Strong arms wrap around his waist bringing him flush against another body. Kurt gasps, his glass of water sloshing slightly. Hot breath ghosts down his neck as he tries to pull away. He huffs, closing his hands around the ones gripping onto his stomach.
"Blaine. Your sister is here, upstairs, she could come in at any minute,"
And Blaine chuckles, tightening his grip and holding Kurt even closer. "And?" The pads of Blaine's fingers begin to trace up slowly under Kurt's shirt, his touch blazing but sending shivers down his spine.
"No. No Blaine" he lets out weakly, trying to disentangle himself from said boy. "This...isn't good. I shouldn't be doing this." He smirks somewhat at the whine he receives.
"But why? You're clearly enjoying—" He bites down on the exposed skin where Kurt's neck meets his shoulder, eliciting a gasp from said boy, to make his point. "—it, why stop?"
Kurt sighs, finally managing to summon up the strength to pull Blaine's hands away. He turns, facing him with a glare. Blaine just smirks and wraps his arms around Kurt's waist again, bringing him flush against him. Chest on chest, the thin shirt Kurt is wearing seems like practically nothing in between them.
"It's wrong." He bluntly states, looking at Blaine straight in the eyes.
"Not if you're enjoying it."
"I—It's not right, then."
And Blaine's eyes seem to be set ablaze, the soft glowing hazel growing dark and dangerous. His stance stiffens, his arms tighten. "the hell, Hummel?"
"This isn't supposed to happen. You're Maisie's brother, what would she think?"
"Who cares what she thinks?" And he sighs, shoulders slumping and his fiery gaze loosing it's shine. He looks tired, defeated. "It's our feelings, Kurt, she shouldn't get a say." And they lock eyes, Kurt's blank glasz challenging Blaine's fervent hazel.
And Kurt looks away, distraught. "It was a one-off, don't expect it to be happening again." And he pushes Blaine away, grabbing the glass of water he'd been busy pouring before being interrupted, and makes to leave the kitchen. "I'll see you later, for tutoring." And he turns, head held high.
Just as he's going through the archway to the hall, a strong hand clasps onto his, halting him. He doesn't turn though, too afraid to meet Blaine's gaze.
"It's obvious you want me...Kurt. It's obvious we want each other." And he breathes out, frustrated "Why do you have to make things so god damn complicated?"
"That's just it—I don't want you." And he yanks his hand away from Blaine, scurrying back upstairs before the other boy has a chance to reply.
He trudges down the hall to Maisie's room, his black Doc Martens making a loud 'plonk-plonk' noise as he does. His shoulders are slumped forward. He sighs, pushing the bedroom door open, not quite managing to comprehend the racing of his heart and the goosebumps he'd gotten all over his skin.
He's met with Maisie, twirling absently on her desk chair. One knee bent and the other barely touching the floor as she spins. Her shoulders are hunched and she's gripping tightly onto a digital camera, clicking through all the photos. She stops abruptly, sending a big smile towards Kurt, her hazel eyes shining. Kurt can't bear to hold her gaze for long, it reminding him of her brother's.
"Does it really take that long to get a glass of water—" And she pauses, chuckling. "—or did you get lost or something on the way?" But she doesn't wait for a reply, gaze falling back to her digital camera.
Yeah, Kurt thinks, lost or something.
He pushes at the door, it promptly clicks shut.
"Where were you?" Kurt asks suddenly, out of the blue, from where he's sprawled out across Maisie's bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Earlier, I mean."
Maisie is just a flurry of mess around him. Her figure a blur as she traipses around the room, emptying out every cupboard and draw, looking all around the shelves, her desk. Her eyes are wide, searching.
"Andrew." She mumbles faintly.
"Again?"
And she actually stops and turns to look at him, this topic of conversation being the only one she's managed to reply to after Kurt's many attempts, too distracted looking for whatever she'd lost.
She clenches and unclenches her fingers, sighing as she turns and gets back to work. "He's really sweet." She states. "You know, put aside that he's a reform student that got put away for theft and attempted arson..."
"He's no good." Kurt says airily, he waves his hand about as if to prove a point. But then so is Blaine, really. He adds to himself.
"I know."
"What about that blonde guy, weren't you seeing him?"
"Chance? No. Kind of," And she stops, breathing in. "We went on like one date. He didn't even kiss me after..."
"He's very..." And he frowns, trying to find a suitable word.
"Blaine doesn't like him either, says he's an arrogant prick—"
"—that's 'cause he is," Comes an all too familiar voice from the doorway. Kurt goes tense, not even daring to look up.
"Whatever, you don't even know him." and Maisie glares at Blaine playfully, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting her hip to the side. "What are you doing home, anyway?"
Her gaze follows him as he walks passed them both, crawling onto the bed and sitting down cross-legged. Kurt tries to surreptitiously move away.
"Got let out a day early...they confiscated my phone, though. 'Couldn't tell you. Got in a fight with some meat-head that thought he could get the better of me."
"Blaine!"
"He was a dick, so I broke his nose."
"That doesn't matter. You're just signing yourself on for more time at reform. I thought we agreed you'd just lay low?"
He huffs, looking away. "I found this downstairs, thought you might be looking for it? I don't know," And he waves a thick white envelope around in the air. Maisie's eyes go wide, the earlier discussed subject forgotten completely.
"You found it!" And she leaps onto the bed toward Blaine, him landing on top of Kurt's spread out legs, on his thighs, while Maisie clings to him tightly. All three are left in some sort of strange body sandwich. "Ohmygod—I love you!" And she sits up, snatching the envelope and turning around, pulling her legs up underneath her and pulling out the contents of the envelope.
They're photos Kurt notices as he gets up to lean over her shoulder. With that, Blaine does the same, sitting up to lean over her other shoulder, his own pressing into Kurt's and sending warmth spiralling down his arm.
"They're good, sis—" he says, twirling one of her curls around his finger. " 'took the liberty of looking through them. Pretty talented, you." And Maisie all but beams at him, letting out a squeak.
"You really think?" she asks eagerly, eyes shining as if craving his praise. Blaine chuckles, his eyes taking on a faraway and forlorn look, his body going stiff as if he felt somewhat guilty.
Kurt takes his distraction to move away, sitting next to Maisie instead of behind her and as far away from Blaine's warmth and presence as possible. He daintily plucks the wad of photos from her hands and begins to flick through them. They're of a few weeks ago, when they'd both had a free period and gone out to sit together on the vast expanse of green lawn that Crawford Country Day's campus had to offer.
It had been one of the first few days of spring, of good weather, and unlike most of the Crawford students, Kurt and Maisie had opted to spend it out in the sun. She hadn't waisted any time to pull out her camera, taking photos of anything that piqued her fancy.
How the sun shone through the leaves of the small oak they were sitting under; of a lone ladybird that had landed on her leg; of Kurt himself, too, she'd taking various photos of, even if he'd pleaded her not to.
He pauses at the last photo, then flicks through the first few again hastily. "There's some missing." he states, handing her back the stack.
"Yeah?" she mumbles confused, looking through them again. Blaine leans over her shoulder, dropping his hand from where it was resting at the small of her back to partly covers Kurt's outstretched fingers. Kurt would like to think it was merely coincidental, but the smirk that adorns Blaine's face tells him otherwise.
Their fingers twine slightly and Kurt feels a blush creeping onto his cheeks, he yanks his hand away, pointing at one of the photos and pointedly not looking at Blaine.
"Just before or after that one, when I was laughing, you know?" and he tangles his fingers together in his lap. "You were boasting about how great the angle was—because the sun hit me just right, or whatever." and he pokes her in the stomach. "I looked positively horrible, but you insisted you had to keep it because I don't laugh nearly enough and it was a miracle to get it on camera."
And she frowns, looking confused. "Yep, yeah, I remember that...maybe I didn't save it?" and she sighs, looking defeated. "That was a really good photo,"
And Kurt would have forgotten he was even there if Blaine hadn't spoken up in that moment, lifting himself off of the bed and not making eye contact with either one of them. His shoulders are still stiff and he has his back to them.
"No use crying over spilt milk," he mumbles, and then scurries out of the door, down the hall and into his room.
Kurt's eyes trail after him, the incessant urge of wanting to go after him and ask him what was wrong tugging persistently at his mind. Maisie just shrugs, plopping down on the floor and pulling a photo album out from under her bed. She sighs, opening it up and absently sliding her newly acquired photos into the slots.
"My brother is so weird..."
Meanwhile, a door slams down the hall. Blaine slides down, head thrown back and letting out a long breath. He brings his legs up and rests his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his ankles.
Back pressed against the door he looks up at the ceiling, asking whatever holy deity that decides his fate why he is forced to act this way. Why he feels the need to act this way. Kurt is just some guy, some guy who is clearly not interested in him so—so why does he find it so hard to let go? To stop pursuing?
He feels it boring a hole into the back pocket of his jeans, an ever present reminder that he is clearly smitten with a boy he hardly knows and his feelings are wholeheartedly unrequited. He bites his lip, clenching his fists, angry.
He doesn't understand why he feels this way about Kurt, neither does he know exactly what it is that allows Kurt to have such a pull over him. But it's there, it's true, and Blaine can't stop it.
His hand wanders down to his pocket, slowly pulling out the slip of paper and holding it up above his head, cutting off the glare he was currently sending at the wall. It's the photo, the photo Kurt and Maisie had deemed missing. The photo Blaine had so stupidly took, a sheer moment of idiocy on his part.
The pad of his thumb trails over Kurt's cheek and rests there. He sighs.
He doesn't understand anything. How easily he's let himself be pulled into this whole mess of feelings and so on, how easily he's let his armour slip away and bared himself completely to another person. He cares for Kurt, unknowingly why but he does, greatly so and—and all he wishes is that Kurt cared for him back, that he'd get off that high horse and at least give Blaine a chance but—but what does he expect? Kurt is Kurt. Kurt Hummel. And Blaine is...he's just a miscreant, a good for nothing screw-up that nobody thinks is worth their time anymore.
Kurt's head is tipped back, his mouth open and his eyes crinkled shut adorably. The sun catches his hair just right, various strands taking on tones of copper and gold. His school sweater is spread tight across his chest, showing off how broad and defined it is. He's leaning back on his palms, legs stretched out and seemingly going on for miles.
Blaine smiles absently, tracing his thumb down one of Kurt's arms in the photo. His heart flutters frantically, beating at an uneven rhythm and Blaine doesn't even know why.
Just the mere thought of Kurt gets him like this, now that he really has come to terms with what his head is telling him, that Kurt, even though he dreads it, is much more important than any of his other conquests.
That he's not just a toy Blaine can play around with until he gets bored. Kurt is real and Kurt has feelings, and he's vulnerable. That's clear. Even though he tries to hide it, even though he hides it so well that most people don't even realise—Blaine does. Blaine knows that Kurt feels alone. Hell, Blaine knows how it feels, he's been there, he's done that.
He lets out a laugh full of malice and rejection. It doesn't matter that somewhat, he understands Kurt. Kurt still won't want him, Blaine isn't good enough. Blaine will never be good enough.
Angry, he chucks the photo across the room and stands up, walking over to his bed and flopping down, curling around the covers where once, only a few hours ago, Kurt had kissed him and Blaine had felt so alive. So wanted.
For the first time in his life he felt like he was on fire, blazing and burning just at the touch of Kurt. It all felt so intense and new, as if nothing else mattered in the world. As if it was only Kurt and Blaine—Blaine and Kurt.
But then real life had come and knocked at the door, had torn Kurt away and now Blaine feels alone again. Like the total screw-up he is, he can't even manage to completely admit how, in just a few weeks, Kurt has taken up such a prominent part in his life, in his heart and—it sounds sappy, but Blaine really doesn't know what he'd do if Kurt were to leave, to forget about him.
He gets up, gently padding across the room and picks up the photo, smoothing it out as he walks back towards the bed. He curls in on himself again still feeling awful and unwanted, but he clutches the photo tight to his chest, and at least then, he feels somewhat okay.
The day goes by pretty slowly, in Blaine's opinion, him spending most of his time laying in his bed, bundled within the covers and either clutching tightly onto the photo, or staring at it aimlessly for hours at a time.
He doesn't know what's happening to him, why he's gone so quickly from a non-caring asshole to someone who feels things way too much. But he does care, he always has, he just hasn't shown it. It's the—the feelings he's not used to. They way his heart flutters and accelerates whenever he thinks of Kurt.
Kurt and his thick, shiny hair that although Blaine wants to just run his hands through it all day, he can't because, quite frankly, he is nothing to Kurt. Just a random hookup that Kurt has surely gotten over.
Kurt and his soft, pink lips that Blaine has had the pleasure of kissing. Has had them pressed against his own, warm and prominent and making his fingers curl in on themselves. Making his head spin, dizzy.
Kurt and his delicious-looking body. Lithe and long and warm against Blaine. When they'd laid together earlier that day, kissing and touching and everything was so warm, hot and Blaine felt as if he'd pass out just from pure pleasure and want and—
No. He can't think that way. If there was even a chance of getting over Kurt the smartest thing to do would be to stop thinking about him. About kissing him, about being kissed by him. About holding him close and—dammnit.
He sighs, rolling onto his back and running a hand through his hair. He lets the photo lay on his chest, feeling as if it was burning a hole through his shirt but not really caring. His whole body hurts, aches and Blaine really doesn't know what to do.
He knows it's not smart to think this way, to feel this way and really, he should just forget about Kurt and be done with it but—it's so hard. Blaine doesn't want to forget. Blaine wants Kurt and Kurt—Kurt doesn't want Blaine back and that's where the whole problem starts. Unrequited feelings suck.
He musters up the strength to pull away from his bed, quickly slipping the photo underneath his pillow and turning away. He heads straight out of his room, down the hall and to the bathroom, not bothering to see what Maisie and Kurt are up to. He'd like to say that really he didn't care, either, but of course, he'd be lying.
Blaine is jealous—though if asked he'd never admit it—jealous of Maisie. Because she has Kurt, she's close to him and Blaine—Blaine isn't and that really, really sucks. Like majorly.
And Blaine knows that feeling like this is wrong, that he's put his sister through way too much and really, she doesn't deserve this. She'd found a shelter in Kurt, a friend and, although Blaine's growing infatuation with the boy was making his heart literally hurt, he couldn't do that to his sister. He couldn't hurt her. Not again.
He shakes his head, willing those thoughts to go away. It'd been so long since then, so much had happened but still Blaine hadn't quite forgiven himself for—no. This was not a time to let old mistakes haunt him. His current dilemma was draining enough, he shouldn't be worrying himself. Maisie had forgiven him in her own little way. He'd tried to forgive himself, too, at least.
It was wrong to pursue Kurt. Wrong of him to try to steal away someone so precious to his sister.
He locks the bathroom door behind him, quickly shedding his clothes and clambering into the shower. The hot water soothes his aching body, seemingly kneading away all his worries and making him go completely slack. He starts to lather himself up with soap, starting at his shoulders and working down towards his legs.
Ridding himself of all those memories had only brought back more thoughts of Kurt. His hand strays south, and deep down Blaine knows that after he'll feel guilty for doing this, but right now he just needs the release. To indulge in it and maybe, if he's lucky, the feelings might go away.
He thinks about their first tutoring lesson, when he'd had Kurt pinned between him and the couch, their bodies sealed tightly together and the heat surrounding them almost scalding. He thinks about Kurt's breathy little sighs and shaky intakes, how he'd gasped when Blaine had first kissed him, how bleary and fazed-out his eyes looked after.
His fingers slowly curl around his cock, tentatively and slow and still not sure whether this is a good idea. His hand tugs once, twice, and he can feel the weight growing heavier and thicker in his hand each time. He lets out a ragged breath, shoulders slumping forward and bracing his unoccupied hand on the slippery tiles for balance.
He thinks of earlier that day, of Kurt on top of him, straddling him with strong, solid thighs.
His hand starts going faster, tugging harder, and he can feel the coppery tang of blood from where he's biting his lips, trying not to make a sound. He thinks about earlier when Kurt got more daring, when his own hand had trailed down towards Blaine's growing bulge. He thinks about the determined look in his eyes when he'd broken their gaze, the way he'd looked down at his hand and given an experimental squeeze and—
The scorching water pelts down on him, Blaine throughs his head back, a broken moan being ripped from his throat. He imagines what it would have felt like if Kurt had gone on, if Maisie hadn't come home and he'd decided to go further.
A soft, pale finger traces lazy patterns on the exposed part of Blaine's navel. Slow and tantalizing, making Blaine's hands fist the sheets within them, his chest rising and falling, letting out short and quick breaths. The hand slips under the waistband of his boxers, warm and teasing.
Blaine's eyes lock with a bright pair of blue ones as he lets out a groan, fingers close around his cock and stroke from base to tip, then back again. The hand flattens out, palm adding pressure as it starts moving faster, setting a steady rhythm, fingers twisting around the head of his cock at every other stroke.
Blue eyes don't waver, boring into Blaine's own. He feels sweat beading at his scalp, feels the muscles in his stomach contracting. Everything feels too hot, too closed in. The blankets stick to him, tangle in his thrashing feet and make him feel captive, without control.
His body starts to quiver, hips thrusting up looking for friction. The hand strokes faster, rougher, thumb swiping against his slit and smearing pre-come across his length and then repeating the action, harder.
He can feel the tension gathering behind his balls, feel the sparks of pleasure shooting all through him, feel his heart beating fast, faster than it ever has, feel the looming presence of those blue eyes above him. Controlling him. He's completely at their mercy.
"I—I'm g-gona—" Blaine lets out weakly, head falling to the side, toes curling in and hands clasping onto the sheets even tighter.
The boy above him smirks, leaning down, chest slotting snug against Blaine's, thighs clenching tighter around him. "Come for me, Blaine." And that's all he needs. His mind goes blank.
"K-Kurt," he breathes out, his forehead falling to rest on the cool tiles as his body shakes, his orgasm washing over him. His knees feel weak, as in if he'd even try to move, they'd give out. He brings his hand up to the tiles, next to the other, keeping himself upright.
His chest rises and falls, breath slowly coming back to a normal pace. The fog in his mind starts to thin out, allowing coherent thoughts to take domain once again. Without another word he rinses off again, liking the warm feel of the water hitting his skin.
As he dries off, he waits patiently for the guilt to sink in, to settle, but it never comes. He gets dressed, still waiting, and then towel-dries his hair. He feels weird, but not guilty, and it's confusing.
It's like there are a thousand bumble-bees nestled inside of his body, buzzing and making his skin feel funny. It's the most prominent in his stomach, it feels hollow but there's still that distinct buzzing that keeps him perplexed. He doesn't understand it, he's never felt that way before.
It makes his fingers twitch, as if longing to grip on to something, hold something within them—hell, the buzzing is making his whole body feel cold and longing for something. He takes shaky steps towards the door, curling his fingers around the handle as goosebumps start to trail and twirl around his cold skin. He opens the door, the sound of Kurt and Maisie's laughter trilling through the air. The buzzing doesn't stop—if anything, it gets worse.
He breaths in as he clenches his fingers into fists, debating in his head what would be the next best move. He longs to go downstairs—be with Kurt, be warm again so the buzzing will go away. But the smarter thing to do would be retreat back to his room, give his heart an escape of the unrequited want. Leave it to rest and get better, to fill in the cracks instead of allowing it to be torn to pieces. Broken.
The latter is definitely the best, Blaine thinks, but the buzzing is so insistent and the cold is so chilling that he finds his feet walking him down the stairs of their own accord.
Kurt and Maisie are in the living room watching movies, Blaine gathers as his feet reach the last step and he can hear their voices clearly. The ending credits just start to roll as he sets foot in the room, Maisie jumps up, beams at him, and spouts something incoherent about Disney. Kurt looks up too, smile big and wide as if he hadn't noticed that Blaine was Blaine, and they lock eyes, big blue orbs glistening and shiny and incorrigibly innocent.
Blaine swallows and looks away. The buzzing has started to lessen and warmth seeps slowly into his body as he makes his way over to them. His stomach still feels hollow but it churns and twists now, and it makes Blaine feel horrible but—but Kurt is still smiling at him as if nothing has happened. That's when the guilt finally settles in.
He mumbles something to Maisie about if they mind if joins them and she responds with a laugh, all bright eyes and giggles, and says he can stay as long as he is the one to put the next DVD on. He replies in kind, with a smile and a nod and a 'of course, your majesty' and slowly traipses over the the television.
Maisie's attention falls on Kurt once more but Blaine can still feel eyes on him. He turns his head just so and his gaze locks with Kurt's once more. His looks haughty, as if just having realised who Blaine was after coming down from his Disney induced high. Blaine pays it no mind, falling straight back into his normal persona with only the slightest hint of regret within him and sends Kurt a smirk and a wink and turns back around.
Blaine chuckles, a slight tinge of pink lacing up his neck as he can still feel eyes boring into him. He flips through the DVDs and finally settles on a random one, opening it up and slotting it into the player. He slowly gets up, taking time to dust off his knees and the turns around.
His eyebrows raise in amusement as he's faced with Kurt, deer-in-headlights look at having been caught staring aimlessly at Blaine's ass. He gulps, face turning a quick shade of red, and looks away. He chuckles, a strange sense of fluttery-ness shooting all through him as he approaches the two on the couch. He sits down, Kurt in between him and his sister and sighs, happily. The guilt is still there churning inside of him but at least the buzzing his gone. The cold pushed away as his body is encased in the warmth that emanates from Kurt body beside him.
Kurt might not want Blaine like Blaine wants Kurt, but one things for sure, he wants him somewhat and—and that's kind of awesome.
[A/N]: Feedback would be nice...and thank you for reading! (I'm sorry if this is awful) :D
Also...should I change the rating? Is the shower scene enough to merit this fic with an 'M' status instead of 'T'? I don't know...
Also (I've decided I'll post this at the end of every chapter I've edited) this fic is currently on pause due to the fact that, a few weeks ago, I decided to read through it and just felt like hiding under a rock and never showing my face ever again. It was so cringe-worthy that I don't even know why anyone read it…but thank you! Anyway, so I decided it needed major editing. So far I only have the first three, once I've done all nine chapters I'll write a new one! Not that I expect anybody to be anxiously waiting for an update or anything, this fic was horrible before, I've only made it slightly less cringe-worthy. So yes, I'm finally editing this fic to make it more reader-friendly. Also, if you're new to reading this fic (though I don't suppose you are) I'd recommend not reading the next chapter until it's edited. It will definitely be very confusing since I've changed the ending to this one.
I hope (so far) I've done okay?