Blaine sat a few rows back from Kurt, and was currently taking full advantage of this positioning, admiring him from behind.

His eyes scrutinized every perfect detail of the boy in front of him, feeling a twinge in his stomach every time he saw the muscles in his back move. He licked his lips as Kurt shifted in his seat a little, oblivious to the inspection going on behind him.

An idea flickered into his head, and as quietly as possible, Blaine tore a piece of paper out of the unwritten-in notebook in front of him (because writing notes was for squares, obviously), and crumpled it into a ball.

With a glance towards Mr. Warner, who had his back turned, writing on the board, Blaine chucked the paper ball at Kurt, hitting him in the back of the head.

In a flash, Kurt had jerked around in the direction the ball had came from, to meet the devilish gaze of a chuckling Blaine Anderson.

Kurt shot him a look full of daggers before turning back to the front of the room, filing Blaine Anderson under the category of "Not Worth Getting Yelled at For." However, for good measure, he twisted his arm behind him, pretending to scratch his back, but momentarily making a very blatant gesture of giving the curly-haired menace his middle finger.

Blaine's evil grin was of Cheshire Cat magnitude about now. He loved teasing this fabulously beautiful boy, loved seeing him react to the things Blaine did. Mainly, because his reactions were inevitably sexy. Everything he did was sexy.

What he wouldn't give to have that scrumptious, pale little ass underneath him, against him, around him—

"Mr. Anderson? Perhaps you'd like to answer my question?"

Blaine was snapped out of his thoughts, "Huh?"

The rest of the class's eyes, including Kurt's trademark bitch glare, were now trained on him.

Mr. Warner repeated, "What was the purpose of the Sherman Anti-Trust Act?"

Blaine quirked one of his eyebrows and leaned forward.

"No. One. Fucking. Cares," he answered with a sneer.

Mr. Warner's eyes widened, as the class broke into laughter. Well, the class with the exception of Kurt of course, whose bitch glare could withstand just about any dumb remark. Admittedly, Blaine was hoping his comment might crack the perfect boy.

Oh well, better luck next time.

"Excuse me, Mr. Anderson?" Mr. Warner questioned, shocked. Blaine just shrugged, and sat back in his chair.

"There's a little something called 'respect'. Maybe you should exercise it sometime." This time it wasn't Mr. Warner who had spoken. Blaine's eyes shot to Kurt's vicious stare.

Something dark flickered in Blaine's eye. He continued to smile mischievously at Kurt.

"Oh, there are plenty of things I'd love to exercise. Maybe you can come along. Bring some cute little spandex shorts."

"Why are you such a dick?" Kurt shot back at him.

"Well, word on the street is that you love dick. I was just trying to fulfill your requirements."

A series of muffled "oh snap"s and "did he just go there?"s weaved their way throughout the room.

The taller boy's jaw dropped, just staring at the other boy, unable to believe what he had just said—in a room full of students and a teacher, no less.

"Baby, I suggest you close that mouth, unless you're planning on putting it to good use," Blaine retorted, finishing off his statement by jabbing his tongue into the side of his cheek a couple times and waggling his eyebrows.

Kurt was speechless.

"Alright, Mr. Anderson, to the office. Now." Mr. Warner's voice boomed out, furious, arm pointing toward the open door.

Blaine jumped up from his seat. He raised his hand to his forehead in a salute, "Yes, sir."

Scooping his things up, he walked backwards right past Kurt, meeting the fair boy's gaze one last time, running his tongue along the top row of his glistening teeth, and waggling his eyebrows once more, before turning around breezing right out the door.

That fierce bitch was going to be his in no time. No one can resist a bad boy.