GLEE ANONYMOUS KINK MEME! - PART 5
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Delicious Account - Filled Prompts
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( Prompts Begin Here! )
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The interior of John Jay Hall looks a little like Dalton, actually; not so much in its decor or architecture, but in the way it feels like a place that has history, the aging wood and chipped doorknobs giving it character instead of just making it look shabby. It’s got a lot of Dalton’s old-world charm too, and Kurt can see why Blaine likes it here.
There are two elevators in the lobby (well, three, but the third has a big “OUT OF SERVICE” sign pasted on it, to which someone (most likely a resident) has added, in black marker, “BIG FUCKING SURPRISE”), one of which is already on his level. He pushes the button for it, goes in, and stops.
He walks back out of the elevator, feeling a bit confused. He knows that Blaine lives in room 1521 - he has Blaine’s text that Blaine had sent the minute he got his room assignment. He has sent cookies to room 1521, and has giggled over the subsequent photos that Blaine texted of him eating the cookies. According to the elevator, though, it seems like the entire fifteenth floor doesn’t exist.
“Um, excuse me,” Kurt says to a passing student, “do you know how to get to the fifteenth floor?”
The girl, a very pretty redhead in a maroon corduroy blazer and dark-wash skinny jean combo that looks terrific on her, gives Kurt a quick once-over before she pulls out her earbuds and says, “Are you visiting someone here?”
“My boyfriend,” Kurt replies, and even after six months, he still feels a little thrill when he says it. “He’s in 1521? Blaine And-”
And that’s as far as he gets, because the girl suddenly lets out a delighted squeal. “Oh my God, you’re Kurt Hummel!” she exclaims, actually bouncing a little on the toes of her booted feet. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. Oh, Wallace is going to owe me so much money.”
Kurt just blinks at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Sami,” she says, and holds out her hand for Kurt to shake. “The elevators here only go up to the fourteenth floor, and that’s on a good day. You have to walk up to the penthouse suites - that’s what we call the rooms on the fifteenth floor,” she clarifies, when Kurt looks even more confused. “Come with me, I’m heading up there myself - I’m in 1505. You can stay in the lounge until either Blaine or Andy get back from class.”
“Okay, thanks,” Kurt says, still a little bewildered, as he steps into the elevator. The doors shudder closed, and with a loud series of clanks and other vaguely ominous noises that make Kurt’s inner mechanic cringe with fear, the elevator starts to move.
“So, how do you know Blaine?” Kurt asks, as they begin their tortuously slow ascent.
“I asked him out during freshmen orientation,” she replies cheerfully. At Kurt’s expression, she continues, “Don’t worry, he quickly informed me that, alas, he was both gay and taken.”
“Oh,” Kurt says, feeling more than a little smug. “How did you know who I was?”
Sami rolls her eyes. “Honey, I don’t think there’s anyone on our floor who doesn’t know who you are. Well, maybe except Wallace, who still thinks that Blaine made you up so that Wallace would stop trying to get into his pants.”
Which doesn’t really answer Kurt’s question, but then the elevator grinds to a quaking stop, and the doors open, but only about two feet. Kurt watches as Sami sighs and pries the doors the rest of the way open, and gets out. Kurt follows her.
“Stairs are this way,” she says, and leads them to a narrow staircase. There is another taped sign above the banister; it says, “THIS WAY TO THE PENTHOUSE” with an arrow pointing up. “It’s a pain in the ass to get to, especially when the elevator’s not working - which is like, half the time, but the view is worth it.”
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This is ADORABLE.
“Honey, I don’t think there’s anyone on our floor who doesn’t know who you are. Well, maybe except Wallace, who still thinks that Blaine made you up so that Wallace would stop trying to get into his pants.”
I love this so much.
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They walk down a narrow, fluorescent-lit hallway, flanked on either side by two rows of doors, each bearing a number and a person’s name. Some of the doors are heavily decorated; others have whiteboards or corkboards stuck to the door surface. One person has a pad of Post-It notes taped above two Christmas stockings labelled “Urgent” and “Not Urgent,” with a sign that says, “Please leave your message in the feet.”
“Something funny?” Sami asks, when she catches Kurt grinning.
“I spent a semester at a boarding school last year,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Memories.”
Sami grins back at him. “I can relate; I was a boarding school brat myself.” She stops in front of a large doorway that bears a plaque identifying it as the student lounge, and gestures for Kurt to go in first.
The inside of the lounge is plain, almost Spartan. There are five people sitting on some ratty-looking couches that are clustered around a big flat-screen TV, currently playing the second Lord of the Rings movie. There is a kitchenette on one side of the room, and a table and four chairs.
Sami leans in, and murmurs in Kurt’s ear, “Sorry in advance.”
Before Kurt even has time to fully register her words, Sami marches up to the wall, unplugs the TV, and yells, “Hey guys! Blaine’s jailbait boyfriend is here!”
Oh, God, Kurt thinks as five heads turn from the now-black screen and stare at him.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sami says with a wicked grin, “meet Kurt Hummel.”
“Hi,” Kurt says weakly, feeling a bit like a circus animal on display. “I’m Kurt.”
“Wait, so there actually is a Kurt Hummel?” says a guy who looks like he could be Rachel Berry’s older brother (they even have the same unfortunate nose). “No fucking way.”
“Pay up, Wallace,” Sami says. “I told you Blaine didn’t just make him up.”
“Oh come on,” Wallace protests. “‘My boyfriend, who lives in Ohio’? What the hell was I supposed to think?” He gives Kurt a critical once-over. “At least you’re cute - no wonder he turned me down.”
“Well, that, and your potty mouth and propensity for blaring Metallica at all hours of the night,” the guy beside him (cute, Middle-Eastern, kind of bookish looking) remarks casually.
“And the way you’re kind of a manwhore,” adds the Asian girl sitting on Wallace’s other side.
“Fuck you both very much,” Wallace says pleasantly, “and the donkey you rode in on.”
“You’ll have to excuse Wallace,” says another guy, who is sporting a truly unflattering buzz cut. “We usually don’t let him out before nightfall. I’m Tim, by the way,” he adds, which sets off a flurry of introductions.
“Michelle,” says the Asian girl who called Wallace a manwhore.
“Sayid.” Cute Middle-Eastern guy.
“Johann,” says a surly-looking boy with extremely pale skin and large, dark eyes. “So did you book a hotel, or are the two of you just going to fuck in Blaine’s room?”
“Dude!” Tim yells, and slaps him upside the head as Kurt blushes furiously.
“Ow! Hey, you don’t have to share a wall with him, okay? All week long, it’s been, ‘Kurt this,’ and ‘Kurt that,’ and ‘Why don’t I play the song I wrote for Kurt for the seven hundredth time?’ I am not spending the only exam-free day I have this week listening to two guys fucking.”
Even through the fog of embarrassment, Kurt catches what Johann said, and asks, “Blaine wrote me a song?”
“The guy practically has a shrine dedicated to you in his room,” Michelle says, rolling her eyes. “Personally, I don’t know how Andy can stand it.”
“Can stand what?” says a light, male voice from behind them.
Kurt turns around. In person, Andy Collins is even hotter than he is in his photos: a vision in stone-washed jeans and a faded T-shirt, with short, windswept hair and a light dusting of freckles across his nose. He’s got just the kind of looks that, once upon a time, would be making Kurt go weak in the knees, but all Kurt can think about right now is the fact that this guy has been sleeping in his boyfriend’s room for the past two months.
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“I think I’d rather wait in his room,” Kurt says, stubbornly ignoring the slight sting that he feels at the way Andy said ‘our room.’ “Apparently, there’s a shrine.”
Andy laughs. “Yeah, it’s - well, you’ll see. Come on, it’s this way.”
Kurt nods. “Well, it was nice meeting all of you,” he says, to the rest of Blaine’s friends.
“You too,” Michelle says, at the same time as Sayid’s “Same here.”
“Please fuck quietly,” Johann pleads, and then quickly ducks when Tim smacks him with a cushion.
“Let me know if you and Blaine ever want a threesome,” Wallace says, making Sami roll her eyes.
Kurt leaves the lounge, and follows Andy down the hall that Sami had pointed out to him earlier.
“So, you’re a bit early,” Andy says conversationally. “Blaine’s not expecting you until six. Not that he’ll mind,” he adds, when Kurt looks a little concerned. “In fact, it’s probably for the best. This way, Blaine can’t spend two hours turning his closet inside out and asking me what he should wear, even though he knows that I know as much about clothes as a duck knows financial planning.”
Kurt snickers, suddenly feeling better about all his fashion emergency sessions with Mercedes these past few weeks.
“Okay, this is it,” Andy says, stopping in front of a door with a sign bearing both his name and Blaine’s. Before he turns the doorknob, he turns to Kurt, and grins wryly. “Try to guess which side’s Blaine’s.”
The door opens, and Kurt walks in. The right side of the room is neat, and there are posters of movies and musicals on the wall that he knows Blaine has seen and loved. The bed is unmade, though, and there is a book lying open on the pillow with its spine facing up, so this must be Andy’s side.
Kurt turns to the other side of the room, and his jaw drops.
Blaine’s side of the room has more wall space than Andy’s, and is covered in a massive collage. It looks like the collage originated from the corkboard above Blaine’s desk, but it has since expanded and grown, radiating in all directions onto the surrounding walls and even, Kurt notes as he looks up, the ceiling above Blaine’s bed. The collage mostly contains photos of him and Blaine, or just him, or of him with his friends from Glee (some of which were taken before he met Blaine, so clearly Kurt isn’t the only one guilty of a little Facebook-stalking). There are also a few newspaper clippings from when New Directions made it to Nationals last year, as well as ticket stubs and programs from concerts and shows that they saw together.
Something small and pink near on the corkboard catches Kurt’s eye, and he walks toward it. “Oh my God,” he murmurs, a grin splitting his face as he sees the pink carnation - a silk one, because Blaine had wanted real flowers for authenticity, but Kurt didn’t want them to wear anything that would wilt halfway through the evening - pinned by its stem to the corkboard at just the eye-level of someone sitting at the desk. Kurt can see their prom pictures surrounding the flower: the awkwardly posed ones that Carole took before they left Kurt’s house, in which Blaine looks kind of nervous because his dad had just given him the “If you hurt my son, I’ll break every bone in your body” speech; the “official” one taken by the professional photographer at prom, in which they’re both grinning in gleeful defiance because the man had looked so shocked when he realized that he and Blaine wanted to be photographed together because they were together; the group photos with Kurt’s friends; and another one, which Kurt has not seen before: a candid shot, probably taken by someone’s phone, of him and Blaine slow-dancing, looking at each other like they’re the only two people in the world.
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And, oh. Oh. Just. The prom portion of Blaine's shrine. This is lovely.
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Kurt runs his fingers gently over that last photo, blinking rapidly at the moisture in his eyes. He remembers that moment. At that point, they’d only kissed a few times, hadn’t said “I love you” yet, and certainly hadn’t made it to third base, but Kurt still remembers lifting his head from Blaine’s shoulder and looking his boyfriend in the eyes, feeling invincible and happy and utterly loved.
Kurt is so engrossed in the collage that he completely misses the sound of voices coming through the open door, until he hears Blaine’s voice, laughing and talking, and then his breath whooshes out of his body as Blaine walks in, unsteadily with arms out in front of him as Sami holds her hands over his eyes.
“Can I at least get a hint as to what my ‘surprise’ is?” Blaine asks, curly-haired and rumpled and looking so beautiful it makes Kurt ache. “Because if it’s Wallace, pants-less on my bed again, I’m going to need to disinfect my whole room before Kurt gets here.”
Kurt can see Michelle and Sayid behind Sami, gesturing and mouthing, “Come closer,” but he can’t get his feet to move. Distantly, he feels two hands (Andy’s) hold his shoulders and gently push him toward Blaine, until Blaine’s outstretched hands are just inches away from his face. Holding his breath, he takes the last step himself.
As always, Blaine’s touch is electric, sending sparks down his spine. He presses his face against Blaine’s warm hands, cupping his own hands around them to guide them across his face, shivering as Blaine’s callused fingertips drag against his skin. He can tell the moment when Blaine figures it out: Blaine’s jaw goes slack, his fingers tremble, and he sucks in a harsh, quick breath. Then he drops one hand to Kurt’s waist and yanks Kurt toward him, crashing their bodies together, Sami barely managing to remove her hands in time to keep them from getting crushed between his face and Blaine’s as Blaine kisses him, clumsy with desperation and blind need, but Kurt doesn’t care; he kisses back just as fiercely, just as hungrily, winding his arms around Blaine’s neck and clinging shamelessly.
God, Kurt must have been suffering from temporary insanity when he believed that he’d be able to sustain himself on Skype and texts alone, because this - the feel of Blaine’s body, his warmth, his scent, the heat of his mouth - this is them, this is life and water and breath, this is the high F at the end of “Defying Gravity,” and Kurt whimpers helplessly into Blaine’s mouth as he kisses Blaine deeper and harder.
He’s not ready for the kiss to end, and he fights it as long as he can, but eventually, his need to breathe overpowers his need to keep kissing Blaine, and they tear their mouths apart, panting loudly and harshly in each other’s faces. Blaine’s face is flushed, his pupils completely blown, and he keeps touching Kurt’s face, like he needs physical proof that Kurt is actually here.
“Hi,” Blaine whispers, smiling softly.
“Hi,” Kurt echoes, and presses his forehead against Blaine’s.
“Aw, that’s so cute!”
Kurt and Blaine jerk in surprise, as they both remember that there are other people in the room. Kurt can see over Blaine’s shoulder that all of Blaine’s friends (except Johann) are grinning so widely that he can practically see their molars. Wallace has his iPhone aimed at them.
“Don’t stop on our account,” Wallace says in a low, throaty voice. Tim sighs and snatches the iPhone away. “Hey!”
Blaine rolls his eyes and turns around. “All right, perverts, clear out,” he orders, keeping an arm around Kurt’s waist.
“Well, that’s our cue,” Andy says brightly, as he starts shoving his friends out the door. “Don’t do anything Wallace wouldn’t do, and remember to always use protection. I’ve got condoms in my desk if you guys need more.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins, and goodbye,” Blaine says warningly.
Andy laughs, and closes the door on his way out.
“Sorry about them,” Blaine says, looking embarrassed. “They’re usually less insane when it’s not midterm week.”
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I also squeed really hard when Blaine walked in, and then again when I realized he didn't know Kurt was there, and then AGAIN when Kurt stepped toward him and then AGAIN SUPER HARD when Blaine grabbed him and kissed his brains out. I need the rest of this like omgunf!
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this is so perfect. soo so so so soso perfect.
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Blaine smiles at him, and kisses him again - a softer, gentler kiss this time. “Thank you for being here,” he says. “I’ve really, really missed you.”
The simple sincerity in that statement makes Kurt’s eyes well up dangerously, and he smiles aloofly at Blaine instead. “Yes, I can see that,” he replies, nodding meaningfully toward the collage.
“Oh,” Blaine says, and Kurt has the pleasure of watching his boyfriend blush. “Um, I was going to take that down before you got here. Sorry. I know it’s kind of, um...”
“Stalkery?” Kurt asks innocently.
Blaine scratches the back of his neck, blushing harder. “Like I said, I missed you.”
It’s ridiculously adorable, and Kurt grins at him, sliding his arms back around Blaine’s neck and pulling him in closer. “Well, I’m here now. What are you going to do with me?”
He honestly means it playfully, not really trying to be seductive at all, but Blaine’s eyes suddenly darken with this heat that shoots a spike of arousal straight down Kurt’s spine.
“Don’t worry,” Blaine says in a low, hot voice, “I’ve got plenty of plans of tonight.”
“Oh?” Kurt asks, a little breathily as his heart starts to beat faster at the promise in Blaine’s expression. “Want to share with the class?”
Blaine grins and starts to unbutton Kurt’s jacket. “Well, first I’m going to find out what you’re wearing under this beautifully tailored Mark Jacobs jacket,” he says. He gently dislodges Kurt’s arms from his shoulders so that he can slide the garment off, grinning when it reveals a powder-blue button-down shirt, tucked into impossibly tight jeans and impeccably accessorized with a periwinkle silk scarf and a studded Alexander McQueen belt. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says, preening a little under Blaine’s clear appreciation. “What’s next?”
“Next,” Blaine continues, “I’m going to take you to my window and kiss you under the setting sun.” He tugs Kurt toward his side of the room, smiling. “It’s kind of been a fantasy of mine since I moved in.”
Kurt, remembering Blaine’s texts, smiles back and follows him willingly. “Oh, wow” he gasps, when they reach the window.
The city sprawls out far beneath their feet, endless intersecting roads extending as far as the horizon. They’re facing the wrong direction for Kurt to see any major landmarks, but he can see the ebb and flow of traffic on the ground, bracketed on either side by the tall, majestic spires of countless skyscrapers. It’s magnificent.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Blaine murmurs against his ear.
“Yes,” Kurt says, turning around, and then he’s gasping at a different sort of magnificence: Blaine, beautiful and his, standing in a flood of sunlight, smiling as the amber rays gild the flyaway strands of his hair and reflect themselves in his eyes.
“You look so beautiful right now,” Blaine says quietly as he leans in, and Kurt has just enough time to think, That’s my line before Blaine’s mouth is on his again, hot and hungry.
Kurt whimpers softly against Blaine’s lips and opens his mouth, inviting Blaine’s tongue inside to rub and stroke Kurt’s own. He takes Blaine’s perfect, Cupids-bow upper lip that he’d loved and fantasized over even before they were dating between his lips and sucks gently, shivering slightly as the sensitive skin on the inside of his mouth scrapes against Blaine’s forgot-to-shave-this-morning stubble.
They kiss and kiss, taking turns pausing to inhale and exhale through their noses, neither wanting to separate for something as clearly unimportant as breathing. It’s not a violent kiss, for all its heat and desperate need - Kurt can’t help but feel like he’s drinking Blaine in, as though his body is sucking up every ounce of Blaine it can get, to save him up for when Kurt has to leave New York and return to his sad, Blaine-less existence in Ohio. He tilts his head to get a better angle, and kisses Blaine harder.
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“Stalkery?” Kurt asks innocently.
Oh, Kurt. :)
I love this so much.
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Okay maybe that wasn't so funny.
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When this is done, I'm going to save it to a Word document and keep it by my bedside, so I can read it whenever I'm feeling lonely :) Seriously, absolutely beautiful, and fun, and sweet, and generally all-around perfect. I'm going to cry if this gets abandoned, so...yeah, finish it, plz?
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