Fic: Be My Badboy
Title: Be My Bad Boy
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Blaine/Sam
Rating: PG - 13
Word Count: 1601
Author's Note: As much as I love our dapper "Blainey Days" just as he is, it's fun to visit badboy!Blaine every now and then, and so far it seems that he only exists in Klaine fics. I decided to remedy that.
AOL
He'll never know what made him do it.
It's not like Sam was thinking, 'Gee. I'd really like to know what Blaine Anderson tastes like...'
He wasn't thinking anything, really. Except maybe how stupid it is that Blaine screws up his face like that when he's angry. Anderson is a good-looking guy when he's not scowling daggers at somebody from beneath thick, dark eyebrows. But nobody looks good with his forehead all wrinkled, his lips curled up in a snarl, and - sure - Blaine's got the lashes and the cheekbones to pull off looking down his nose at people and still looking hot, but he's too short to look down at Sam.
Sam was also thinking about punching something. Sam's not a violent person, normally, but he has his limits. And Blaine Anderson has been testing them from the beginning.
Sam's not normally the type to punch somebody littler than him, either, but height is really the only thing Blaine has less of than Sam. Blaine is compact, arms and thighs of solid muscle. He has abs that Sam kind of ridiculously wanted to ask him about but couldn't because they'd been enemies since the second Blaine transferred to McKinley.
First there were the insults he'd hurled at Tina when she dared to ask him if he'd like to audition for glee.
Then there were the insults he hurled at everybody else when they ganged up to confront Blaine in Tina's defense.
Next there were the insults he built up over time, crafted specifically for Sam. Targeted at Sam's hair, his love of all things country. Blaine even had insults aimed directly at Sam's impressions, and those really hurt.
Lastly, there were the things Blaine said when he wasn't insulting Sam. Dirty things. Things Sam can't even think in a room with a picture of his mother. Blaine didn't used to come at Sam like that (as nasty as he could be to... just about everyone, Sam's never heard of Blaine saying sexual things to anyone but him). Then some douche on the hockey team commented on how tense things get whenever Sam and Blaine are in the same room as one another (something like, "Why don't you and your boyfriend just do it already so we don't have to listen to you two lovers quarrel every morning?" Blaine knocked out two of the guy's teeth and ever since he's made a point of sexually harrassing Sam, like, once a day)
Mostly, Sam was thinking about these things when his hands balled into fists at his sides.
He was thinking about Blaine's curled up lips. About the things he'd said he'd like to do with Sam's lips many times before, and about the things Blaine promised he would do with his lips if Sam let him. Sam was thinking about punching Blaine in those lips... right in his pretty mouth. And then Sam was thinking of Blaine's mouth being bloodied - and about how his own mouth had tasted like copper for a full day after the time Karofsky had punched him.
"Oh, what's this? Thinking about shutting me up, Evans? Try it. Come on, I dare you. You know I can take you. Or is that what you want? You want me to take your-"
Sam will never know why he did it. But in the moment he doesn't care. Before he even realizes what he's doing, Sam's fists fly out - but not in punches. They bunch in the shoulders of Anderson's hoodie, to either side of his smirking face.
Sam gets to see Blaine's face go slack with shock, for just a second. Just one moment when Blaine doesn't look cocky or angry or bored - he just looks like Blaine.
And then Sam is kissing him.
Not the way Sam kisses girls. Not the way Sam's ever kissed anybody... Rough and hard, and it probably hurts.
But Blaine does just as he promised. He takes it. And when Sam pulls back, he doesn't shrug out of Sam's grip. His whole body is as still as stone. But he shakes his face into something resembling his usual, don't-give-a-shit expression and he says, with almost his normal, even tone, "Wow. You really do want it. That is hilarious. Just how messed up are you, Ev-"
"Shut up, Blaine." Possibly...
Sam is crazy. And possibly he'll one day care. But right now he's licking the taste of Blaine off his lips - and if he'd thought to think about it before, he'd be thinking right now, 'He tastes awesome.' Because Blaine does. He tastes the way Sam figures a guy should taste - more bitter and less minty than a girl. Blaine doesn't taste like bubble gum or lipgloss (just himself and those weird cigarettes his smokes, and the lingering taste of Sam's own chapstick, fed back to him as he dives in for a second kiss.)
Just that thought - that he can taste himself, any part of himself - on Blaine makes Sam swiftly, sort of ridiculously hard. He pulls back again, licks his lips again, and feels himself twitch inside of his shorts when Blaine watches his tongue like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Eyes half-lidded and adam's apple bobbing before he snaps out of it...
"Stop that!" he snarls at Sam, almost like he's still angry. "You're obscene. Your lips are hot enough without you licking my spit off of-"
All it takes is for Sam to hear that it's not the kissing that Blaine's objecting to - just Blaine's own reaction to it - and Sam is off again.
This time he licks Blaine's lips, and when they part - on what Sam would swear was a gasp if he didn't know better - Sam sticks his tongue in Blaine's mouth, chasing the tease of his taste that Sam had already gotten from their kisses. He hopes Blaine doesn't choose this moment to turn back into an asshole and bite him.
Blaine doesn't. But his body comes alive like maybe he forgot for a moment that he could control it. He presses his entire body into Sam's - nearly shoving Sam backwards - and Sam just leans into the press. If Blaine thinks that the hard-on he ruts filthily into Sam's thigh is going to scare him off-
Well. He might be onto something. Sam gasps, wrenching his face away from Blaine's.
But Blaine has hands on Sam too now. Holding fast and strong to Sam's hips. A boy is holding onto Sam's hips, with purpose, in the middle of the boys' lockerroom where anyone can see... And he's moving his mouth to the curve of Sam's neck, and it's so fucking hot- Sam just rolls his head back and moans.
Blaine jerks against his thigh, and-
Predictably, somewhere in the gym a door slams.
And if Sam had thought about doing this before he'd done it, he might have expected himself to freak out at this point.
But it's Blaine who shoves Sam away from him with all the force of a tiny Mack truck. Sam is still so dazed - from the kiss, from the craziness of his actions, and from Blaine's reaction and his own hard-on, which is apparently unaware that the sexytimes seem to be over-
All Sam can do when his ass hits the mat that they've been standing on - hard - is stare up at Blaine dumbly.
And then he remembers why he attacked Blaine mouth in the first place. Because he was so angry that he just wanted to smash it.
"Dude, what is your problem?" Sam demands.
"Hey, Mini-me, you giving my boy trouble?" Puck is suddenly saying, standing in the door to the locker room next to his brother.
Sam's stomach drops to his toes.
He can see the next few minutes of his life flash before his eyes... Blaine's dirty smirk. Maybe he'll tell Jake and Puck exactly what he "gave" Sam? Like: 'Are you talking about my tongue? Or the massive boner Sam has in his shorts?'
Sam can only imagine that Blaine is laughing inside at the deer-in-the-headlights look that Sam must be wearing. Blaine's expression is just blank. Sam can't bring himself to look away, back at his friends, sure that when Blaine outs him, the truth of Blaine's words will be right there on Sam's face.
Blaine opens his mouth and Sam shuts his eyes.
Only to snap them back open when Blaine says, "Your "boy" needs to learn to stay out of my way. I mean, I'm sure if I had a couple of landing strips for lips, I'd find watching where I'm walking challenging as well, but-"
Puck says something Sam won't repeat to that, and takes a step forward, but Jake stops him with a hand on his chest and a, "Shut up, Anderson. Man, why you gotta be such an ass sometimes?"
Sam is too confused to say or do anything.
Not that Blaine is even looking at Sam and would notice. He rolls his eyes, says maybe the most dismissive "Whatever" that Sam's ever heard, and strolls out of the locker room while Jake talks Puck down from following him and "kicking his midget half-Puerto Rican ass." ("I'm pretty sure he's half Filipino, bro. But don't make this about race," Jake says.)
Sam picks himself up off the floor and (thankfully) gets himself (and his dick) under control while the Puckermans argue.
Sam may never know why he kissed Blaine Anderson of all people that day, but he feels almost certain, in some instinctual way, that Blaine isn't going to let him off the hook for it that easily.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Blaine/Sam
Rating: PG - 13
Word Count: 1601
Author's Note: As much as I love our dapper "Blainey Days" just as he is, it's fun to visit badboy!Blaine every now and then, and so far it seems that he only exists in Klaine fics. I decided to remedy that.
AOL
He'll never know what made him do it.
It's not like Sam was thinking, 'Gee. I'd really like to know what Blaine Anderson tastes like...'
He wasn't thinking anything, really. Except maybe how stupid it is that Blaine screws up his face like that when he's angry. Anderson is a good-looking guy when he's not scowling daggers at somebody from beneath thick, dark eyebrows. But nobody looks good with his forehead all wrinkled, his lips curled up in a snarl, and - sure - Blaine's got the lashes and the cheekbones to pull off looking down his nose at people and still looking hot, but he's too short to look down at Sam.
Sam was also thinking about punching something. Sam's not a violent person, normally, but he has his limits. And Blaine Anderson has been testing them from the beginning.
Sam's not normally the type to punch somebody littler than him, either, but height is really the only thing Blaine has less of than Sam. Blaine is compact, arms and thighs of solid muscle. He has abs that Sam kind of ridiculously wanted to ask him about but couldn't because they'd been enemies since the second Blaine transferred to McKinley.
First there were the insults he'd hurled at Tina when she dared to ask him if he'd like to audition for glee.
Then there were the insults he hurled at everybody else when they ganged up to confront Blaine in Tina's defense.
Next there were the insults he built up over time, crafted specifically for Sam. Targeted at Sam's hair, his love of all things country. Blaine even had insults aimed directly at Sam's impressions, and those really hurt.
Lastly, there were the things Blaine said when he wasn't insulting Sam. Dirty things. Things Sam can't even think in a room with a picture of his mother. Blaine didn't used to come at Sam like that (as nasty as he could be to... just about everyone, Sam's never heard of Blaine saying sexual things to anyone but him). Then some douche on the hockey team commented on how tense things get whenever Sam and Blaine are in the same room as one another (something like, "Why don't you and your boyfriend just do it already so we don't have to listen to you two lovers quarrel every morning?" Blaine knocked out two of the guy's teeth and ever since he's made a point of sexually harrassing Sam, like, once a day)
Mostly, Sam was thinking about these things when his hands balled into fists at his sides.
He was thinking about Blaine's curled up lips. About the things he'd said he'd like to do with Sam's lips many times before, and about the things Blaine promised he would do with his lips if Sam let him. Sam was thinking about punching Blaine in those lips... right in his pretty mouth. And then Sam was thinking of Blaine's mouth being bloodied - and about how his own mouth had tasted like copper for a full day after the time Karofsky had punched him.
"Oh, what's this? Thinking about shutting me up, Evans? Try it. Come on, I dare you. You know I can take you. Or is that what you want? You want me to take your-"
Sam will never know why he did it. But in the moment he doesn't care. Before he even realizes what he's doing, Sam's fists fly out - but not in punches. They bunch in the shoulders of Anderson's hoodie, to either side of his smirking face.
Sam gets to see Blaine's face go slack with shock, for just a second. Just one moment when Blaine doesn't look cocky or angry or bored - he just looks like Blaine.
And then Sam is kissing him.
Not the way Sam kisses girls. Not the way Sam's ever kissed anybody... Rough and hard, and it probably hurts.
But Blaine does just as he promised. He takes it. And when Sam pulls back, he doesn't shrug out of Sam's grip. His whole body is as still as stone. But he shakes his face into something resembling his usual, don't-give-a-shit expression and he says, with almost his normal, even tone, "Wow. You really do want it. That is hilarious. Just how messed up are you, Ev-"
"Shut up, Blaine." Possibly...
Sam is crazy. And possibly he'll one day care. But right now he's licking the taste of Blaine off his lips - and if he'd thought to think about it before, he'd be thinking right now, 'He tastes awesome.' Because Blaine does. He tastes the way Sam figures a guy should taste - more bitter and less minty than a girl. Blaine doesn't taste like bubble gum or lipgloss (just himself and those weird cigarettes his smokes, and the lingering taste of Sam's own chapstick, fed back to him as he dives in for a second kiss.)
Just that thought - that he can taste himself, any part of himself - on Blaine makes Sam swiftly, sort of ridiculously hard. He pulls back again, licks his lips again, and feels himself twitch inside of his shorts when Blaine watches his tongue like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Eyes half-lidded and adam's apple bobbing before he snaps out of it...
"Stop that!" he snarls at Sam, almost like he's still angry. "You're obscene. Your lips are hot enough without you licking my spit off of-"
All it takes is for Sam to hear that it's not the kissing that Blaine's objecting to - just Blaine's own reaction to it - and Sam is off again.
This time he licks Blaine's lips, and when they part - on what Sam would swear was a gasp if he didn't know better - Sam sticks his tongue in Blaine's mouth, chasing the tease of his taste that Sam had already gotten from their kisses. He hopes Blaine doesn't choose this moment to turn back into an asshole and bite him.
Blaine doesn't. But his body comes alive like maybe he forgot for a moment that he could control it. He presses his entire body into Sam's - nearly shoving Sam backwards - and Sam just leans into the press. If Blaine thinks that the hard-on he ruts filthily into Sam's thigh is going to scare him off-
Well. He might be onto something. Sam gasps, wrenching his face away from Blaine's.
But Blaine has hands on Sam too now. Holding fast and strong to Sam's hips. A boy is holding onto Sam's hips, with purpose, in the middle of the boys' lockerroom where anyone can see... And he's moving his mouth to the curve of Sam's neck, and it's so fucking hot- Sam just rolls his head back and moans.
Blaine jerks against his thigh, and-
Predictably, somewhere in the gym a door slams.
And if Sam had thought about doing this before he'd done it, he might have expected himself to freak out at this point.
But it's Blaine who shoves Sam away from him with all the force of a tiny Mack truck. Sam is still so dazed - from the kiss, from the craziness of his actions, and from Blaine's reaction and his own hard-on, which is apparently unaware that the sexytimes seem to be over-
All Sam can do when his ass hits the mat that they've been standing on - hard - is stare up at Blaine dumbly.
And then he remembers why he attacked Blaine mouth in the first place. Because he was so angry that he just wanted to smash it.
"Dude, what is your problem?" Sam demands.
"Hey, Mini-me, you giving my boy trouble?" Puck is suddenly saying, standing in the door to the locker room next to his brother.
Sam's stomach drops to his toes.
He can see the next few minutes of his life flash before his eyes... Blaine's dirty smirk. Maybe he'll tell Jake and Puck exactly what he "gave" Sam? Like: 'Are you talking about my tongue? Or the massive boner Sam has in his shorts?'
Sam can only imagine that Blaine is laughing inside at the deer-in-the-headlights look that Sam must be wearing. Blaine's expression is just blank. Sam can't bring himself to look away, back at his friends, sure that when Blaine outs him, the truth of Blaine's words will be right there on Sam's face.
Blaine opens his mouth and Sam shuts his eyes.
Only to snap them back open when Blaine says, "Your "boy" needs to learn to stay out of my way. I mean, I'm sure if I had a couple of landing strips for lips, I'd find watching where I'm walking challenging as well, but-"
Puck says something Sam won't repeat to that, and takes a step forward, but Jake stops him with a hand on his chest and a, "Shut up, Anderson. Man, why you gotta be such an ass sometimes?"
Sam is too confused to say or do anything.
Not that Blaine is even looking at Sam and would notice. He rolls his eyes, says maybe the most dismissive "Whatever" that Sam's ever heard, and strolls out of the locker room while Jake talks Puck down from following him and "kicking his midget half-Puerto Rican ass." ("I'm pretty sure he's half Filipino, bro. But don't make this about race," Jake says.)
Sam picks himself up off the floor and (thankfully) gets himself (and his dick) under control while the Puckermans argue.
Sam may never know why he kissed Blaine Anderson of all people that day, but he feels almost certain, in some instinctual way, that Blaine isn't going to let him off the hook for it that easily.