Chapter Notes:
Heyy all! I would have had this uploaded last night but I got distracted by wasting three hours teaching myself how to do a Brooklyn accent. No, seriously, that's what I was doing. I'm getting pretty good at it, too. So yay me! You don't care about that, though. What you /do/ care about, however, or at least I'm assuming you do, is sexually awkward!Kurt, because, I mean, who wouldn't care about that? :D Here is the first, in a long line, of awkward advice Kurt receives from his friends. I'm looking forward to writing the others. Just so you know, he's going to get advice from all the members of the Nude Erections, and then a couple other people. And it is going to be funsies. Mercedes is kind of a warm up, so enjoy this, and I promise it'll get saucier. ;D
Until then, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Is Glee now, or has it ever been, a blatant Klaine sex tape? No? Then it's not mine. Kthnx.
The Self-Pleasure
"So spill it," Mercedes said the second the two of them plopped down on her bed. The night before on the phone they had agreed to talk about it at Mercedes' place the next afternoon, even though Kurt knew Mercedes, the ever-explosive-gossip, would be all but bursting about it the entire day. All that day at school, Kurt had felt Mercedes' eyes on him, and he knew that it took all her effort not to scream out, 'what is going on with you and Blaine and what does it have to do with sex?', but, to her credit, she had refrained herself until after rehearsal was over with, and they were at her house. But her refrain only went that far, not a millimeter further. "Spill it now."
"Ugh!" was Kurt's groaning response, his cheeks already blushing. If he was already embarrassed at this point of the conversation, he could only imagine how it would be like once they actually started discussing it. He covered his face with his hands.
"Kurt, you have not given me any details about this, making the huge mistake of leaving my imagination to run wild, so now I need you to tell me what the Hell is goin' on before these thoughts about you and Blaine get any weirder."
Kurt peeked through his fingers and said through a palm-muffled mouth, "You have them too, huh?"
"What?"
"Thoughts about Blaine and me," he explained, hoping Mercedes would get the hint. He covered his eyes up again, not able to look at his friend and continue this conversation at the same time.
"I'm not following you, Kurt."
"I had a sex dream about Blaine and now I can't stop thinking dirty thoughts about him!" he blurted out suddenly. He removed his hands, only to dive face first into a pillow, and to mumble, nearly incoherently, "Like, seriously, I can't stop. In my bedroom, at the dinner table, in math class…" he trailed off. Mercedes, not trying to be insensitive, of course, but not being able to help it either, started to giggle.
"Kurt!" she said between laughs. "Is that what your problem is?"
"Yes!" he said miserably.
"Kurt, that's completely – come here," she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to sit up and face her, his face an adorable mix of sad puppy and total humiliation. "That is completely normal!"
"It's normal to be aroused—" his voice cracked on the word 'aroused', causing Mercedes to smile sympathetically. "—at every stupid second of the day?"
"It's called a sex drive, Kurt. Congrats, you finally have one."
"I don't want one!" he moaned, attempting to throw himself back onto the pillow, but getting stopped by Mercedes' grasp.
"No, no more hiding in my pillow. Look, you left a saliva mark on it – that's disgusting. You're going to sit here and talk this out with me."
"Bleh."
"Okay, so you're embarrassed because you keep having nasty thoughts about Blaine, right?"
"Sure."
"I don't see why, Kurt, I mean, I'm sure he probably has them about you too!"
Out of nowhere, Kurt threw his hands to cover his ears and shouted, "Not a helpful thought, Mercedes! Lalalalala! I can't hear you!"
"Okay!" Mercedes said, fighting Kurt over control of his arms. "Okay! I get it, you're not comfortable with dirty thoughts! I get it, you can calm down. Shut up, stop singing, my family is going to hear you. Shush!" Mercedes finally managed to get Kurt to put his arms down, and she then shoved a forceful index finger to his lips and gave a look that clearly said, 'calm the fuck down'. Sighing, Kurt resigned to the look, and stopped shouting and singing.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Look, I don't know what to tell you other than this seems totally natural to me."
"Why am I taking advice from you?" Kurt asked. "Didn't you think you could get AIDS from cucumbers?"
"That was last year, before I had any experience in the matter," she explained, waving it off like it was nothing. "Once Sam and I started dating I got a lot more informed. I know a lot of stuff now."
"Please don't tell me."
"Whatever."
"Okay, so you're saying these thoughts and these… these, uh, these feelings are natural, right? Well… then how do I get rid of them? How do I stop getting… er, how do I stop thinking about them in inappropriate places?"
"That's pretty simple, Kurt," Mercedes said, eyebrows furrowed.
"Huh?"
"I mean, don't you ever…" she looked at him expectantly.
"…Ever?"
"You know."
"No, I don't."
Mercedes looked around the room awkwardly, while she made a crude gesture with her right hand. Looking back at Kurt, she shrugged. Kurt shut his eyes and moaned, "Oh God, I hope that means 'play Yahtzee'."
"You mean you don't do it?"
"No!"
"Ever?"
"Well, like, once… or twice, but it was awful, and nothing happened, and oh my God why am I telling you this?"
"Calm down before your face catches fire, Kurt, seriously."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of his face. "Just… this is awkward – really, really awkward for me. I never talk about this sort of stuff, let alone do it, and I just…" he shook his head miserably.
"You're making this a lot more difficult than it is."
Kurt looked defeated. "Do you really think if I… did that sort of thing… then I wouldn't think about it so much?" he asked in the quietest voice he could muster.
"Yeah, I do. What it seems like to me is that you're just sexually frustrated. If you give yourself some sort of release, then I think the thoughts would probably be less frequent."
"Is that the only option?"
"Well, you could have sex with –"
"Okay! Yes, it's the only option!"
"Right."
"… Are you sure it works?"
"It worked for me."
Kurt blinked. "Wait… girls can do that?"
Mercedes blinked back. "Seriously, Kurt?"
"How?"
"We have hands, too, Kurt, and girls have the clit—"
"Never mind! Never mind, let's get back my problems. So you're saying that I have to… to…"
"Masturbate," Mercedes said pointedly.
"Yeah… I have to… that, in order to stop having dirty thoughts in the wrong places."
"It's worth a shot."
"How do you do it without thinking about yourself?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
Mercedes sighed. "Look, Kurt, here's what you do. Go in your bedroom or bathroom when everyone is asleep or not home or sometime when you have a lot of time and a lot of privacy, and then just take all those thoughts you've been having at the wrong times, and use them to just… you know, get yourself off. It's pretty simple."
"I don't think I could look Blaine in the face if I did that to thoughts of him," Kurt admitted.
"I'd tell you about what he probably does in his spare time, but I don't want to send you into another childish 'I'm not listening' attack," Mercedes said, smirking, causing Kurt's face to go even redder, if that was even possible.
"I liked it better when I didn't have a s-sex drive."
"Yeah well," Mercedes said with a shrug. "Welcome to adulthood, Kurt. We've missed you."
Kurt got home around nine thirty that night. Carole was working a night shift at the hospital where she was a nurse, Burt had called it an early night and had already gone to bed, and Finn was in his bedroom, listening to music with headphones on at full-blast. Kurt sauntered up the stairs, the house strangely quiet, processing the information he had gathered at Mercedes'.
He went into his room, sat on his bed, and looked around absent-mindedly. It was still early, so he didn't really need to go to bed. He didn't have any homework, he didn't have a Glee assignment to work on, he didn't feel like facebooking or tumbling, and he had all the privacy in the world. What could he do to pass the time? He knew exactly 'what', but he wasn't sure if he was up for it.
His mind wandered back to early that day, where he had almost had to show his whole English class his boner. "Kurt, you're theatrical," his teacher said excitedly. "Why don't you come up here and read us the first few pages of Hamlet to get us started into our Shakespeare unit?"
Snapping out of his intense, 'Blaine doing things to him', day-dream, he looked up, slightly horrified, before choking out, "Couldn't we hear you read just a page or two first? It takes me a little while to get into Shakespeare. I'll pick it up in a bit?" he had all but begged, letting out a small sigh of relief when the teacher had agreed with a warm smile.
Okay, so yeah, maybe he did need to do it, if only to prevent anything else like that happening. Embarrassment now, he reasoned, was better than embarrassment in front of a classroom full of his peers.
So how to start?
He looked around his room. He couldn't do it in here. Anyone could open the door. Maybe they would even be able to hear him. He knew he was alone, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd do it in his bathroom. He got up from his bed, and walked to the bathroom, feeling like a criminal about to do something horrible.
Once he was there, he closed the toilet seat and sat. He tried to think of all the dirty things he usually thought of when he was in public places, but for some reason, while he was alone, and the thoughts were perfectly acceptable, all he could really think was, 'the bathroom light is really bright.' He stared at the wall, listening to the faucet drip.
He got up and turned off the light. The room was pitch black, and he almost tripped and broke his face as he stumbled back to the toilet seat. It helped a little, though. Not being able to see his surroundings made it easier to pretend he was somewhere else. That damn faucet, though, kept him grounded in reality.
'Blaine's hands running through my hair,' he thought, and the faucet responded, "DRIP."
'Blaine kissing my collar bone.'
"DRIP."
'Blaine rubbing my thighs.'
"DRIP."
He wasn't getting anywhere. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPod. Blindly feeling the headphones, he managed to fit the buds into his ears, as he turned it on. The light from the device nearly blinded him, but once his eyes adjusted, he began to go through his artist list. What exactly was the playlist to use when jerking off? He wasn't sure. Maybe something that reminded him of Blaine? So that way it would be easier to think about him? It was worth a shot.
Scrolling down, he got to the "K" section, and pressed on "Katy Perry". As Teenage Dream blared into his ears he thought back to that first day he had met Blaine – how he had looked so attractive, yet so unattainable in that Dalton uniform, singing so perfectly, and how it had seemed like he had been singing directly to Kurt.
From there it really wasn't that hard to get back to the dirtier thoughts. Maybe Blaine would sing something to him, as he ran his hands up the back of Kurt's shirt, and explored the skin on his back. Maybe he would sing it right into his ear, breathily and deep, so that Kurt could feel his breath. Maybe…
Without even really realizing he was doing it, Kurt began zipping down the zipper of his tight-as-all-Hell pants that his now erect penis was trapped inside. He pulled down his pants and underwear just enough so he could get a proper grasp on himself. He was very determinedly not thinking about what he was doing. Instead, he was in his own little world. He began moving his index and middle finger up and down from the tip to the base and back again, slowly at first, and then faster, images of Blaine still ever present in his head.
He was actually feeling something. He was actually starting to get something out of this. He bit his lip as he wet his fingers with pre-cum, as he moved his hand up and down even faster. His iPod had long since switched songs, but he didn't care. He wasn't even really listening anymore. He was too lost in his world of "Blaine touch", "Blaine sound", "Blaine smell", and the rest of the senses as well.
Throwing his head back a little, he caught a groan in his throat, which he forced back down, still not comfortable with making noises like that. But he was enjoying himself. He most certainly was, and it was just getting better, and better, as his hand moved on his own sex faster and faster, until the build-up was so great he thought he might burst, and then –
From behind his closed eyes, he could tell the room around him was suddenly illuminated. His eyes snapped open, just in time to see Finn standing in his bathroom doorway, hand frozen on the light switch, with a look that read nothing but pure terror. There was an awkward moment where Finn just stood there staring, while Kurt just sat there with his dick in his hand, neither knowing just what to do. That moment only lasted a couple milliseconds, though, as Finn spun around, and Kurt simultaneously tried to pull up his pants and turn off his iPod. He got the music turned off just in time to hear Finn ramble,
"Oh God, oh God, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Keep doing whatever… I mean, I don't want you to keep… I'm not thinking about… God I'm sorry! I didn't think you were in there. I was just trying to find something… God, I'm sorry! I'm leaving!" He said all of this while nearly sprinting out of Kurt's room. From a distance, Kurt heard his bedroom door slam shut.
Kurt then, pants twisted up with the fly wide open, allowed his head to fall and make a soft 'thunk!' with the porcelain sink, as he wished, with all his heart, that he could just drop down dead.