If You Seek Amy Tonight [7/?]
Title: If You Seek Amy Tonight
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Blaine is eighteen and a virgin, only ever been kissed, but sex is always on his mind and with an exhibitionism streak a mile wide, he finds himself with a blog and a lot of admirers, one of which becomes less the more he sees - a GKM fill for this prompt.
Word Count: 2,543 (for this part)
Disclaimer: I own nada.
Warnings: Exhibitionism.
A/N: I feel like I should apologise for the lack of porn in this recently, but there is some on the way soon - Blaine isn't easy to shut up so he's been inner monologuing a lot lately. My eternal thanks to turnthedarkness for reading this chapter through and being the incentive I needed to finish it.
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Something’s been screaming inside Blaine’s head since ‘highinthemiddle’ looked at him but didn’t see him. It wasn’t a casual, questioning, “Do I know you from somewhere?” - it was complete confusion and a blind eye. The boy had no idea who he was and Blaine could think of nothing else to do but run. He’d grabbed his bag and he’d ran down the stairs and out of the garage, hadn’t stopped until he’d got home and to his room where he’d slid to the floor against his door and cried.
He hadn’t known why he was crying, not really. He’d felt upset, a little rejected, but he’d almost turned back twice on the way home because why should he have been recognized? He’d mentioned the message but who says the boy remembered it as much as Blaine? Who ever said it wasn’t all some stupid internet crush and god Blaine had gotten too deep, too fast - he had hated to admit it, but Cooper was right to be scared for him. He felt broken. In an odd way he felt used and that thought had started the screaming, the pressure in his ears and the constant stream of idiot idiot idiot running round his head. Running seems to be a theme with him these days and he’s starting to regret every fast, pounding step - every time he stops he’s where he started: confusion, anger, loss.
He hasn’t been near his blog. He can’t bear to face it because it all seems like such a joke now. He feels like he’s been laughed at, like some kid has been running it this whole time and just wanted to watch Blaine’s heart break for kicks - he knows that’s not true of course. The boy in the gym couldn’t have been anyone other than the boy behind the screen. He was the perfection Blaine’s seen in pixels, in person, and no one could pretend to be so beautiful or articulate.
It makes Blaine ache even more when he remembers the lithe, pale boy he saw in the changing room. He was better than in the pictures and actually real. It was like a kick to the head and a skipping beat of his heart that had made Blaine dizzy with the want to touch, taste, smell just to know he was solid and true. It hurts to think of him now though - how can Blaine not continue curl up and cry and curse the internet when the boy of his dreams isn’t who he thought? He’s on his bed at this moment, knees pressed to his chest by the ring of his arms and his eyes are red and stinging with three days worth of tears.
The state he’s in feels a little pathetic - losing sleep, not eating and all for a boy. He’s in love though (as stupid as it may be to love a boy who’s name you don’t know and who can’t remember you after months) and he’s heard of people doing worse. But he can’t kick the feeling that this entire thing is pathetic - his blog, the pictures, the videos, the messages.
He was grappling really, just like Cooper said. The moment he’d set the blog up he was clawing for attention and friends and when ‘highinthemiddle’ came along, a boyfriend. It’s like everything Cooper said was right. All Cooper’s worries and fears were valid and Blaine wants to hate him for it but he hates himself more for not listening. It’s not that he ignored Cooper (he never would), he just let his heart and cock get in front of his head.
There’s been rare (more likely never) opportunities for Blaine to let his cock be a decider. He spent every year of school being gay and trying not to show it, so while the jocks and cheerleaders skipped out on practices or even class to have a fuck under the bleachers, Blaine could never ditch even a study period to get a quick handjob or less. So when the time rolled around when he could get hard and not have to ignore it, could say, “Forget what’s important, I want sex,” his head was overruled before he knew it. And in turn, Cooper was overruled.
The man himself appears just as Blaine is wiping away a fresh wave of tears and to be honest Blaine’s surprised it’s taken him this long to come to him. Cooper’s the only one who’s ever dared come into Blaine’s room when he tells everyone to keep out. Blaine’s usually glad Cooper flouts the rule because he usually needs to hear what Cooper has to say, but not today. He’s heard it all before, didn’t listen and now it’s come round to laugh in his face. He wouldn’t blame Cooper if he actually did laugh - it’s not funny, not in the slightest, but it’ll be sweet retribution for Cooper.
Cooper sits instead, doesn’t look like he’s going to crack a smile or a smirk and Blaine shakes his head and hopes Cooper says nothing. Apparently he didn’t understand because he says, “It’s all fucked isn’t it?” and Blaine thinks he’s talking about his blog and the boy but he can never be sure with Cooper. He finds out he’s right when Cooper sighs and says, “I told you so.”
Those four words are what Blaine didn’t need to hear the most. He knows they’re true and Cooper did tell him so. He told Blaine he was clinging to this thing too hard and he told him to be careful and Blaine heard but didn’t do. He deserves what Cooper’s said - it doesn’t make it any easier to hear though. It makes him angry, if anything, and he rolls onto his other side so his back’s to Cooper, ignores how childish he must sound when he huffs. This would be less painful if he were a child and boys went back to having cooties.
“Blaine,” Cooper sighs (at least his fourth one since he entered the room). “What happened?”
“You told me so,” Blaine snaps, the effect of it mostly lost as it comes out hoarse and quiet. He hasn’t spoken in three days.
“I told you a lot of things, Blaine.” Cooper’s biting back and it makes Blaine hold himself tighter. “I told you to be careful and I can tell by the state of you and the frankly disgusting smell in here that you haven’t been.”
“It’s not my fault!” Blaine says (he tried to yell, but his throat is dry), rolling back over and sitting up, and he’s as shocked as Cooper is by his outburst because that’s the first time he’s said that about this situation. He’s been thinking everything is his fault - he fell for looks too quickly and intelligence faster after that - but now he’s said it isn’t, he finds himself angry at ‘highinthemiddle.’
Who was he to talk to Blaine like he did? Who was he to post more pictures and videos that he knew would drag Blaine in further? Who was he to care little when Blaine cared too much? Who the hell is he?
Blaine thought he knew the answer to the last one, the most important one. He thought he understood the boy and had found a boy who understood him. He doesn’t know what he thinks anymore. The boy he’s fawned over for months, talked to, connected with and seen spread, flushed and sated on his screen, isn’t the boy he saw at the gym. They’re the same physical being, he was definitely in the pictures, yet he’s not who Blaine knows. Or thought he knew.
Cooper asks him what happened again and Blaine doesn’t want to tell him because it’ll be another slap to the face to relive it, but he’s tired and riled up so he explains. He tells Cooper about every new message and picture they shared (he spares the graphic details and leaves out the part about the video he made), tells him how he thinks he loves the boy, tells him how he went to gym to think things through and that his world fell from under him in two minutes flat. Cooper says nothing as he speaks, just watches. It’s a little unnerving.
Cooper then says, “Has he messaged you?” and Blaine resists the urge to punch him and say how that’s the last thing he cares about right now. He cares about finding his life again. But he shrugs and Cooper’s up and has Blaine’s laptop before Blaine can lift a heavy arm and try to stop him.
The sight of the blog, out of focus to Blaine’s sleep deprived eyes, makes Blaine curl in on himself again. It’s a reminder of why he’s like he is right now - unshowered and verging on depressed. He shuts his eyes when Cooper clicks on his inbox, flashing with any number of messages, none of which he wants to read. He only feels worse when Cooper taps his shoulder and says, “It’s him.” He doesn’t open his eyes or move and he’s willing his curiosity not to win. His anger at the nerve of the boy to even think about talking to him is taking hold at the moment but the voice in his head telling him to read it isn’t backing down. It’s starting to shout and it feels like a thunderstorm in his skull alongside the constant screaming pressure he’s had for days.
When Cooper says, “He’s gone,” confused, Blaine peeks an eye open and hums quietly like he doesn’t care, but it ends up sounding like a question. “His blogs sort of… gone,” Cooper says and Blaine can’t help it anymore - he’s interested. So he sits up and peers at the screen and blinks slowly as if he’ll look long enough and hard enough and the blank, empty blog he can now see, a ghost of the one he’s seen so much of, will come back to life.
It’s strange, to say the least, that the boy’s blog looks like it’s gone back to factory settings - the default theme, no picture, no profile, no nothing. There’s no posts at all and Blaine’s starting to wonder if he imagined the whole thing and Cooper just played along to make him happy, but then Cooper says, “It was there yesterday.” Blaine had forgotten in the past few weeks that Cooper had hacked him and he should of changed his password, but he forgot to do that too. And if Cooper’s been on it in the past days, Blaine’s really surprised it took him so long to come to him - it must’ve been obvious by Blaine’s silence on his blog that something was up.
Blaine almost tuts when he realizes why Cooper was so quiet while he explained his red eyes and three-day-stubble-covered jaw - he’s been watching the entire conversation between Blaine and the boy. He already knows everything that’s been said, seen every picture (Blaine hopes he didn’t watch the video) and only needed to hear the very end, the real life part. Blaine thinks he should feel violated but he’s bored of being angry and he has to be fair to Cooper - he’s been nothing but understanding - so he says, “What does the message say?” and tries his hardest not to sound too interested. Cooper’s side eye tells him it didn’t work.
The message is the first up when Cooper clicks back to the inbox and it says Lima Bean: Friday, 6pm. I’m sorry. It’s not what Blaine was expecting at all, wouldn’t be on the list if there was one, and he’s thrown. He stares at the screen, hardly blinks and wonders why in the hell the boy would ask Blaine to meet him. Their first meeting was a disaster and Blaine knows for certain now the boy was him so the assumption Blaine will meet him pisses him off, if he’s honest. Does the boy just want to humiliate him further? Attempt an apology (“Sorry I didn’t recognize you, I was just playing with you all along” Blaine imagines)? Whatever he has to say, Blaine doesn’t think he wants to hear it.
“Don’t go,” Cooper says and that just makes Blaine want to go. It’s stupid teenage rebellion and while Cooper’s not actually saying it or showing it, Blaine’s certain he’s enjoying being right. So Blaine feels like he needs to prove something now - it’s as if he can go meet this boy (no matter how much he doesn’t want to because he can’t take another twist of his heart, a punch to the gut) and by some miracle the thing in the gym was a misunderstanding, the boy needed a moment to recollect him, and Cooper will be wrong.
He’s so torn. A part of him wants to see the boy to get an explanation (a damn good one he hopes) and an apology (that better be damn good too) and he doesn’t dare to think where things would go after that (his cock betrays him of course and stirs at the thought of pale skin and a perfect ass). But he also wants to ignore the boy and not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much Blaine cried and hurt and broke. The first option is winning out as Cooper stares him down. It’s a horrible attempt at intimidation on Cooper’s part and Blaine feels stupidly like he’s won something (though he’s sure he’ll come to regret it) when he snatches the laptop, hits reply and types, I’ll be there.
Cooper doesn’t say a word or make a sound or even look at Blaine as he gets up and leaves the room with a slam of the door and Blaine breathes deep and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.
He doesn’t want to cry again but he can feel tears coming and the tremble of his chin as he grits his jaw and tries to stop it says his cheeks will be damp again, soon enough. He eventually lets it come and wonders why he’s crying at all - he thinks it’s the blatant betrayal of Cooper’s trust that’s making him choke and impending fear of what he’ll find at the Lima Bean on Friday. It’s two days away and he thinks he might scare himself out of the idea before then and he stares through blurry eyes at his blog, the last picture of him sated, limp and covered in come staring back at him.
He feels nothing as he looks at it - the usual thrill and quirk of a smile he gets isn’t there and it’s just another thing he’s lost this week. He wonders if he’ll ever get back to the boy he was before the gym - happy, in love (he hates that he still feels that a little), living - and it pains him to think that he wont. He’s still that boy underneath the self-hatred and disheartened appearance and he still wants everything he did before - friends, acceptance, what’s really become masturbation fodder and cybersex. He wants to kick himself when he realizes he also still wants the boy, in any way he can have him, even after the heartbreak.
And what’s more, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.
Chapter Eight
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Blaine is eighteen and a virgin, only ever been kissed, but sex is always on his mind and with an exhibitionism streak a mile wide, he finds himself with a blog and a lot of admirers, one of which becomes less the more he sees - a GKM fill for this prompt.
Word Count: 2,543 (for this part)
Disclaimer: I own nada.
Warnings: Exhibitionism.
A/N: I feel like I should apologise for the lack of porn in this recently, but there is some on the way soon - Blaine isn't easy to shut up so he's been inner monologuing a lot lately. My eternal thanks to turnthedarkness for reading this chapter through and being the incentive I needed to finish it.
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Something’s been screaming inside Blaine’s head since ‘highinthemiddle’ looked at him but didn’t see him. It wasn’t a casual, questioning, “Do I know you from somewhere?” - it was complete confusion and a blind eye. The boy had no idea who he was and Blaine could think of nothing else to do but run. He’d grabbed his bag and he’d ran down the stairs and out of the garage, hadn’t stopped until he’d got home and to his room where he’d slid to the floor against his door and cried.
He hadn’t known why he was crying, not really. He’d felt upset, a little rejected, but he’d almost turned back twice on the way home because why should he have been recognized? He’d mentioned the message but who says the boy remembered it as much as Blaine? Who ever said it wasn’t all some stupid internet crush and god Blaine had gotten too deep, too fast - he had hated to admit it, but Cooper was right to be scared for him. He felt broken. In an odd way he felt used and that thought had started the screaming, the pressure in his ears and the constant stream of idiot idiot idiot running round his head. Running seems to be a theme with him these days and he’s starting to regret every fast, pounding step - every time he stops he’s where he started: confusion, anger, loss.
He hasn’t been near his blog. He can’t bear to face it because it all seems like such a joke now. He feels like he’s been laughed at, like some kid has been running it this whole time and just wanted to watch Blaine’s heart break for kicks - he knows that’s not true of course. The boy in the gym couldn’t have been anyone other than the boy behind the screen. He was the perfection Blaine’s seen in pixels, in person, and no one could pretend to be so beautiful or articulate.
It makes Blaine ache even more when he remembers the lithe, pale boy he saw in the changing room. He was better than in the pictures and actually real. It was like a kick to the head and a skipping beat of his heart that had made Blaine dizzy with the want to touch, taste, smell just to know he was solid and true. It hurts to think of him now though - how can Blaine not continue curl up and cry and curse the internet when the boy of his dreams isn’t who he thought? He’s on his bed at this moment, knees pressed to his chest by the ring of his arms and his eyes are red and stinging with three days worth of tears.
The state he’s in feels a little pathetic - losing sleep, not eating and all for a boy. He’s in love though (as stupid as it may be to love a boy who’s name you don’t know and who can’t remember you after months) and he’s heard of people doing worse. But he can’t kick the feeling that this entire thing is pathetic - his blog, the pictures, the videos, the messages.
He was grappling really, just like Cooper said. The moment he’d set the blog up he was clawing for attention and friends and when ‘highinthemiddle’ came along, a boyfriend. It’s like everything Cooper said was right. All Cooper’s worries and fears were valid and Blaine wants to hate him for it but he hates himself more for not listening. It’s not that he ignored Cooper (he never would), he just let his heart and cock get in front of his head.
There’s been rare (more likely never) opportunities for Blaine to let his cock be a decider. He spent every year of school being gay and trying not to show it, so while the jocks and cheerleaders skipped out on practices or even class to have a fuck under the bleachers, Blaine could never ditch even a study period to get a quick handjob or less. So when the time rolled around when he could get hard and not have to ignore it, could say, “Forget what’s important, I want sex,” his head was overruled before he knew it. And in turn, Cooper was overruled.
The man himself appears just as Blaine is wiping away a fresh wave of tears and to be honest Blaine’s surprised it’s taken him this long to come to him. Cooper’s the only one who’s ever dared come into Blaine’s room when he tells everyone to keep out. Blaine’s usually glad Cooper flouts the rule because he usually needs to hear what Cooper has to say, but not today. He’s heard it all before, didn’t listen and now it’s come round to laugh in his face. He wouldn’t blame Cooper if he actually did laugh - it’s not funny, not in the slightest, but it’ll be sweet retribution for Cooper.
Cooper sits instead, doesn’t look like he’s going to crack a smile or a smirk and Blaine shakes his head and hopes Cooper says nothing. Apparently he didn’t understand because he says, “It’s all fucked isn’t it?” and Blaine thinks he’s talking about his blog and the boy but he can never be sure with Cooper. He finds out he’s right when Cooper sighs and says, “I told you so.”
Those four words are what Blaine didn’t need to hear the most. He knows they’re true and Cooper did tell him so. He told Blaine he was clinging to this thing too hard and he told him to be careful and Blaine heard but didn’t do. He deserves what Cooper’s said - it doesn’t make it any easier to hear though. It makes him angry, if anything, and he rolls onto his other side so his back’s to Cooper, ignores how childish he must sound when he huffs. This would be less painful if he were a child and boys went back to having cooties.
“Blaine,” Cooper sighs (at least his fourth one since he entered the room). “What happened?”
“You told me so,” Blaine snaps, the effect of it mostly lost as it comes out hoarse and quiet. He hasn’t spoken in three days.
“I told you a lot of things, Blaine.” Cooper’s biting back and it makes Blaine hold himself tighter. “I told you to be careful and I can tell by the state of you and the frankly disgusting smell in here that you haven’t been.”
“It’s not my fault!” Blaine says (he tried to yell, but his throat is dry), rolling back over and sitting up, and he’s as shocked as Cooper is by his outburst because that’s the first time he’s said that about this situation. He’s been thinking everything is his fault - he fell for looks too quickly and intelligence faster after that - but now he’s said it isn’t, he finds himself angry at ‘highinthemiddle.’
Who was he to talk to Blaine like he did? Who was he to post more pictures and videos that he knew would drag Blaine in further? Who was he to care little when Blaine cared too much? Who the hell is he?
Blaine thought he knew the answer to the last one, the most important one. He thought he understood the boy and had found a boy who understood him. He doesn’t know what he thinks anymore. The boy he’s fawned over for months, talked to, connected with and seen spread, flushed and sated on his screen, isn’t the boy he saw at the gym. They’re the same physical being, he was definitely in the pictures, yet he’s not who Blaine knows. Or thought he knew.
Cooper asks him what happened again and Blaine doesn’t want to tell him because it’ll be another slap to the face to relive it, but he’s tired and riled up so he explains. He tells Cooper about every new message and picture they shared (he spares the graphic details and leaves out the part about the video he made), tells him how he thinks he loves the boy, tells him how he went to gym to think things through and that his world fell from under him in two minutes flat. Cooper says nothing as he speaks, just watches. It’s a little unnerving.
Cooper then says, “Has he messaged you?” and Blaine resists the urge to punch him and say how that’s the last thing he cares about right now. He cares about finding his life again. But he shrugs and Cooper’s up and has Blaine’s laptop before Blaine can lift a heavy arm and try to stop him.
The sight of the blog, out of focus to Blaine’s sleep deprived eyes, makes Blaine curl in on himself again. It’s a reminder of why he’s like he is right now - unshowered and verging on depressed. He shuts his eyes when Cooper clicks on his inbox, flashing with any number of messages, none of which he wants to read. He only feels worse when Cooper taps his shoulder and says, “It’s him.” He doesn’t open his eyes or move and he’s willing his curiosity not to win. His anger at the nerve of the boy to even think about talking to him is taking hold at the moment but the voice in his head telling him to read it isn’t backing down. It’s starting to shout and it feels like a thunderstorm in his skull alongside the constant screaming pressure he’s had for days.
When Cooper says, “He’s gone,” confused, Blaine peeks an eye open and hums quietly like he doesn’t care, but it ends up sounding like a question. “His blogs sort of… gone,” Cooper says and Blaine can’t help it anymore - he’s interested. So he sits up and peers at the screen and blinks slowly as if he’ll look long enough and hard enough and the blank, empty blog he can now see, a ghost of the one he’s seen so much of, will come back to life.
It’s strange, to say the least, that the boy’s blog looks like it’s gone back to factory settings - the default theme, no picture, no profile, no nothing. There’s no posts at all and Blaine’s starting to wonder if he imagined the whole thing and Cooper just played along to make him happy, but then Cooper says, “It was there yesterday.” Blaine had forgotten in the past few weeks that Cooper had hacked him and he should of changed his password, but he forgot to do that too. And if Cooper’s been on it in the past days, Blaine’s really surprised it took him so long to come to him - it must’ve been obvious by Blaine’s silence on his blog that something was up.
Blaine almost tuts when he realizes why Cooper was so quiet while he explained his red eyes and three-day-stubble-covered jaw - he’s been watching the entire conversation between Blaine and the boy. He already knows everything that’s been said, seen every picture (Blaine hopes he didn’t watch the video) and only needed to hear the very end, the real life part. Blaine thinks he should feel violated but he’s bored of being angry and he has to be fair to Cooper - he’s been nothing but understanding - so he says, “What does the message say?” and tries his hardest not to sound too interested. Cooper’s side eye tells him it didn’t work.
The message is the first up when Cooper clicks back to the inbox and it says Lima Bean: Friday, 6pm. I’m sorry. It’s not what Blaine was expecting at all, wouldn’t be on the list if there was one, and he’s thrown. He stares at the screen, hardly blinks and wonders why in the hell the boy would ask Blaine to meet him. Their first meeting was a disaster and Blaine knows for certain now the boy was him so the assumption Blaine will meet him pisses him off, if he’s honest. Does the boy just want to humiliate him further? Attempt an apology (“Sorry I didn’t recognize you, I was just playing with you all along” Blaine imagines)? Whatever he has to say, Blaine doesn’t think he wants to hear it.
“Don’t go,” Cooper says and that just makes Blaine want to go. It’s stupid teenage rebellion and while Cooper’s not actually saying it or showing it, Blaine’s certain he’s enjoying being right. So Blaine feels like he needs to prove something now - it’s as if he can go meet this boy (no matter how much he doesn’t want to because he can’t take another twist of his heart, a punch to the gut) and by some miracle the thing in the gym was a misunderstanding, the boy needed a moment to recollect him, and Cooper will be wrong.
He’s so torn. A part of him wants to see the boy to get an explanation (a damn good one he hopes) and an apology (that better be damn good too) and he doesn’t dare to think where things would go after that (his cock betrays him of course and stirs at the thought of pale skin and a perfect ass). But he also wants to ignore the boy and not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much Blaine cried and hurt and broke. The first option is winning out as Cooper stares him down. It’s a horrible attempt at intimidation on Cooper’s part and Blaine feels stupidly like he’s won something (though he’s sure he’ll come to regret it) when he snatches the laptop, hits reply and types, I’ll be there.
Cooper doesn’t say a word or make a sound or even look at Blaine as he gets up and leaves the room with a slam of the door and Blaine breathes deep and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.
He doesn’t want to cry again but he can feel tears coming and the tremble of his chin as he grits his jaw and tries to stop it says his cheeks will be damp again, soon enough. He eventually lets it come and wonders why he’s crying at all - he thinks it’s the blatant betrayal of Cooper’s trust that’s making him choke and impending fear of what he’ll find at the Lima Bean on Friday. It’s two days away and he thinks he might scare himself out of the idea before then and he stares through blurry eyes at his blog, the last picture of him sated, limp and covered in come staring back at him.
He feels nothing as he looks at it - the usual thrill and quirk of a smile he gets isn’t there and it’s just another thing he’s lost this week. He wonders if he’ll ever get back to the boy he was before the gym - happy, in love (he hates that he still feels that a little), living - and it pains him to think that he wont. He’s still that boy underneath the self-hatred and disheartened appearance and he still wants everything he did before - friends, acceptance, what’s really become masturbation fodder and cybersex. He wants to kick himself when he realizes he also still wants the boy, in any way he can have him, even after the heartbreak.
And what’s more, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.
Chapter Eight