off.
Sam lets his gaze travel from Kurt's outstretched legs (clad in tight, tight skinny jeans – navy) up to his slim torso (upon which is about three hateful layers of clothing; a t-shirt, a sweater, and a jacket, for christ's sake), and finally to Kurt's face.
Which is contorted into an expression of curiosity and mild annoyance.
Kurt's stopped talking, and Sam's pretty sure that he's been asked a question.
"Uh…sorry, distracted by your, um… What was that?" Sam asks, staring nervously at the tiled floor beneath his feet and trying not to look too hopeless.
Kurt sighs, but he sounds sort of amused, which isn't exactly good. Kurt being amused, though it means that he doesn't think Sam's a useless idiot not worth talking to, doesn't completely equal point one to Sam. Actually, sort of the opposite – because even if Kurt doesn't dislike him, he's amused by Sam, which means he probably thinks Sam's just a normal type of idiot. Like Finn – and Sam has seen the way that everyone treats him. (Like a lost puppy: really cute and all that, but kind of sad and pathetic at the same time.)
"I was asking if you'd be willing to let me take you shopping this weekend. I am desperately in need of giving a makeover, and you – I mean this in the kindest way possible – are desperately in need of receiving one," Kurt says (again). Sam risks a glance up at the brunette again, and sees that he's smiling. It's almost reassuring, aside from the part where he sounds like he's talking to Finn.
"Usually I'd ask Finn or Blaine, but I've completely given up hope on the former – my father's influence has been too much – and the latter's tastes are too different from mine. Honestly, the boy doesn't understand the difference between being dapper and looking like he just walked out of a film noir movie. He owns a fedora. A plain, brown, fedora. It's not even fashionable, it's just -"
Once Sam hears "too different," he's good – his jealousy of the curly-haired Warblers front man had been what ended up pushing Quinn to break up with him, as, in her words, she "can't be with someone who's in love with her best guy" – and he zones out a little bit again, letting his eyes drift over Kurt's frame again. And again, his eyes keep stopping at those goddamn heels. Sam didn't even know they made heels for guys. (Then again, he didn't think they – whoever they are – made skirts for guys, either, but no one at McKinley had missed Kurt the day he decided to wear one.)
But the heels are too much. They're a thousand times worse than the skirt, for whatever reason. It might be because they're red, and red is without a doubt the most unfairly sexual color in the history of the world. It might be because they make Kurt as tall as Sam, which for whatever reason seems really hot and makes Sam think about Kurt topping him. It might be because of the way that Kurt keeps swinging his legs, and such a typically innocent motion ends up looking fucking sinful because there are those flashes of striking red.
Or maybe it's just because they're on Kurt, whom Sam has a really bad habit of ogling, and thinking about in his "private moments," and wanting to ravish on a regular basis.
And apparently not listening to, either, considering the way that Kurt's giving him that expectant – and now much more irritated – look.
"Samuel Evans, I swear, I could have been telling you all about how the Warblers are a bunch of sex-crazed homosexuals who engage in jerk circles on a nightly basis, and you wouldn't have absorbed any of it," Kurt complains, as Sam's mouth goes dry at the thought of thirteen other Warbles, all of them having seen Kurt and most likely touched him.
The thought is terrifying. And potentially jealous-rage-inducing. Before Sam can stop himself to think it through, he's blurted out, "You weren't really talking about that, were you?"
Kurt just giggles and sends an even more embarrassing rush of blood to Sam's cock. "No, Sam, I wasn't. Regrettably enough, Blaine and I are – were – the only gay ones of the Warblers. Although I did have my suspicions about a few of them – no matter how David tries to excuse it, I still think that him slapping my ass was fairly homoerotic."
Sam makes some noise that he hopes Kurt will take as an agreement, because he's pretty sure he's not capable of coherent thought at the moment. Because someone slapped Kurt's ass. And that's just not fair, because Sam's known Kurt longer than this "David" person, and Sam should have been the first heteroflexible (emphasis on the flexible, not so much on the hetero) guy to touch Kurt's ass. Even over clothing.
Clothing. Sam thinks it's incorrect to call Kurt's jeans clothing, considering that about 99% of the time it doesn't look so much like Kurt's wearing fabric, as it does that he's been painted on to imitate the look of jeans.
And just like that, Sam's eyes are back on Kurt's oh-so-long legs, and he's trying to look for telltale signs of them being fabric. There are pockets, of course, but they look so small, and Sam honestly has no idea how Kurt manages to get his cell phone in there. Maybe that's the reason for the jackets…
"– and I've always had a fetish with cowboy boots. Maybe it's because of Brokeback Mountain, but I do know that I really want a guy to take me while he's wearing cowboy boots."
Startled out of his pensiveness, Sam gives a double-take before very eloquently spitting out, "What?"
Grinning, Kurt gives Sam what looks like a small wink before noting playfully, "So that's what it takes to get your attention. Maybe I should have fabricated stories of homosexual escapades with my Dalton boys, after all."
After about a three second process time, Sam remembers This is the part where I say something. And ends up asking, entirely too stupidly, "Were you serious about that? The cowboy boot thing?"
Kurt rolls his eyes in response, before sliding off the piano – he slides – and crosses his arms, noting, "No, I wasn't serious. I detest cowboy boots entirely. To be honest with you, I don't really have any clothing fetishes, despite what you – and most everyone – probably think."
Sam's initial reaction is to smile broadly, because That's good. He's not exactly 'fashionably inclined,' and he's not sure he'd be able to keep up with a clothing fetish if Kurt had one. (Although he would sure as hell try, because – Kurt. That ass. Those legs. Those heels.)
Sam's second reaction is to let that smile fall, and be replaced by a stare that probably looks very Finnian. "What kind of fetishes do you have, then?"
Sam's third reaction is to drop his face into his hands in embarrassment and hope that Kurt will just leave him in his mortified misery, preferably without any further discussion on this conversation that has instantly become humiliating in about fifteen different ways.
Without missing a beat, Kurt laughs a little – Sam's cock twitches again, because for fuck's sake, Kurt really needs to stop sounding so Kurt when laughs – and replies easily, "The musical kind. Sam – Sam, really, it's fine. I don't mind; between Santana, Brittany, Puck, and Finn, I've been asked questions a lot more awkward than that. Once, Finn asked me if I had a favorite flavor of lube. After being offended – I naturally have no practice, as the insensitive oaf seemed to have forgotten – I was horrified."
"Yeah, but Puck and Santana are just like that, and Brittany and Finn aren't bright enough to know that you're not supposed to just ask people things like that," Sam mumbles into his palms, wondering how long it'll take for the flesh on his face to burn clear off. He thinks that it won't take too long, if he keeps saying stupid things like he has been so far, and wishes that he had some of Rachel's duct tape to shut himself up with.
"Sam, it's okay. I get it; I'm gay. It's alien to you, and people are always fascinated by the unusual. It's totally understandable to be curious about 'my people,' if you will," Kurt assures in a way that's way too tender. It doesn't help Sam's situation at all when Kurt sits next to him on one of the plastic chairs the Gleeks use – and things get about a thousand times worse when Kurt rests what's probably supposed to be a comforting hand on Sam's knee.
(Sam's pretty sure that that damn Blaine guy is to blame for Kurt's recent "handsyness" – as dubbed by Tina. He was the one that was always holding hands with Kurt whenever the two of them were together, which ended up leading Kurt onto thinking that he was flirting, and resulted in the whole painful debacle during which Sam had discovered – Kurt was really pretty when he cried, and that Sam never wanted to hold anyone else – male or female, Quinn included – like he did Kurt.)
But the return of Sam's thoughts to Blaine makes things worse, yet again, because Sam can feel his green-eyed monster rearing his head again. And yet again, he ends up speaking without thinking. And yet again, he really wishes that the world would open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole, please. "I'm not curious, I'm turned on!"
For a second, during which time Kurt's posture stiffens noticeably, Sam wonders why he's been cursed with such a big mouth. (And for once when he wonders it, it's figuratively, and not literally.) But when that second passes, and Kurt's hand stays very warmly on Sam's knee, Sam thinks he might have to thank God or whoever for that big mouth of his. Because it feels – very cliché, he knows, but he'll be damned if it's not accurate – like there's a weight that's been lifted from his shoulders, and it's very freeing.
"That's a new one," Kurt says slowly, sounding only borderline uncertain as his hand grips Sam's knee a little bit tighter, and as he crosses his legs way too easily for someone in skinny jeans.
And then, Sam sees those damn heels again. Kurt's tapping his foot, like he doesn't know what to do next, and those heels are teasing Sam. Because now Sam's said it – he's made his attraction to Kurt clear, and he still can't touch, and those heels are just there, mocking him with their sexy, sexy presence.
Sam's heard about the Karofsky kiss by now – all the Gleeks have, after they were sworn to absolute secrecy. So he knows he can't just dive right in and kiss Kurt. But he really wants to. And he's got a hard-on in his pants that really shouldn't be contained the way it is. And Kurt looks really tempting, when Sam's brave enough to steal a glance at him.
So instead, Sam warns, "I'm going to kiss you now, with tongue. If that's okay with you, I mean?"
Kurt doesn't say anything, and for a split second, Sam's mind starts whirring with fears that he was being too forward, or that Kurt doesn't like him, or that Kurt's been traumatized for life by the Karofsky thing and doesn't want to kiss anyone ever, or that when Blaine rejected Kurt it was because space aliens had taken over his body, but afterwards Blaine explained the situation and now he and Kurt have been secretly married for two months – but then Kurt's hand is gone from Sam's knee, and instead Kurt's in his lap, and Kurt's kissing him.
And then all coherent thought goes out the window. Sam's pretty sure he doesn't need coherent thought when he's got Kurt Hummel straddling his hips, with an obvious erection of his own. And he's also pretty sure that coherent thoughts are overrated when Kurt tastes like strawberries and is sucking on Sam's tongue like he's going for a damn award.
Somehow, Sam's hands find their way down to Kurt's ass, and Sam discovers that the jeans are actually made of denim – shockingly enough. And then he discovers that the pockets are able to be used, because Sam can fit his hands in the back ones and that's amazing. (Almost as amazing as the way that Kurt's unabashedly moaning into Sam's mouth, and his fingers are in Sam's hair like they belong there – which Sam thinks that they do.)
Sam doesn't even know what word he's supposed to use – reallyfuckingperfect is pretty close, but he doesn't think he'll find that in a Webster's any time soon – when Kurt does something with his hips and there's a sudden hardness pressing against Sam's own, but he doesn't care so much about words by that point. Because Sam can feel his climax coming – it's never been this fast before, but he'll be embarrassed about that later – and it's reallyfuckingperfect.
Sam at least manages to hold back until Kurt comes – rather spectacularly, for someone whose dick is still trapped by skinny jeans – and moans Sam's name so obscenely that Sam thinks even Chuck Norris would cream his denims. That sound is what finally does it, and then Sam's spurting inside his briefs.
The prospect of walking around for the rest of the day with damp pants? Not so cool. The prospect of a round two, suggested by the way that Kurt's giving Sam such a look of want? Entirely cool.
"Sorry about that," Kurt mumbles with another giggle that wakes up Sam's cock immediately, even when Kurt clambers off of Sam's lap and into the chair next to him. The pleased hue on Kurt's face is delicious, and Sam looks at the floor quickly to avoid getting hard again already.
Except on the floor is where Kurt's feet are, and those heels are still there. And they're still taunting him, mercilessly.
"Can you help me with some Spanish homework after school?" Sam asks quickly, after he glares momentarily at Kurt's shoes and takes a chance on looking at Kurt's face again. A face that lights up brightly, and with eyes that shine way too lustily for someone who usually looks so angelic and innocent. (From the waist up, anyway. Clearly Sam's not the only one who really wants a round two.)
Kurt's nod doesn't seem to show itself fast enough for the brunette, and he quickly informs, "My dad and Carole will be working, and Finn has basketball practice…I could give you a ride, if you want?"
Sam doesn't know if the double meaning is intentional or not – it's hard to tell, since his eyes are shut to avoid getting any harder while there are still two periods of school left to go – but he really hopes it is. Because he has more than a few ideas that he wants to try out with Kurt, and that particular double meaning may be one of them.
"Sounds great," he says, standing up with a slight grimace at the feeling in his pants, before giving Kurt a grin and a wink, which Kurt returns playfully.
Satisfied, Sam starts on a journey to the locker room (he really needs a cold shower right about now), but stops in the doorway for a moment, to note over his shoulder, "I really like your shoes, Kurt."
Most of those "more than a few ideas" of his involve those red heels of Kurt's, too, and Sam finds it pretty funny that he's apparently the one with the clothing fetish between the two of them.
~.~.~
Prompt: Glee Kink Meme fill; prompt asked for Kurt showing Sam his new shoes, with sexytimes ensuing. ;D
AN: Just for the record, Chuck Norris was used as the example because he is obviously the straightest man in the world. I mean no offense to Mr. Norris or his state of heterosexuality; I was just making a point. /please don't roundhouse me
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine.