Chapter Notes:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Oh dear God, I apologize profusely. I was eaten by a Writer's Block Monster, and the past two weeks have been filled with amazing adventure, and tremendous termoil, and I trekked my way through the belly of this beast, trying to find a way out. And look! I totes did! And I have a chapter for you to prove it! I hope it is entertaining enough to make up for my tardiness in updating, and I will try my hardest to be considerably more promt with the rest of the chapters. Also, reviews make Kurt's body ready, and the more you leave, the more ready he gets. Just sayin'. ;D

Disclaimer: If Glee were mine, it'd be a Klaine porno. As it is, it is not.

The Desire

"…And I mean, we all know that I am much better for the part than Rachel Berry ever would be, but of course, Miss Queen Diva herself has to throw a temper tantrum every time something doesn't go her way-"

"Dude, Kurt, that's my girlfriend you're talking about. Give it a rest, would you?"

"I'm just saying, Finn, that even after two full years of Glee Club, you and Rachel are still getting the majority of the solos."

"Not true, man, you guys get to sing all the time."

"Yeah, but not nearly as much as you two." Kurt stopped arguing with his stepbrother long enough to look to the other boy who stood beside him. "What do you think, Blaine?"

"Um," Blaine floundered, wondering if Kurt realized that asking him, the lead singer of pretty much all of the Warbler's songs – especially now since the duo lead at Regionals the year before hadn't won them anything – about equality amongst members of Glee Club, was sort of futile. Thankfully, Kurt was still too riled up, and Blaine was too slow on the uptake, so Kurt just kept talking as if he never asked Blaine anything.

"You would think that after the huge debacle at Nationals last year-" he shot a pointed look at Finn. "-that there would be a change in solo hierarchy, but no…" and so it went. Kurt's awkward situations had all but subsided once his diva kicked in – the perfect anecdote it seemed. He even had been able to admire his boyfriend's form-fitting blazer, which he loved so much, without an inkling of a blush or inappropriate thought.

"Hey boys," Burt Hummel's voice rang out into the living room, closely followed by the older man himself. Kurt stopped complaining mid-sentence, much to Finn's (and yeah, Blaine's too) relief. He smiled at his father.

"Hey Dad, thanks for letting Blaine come over for dinner," he said, his tone going from 'diva' to 'son' in .02 milliseconds.

"He's always welcome," Burt said sincerely.

"Thank you, sir," Blaine said.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. Why don't you guys go practice singing or talk about relationship stuff or whatever it is you do, for a while. I'll call you all down when it's time."

The boys agreed.

The three of them headed off upstairs. Finn gave a brief nod before abandoning the other two to go into his own room to go waste time however Finn usually wasted time, and Blaine and Kurt went into Kurt's bedroom, leaving the door open the slightest of cracks to abide by Burt's "DOOR IS FUCKING OPEN WHEN BOYFRIEND IS OVER" policy.

Kurt plopped himself down on his bed, and Blaine sat next to him, smiling gently.

"You still upset?"

"Immensely," Kurt said melodramatically with a pout – only slightly joking. Blaine put a hand on the small of his boyfriend's back in a cute, sympathetic gesture.

"Puh-leeze, Kurt," he said. "You know you are just as fabulous, if not more fabulous, as Rachel Berry. You have nothing to be jealous of."

"Except her constant hogging of any and all solos," Kurt said pointedly.

"Well, there's that. But think, in a year, you and I will be living it up in New York City, and who-got-what-solo in high school won't matter anymore."

"Rachel will be in New York too," Kurt pointed out flatly.

"Well, yeah, but it's a big city-"

"I bet you anything she'll be at every audition I go to, and will try out for all the same parts-"

"-Isn't there some sort of gender discrepancy there? I doubt they'll be the same parts-"

"-and of course she'll get all of them, and my career on Broadway will be nothing but 'Rachel Berry's Understudy'-"

"Kurt, I doubt-"

"-and I'll audition for non-Broadway stuff, and she'll get all the parts there too. Just because."

"Kurt-"

"You know what happens then, Blaine? Do you?" He looked at Blaine expectantly, who, hesitantly, shook his head. "What happens is she ends up world famous, and I end up poor and lonely."

"You won't end up poor and lonely, Kurt," Blaine assured.

"No?" the other boy asked skeptically.

"Nah. I'll be with you. We'll be together, so there's no way you'll be lonely… You'll just be really poor."

Kurt picked up a pillow and slammed it into the back of his boyfriend's head. "Thanks a lot!" he said, trying to sound angry, but unable to suppress a smile.

Laughing, Blaine replied, "Hey, don't get mad at me! I'm just being realistic. No way you can expect me to support you. Not if you can't get anything more than 'Rachel Berry's Understudy'. If Kurt Hummel can't get a role, then surely," he pointed to himself with exaggerated gesturing. "Blaine Anderson is screwed."

"You know, normally, I'd object to that, tell you that you're pretty close to being as fabulous as me, and if you went to the right audition, then there's a possibility that you might possibly get a role when I am suffering beneath an old high school nemesis, but as it is, I'm completely distracted. Did you know that you are really cute when you refer to yourself in third person?"

Blaine grinned. "That was totally the point I was trying to make there, Kurt. I'm glad you caught it."

"No need to get cocky, now. I'm just trying to be optimistic. You having adorable quirks just reminds me that if I'm going to be a poor and miserable artist in New York City, at least my boyfriend will be cute. Unless you age badly, of course – you know, receding hairline, wrinkles, a loss of adorability in your quirks. In which case, my life will simply be pointless." Now it was Blaine's turn to hit Kurt with the pillow. "Hey, careful, you'll mess up my hair!"

"Then don't talk bad about mine!" Blaine argued, laughing. He patted his hair gingerly with his hand. "There, there, don't listen to any of that 'receding' talk that mean man over there is saying."

"My God, Blaine, I really hope your hair isn't actually sentient. But, I guess with all that product you put in it, a chemical reaction might have mutated it, and maybe it came to life. Please tell me I'm wrong, I'm not sure I could handle that."

Blaine stuck his tongue out. "Please, you wish you had hair like mine."

"My hair," Kurt said sassily. "Is magnificent. And I use at least 80% less product than you, so mine," he flipped his head in a diva move. "Is (almost) all natural."

"Almost."

"More natural than yours."

And suddenly Blaine had a hold of Kurt's shirt and was pulling him forward until their two faces were only inches apart. "Well, natural or not," Blaine muttered, his voice pitched much lower than before. "You know you love my hair." He gave Kurt a quick peck on the lips before adding, "And all my quirks… And Blaine Anderson loves your quirks and hair too."

"Okay, no more third person talk. I lied, it's more creepy than cute," Kurt said a little breathlessly. "And let go of my shirt, you'll wrinkle the fabric.

Chuckling, Blaine let go of the shirt, and instead, wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck. They were close enough that Kurt could smell the hint of coffee on Blaine's breath that always seemed to be there, and just like that, his mind flew back to that morning he had vowed never to think about again. So much for that policy, because having Blaine up against him like this made it impossible to not remember his dream. He couldn't pull away, though, even if part of him really wanted to, before things got too heated, but Blaine's lips were now on his, and that was just too perfect to tear away from.

Shakily, Kurt wrapped his own arms around Blaine's waist and let his boyfriend guide them through the kissing. Blaine's teeth gently grazed over Kurt's lower lip, and his tongue slipped in Kurt's mouth, and Kurt had the strange urge to groan. Groan? Since when did he ever have such primal instincts? He refrained, but that didn't stop other parts of his body from responding to the physical contact/mental image combo.

His skin started to heat up, his stomach began to flutter, and his heart began to pound, as Blaine just took the kiss deeper and deeper – so deep that Kurt didn't even care that Blaine's hands were now running through his hair, surely messing up the meticulous style, because it was all he could do not to jump Blaine right then and there. Not to mention, he was hard. Like, legit hard, and getting harder, with every nibble, hair pull, and lick Blaine placed on him. He was used to being somewhat aroused by making out, but Kurt never got this excited, and certainly not this quickly, when they were together. He was happy that Blaine's eyes were closed, because if he had been looking, he would have seen just how red Kurt's cheeks were. He angled himself as inconspicuously as he could, so that Blaine would not bear witness to his situation. (His third… and a half?... situation of the day, no less.)

Finally, it was almost too much. The only thing that was in Kurt's head was, more or less, "Penispenispenis. My penis. Blaine's penis. Our penises together. Penis.", and if he didn't stop this make out session soon, his penis was going to cause a really awkward situation for him. He pushed Blaine's torso away from him, and broke their kiss with a sloppy smacking sound.

"Why?" Blaine pouted, his eyes still closed. Kurt had to smile at that.

"My door's still open. Dinner will be soon," he said as calmly as he could (which was not easy), as he took Blaine's closed eyes as an opportunity to shift himself around in his pants. "Besides, you totally messed up my hair. If I don't fix it, then my Dad will be suspicious."

Sighing a very melodramatic sigh, Blaine nodded reluctantly and opened his eyes. "Fine," he said, pouting his lip out. "If we must."

Kurt managed to calm his body down enough that when he went to go fix his hair in his bathroom a little while later, Blaine was none the wiser, and before they knew it, it was time for dinner, and Kurt was silently thankful he had stopped the session when he had.

Dinner that night was grilled lemon pepper chicken, with a side of a mixed greens salad coated in some sort of berry flavored oil dressing, and a fruit medley. It was one of the few healthy dinners that Burt knew how to make that didn't make him cringe when he looked at it. ("See, I told you you'd like it," Kurt had said, exasperated, after helping his father make it for the first time. "If you just listened to me more often then we wouldn't even have to worry about your heart anymore.") The Hummel-Hudson family, plus Blaine, all sat down at the table and helped themselves – some (Finn), helping themselves more than others.

The conversation initially started as a regular, "How was your day?" sort of talk, but once Finn started talking about Glee club, both he and Blaine looked over at Kurt nervously, and Finn's statement ended up like, "Well, today in Glee Club, we were discussing sectionals, and who would get solos... So, football! It's happening, right? Football is occurring?" Burt and Carole looked a little confused, but then Blaine piped in with,

"Yes! Football! What are your thoughts on football, Mr. Hummel?"

"Uh," Burt said, scratching his head, noting the way his son rolled his eyes at his stepbrother and boyfriend. "You mean, football in general, or, like…?"

And that's how the conversation ended up on sports. Blaine, Finn, and Burt got really into it, while Carole sat and listened politely, attentive even if she was a little bored. Kurt, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less, and, just as it had so many times that day, his mind began to wander.

It wasn't until right then did he really notice that Blaine's hand was absent-mindedly running up and down his thigh. The sudden realization of his touch made Kurt blush a little bit, and he was glad everyone was otherwise preoccupied. He began to think, and God only knows why, about what that same action – that slow, unconscious stroke of the hand – would feel like against bare skin, instead of over the thick, expensive denim of his designer skinny jeans.

As he pushed around a piece of watermelon on his plate with his fork, he stared blankly, and imagined the way Blaine's rough hands would feel against the smooth of his skin. He reached for his glass and took small, mindless sips from it while pictured the image. His legs were always perfectly shaven (and he was not ashamed of it), so there would be nothing obstructing the skin to skin contact as Blaine would rub against milky, soft flesh, up to his hipbone, and down again, and maybe he'd caress a little bit closer to the inside of his thigh. Maybe, his touch would infiltrate more and more sensitive skin, until finally his hand was a mere inch away from –

"Do you want my meat?"

The water that Kurt had been sipping from his cup caught in his throat, and he began to choke a little. Sputtering, trying to not cough as hard as he really needed to, he gasped out, "What?" He looked over at Blaine, who had been the source of the question, with a bewildered facial expression.

"My meat?" he said simply, holding up his fork, which was speared into a half-eaten piece of chicken. "I'm full."

"Oh," Kurt said, breathing a bit more regulated. "Oh, uh, no. No I'm fine, thanks."

"Hell, I'll take it!" Finn said, reaching over the table rudely with his own fork, and taking the piece of chicken from Blaine. "Thanks man!"

"Anytime."

"Like I was saying," Burt cut in. "Boxing is way more legit than wrestling. I mean, with boxing, you need agility, strategy, endurance, but with wrestling, you've just got two sweaty guys trying to break each others' neck."

"Mm, I disagree," Blaine piped up. "I mean with wrestling you might not have the same sort of strategy, but there's definitely more than just neck breaking. You've probably just watched too much WWE. Real wrestling is much more intense."

"Yeah, Burt, think about it," Finn added. "Wrestling is way more physical. You gotta get right up on the guy, like, full body contact. I bet it's a lot harder too, trying to get a grip on them, and getting them to the ground."

"Mhm, and then keeping them there."

"Right! It's not like with boxing where you can just punch 'em in the head and knock 'em out."

"Exactly."

Great. That was precisely what Kurt needed – only not. At all. In fact, it was probably the last thing he needed. He silently cursed himself for allowing his attention to focus on sports' talk for more than two seconds, because now, in addition to wondering what Blaine's hands felt like, and thinking about eating Blaine's 'meat', he was now picturing half-naked, sweaty guys, groping, grabbing, and getting entangled with one another. Fantastic.

Wasn't dinner over soon?

Unfortunately, it wasn't for at least fifteen more minutes, and Kurt had to sit there and just think over and over, "Boobs. My father. Rachel getting solos and not me. McDonald's hamburgers." just to keep himself level.

"Well," Carole announced loudly, over the obnoxious banter of the other three guys who were going on about something boring and sport's related (and probably vaguely homoerotic). "I think you three have pretty much bored Kurt and I to tears, so Kurt," she grinned and looked over at him. "Would you care to help me clear the table?"

"It would be my upmost pleasure, Carole," Kurt said, a look of gratefulness in his eyes.

"Sorry," Burt said sheepishly, looking at his wife, and Blaine turned and gave the same guilty expression to Kurt.

"Don't worry about it. Continue your conversation. Kurt and I will just have girl talk in the kitchen," Carole assured. The two of them cleared off the table and went into the kitchen and started washing the dishes.

"Thank you for saving me from that," Kurt said.

"No problem. You looked pretty zoned out. I was so bored I was actually thinking about all the bills that need to get paid, and paperwork I need to do for work. What about you? What was keeping you from going insane?"

"Uh…" Kurt's mind went to the odd combination of sexy, dirty, thoughts, and the attempted boner kills he had been thinking about for the past twenty or thirty minutes. "Glee club," he decided to say. "Rachel got another solo today, and I'm just a little infuriated." And thankfully, the conversation went off in that direction.

A while later, Kurt and Carole managed to drag the boys away from their conversation, which had by then evolved into some sort of argument over which one of them would be more likely to survive a gladiator fight, and they went into the living room, where they enjoyed an hour or so of watching back-to-back rerun episodes of How I Met Your Mother.

"Sorry I spent most of the night talking to your Dad and Stepbrother," Blaine apologized a while later, as Kurt was walking him to his car.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you get along with them. It's cute."

"You think everything I do is cute."

"No. Trust me. Not everything."

"Oh shush." Blaine leaned in and gave Kurt a nice, if not a little too long of a, goodbye kiss, and he got into his car. "I'll see you in a couple of days," he said before he closed the door. "I love you."

"Love you too," Kurt replied with a smile. "Drive safely."

He waved until Blaine had turned the corner. He then went inside and practically ran up to his room. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed number 3 speed dial, and waited while it rang.

"What up?"

"Mercedes? It's Kurt."

"Hey Kurt, what's going on?"

"I think I may have a problem…" he trailed off.

"…Go on?"

"…I don't exactly know how to say it."

"Well, Kurt, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong. Is it something with your family? Is someone hurt?"

"No… No, nothing like that."

"Is it about Blaine?"

"… A little… Maybe… Kind of… Yeah."

Kurt heard a gasp on the other line. "Kurt… is this a sex thing?"

"…Like I said," Kurt replied, shutting his eyes tight and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think I may have a problem."