Chapter 2 in all it's glory. The next chapter will be updated Wednesday or Thursday. I'm shocked and awed at all of the following on FF and on AO3, but a little disappointed at the lack of comments. If people are reading this and have ideas, let me know! This story is still being written, so I have open ears on ideas, requests, or kinks etc.
I have 4 more chapters written already, so expect semi-regular updates twice or three times a week.
The first month of college flies by. Blaine loves school. He loves the classes that he got to choose himself, he loves the new and accepting friends that he has made, he loves the parties that he gets to go to, and he loves all of the freedom that he gets to have.
He goes to frat parties with a bunch of his friends every weekend. He usually grinds with girls while there because there aren't any gay guys, but occasionally he'll find a boy to dance with or talk to. He doesn't do more than maybe make out with them, but it's fun and freeing and exciting that he can finally act on being gay. He never realized how much he needed to just let loose and be himself—physically embody his sexuality.
Kurt does, too. He knows this, because sometimes they talk about it late at night. Kurt hasn't slept with anyone at school yet, but he's made a few friends that he parties with. Kurt skips the frats because his one friend is a sophomore and has an apartment off campus.
"How was last night?" Blaine asks late Saturday afternoon. He just returned from hanging out downtown with some friends. He has a few hours before he has to get ready for tonight, and he wants to spend them hanging out and relaxing. It's a pleasant surprise that Kurt is still in the dorm room, and he plans on taking advantage of it.
"Great!" Kurt responds cheerfully, a smile lighting up his face. Kurt is sitting at his desk drawing. Blaine learned a few weeks ago that Kurt was taking a Studio Arts class because he wanted to try and improve his natural talent.
"Going out tonight?" Blaine lays on his bed, hands clasped behind his head, and stretches his torso a bit, emitting a small groan when he feels his back pop.
"I think so," Kurt replies, shading something in. "I don't know. It depends."
"On what?"
Kurt continues drawing. "There was this guy there last night. He was nice but…far too interested. And a terrible kisser. I kind of want to avoid him."
Blaine isn't quite sure what qualifies a good kisser from a bad kisser. He's only ever kissed a small handful of guys and they all seemed pretty decent.
"That sucks," he says, not sure how to respond.
He's trying hard not to imagine Kurt grinding up on some guy, head pillowed against his shoulder, hips moving back and forth. He tries not to envision what Kurt would look like while making out with another man. Tries to stop the images that come into his head of Kurt sweaty and loose, moaning as somebody sucks on his neck.
He shakes his head, trying to cool down and think of something else.
Kurt just shrugs his shoulders. "Eh. It happens." He starts erasing something and a few seconds later he asks, "Wanna grab dinner with me in a bit?"
"Definitely," Blaine responds. He and Kurt get along surprisingly well. They aren't friends, but they're friends. They go out to eat sometimes—normally just the two of them, but sometimes with Blaine's friends that live on their hall. Kurt doesn't hang out with too many of the guys on their floor, but he does talk to a few that live a couple floors below them. Still, the few times their friendship leaves the confines of the dorm it tends to just remain between the two of them. And Blaine, well—Blaine is totally fine with that.
"Blaine, oh my god," Charlie laughs, arm wrapped around Blaine's shoulder as he tries to walk Blaine back to the dorms. It's two in the morning and they just left the frat. Blaine is drunk and happy and talkative. He just cannot stop talking.
"And his freckles," he moans, tripping over his own feet. Charlie is barely able to catch him before he falls. "Charlie. Charlie? Are you laughing? What's so funny, Charlie?" Blaine asks, eyes wide as a doe's and painted with curiosity.
"Nothing," Charlie chuckles. "Come on, let's get you home."
"Kurt's at home!" Blaine says, as if this is the biggest and best realization he has ever had.
"Think you'll be able to keep the lid on your crush? Or are you too drunk to censor yourself?"
"I'm not that drunk," Blaine defends. Though it's fairly evident by his near inability to walk without help that yes, he is. "But but but…he doesn't know," Blaine laments a few seconds later, shoulders sagging with defeat.
"Well maybe you should tell him," Charlie suggests.
"Nah," Blaine waves his hand in dismissal. "I'm not his type."
"Why's that?"
"Well, you see," Blaine explains. "Kurt is too…good. For me. He's too good for me. And he's so pretty. And and and, Charlie. He. Has. Had. A. Boyfriend. Before." He speaks slowly and enunciates his words.
Charlie just shakes his head with a fond smile. Blaine has been over this several times with his group of friends. They all know that he likes Kurt, and they all think that he should say something. But Blaine, sober or not, always talks himself out of it, afraid that his inexperience will put Kurt off.
They continue talking for the rest of the walk home; nothing important, just wanting to fill the empty air between them.
When Charlie deposits Blaine on his bed, Kurt's side of the room is suspiciously empty.
"Do yourself a favor," Charlie says before leaving, "fall asleep before Kurt returns." With that he's out the door. Blaine struggles for a few minutes with taking his clothes off, then passes out in his boxers on top of his comforter.
The next morning over chips and pizza in Charlie and Ben's dorm room, Blaine decides to bring up his biggest problem with college.
"Can I ask you guys a question?" The three other guys in the room turn their heads away from the video games they're playing and focus on Blaine.
"Shoot," Ben says.
"How do you guys uhm.." Blaine blushes and ducks his head, but forces himself to continue. "God, this is embarrassing. But how do you guys…masturbate?" His voice cracks on the last word.
"With my hand, Blaine," Ben says. "And if I'm lucky, with someone else's hand."
"Ha. Ha." Blaine responds dryly. "I mean, how do you find the privacy? I'm always afraid that Kurt will walk in or if it's late at night that he'll wake up." He grabs his slice of pizza off his paper plate and takes a bite, needing something to do.
Ben and Charlie share an awkward look, neither really keen on learning the masturbatory habits of their roommate.
"Well," Kevin says, hoping to dissipate the awkwardness that just transpired. "I sometimes do it in the shower. But normally I do it when I know my roommate is out. Like, for class or to dinner."
Blaine just nods, taking it all in.
"Yeah," he says. "I can try that."
While Blaine sits and ponders this new found information, the rest of the gang just continues to stare at each other in confusion.
Twenty dollars he gets caught, Ben mouths to Kevin.
You're on, Kevin responds.
The following week Blaine masturbates.
At least, he tries to masturbate. He has more unsuccessful attempts than successful ones, though.
There is that time that Kurt forgets his books when he left for class, so he has to come back and get them. He walks in on Blaine palming himself above his shorts and shrieks, causing Blaine to open his eyes and squeak out an embarrassed, "Oh my god," before pulling his blanket over his lap and turning quickly onto his stomach. It is uncomfortable, but his erection dies down pretty fast.
"I am so, so sorry," Kurt says, holding his hands over his eyes. "I just…I had to get my book!"
Blaine just groans and Kurt grabs his book and leaves.
The second time is in the shower, like Kevin suggested. But the problem with that is that the showers are hardly ever empty. The first time he tries is when he gets to the shower and there is no one in there. But fifteen minutes in two people enter and Blaine can't in good conscience continue. The second time he tries is a few days later. When he enters the showers there is one other person there, but he leaves a few minutes later.
This is my chance, he thinks. He starts playing with his chest, letting his fingers ghost over his nipples, which are perky and hard and pleasant to touch. He slowly trails his one hand down, other hand still caressing his chest, and he falls against the shower wall. It's disgusting to think about touching the wall of a public shower, but he tries his hardest to forget about it.
Blaine loves to tease himself when he has the chance. He can get off fast if he has to, but his favorite thing is to take his time and enjoy his body. He loves his body. He's worked hard on his body—on the muscles and the tone.
So when the shitty dorm showers run cold a few minutes before he reaches his release, Blaine visibly shudders. He's too far gone to sit and wait in the cold water to go soft, so he forces himself to squeeze harder and pull faster and eventually has a highly unsatisfying orgasm. It's disgusting and he's cold and he still hasn't washed his hair, so he shuts the shower off and runs across with his shower caddy and towel to the stall across from him, hoping that it has hot water left.
There are more embarrassing and unsuccessful attempts and it all leaves Blaine feeling strung out and anxious. Kurt only exacerbates the problem. Because every night Blaine has to come home to see Kurt changing into pajama shorts to sleep. And every morning he has to watch Kurt strip and step into a towel so he can shower. He has to watch Kurt come home on the weekends drunk and loose and still high on adrenaline, and on more than one occasion he's had to dance with Kurt in the middle of their small dorm to music that Kurt blasts from his phone or his computer. It all leaves Blaine sexually frustrated.
So after two months of not being able to jerk off like he normally does, Blaine is feeling a little unsatisfied. It's Saturday night and Kurt is passed out in his bed. They had each gone out to a party and gotten drunk, and Kurt, who can barely hold his alcohol, tends to fall into deep sleep after drinking too much. Blaine had danced with another guy tonight. They kissed a bit—nothing heavy, because the entire time all he could think about was Kurt. What Kurt's lips would feel like. What his hands would feel like framing his face and grasping his chin.
He wakes up around four in the morning hard and wanting. He looks over to Kurt and sees him sleeping peacefully, body and face angled towards Blaine. He slowly, carefully, begins to rut against the mattress. He tries to keep his moans down but it's hard, and he lets a few slip. He can't stop staring at Kurt, who looks so peaceful and angelic. But when he realizes that it's probably creepy to stare at your black-out drunk roommate while masturbating, he turns his head into his pillow to muffle his groans.
He's panting and moaning quietly. "Fuck. Ah," he grunts. He's sweating and he's getting closer when he hears Kurt turn over. He stops for a second, assessing the situation. But Kurt's breathing still sounds even and he doesn't move again, so Blaine continues.
"Come on, come on," he moans, imagining that the tight, hard heat that he's fucking into were Kurt's hand, hard and solid around him. He imagines the blanket on top of him, pushing him down, as Kurt's weight surrounding him. He pretends Kurt's mouthing at his neck, leaving his mark.
His cock rubs against his briefs and the mattress, and when he comes he can't help but let out a strangled moan.
"Ah, ah. Uhhhh," he grunts, slowing the movement of his hips. He still rocks a bit as he turns his head to the side, facing Kurt's back now. He's hot and sweaty and has sticky come lining the insides of his briefs, but he's still turned on. "Fuck, Kurt. I wish that were you," he sighs.
He takes a few minutes to lie in bed and calm down before getting up and grabbing a clean pair of briefs. He gets changed right in the middle of their dorm room, not afraid that Kurt will see him in the nude. If Kurt could sleep through Blaine jerking off, then he most likely won't wake up right now.
When he gets back into bed he thinks, Note to self, find a better time to jerk off so I don't have to do it in secret at sunrise.