Chalkboard Impressions, Kurt/Blaine, Chapter 3, NC-17
Title: Chalkboard Impressions
Rating: NC-17 (For future chapters)
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Word Count: 6,871
Summary: Blaine is a student attending a private school. He realizes his feeling for his teacher, Kurt Hummel, and tries to deal with them the best he can.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Possible triggers dealing with the legality of the age difference between the characters and Kurt's authority position.
Author notes: Co-authored with quixoticzealot. Every even-numbered chapter will be completed on her livejournal.
Everything was going so smoothly. There were no bumps in the road, no unfortunate mishaps, no secrets spilled. The only problem might have been Blaine’s undeniable happiness-no…it was more like giddiness. He was maybe too happy, even in comparison to his usual almost puppy-like exterior. His friends had since taken notice of the change in his behavior, cracking jokes and making comments about his caffeine intake and how if he drank anymore coffee than he already was, his growth wouldn’t be so much stunted as he’d just start shrinking. Luckily, none of them seemed to expect anything of it, and Blaine was suddenly incredibly grateful for Jeff’s inability to focus on any one thing for too long, otherwise he would have noticed something by now.
Considering they shared Blaine’s Advanced Placement Music Theory class and all.
Blaine tried to pay attention in class--he really, really tried, but his attention on the actual course and everything Mr. Hummel was saying seemed to direct itself entirely on Mr. Hummel instead. About halfway through class on Monday, he stopped taking notes. His mind wandered to the day before yesterday when he had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning texting Kurt. On several occasions, he tried to turn them in a slightly less innocent direction, but it never seemed to work in his favor. Kurt almost always deflected, if not flat out told him to calm down again, to which Blaine excitedly replied that he couldn’t, conveniently leaving out the part about how dating Kurt--dating his teacher--was beyond any reasonable fantasy that he ever imagined could possibly come true.
More and more often, he found himself getting lost in the sound of Mr. Hummel’s voice, rather than the words he was actually speaking. More often than not, he found himself staring at the particular way the light reflected off of his eyes--which, after a few more car rides home, he had begun to realize were constantly changing color. From blue, to green, to grey, to any mixture of the two and in the course of just a week, Blaine had gotten lost within them innumerable times. Equally as often, Blaine caught himself staring at Mr. Hummel’s lips, staring at them in a way that could only be described as longingly.
On Wednesday, Blaine purposely left his textbook underneath his desk, just so he had an excuse to return to class if only for a few minutes of privacy with Kurt because, really, he couldn’t go the whole day without having a moment alone, whether it was for a kiss or just to talk. As much as he would have liked to, however, he couldn’t stay for the entire lunch period. If not because there was always the threat of Mr. Puckerman walking in, than because his friends would start to wonder where he’d gone off to--or worse, why he was taking so long in retrieving his book.
Kurt driving him home quickly became an unbreakable routine. Blaine told his friends that he needed to stay late to study in the library which--he would like to point out--was not entirely a lie because he generally did study in the library until most of the school had emptied. At that point, he headed towards Mr. Hummel’s classroom and, if the door was open, poked his head in with a smile and a nervous wrinkle in his brow because he still wasn’t quite used to all of this. Mr. Hummel was, after all, his first relationship and Blaine was a bit uncertain about a few things, and the fact that this was his teacher and had to be kept under wraps made things even more difficult. When he was confused or wondering if he was doing things right, there was no one he could go to for advice except Kurt, but he imagined Kurt would just tell him that he was doing fine and not to worry about it.
So he kept his worries to himself and sidled into the classroom every day in the hopes that Kurt would agree to give him a ride home. On Friday, he asked if Kurt wanted to come in his house for the third time, hoping for a different answer this time, but apparently Kurt was as much old fashioned as Blaine was because he still refused, commenting on the fact that they hadn’t even gone on a real date yet and jumping that far ahead would be inappropriate.
--
“Well, when can we go on a date?” Blaine had asked eagerly, his voice little more than a desperate whine. “Why not now? It’s the weekend. I don’t have anything to do today or tomorrow. My parents won’t even be home until late tonight, so it won’t matter how late we stay out.”
Kurt gave him a disapproving look, a look that Blaine had come to know as a warning just in the past week. “Did you consider the idea maybe I have plans tonight, Blaine?” he retorted with a snap, causing Blaine’s hazel eyes to widen for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” the boy mumbled, looking at his hands because it dawned on him that he really was just thinking about his own needs in the moment, and he’d read about this stuff and how it could easily tear a relationship apart. He needed to think more about what Kurt wanted as well.
Kurt’s eyes softened and Blaine heard a patient sigh before Kurt’s hand was wrapped over his with a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, I will not have our first date be a last minute decision made on the whim of your hormones.”
Blaine looked up his boyfriend through his eyelashes, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in an apologetic smile, silently asking that Kurt just bare with him for a little longer, until he could get the hang of all of this.
The smile quickly turned into a real one as Kurt leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.
--
Blaine didn’t have to wait too terribly long for an answer to his question regarding their first date, though. In class on Monday, Blaine was in the middle of taking notes (or possibly writing a note to pass to Jeff...) when Mr. Hummel called him out in the middle of class and asked him to stay afterwards for a word with him (Jeff seemed especially amused, considering he was generally the one to get caught passing notes). Blaine sat in ashamed silence for the rest of the period, trying to send Kurt all of his apologies by paying the utmost attention to everything he said and only taking notes on the subject at hand.
By the end of the class, Blaine had worked up an entire dialogue of an apology (which may or may not have ended with an intense make-out session and--well, actually it stopped there because if he thought any more about it he was going to have a problem) and was ready to spill all of it to Kurt as the last of the students filed out of class, to say “I’m sorry” a hundred times over and promise to pay more attention. He was just about to push himself out of his desk when Mr. Hummel asked him over to the desk. Blaine gathered his things with a sigh, shoving them hastily into his bag and trudging over to stand in front of Mr. Hummel’s desk.
“Are you busy this weekend?” Confusion set over Blaine’s face. It seemed like an odd question to ask.
“No?” His speech lingered with question and confusion.
And that was when Mr. Hummel told him he would be attending a musical on the following Saturday.
Blaine stared at him blankly for a moment, blinking uncertainly. “For...extra credit or something?” he asked, hazel eyes searching blue anxiously, wondering if maybe all his time spent staring at Mr. Hummel was affecting his grade.
Mr. Hummel shuffled some papers on his desk, emitting another patient sigh, and looked up pointedly at Blaine. “Yes, Mr. Anderson. For extra credit,” he emphasized very carefully in a way that made Blaine shift from one foot to the other and glance at the floor, confusion written across his face. Clearly Blaine wasn’t doing as well in class as he thought--even if he did tend to get lost everything that was Mr. Hummel, everything that was Kurt, he thought he was holding up pretty well in class. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
An indignant huff reached Blaine’s ears, and his name hissed through perfectly sculpted lips caused him to look up. “Blaine.” Hazel eyes focused on blue, a pout on his lips the seventeen year old took an uncomfortable step backwards, feeling much like a child scolded. “And--to be absolutely sure that you do attend the play and are paying adequate attention--I will be going with you.”
“Oh,” was all Blaine said, his voice glum as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong.
And then the words sunk in.
“Oh!” Blaine exclaimed suddenly, hands tightening around the strap of his shoulder bag excitedly as he understood exactly what Mr. Hummel was saying. His eyes were bright and a little overexcited as he smiled at Mr. Hummel now, nodding fervently. “Right, of course. I’ll be there, Mr. Hummel.”
Mr. Hummel kind of looked like he might have a headache, glancing at the open doorway warily (which Blaine figured he could understand...not many students would be excited for an extra credit assignment, even if it was something as cool watching a musical) and Blaine grinned sheepishly before bidding his teacher goodbye and heading to lunch.
It wasn’t ten minutes later that Blaine’s phone vibrated as notification of a new text.
You do understand this is our first date, right?
It was only the smallest bit offensive because Blaine knew he was pretty damn oblivious sometimes.
Yes, I know. Sorry--it just took me a minute.
He expected some sort of witty retort, but no response ever came, leaving Blaine to figure Mr. Puckerman must have stopped by again.
The rest of the week passed by painfully slow. It was difficult for Blaine to remain interested in any of his classes when all he could do was think about his date--his first real date with his first real boyfriend. Blaine couldn’t help but think, just a little bitterly, that at least Mr. Hummel had the good grace not to call him out on it every time he was caught staring into the distance, or blankly at the whiteboard, and Blaine constantly had to remind himself that that was because Mr. Hummel clearly knew why he was so lacking in attentiveness. It was difficult to come up with reasonable excuses, and by mid-Wednesday, Blaine was trying to force his thoughts onto his schoolwork, doing anything he could to make sure they didn’t stray to what Mr. Hummel might be doing right at that moment, or what he was doing yesterday as they texted, or what he might have done after they texted--and that was exactly why Blaine needed to just stop thinking.
He managed well enough through the rest of Wednesday and Thursday went by alright. However, by Friday Blaine’s excitement had reached an uncontrollable level. He tapped his pen against his desk, drummed his fingers impatiently against his knee, read the same sentences over and over again, and was too busy thinking about the musical at lunch that he ran into Wes and almost tripped him into David. It was a miracle nobody dropped their lunch.
Wes and Thad’s probing stares were beginning to worry Blaine more than the prospect of Mr. Puckerman walking in during a brief lunchtime make-out session. Blaine had always had trouble hiding his emotions, or keeping secrets in general, but this was one he was determined not to let slip to anyone. That was an easy accomplishment to avoid verbally, but Blaine was beginning to think that maybe he was being too obvious. He wondered if Jeff had caught on to his crush, maybe let something slip to Wes and David, or Thad and Nick, and now every time he took a little longer in getting to the lunchroom their suspicions were growing, or that they knew he wasn’t really stopping at the restroom halfway through their lunch period. Maybe Blaine was being too paranoid...or maybe he wasn’t worrying enough.
Luckily, it was only half more of a school day before he could just let go and be as excited as he pleased. Blaine all but bounded into Mr. Hummel’s class, practically skidding into the open door and asked if Kurt was ready to go, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Kurt packed his bag.The car ride was not nearly as awkward as the first ride to Blaine’s house; he talked nonstop about tomorrow night, hardly even managing to remember the name of the show. Blaine listed everything they could do that they couldn’t do in public, everything he wanted to do, from smiling completely unguarded, to saying “I like you” without feeling afraid of being overheard, to holding Kurt’s hand, to kissing him.
Too soon they pulled up to Blaine’s house. They both leaned in for a kiss, Blaine desperately wanting more than he was receiving. It was becoming an every day after school routine, the way Blaine leaned in to meet Kurt halfway, always pressing harder for deeper kisses, and every time Kurt would stop him. Blaine understood why of course, but he had no way of knowing that it was just as difficult for Kurt to stop him as it was for Blaine to actually listen to these requests or ignore the temptation to leap forward again. He had no way knowing that Mr. Hummel’s desires were rising just as frequent, just as intense as his own.
Saturday dragged by at a sluggish pace. Blaine woke up around nine-thirty in his excitement, trying desperately to get in more sleep before finally getting up at ten. For a while, all he wanted to do was sit on his bed, legs curled beneath him, a bowl of cereal in his lap, and Saturday morning cartoons on his television. He meant to get some homework finished, as was his usual weekend routine, but his brain was too focused on later that night to function properly. Blaine spent a few hours in his pajamas, looking for just about anything to do while he waited for an appropriate time to actually start getting ready, including cleaning his room (though he was organized enough that there really wasn’t much to do) and wasting another hour attempting to finish an assignment that wasn’t even due until the end of next week.
It was two hours before Kurt was supposed to pick him up when he finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer and dug through his closet for one of his nicest suits and lying it over his bed before taking a quick shower, spending a bit more time on his hair than usual, and then getting dressed. Usually Blaine wasn’t so particular about his clothing, but tonight he checked every inch of his shirt for a wrinkle to iron out, made sure there wasn’t a single loose thread on his jacket, and continually smoothed out his pant legs, desperately wanting everything to be perfect.
Blaine had already changed his tie four times when Kurt arrived (Blaine had texted him earlier to let him know that his parents would be out and he could actually come to the door if he wanted), and was just barely saved from changing it again by the knock on the door. Blaine tossed his handful of ties down on his bed and fled the room, skipping down the stairs two at a time and leaping off the last three. There was no doubt in his mind that Kurt heard him thundering down the stairs, but he still tried to compose himself as he reached the front door, making sure his curls were lying flat before he pulled the door open.
His heartbeat doubled in speed just laying eyes on his teacher. Of course Mr. Hummel always looked nice, but this was entirely different. He wasn’t dressed like a teacher or an authority figure, and considering that looked like a designer suit, it wasn’t just Kurt, but it was a definite step closer. At least Blaine had just that much more insight into Kurt. The idea made his smile broaden a little ridiculously.
“Hi,” Blaine greeted a little breathlessly.
“Good evening, Blaine.” The fact that Kurt was smiling just the slightest bit (and Blaine knew that smile was just for him), made the butterflies go absolutely crazy in Blaine’s stomach. Blaine knew he must look like a bit of an idiot, utterly love-struck and absolutely smitten, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Are you ready to go?”
Blaine nodded vigorously and followed Kurt out to the car, taking his usual place in the passenger seat and buckling up as Kurt started the car. As usual, the drive was an even mix of conversation and silence, but it never really felt awkward. Maybe just a little, sometimes, but that was what dates were for, right? To get to know each other better, to eliminate any awkwardness, to keep building a relationship towards that level of comfort between one another where silence was just normal.
It wasn’t a terribly long drive and there was just so much to see when they entered the building that everything was kind of a blur. Before Blaine knew it, he and Kurt were slipping through the doors into the theater, clambering gracefully (well, gracefully in Kurt’s case) over other people to find their seats. They talked as they waited for the show to start, their voices not quite hushed, but at an appropriate “indoor voice” level. Everyone here was so well-mannered that there was no need to yell over one another to be heard. It was nice, except it sort of reminded Blaine of one of his parents’ dinner parties, especially taking into account how nice everyone was dressed.
Blaine was just talking about one of his other classes and the homework assigned to him for the week, how little he really cared for that class and how the workload was a little unfair and how everyone agreed with him when he felt Kurt’s fingers working their way around his own. Blaine paused mid-sentence to look down, unable to help the softening of his eyes or the light smile on his face. He wasn’t entirely sure why it meant so much to him-it wasn’t as if they hadn’t held hands before--but perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they weren’t talking about their relationship this time, or really anything of great importance and the contact was just…nice. “Even Wes agrees, and I swear I’ve actually heard Wes ask for more homework in some of our other classes,” Blaine continued casually, but there was no hiding the spark in his eyes when he looked back up at Kurt, or the odd way his lips twisted in trying to still be bitter about his other class while simultaneously grinning.
The house lights dimmed and Blaine clenched his fingers around Kurt’s hand in excitement, leaning over the arm rest between them slightly so that their shoulders were touching. It wasn’t very long into the performance before Blaine’s head found its way to Kurt’s shoulder, tucking into the crook. He couldn’t see Kurt’s reaction, but he could only assume it was good as he felt Kurt’s thumb rub circles against his hand.
Kurt was more than helpful throughout the musical, too. Blaine found him easily distracted by the songs, losing the story behind them. Every time this happened, he’d lean in and mumble, “Wait, what?” into Kurt’s ear. Kurt never became frustrated and even seemed almost excited as he briefly explained what had just taken place.
Blaine could feel the anticipation growing, reaching near the climax of the story when the actors exited the stage and the lights flickered on. Kurt gave Blaine a nudge, who, admittedly, did not want to move from the perfect position he was in, nestled up against Kurt.
They waited a moment for a large portion of the crowd to make their way out. Kurt had managed to get really good (and probably really expensive...) seats near the front. Blaine didn’t really want to deal with the hoard trying to cram their way out; he also enjoyed standing and waiting with his fingers laced between Kurt’s.
Intermission was thirty minutes. Blaine was on a high, and when Kurt told him they should stretch their legs a bit and get a snack, he didn’t really understand-he wasn’t hungry, although maybe a little too energized, considering he could hardly stop fidgeting through half of the show because he was just so excited. Everything was new and fascinating. Besides, maybe Mr. Hummel was hungry, he reminded him, trying to think of more than just himself in his exuberance. So instead of questioning it, he just agreed and leaped up, taking Mr. Hummel’s hand without a second thought. The instant they exited the theatre, his mouth was moving a mile a minute, about the characters, the actors, the story, but mostly he just wanted to talk about the music. The lyrics, the feeling and emotion put into everything, the way the play wouldn’t be utterly lacking without the songs. They weren’t just there to fill empty space or set a mood-they helped move the story along and Blaine loved that the play was so dependent on the music.
The outside of the theater was just as grand as the inside, though, despite the mass of people struggling to find their way to the bathroom and bar. Still, the way it was built was extremely visually pleasing and Blaine was caught up in admiring the high ceilings when he felt a tug on his hand. Confused hazel eyes found Kurt, and Blaine looked back at the line of the bar. “Weren’t you hungry?” he asked uncertainly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder as they turned down a less crowded hallway.
“Yes,” Kurt assured him impatiently, his fingers tightening around Blaine’s hand and tugging harder.
Blaine glanced back doubtfully, certain that Mr. Hummel had seen the stands lining the floor, especially considering he seemed easily able to catch students in the very back row passing notes. “But the food is that way,” the seventeen year old commented, making a weak attempt at digging his heels into the floor to slow Mr. Hummel down. “Unless you know a fancy restaurant downstairs or something-”
“Blaine, there is no downstairs.”
“Well, then, I don’t know where you think we’re going-”
“I don’t want food, Blaine.”
“But...you said...” The confusion was evident in Blaine’s voice, but all he got in response was an almost eager-sounding “Hush!” as Mr. Hummel pulled him down the slightly downward-sloped corridor until the floor flattened out between them and they came to a stop outside of...a janitor’s closet? “Mr. Hu--I mean, Kurt--sorry--what are we doing here?”
Kurt was already testing the doorknob out before giving it a gentle nudge and let it slip open. Blaine was still somewhere between confusion and surprise that the door hadn’t been locked; perhaps it was just because not many people came down this way? Or they expected better of people with enough class to sit through plays and musicals. “Isn’t this against some kind of rule?” Blaine asked, still entirely uncertain of what exactly they were doing down here.
His train of thought ended there, however, for in the next instant Kurt’s hands were on his upper arms, pushing him into the room and simultaneously pulling the door shut. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Blaine was sure he heard a lock click, but everything after that was kind of a blur.
A blur, because Mr. Hummel’s lips were pressed against his, moving fast and fervent with a heat that hadn’t been there the last time they made out or any time before--but then, really, when had they ever actually kissed like this? Just as soon as they were there, Kurt’s lips were gone, trailing from the corner of his mouth, down to and across his jaw line, and then along his neck. A whine escaped slightly parted lips, his hands reaching to touch, to grab, to hold on to some part of Kurt. Kurt would have none of this, his hands flying up to press Blaine’s wrists against the wall. So Blaine was pinned here, under his teacher, whose lips were moving over his neck...
Oh, God, was that Kurt’s tongue sliding along his jugular? Blaine’s hips bucked forward involuntarily, finding Kurt’s thigh. Oh, that felt good against his half hard cock, and Kurt didn’t seem to mind, biting down on his neck as Blaine moved his hips rhythmically against his teacher’s-and boyfriend’s-thigh.
“No touching.” Kurt mumbled in his ear, his breath hot and delicate. Blaine could only nod in response and suddenly his hands were free of their restraints as Kurt moved to loosen Blaine’s tie, unbuttoning the top of his white collared shirt. An unrestrained moan crawled up the back of Blaine’s throat, slipping past his lips because-wow, who would have thought the collarbone was such a sensitive spot? And Kurt was working magic with his tongue along the bone and the noises escaping Blaine’s lips should have been embarrassing, but he couldn’t think enough for that-all he could do was feel. Blaine was absolutely reduced to whimpers and jelly legs, hands seeking support along the flat surface behind him.
“K-Kurt?”
“Mm?” Kurt mumbled, lips still working against the hollow of neck, right above his collarbone.
Oh, God, the things that reverberation against his skin did. Blaine realized Kurt was clearly distracted, but so was Blaine-both of them seemed to be thinking more about the fact that Kurt’s hands were suddenly sliding along the length of Blaine’s body, past his ribcage and finally settling on his hips.
“Is this a dream?” Blaine’s voice came out ragged and gasping, but he was too interested in everything Kurt was doing-with his mouth, his tongue, his hands-to care that he sounded desperate and needy. Blaine heard a chuckle from under his chin, but received no further response. Only a hand palming at his cock.
Fuck.
Blaine could barely stand to think clearly. Most of his actions were pure instinct; the way his hips moved, grinding up and into Kurt’s hand, or the way his hands searched for something to hold onto because there was no way in hell he could just stand there and take it. He learned strictly by trial and error. He desperately wanted a faster pace than this, his hips jerking forward, swift and hard, only to find Kurt’s hand suddenly gone, perhaps forcing his hips back or grabbing for one of his wrists that had wandered just a little too close. Blaine groaned his discontent, letting his head fall back against the wall until Kurt’s palm found his cock once again.
One thing was for sure: Kurt was in control here, and Blaine had to consciously stop his hips from moving any faster than Kurt wanted, cursing every time his hips jerked forward too quickly. It took a few tries to find the right pace, to find the self restraint to keep going, but when he did, it was almost torturous. In all honesty, Blaine had no idea what had gotten into his teacher, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it now.
All too suddenly, Kurt’s hand was gone and a desperate whine escaped Blaine’s lips. He was only partially aware of the pressure against his hips, the fingers slipping through his belt loops and guiding his hips forward. Before Blaine had a chance to understand, Kurt’s hips were flush over his, thrusting into his and pushing him further back against the wall. Gasps and broken moans ripped themselves from Blaine’s throat as Kurt grinded his hips into him, and only Kurt’s lips pressed firmly over his own could dull the noise he was making. Blaine couldn’t stand to keep his hands off of Kurt any longer, and Kurt didn’t protest when they settled on his shoulders, trying to pull the teacher closer and parting his lips obediently when Kurt made the silent request for entrance.
Blaine barely even realized how hard he was grinding against Kurt, his thrusts growing harsher and needier, faster and deeper. “Mr. Hummel. Kurt. Kurt,” he whined into the older boy’s ear, having to break the kiss to do so. The heat was rushing and his mouth was gaping open, and then...
Sweet, unfortunate release. The warmth and liquid spread in his pants. Clearly, Kurt noticed the way he suddenly stopped responding to the touches, the kisses, because suddenly he was gone and Blaine felt his absence. Kurt stood a step back now with an eyebrow raised pointedly at the senior. Blaine took notice in the way Kurt’s cock was still hard pressed against his pants, and he could see Kurt taking notice in the way that his penis...wasn’t. A smile spread across the teacher’s face, one of his pale hands flying up to try to suppress a giggle. “Blaine, did you just...?”
Blaine could only look away in horror, the air and time taking its toll as the cum in his pants began to gel and get sticky. His eyes were wide, and some part of him wanted to cry in embarrassment and hide from Kurt.
“Blaine?”
“Yes!” he shouted, his voice trailing off into an ashamed cry, the only way he could get a response out. His hand moved down, trying to pull the fabric away from his skin, the way it stuck sending a disgusted chill down his spine.
Kurt was still smiling, this time somewhat sympathetically, and Blaine’s cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” A groan bubbled up in Blaine’s chest and he pushed himself delicately away from the wall as Kurt stepped aside, cringing at the way his pants stuck and rubbed against his body. Despite his boyish, inexperienced mistake, Kurt’s hand found his as they exited the janitorial closet in a manner that Blaine was sure was meant to be graceful, but he must have spoiled that by the way he moved and muttered constant phrases of disgust under his voice.
They found the bathroom fairly quickly with Kurt leading and he gathered a handful of paper towels and ran them under some water, shooing Blaine off into one of the empty stalls. Luckily it wasn’t too busy and Blaine assumed it must be getting closer to the second act, sounding off disgruntled “Ugh”s and voicing a few whispers of “Gross,” as he cleaned himself up. The liquid had been exposed to air long enough though, that it had congealed enough that there was nothing he could do about his clothes and the idea of just dealing with it kind of made his skin crawl, but what other choice did he have?
Blaine exited the stall only after flushing all evidence of his mishap down the toilet and shuffled to the sink, still only sending awkward glances at Kurt who still appeared just a little amused. Blaine washed his hands thoroughly and fixed his shirt and tie before finally realizing he had no choice but to face Kurt and it was starting to feel an awful lot like the moment right before he confessed his feelings.
“Blaine, it’s okay.” Kurt’s voice was soft and reassuring, almost fond. “It happens to everyone-especially kids your age.”
“Yeah…” was all Blaine could think to say, mostly because it wasn’t at all what was on his mind. Kurt deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone who wasn’t going to jump the gun every time like Blaine had a feeling he was going to. He glanced up at Kurt again through dark eyelashes, biting the inside of his cheek subconsciously.
“Let’s get back to our seats.”
Before Blaine could answer, Kurt’s hand was wrapped around his again, tugging him back through the bathroom and eventually back through the doors to the theater. Blaine would swear he caught Kurt laughing as he clambered awkwardly over people, his face absolutely burning at the idea of anyone besides Kurt realizing why he was taking such care to not touch anyone.
Once they sat down, Blaine released a defeated sigh, shifting uncomfortably until as little of the sticky fabric was touching him as possible. “It’s not funny,” he hissed at Kurt under his breath, both glaring and trying to hide his face at the same time.
“Shh, it’s about to start,” Kurt warned as if he hadn’t started this conversation anyway (well, even though technically he hadn’t said anything).
Blaine wasn’t expecting Kurt, after that whole incident, to be daring enough to plant his hand upon Blaine’s knee, in what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring way, but really just made Blaine want to fidget again. Blaine’s hand shot out to grip Kurt’s, squeezing it in a silent request that he please, stop and simply because he would rather hold Kurt’s hand than let it just on his knee like that.
The problem with all of this was that not only was Blaine already uncomfortable and struggling to ignore his discomfort, but Kurt refused to allow him to forget it. Blaine very nearly released a very verbal, offended scoff when Kurt leaned over to whisper in his ear at one point, “Looks like the main character’s got himself in a bit of a sticky situation,” the smirk evident in his voice. A pleading groan sounded, quiet and broken, from Blaine, his fingers tightening around Kurt’s while he tried to find a more comfortable position. It took a few minutes to realize that no matter what way he sat, he was going to be uncomfortable for the second half of this play, so he might as well get used to it.
It would have been easier if Kurt hadn’t decided to whisper variations of this comment in his ear every time he thought up a new one. And considering how witty Kurt was-even when Blaine knew him only as Mr. Hummel-there were a lot to sit through.
The hour passed slow. In comparison to how quickly the first half the play flew by, this part absolutely dragged, not because it was bad, but rather because Blaine was just so uncomfortable. And then finally the stage lights dimmed. The actors all came out for the final bow. Blaine was pretty sure he was the first person in the entire theater to stand up, really trying his hardest to wait the appropriate amount of time before doing so and trying not to look so eager to get out of there. Still, he clutched Kurt’s hand impatiently, tapping his fingers against the back of his hand until Kurt shifted the grip to hold his fingers still. “We’re almost there,” Kurt whispered, causing Blaine to shiver at the closeness of Kurt’s lips to his ear.
It was a few minutes, but eventually they were exiting the theater and Blaine let out a disgusted groan as Kurt led him to the car. The ride was mostly silent. Blaine insisted upon lying his suit coat over the seat for the ride home, and sat with his arms crossed, staring out the window. He felt bad; Kurt was clearly trying to engage in conversation, asking if he liked the show and if there was anything else he might want to see next time, and all Blaine could answer with were awkward one or two word responses, occasionally shifting uncomfortably again.
By the time they reached Blaine’s house, Kurt appeared to have given up on communication and Blaine had his fingers dug into his kneecaps to keep from absolutely clawing at his pants. The engine cut and Blaine reached for the door handle, already drawing in a breath to bid Kurt goodnight. He had just wrapped his fingers around the handle when the locks clicked and Blaine stopped, turning to look at Kurt with a slightly raised eyebrow, shaking his head and reaching for the lock.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Child locks, Kurt, really?” Blaine whined, wheeling around to look at Kurt again and slumping back in his seat.
“Blaine, we need to talk.”
Another whine and an awkward shift. “I don’t want to talk…”
“You’ve hardly said a word since we left the theater. We need to.”
“But it’s awkward and I just want to go home and change. And maybe crawl in a hole and die.”
“Blaine, it’s okay,” Kurt sighed, reaching over to take one of Blaine’s hands again and Blaine would have resisted except for the fact that he really didn’t have anywhere to go. Instead, he just let Kurt take his hand and sighed, trying to sink or blend into the upholstery. “I actually liked it, Blaine,” Kurt assured him, giving his hand a squeeze and sending a rather heartwarming smile his way that probably would have destroyed him if he wasn’t so mortified.
Still, confusion somehow managed to work its way into his embarrassment. “How could you like that?” Blaine exclaimed, utterly lost in Kurt’s logic.
“Blaine, it’s the idea that you’re that attracted to me. That I can do that to you. Please don’t let this make things awkward. You’re amazing, Blaine. And cute. And the way you lost it…it was pretty hot.”
Kurt’s hand was on his thigh.
Oh God, Kurt’s hand was on his thigh.
Blaine squirmed under the touch, not at all because he didn’t like it, but because he hated the idea of Kurt touching exactly what was making Blaine feel so disgusting.
“We’ll get there, okay? Let’s just keep it slow for now.”
Blaine nodded, tearing his gaze away from Kurt’s hand long enough to look into his eyes. He was suddenly a lot closer, leaned more towards the console separating him than Blaine remembered from moments ago. “Okay,” Blaine agreed quietly, his gaze flicking almost magnetically between Kurt’s eyes and his lips, leaning in for one of their usual goodbye-or, in this case, goodnight-kisses.
He met Kurt halfway over the console, briefly admiring how their lips fit so perfectly together. He wondered if he would ever get used to, ever get over it, and he wondered if it was normal for a pair of lips to mesh so well, almost like puzzle pieces made just for each other. It was lingering kiss, but a few seconds in Blaine was surprised to find Kurt working his lips again, similarly to earlier that very evening. His free hand was in Blaine’s hair, working along the edge of his hair and toying lightly with the curls that had worked themselves free there and Blaine wondered if Kurt had seen him doing this very thing to himself on multiple occasions in class.
Nothing could have jolted Blaine out of these thoughts like Kurt’s tongue running along his bottom lip. A surprised noise escaped his lips, providing the temporary part in his lips that Kurt needed to deepen their kiss. Blaine squirmed, whining because he knew he should be enjoying this, knew he should be just as eager for this as Kurt seemed (if not more so), but he wasn’t.
They broke apart on mutual terms, Blaine glancing down ashamedly before meeting Kurt’s questioning eyes. “I can’t…I want to, but I can’t. Not-Not now, not like…like this.”
“Okay,” was all Kurt said, not even looking all that disappointed, and yet Blaine still felt the need to explain.
“I just…I feel really disgusting and I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Blaine, it’s okay. There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”
Blaine looked up again, the corners of his lips finally twitching up in a grateful smile. “Thank you, Kurt.”
“Of course.” Kurt smiled, pushing a noncompliant curl behind Blaine’s ear and stroking his cheek lightly, and Blaine felt it was odd that that should make him shiver more than the hand on his thigh a moment ago, tilting his head a little to lean more into Kurt’s hand. Kurt leaned in once more, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips before smiling. “Goodnight, Blaine,” he said quietly.
“Goodnight, Kurt,” Blaine mumbled, his own face lighting up with a smile that had been missing for the last hour and a half. “Text me when you get home?” he asked hopefully, grinning when Kurt nodded.
Blaine clambered out of the car, taking his suit coat with him, and walked up to his house, turning to wave Kurt off once he got the front door open. He watched as Kurt drove off, until his car rounded the corner, and headed inside, closing and locking the door to his house. So his first date hadn’t gone exactly as he planned.
But it was still pretty damn good.
Chapter Four can be found here.
Rating: NC-17 (For future chapters)
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Word Count: 6,871
Summary: Blaine is a student attending a private school. He realizes his feeling for his teacher, Kurt Hummel, and tries to deal with them the best he can.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Possible triggers dealing with the legality of the age difference between the characters and Kurt's authority position.
Author notes: Co-authored with quixoticzealot. Every even-numbered chapter will be completed on her livejournal.
Everything was going so smoothly. There were no bumps in the road, no unfortunate mishaps, no secrets spilled. The only problem might have been Blaine’s undeniable happiness-no…it was more like giddiness. He was maybe too happy, even in comparison to his usual almost puppy-like exterior. His friends had since taken notice of the change in his behavior, cracking jokes and making comments about his caffeine intake and how if he drank anymore coffee than he already was, his growth wouldn’t be so much stunted as he’d just start shrinking. Luckily, none of them seemed to expect anything of it, and Blaine was suddenly incredibly grateful for Jeff’s inability to focus on any one thing for too long, otherwise he would have noticed something by now.
Considering they shared Blaine’s Advanced Placement Music Theory class and all.
Blaine tried to pay attention in class--he really, really tried, but his attention on the actual course and everything Mr. Hummel was saying seemed to direct itself entirely on Mr. Hummel instead. About halfway through class on Monday, he stopped taking notes. His mind wandered to the day before yesterday when he had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning texting Kurt. On several occasions, he tried to turn them in a slightly less innocent direction, but it never seemed to work in his favor. Kurt almost always deflected, if not flat out told him to calm down again, to which Blaine excitedly replied that he couldn’t, conveniently leaving out the part about how dating Kurt--dating his teacher--was beyond any reasonable fantasy that he ever imagined could possibly come true.
More and more often, he found himself getting lost in the sound of Mr. Hummel’s voice, rather than the words he was actually speaking. More often than not, he found himself staring at the particular way the light reflected off of his eyes--which, after a few more car rides home, he had begun to realize were constantly changing color. From blue, to green, to grey, to any mixture of the two and in the course of just a week, Blaine had gotten lost within them innumerable times. Equally as often, Blaine caught himself staring at Mr. Hummel’s lips, staring at them in a way that could only be described as longingly.
On Wednesday, Blaine purposely left his textbook underneath his desk, just so he had an excuse to return to class if only for a few minutes of privacy with Kurt because, really, he couldn’t go the whole day without having a moment alone, whether it was for a kiss or just to talk. As much as he would have liked to, however, he couldn’t stay for the entire lunch period. If not because there was always the threat of Mr. Puckerman walking in, than because his friends would start to wonder where he’d gone off to--or worse, why he was taking so long in retrieving his book.
Kurt driving him home quickly became an unbreakable routine. Blaine told his friends that he needed to stay late to study in the library which--he would like to point out--was not entirely a lie because he generally did study in the library until most of the school had emptied. At that point, he headed towards Mr. Hummel’s classroom and, if the door was open, poked his head in with a smile and a nervous wrinkle in his brow because he still wasn’t quite used to all of this. Mr. Hummel was, after all, his first relationship and Blaine was a bit uncertain about a few things, and the fact that this was his teacher and had to be kept under wraps made things even more difficult. When he was confused or wondering if he was doing things right, there was no one he could go to for advice except Kurt, but he imagined Kurt would just tell him that he was doing fine and not to worry about it.
So he kept his worries to himself and sidled into the classroom every day in the hopes that Kurt would agree to give him a ride home. On Friday, he asked if Kurt wanted to come in his house for the third time, hoping for a different answer this time, but apparently Kurt was as much old fashioned as Blaine was because he still refused, commenting on the fact that they hadn’t even gone on a real date yet and jumping that far ahead would be inappropriate.
--
“Well, when can we go on a date?” Blaine had asked eagerly, his voice little more than a desperate whine. “Why not now? It’s the weekend. I don’t have anything to do today or tomorrow. My parents won’t even be home until late tonight, so it won’t matter how late we stay out.”
Kurt gave him a disapproving look, a look that Blaine had come to know as a warning just in the past week. “Did you consider the idea maybe I have plans tonight, Blaine?” he retorted with a snap, causing Blaine’s hazel eyes to widen for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” the boy mumbled, looking at his hands because it dawned on him that he really was just thinking about his own needs in the moment, and he’d read about this stuff and how it could easily tear a relationship apart. He needed to think more about what Kurt wanted as well.
Kurt’s eyes softened and Blaine heard a patient sigh before Kurt’s hand was wrapped over his with a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, I will not have our first date be a last minute decision made on the whim of your hormones.”
Blaine looked up his boyfriend through his eyelashes, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in an apologetic smile, silently asking that Kurt just bare with him for a little longer, until he could get the hang of all of this.
The smile quickly turned into a real one as Kurt leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.
--
Blaine didn’t have to wait too terribly long for an answer to his question regarding their first date, though. In class on Monday, Blaine was in the middle of taking notes (or possibly writing a note to pass to Jeff...) when Mr. Hummel called him out in the middle of class and asked him to stay afterwards for a word with him (Jeff seemed especially amused, considering he was generally the one to get caught passing notes). Blaine sat in ashamed silence for the rest of the period, trying to send Kurt all of his apologies by paying the utmost attention to everything he said and only taking notes on the subject at hand.
By the end of the class, Blaine had worked up an entire dialogue of an apology (which may or may not have ended with an intense make-out session and--well, actually it stopped there because if he thought any more about it he was going to have a problem) and was ready to spill all of it to Kurt as the last of the students filed out of class, to say “I’m sorry” a hundred times over and promise to pay more attention. He was just about to push himself out of his desk when Mr. Hummel asked him over to the desk. Blaine gathered his things with a sigh, shoving them hastily into his bag and trudging over to stand in front of Mr. Hummel’s desk.
“Are you busy this weekend?” Confusion set over Blaine’s face. It seemed like an odd question to ask.
“No?” His speech lingered with question and confusion.
And that was when Mr. Hummel told him he would be attending a musical on the following Saturday.
Blaine stared at him blankly for a moment, blinking uncertainly. “For...extra credit or something?” he asked, hazel eyes searching blue anxiously, wondering if maybe all his time spent staring at Mr. Hummel was affecting his grade.
Mr. Hummel shuffled some papers on his desk, emitting another patient sigh, and looked up pointedly at Blaine. “Yes, Mr. Anderson. For extra credit,” he emphasized very carefully in a way that made Blaine shift from one foot to the other and glance at the floor, confusion written across his face. Clearly Blaine wasn’t doing as well in class as he thought--even if he did tend to get lost everything that was Mr. Hummel, everything that was Kurt, he thought he was holding up pretty well in class. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
An indignant huff reached Blaine’s ears, and his name hissed through perfectly sculpted lips caused him to look up. “Blaine.” Hazel eyes focused on blue, a pout on his lips the seventeen year old took an uncomfortable step backwards, feeling much like a child scolded. “And--to be absolutely sure that you do attend the play and are paying adequate attention--I will be going with you.”
“Oh,” was all Blaine said, his voice glum as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong.
And then the words sunk in.
“Oh!” Blaine exclaimed suddenly, hands tightening around the strap of his shoulder bag excitedly as he understood exactly what Mr. Hummel was saying. His eyes were bright and a little overexcited as he smiled at Mr. Hummel now, nodding fervently. “Right, of course. I’ll be there, Mr. Hummel.”
Mr. Hummel kind of looked like he might have a headache, glancing at the open doorway warily (which Blaine figured he could understand...not many students would be excited for an extra credit assignment, even if it was something as cool watching a musical) and Blaine grinned sheepishly before bidding his teacher goodbye and heading to lunch.
It wasn’t ten minutes later that Blaine’s phone vibrated as notification of a new text.
You do understand this is our first date, right?
It was only the smallest bit offensive because Blaine knew he was pretty damn oblivious sometimes.
Yes, I know. Sorry--it just took me a minute.
He expected some sort of witty retort, but no response ever came, leaving Blaine to figure Mr. Puckerman must have stopped by again.
The rest of the week passed by painfully slow. It was difficult for Blaine to remain interested in any of his classes when all he could do was think about his date--his first real date with his first real boyfriend. Blaine couldn’t help but think, just a little bitterly, that at least Mr. Hummel had the good grace not to call him out on it every time he was caught staring into the distance, or blankly at the whiteboard, and Blaine constantly had to remind himself that that was because Mr. Hummel clearly knew why he was so lacking in attentiveness. It was difficult to come up with reasonable excuses, and by mid-Wednesday, Blaine was trying to force his thoughts onto his schoolwork, doing anything he could to make sure they didn’t stray to what Mr. Hummel might be doing right at that moment, or what he was doing yesterday as they texted, or what he might have done after they texted--and that was exactly why Blaine needed to just stop thinking.
He managed well enough through the rest of Wednesday and Thursday went by alright. However, by Friday Blaine’s excitement had reached an uncontrollable level. He tapped his pen against his desk, drummed his fingers impatiently against his knee, read the same sentences over and over again, and was too busy thinking about the musical at lunch that he ran into Wes and almost tripped him into David. It was a miracle nobody dropped their lunch.
Wes and Thad’s probing stares were beginning to worry Blaine more than the prospect of Mr. Puckerman walking in during a brief lunchtime make-out session. Blaine had always had trouble hiding his emotions, or keeping secrets in general, but this was one he was determined not to let slip to anyone. That was an easy accomplishment to avoid verbally, but Blaine was beginning to think that maybe he was being too obvious. He wondered if Jeff had caught on to his crush, maybe let something slip to Wes and David, or Thad and Nick, and now every time he took a little longer in getting to the lunchroom their suspicions were growing, or that they knew he wasn’t really stopping at the restroom halfway through their lunch period. Maybe Blaine was being too paranoid...or maybe he wasn’t worrying enough.
Luckily, it was only half more of a school day before he could just let go and be as excited as he pleased. Blaine all but bounded into Mr. Hummel’s class, practically skidding into the open door and asked if Kurt was ready to go, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Kurt packed his bag.The car ride was not nearly as awkward as the first ride to Blaine’s house; he talked nonstop about tomorrow night, hardly even managing to remember the name of the show. Blaine listed everything they could do that they couldn’t do in public, everything he wanted to do, from smiling completely unguarded, to saying “I like you” without feeling afraid of being overheard, to holding Kurt’s hand, to kissing him.
Too soon they pulled up to Blaine’s house. They both leaned in for a kiss, Blaine desperately wanting more than he was receiving. It was becoming an every day after school routine, the way Blaine leaned in to meet Kurt halfway, always pressing harder for deeper kisses, and every time Kurt would stop him. Blaine understood why of course, but he had no way of knowing that it was just as difficult for Kurt to stop him as it was for Blaine to actually listen to these requests or ignore the temptation to leap forward again. He had no way knowing that Mr. Hummel’s desires were rising just as frequent, just as intense as his own.
Saturday dragged by at a sluggish pace. Blaine woke up around nine-thirty in his excitement, trying desperately to get in more sleep before finally getting up at ten. For a while, all he wanted to do was sit on his bed, legs curled beneath him, a bowl of cereal in his lap, and Saturday morning cartoons on his television. He meant to get some homework finished, as was his usual weekend routine, but his brain was too focused on later that night to function properly. Blaine spent a few hours in his pajamas, looking for just about anything to do while he waited for an appropriate time to actually start getting ready, including cleaning his room (though he was organized enough that there really wasn’t much to do) and wasting another hour attempting to finish an assignment that wasn’t even due until the end of next week.
It was two hours before Kurt was supposed to pick him up when he finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer and dug through his closet for one of his nicest suits and lying it over his bed before taking a quick shower, spending a bit more time on his hair than usual, and then getting dressed. Usually Blaine wasn’t so particular about his clothing, but tonight he checked every inch of his shirt for a wrinkle to iron out, made sure there wasn’t a single loose thread on his jacket, and continually smoothed out his pant legs, desperately wanting everything to be perfect.
Blaine had already changed his tie four times when Kurt arrived (Blaine had texted him earlier to let him know that his parents would be out and he could actually come to the door if he wanted), and was just barely saved from changing it again by the knock on the door. Blaine tossed his handful of ties down on his bed and fled the room, skipping down the stairs two at a time and leaping off the last three. There was no doubt in his mind that Kurt heard him thundering down the stairs, but he still tried to compose himself as he reached the front door, making sure his curls were lying flat before he pulled the door open.
His heartbeat doubled in speed just laying eyes on his teacher. Of course Mr. Hummel always looked nice, but this was entirely different. He wasn’t dressed like a teacher or an authority figure, and considering that looked like a designer suit, it wasn’t just Kurt, but it was a definite step closer. At least Blaine had just that much more insight into Kurt. The idea made his smile broaden a little ridiculously.
“Hi,” Blaine greeted a little breathlessly.
“Good evening, Blaine.” The fact that Kurt was smiling just the slightest bit (and Blaine knew that smile was just for him), made the butterflies go absolutely crazy in Blaine’s stomach. Blaine knew he must look like a bit of an idiot, utterly love-struck and absolutely smitten, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Are you ready to go?”
Blaine nodded vigorously and followed Kurt out to the car, taking his usual place in the passenger seat and buckling up as Kurt started the car. As usual, the drive was an even mix of conversation and silence, but it never really felt awkward. Maybe just a little, sometimes, but that was what dates were for, right? To get to know each other better, to eliminate any awkwardness, to keep building a relationship towards that level of comfort between one another where silence was just normal.
It wasn’t a terribly long drive and there was just so much to see when they entered the building that everything was kind of a blur. Before Blaine knew it, he and Kurt were slipping through the doors into the theater, clambering gracefully (well, gracefully in Kurt’s case) over other people to find their seats. They talked as they waited for the show to start, their voices not quite hushed, but at an appropriate “indoor voice” level. Everyone here was so well-mannered that there was no need to yell over one another to be heard. It was nice, except it sort of reminded Blaine of one of his parents’ dinner parties, especially taking into account how nice everyone was dressed.
Blaine was just talking about one of his other classes and the homework assigned to him for the week, how little he really cared for that class and how the workload was a little unfair and how everyone agreed with him when he felt Kurt’s fingers working their way around his own. Blaine paused mid-sentence to look down, unable to help the softening of his eyes or the light smile on his face. He wasn’t entirely sure why it meant so much to him-it wasn’t as if they hadn’t held hands before--but perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they weren’t talking about their relationship this time, or really anything of great importance and the contact was just…nice. “Even Wes agrees, and I swear I’ve actually heard Wes ask for more homework in some of our other classes,” Blaine continued casually, but there was no hiding the spark in his eyes when he looked back up at Kurt, or the odd way his lips twisted in trying to still be bitter about his other class while simultaneously grinning.
The house lights dimmed and Blaine clenched his fingers around Kurt’s hand in excitement, leaning over the arm rest between them slightly so that their shoulders were touching. It wasn’t very long into the performance before Blaine’s head found its way to Kurt’s shoulder, tucking into the crook. He couldn’t see Kurt’s reaction, but he could only assume it was good as he felt Kurt’s thumb rub circles against his hand.
Kurt was more than helpful throughout the musical, too. Blaine found him easily distracted by the songs, losing the story behind them. Every time this happened, he’d lean in and mumble, “Wait, what?” into Kurt’s ear. Kurt never became frustrated and even seemed almost excited as he briefly explained what had just taken place.
Blaine could feel the anticipation growing, reaching near the climax of the story when the actors exited the stage and the lights flickered on. Kurt gave Blaine a nudge, who, admittedly, did not want to move from the perfect position he was in, nestled up against Kurt.
They waited a moment for a large portion of the crowd to make their way out. Kurt had managed to get really good (and probably really expensive...) seats near the front. Blaine didn’t really want to deal with the hoard trying to cram their way out; he also enjoyed standing and waiting with his fingers laced between Kurt’s.
Intermission was thirty minutes. Blaine was on a high, and when Kurt told him they should stretch their legs a bit and get a snack, he didn’t really understand-he wasn’t hungry, although maybe a little too energized, considering he could hardly stop fidgeting through half of the show because he was just so excited. Everything was new and fascinating. Besides, maybe Mr. Hummel was hungry, he reminded him, trying to think of more than just himself in his exuberance. So instead of questioning it, he just agreed and leaped up, taking Mr. Hummel’s hand without a second thought. The instant they exited the theatre, his mouth was moving a mile a minute, about the characters, the actors, the story, but mostly he just wanted to talk about the music. The lyrics, the feeling and emotion put into everything, the way the play wouldn’t be utterly lacking without the songs. They weren’t just there to fill empty space or set a mood-they helped move the story along and Blaine loved that the play was so dependent on the music.
The outside of the theater was just as grand as the inside, though, despite the mass of people struggling to find their way to the bathroom and bar. Still, the way it was built was extremely visually pleasing and Blaine was caught up in admiring the high ceilings when he felt a tug on his hand. Confused hazel eyes found Kurt, and Blaine looked back at the line of the bar. “Weren’t you hungry?” he asked uncertainly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder as they turned down a less crowded hallway.
“Yes,” Kurt assured him impatiently, his fingers tightening around Blaine’s hand and tugging harder.
Blaine glanced back doubtfully, certain that Mr. Hummel had seen the stands lining the floor, especially considering he seemed easily able to catch students in the very back row passing notes. “But the food is that way,” the seventeen year old commented, making a weak attempt at digging his heels into the floor to slow Mr. Hummel down. “Unless you know a fancy restaurant downstairs or something-”
“Blaine, there is no downstairs.”
“Well, then, I don’t know where you think we’re going-”
“I don’t want food, Blaine.”
“But...you said...” The confusion was evident in Blaine’s voice, but all he got in response was an almost eager-sounding “Hush!” as Mr. Hummel pulled him down the slightly downward-sloped corridor until the floor flattened out between them and they came to a stop outside of...a janitor’s closet? “Mr. Hu--I mean, Kurt--sorry--what are we doing here?”
Kurt was already testing the doorknob out before giving it a gentle nudge and let it slip open. Blaine was still somewhere between confusion and surprise that the door hadn’t been locked; perhaps it was just because not many people came down this way? Or they expected better of people with enough class to sit through plays and musicals. “Isn’t this against some kind of rule?” Blaine asked, still entirely uncertain of what exactly they were doing down here.
His train of thought ended there, however, for in the next instant Kurt’s hands were on his upper arms, pushing him into the room and simultaneously pulling the door shut. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Blaine was sure he heard a lock click, but everything after that was kind of a blur.
A blur, because Mr. Hummel’s lips were pressed against his, moving fast and fervent with a heat that hadn’t been there the last time they made out or any time before--but then, really, when had they ever actually kissed like this? Just as soon as they were there, Kurt’s lips were gone, trailing from the corner of his mouth, down to and across his jaw line, and then along his neck. A whine escaped slightly parted lips, his hands reaching to touch, to grab, to hold on to some part of Kurt. Kurt would have none of this, his hands flying up to press Blaine’s wrists against the wall. So Blaine was pinned here, under his teacher, whose lips were moving over his neck...
Oh, God, was that Kurt’s tongue sliding along his jugular? Blaine’s hips bucked forward involuntarily, finding Kurt’s thigh. Oh, that felt good against his half hard cock, and Kurt didn’t seem to mind, biting down on his neck as Blaine moved his hips rhythmically against his teacher’s-and boyfriend’s-thigh.
“No touching.” Kurt mumbled in his ear, his breath hot and delicate. Blaine could only nod in response and suddenly his hands were free of their restraints as Kurt moved to loosen Blaine’s tie, unbuttoning the top of his white collared shirt. An unrestrained moan crawled up the back of Blaine’s throat, slipping past his lips because-wow, who would have thought the collarbone was such a sensitive spot? And Kurt was working magic with his tongue along the bone and the noises escaping Blaine’s lips should have been embarrassing, but he couldn’t think enough for that-all he could do was feel. Blaine was absolutely reduced to whimpers and jelly legs, hands seeking support along the flat surface behind him.
“K-Kurt?”
“Mm?” Kurt mumbled, lips still working against the hollow of neck, right above his collarbone.
Oh, God, the things that reverberation against his skin did. Blaine realized Kurt was clearly distracted, but so was Blaine-both of them seemed to be thinking more about the fact that Kurt’s hands were suddenly sliding along the length of Blaine’s body, past his ribcage and finally settling on his hips.
“Is this a dream?” Blaine’s voice came out ragged and gasping, but he was too interested in everything Kurt was doing-with his mouth, his tongue, his hands-to care that he sounded desperate and needy. Blaine heard a chuckle from under his chin, but received no further response. Only a hand palming at his cock.
Fuck.
Blaine could barely stand to think clearly. Most of his actions were pure instinct; the way his hips moved, grinding up and into Kurt’s hand, or the way his hands searched for something to hold onto because there was no way in hell he could just stand there and take it. He learned strictly by trial and error. He desperately wanted a faster pace than this, his hips jerking forward, swift and hard, only to find Kurt’s hand suddenly gone, perhaps forcing his hips back or grabbing for one of his wrists that had wandered just a little too close. Blaine groaned his discontent, letting his head fall back against the wall until Kurt’s palm found his cock once again.
One thing was for sure: Kurt was in control here, and Blaine had to consciously stop his hips from moving any faster than Kurt wanted, cursing every time his hips jerked forward too quickly. It took a few tries to find the right pace, to find the self restraint to keep going, but when he did, it was almost torturous. In all honesty, Blaine had no idea what had gotten into his teacher, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it now.
All too suddenly, Kurt’s hand was gone and a desperate whine escaped Blaine’s lips. He was only partially aware of the pressure against his hips, the fingers slipping through his belt loops and guiding his hips forward. Before Blaine had a chance to understand, Kurt’s hips were flush over his, thrusting into his and pushing him further back against the wall. Gasps and broken moans ripped themselves from Blaine’s throat as Kurt grinded his hips into him, and only Kurt’s lips pressed firmly over his own could dull the noise he was making. Blaine couldn’t stand to keep his hands off of Kurt any longer, and Kurt didn’t protest when they settled on his shoulders, trying to pull the teacher closer and parting his lips obediently when Kurt made the silent request for entrance.
Blaine barely even realized how hard he was grinding against Kurt, his thrusts growing harsher and needier, faster and deeper. “Mr. Hummel. Kurt. Kurt,” he whined into the older boy’s ear, having to break the kiss to do so. The heat was rushing and his mouth was gaping open, and then...
Sweet, unfortunate release. The warmth and liquid spread in his pants. Clearly, Kurt noticed the way he suddenly stopped responding to the touches, the kisses, because suddenly he was gone and Blaine felt his absence. Kurt stood a step back now with an eyebrow raised pointedly at the senior. Blaine took notice in the way Kurt’s cock was still hard pressed against his pants, and he could see Kurt taking notice in the way that his penis...wasn’t. A smile spread across the teacher’s face, one of his pale hands flying up to try to suppress a giggle. “Blaine, did you just...?”
Blaine could only look away in horror, the air and time taking its toll as the cum in his pants began to gel and get sticky. His eyes were wide, and some part of him wanted to cry in embarrassment and hide from Kurt.
“Blaine?”
“Yes!” he shouted, his voice trailing off into an ashamed cry, the only way he could get a response out. His hand moved down, trying to pull the fabric away from his skin, the way it stuck sending a disgusted chill down his spine.
Kurt was still smiling, this time somewhat sympathetically, and Blaine’s cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” A groan bubbled up in Blaine’s chest and he pushed himself delicately away from the wall as Kurt stepped aside, cringing at the way his pants stuck and rubbed against his body. Despite his boyish, inexperienced mistake, Kurt’s hand found his as they exited the janitorial closet in a manner that Blaine was sure was meant to be graceful, but he must have spoiled that by the way he moved and muttered constant phrases of disgust under his voice.
They found the bathroom fairly quickly with Kurt leading and he gathered a handful of paper towels and ran them under some water, shooing Blaine off into one of the empty stalls. Luckily it wasn’t too busy and Blaine assumed it must be getting closer to the second act, sounding off disgruntled “Ugh”s and voicing a few whispers of “Gross,” as he cleaned himself up. The liquid had been exposed to air long enough though, that it had congealed enough that there was nothing he could do about his clothes and the idea of just dealing with it kind of made his skin crawl, but what other choice did he have?
Blaine exited the stall only after flushing all evidence of his mishap down the toilet and shuffled to the sink, still only sending awkward glances at Kurt who still appeared just a little amused. Blaine washed his hands thoroughly and fixed his shirt and tie before finally realizing he had no choice but to face Kurt and it was starting to feel an awful lot like the moment right before he confessed his feelings.
“Blaine, it’s okay.” Kurt’s voice was soft and reassuring, almost fond. “It happens to everyone-especially kids your age.”
“Yeah…” was all Blaine could think to say, mostly because it wasn’t at all what was on his mind. Kurt deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone who wasn’t going to jump the gun every time like Blaine had a feeling he was going to. He glanced up at Kurt again through dark eyelashes, biting the inside of his cheek subconsciously.
“Let’s get back to our seats.”
Before Blaine could answer, Kurt’s hand was wrapped around his again, tugging him back through the bathroom and eventually back through the doors to the theater. Blaine would swear he caught Kurt laughing as he clambered awkwardly over people, his face absolutely burning at the idea of anyone besides Kurt realizing why he was taking such care to not touch anyone.
Once they sat down, Blaine released a defeated sigh, shifting uncomfortably until as little of the sticky fabric was touching him as possible. “It’s not funny,” he hissed at Kurt under his breath, both glaring and trying to hide his face at the same time.
“Shh, it’s about to start,” Kurt warned as if he hadn’t started this conversation anyway (well, even though technically he hadn’t said anything).
Blaine wasn’t expecting Kurt, after that whole incident, to be daring enough to plant his hand upon Blaine’s knee, in what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring way, but really just made Blaine want to fidget again. Blaine’s hand shot out to grip Kurt’s, squeezing it in a silent request that he please, stop and simply because he would rather hold Kurt’s hand than let it just on his knee like that.
The problem with all of this was that not only was Blaine already uncomfortable and struggling to ignore his discomfort, but Kurt refused to allow him to forget it. Blaine very nearly released a very verbal, offended scoff when Kurt leaned over to whisper in his ear at one point, “Looks like the main character’s got himself in a bit of a sticky situation,” the smirk evident in his voice. A pleading groan sounded, quiet and broken, from Blaine, his fingers tightening around Kurt’s while he tried to find a more comfortable position. It took a few minutes to realize that no matter what way he sat, he was going to be uncomfortable for the second half of this play, so he might as well get used to it.
It would have been easier if Kurt hadn’t decided to whisper variations of this comment in his ear every time he thought up a new one. And considering how witty Kurt was-even when Blaine knew him only as Mr. Hummel-there were a lot to sit through.
The hour passed slow. In comparison to how quickly the first half the play flew by, this part absolutely dragged, not because it was bad, but rather because Blaine was just so uncomfortable. And then finally the stage lights dimmed. The actors all came out for the final bow. Blaine was pretty sure he was the first person in the entire theater to stand up, really trying his hardest to wait the appropriate amount of time before doing so and trying not to look so eager to get out of there. Still, he clutched Kurt’s hand impatiently, tapping his fingers against the back of his hand until Kurt shifted the grip to hold his fingers still. “We’re almost there,” Kurt whispered, causing Blaine to shiver at the closeness of Kurt’s lips to his ear.
It was a few minutes, but eventually they were exiting the theater and Blaine let out a disgusted groan as Kurt led him to the car. The ride was mostly silent. Blaine insisted upon lying his suit coat over the seat for the ride home, and sat with his arms crossed, staring out the window. He felt bad; Kurt was clearly trying to engage in conversation, asking if he liked the show and if there was anything else he might want to see next time, and all Blaine could answer with were awkward one or two word responses, occasionally shifting uncomfortably again.
By the time they reached Blaine’s house, Kurt appeared to have given up on communication and Blaine had his fingers dug into his kneecaps to keep from absolutely clawing at his pants. The engine cut and Blaine reached for the door handle, already drawing in a breath to bid Kurt goodnight. He had just wrapped his fingers around the handle when the locks clicked and Blaine stopped, turning to look at Kurt with a slightly raised eyebrow, shaking his head and reaching for the lock.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Child locks, Kurt, really?” Blaine whined, wheeling around to look at Kurt again and slumping back in his seat.
“Blaine, we need to talk.”
Another whine and an awkward shift. “I don’t want to talk…”
“You’ve hardly said a word since we left the theater. We need to.”
“But it’s awkward and I just want to go home and change. And maybe crawl in a hole and die.”
“Blaine, it’s okay,” Kurt sighed, reaching over to take one of Blaine’s hands again and Blaine would have resisted except for the fact that he really didn’t have anywhere to go. Instead, he just let Kurt take his hand and sighed, trying to sink or blend into the upholstery. “I actually liked it, Blaine,” Kurt assured him, giving his hand a squeeze and sending a rather heartwarming smile his way that probably would have destroyed him if he wasn’t so mortified.
Still, confusion somehow managed to work its way into his embarrassment. “How could you like that?” Blaine exclaimed, utterly lost in Kurt’s logic.
“Blaine, it’s the idea that you’re that attracted to me. That I can do that to you. Please don’t let this make things awkward. You’re amazing, Blaine. And cute. And the way you lost it…it was pretty hot.”
Kurt’s hand was on his thigh.
Oh God, Kurt’s hand was on his thigh.
Blaine squirmed under the touch, not at all because he didn’t like it, but because he hated the idea of Kurt touching exactly what was making Blaine feel so disgusting.
“We’ll get there, okay? Let’s just keep it slow for now.”
Blaine nodded, tearing his gaze away from Kurt’s hand long enough to look into his eyes. He was suddenly a lot closer, leaned more towards the console separating him than Blaine remembered from moments ago. “Okay,” Blaine agreed quietly, his gaze flicking almost magnetically between Kurt’s eyes and his lips, leaning in for one of their usual goodbye-or, in this case, goodnight-kisses.
He met Kurt halfway over the console, briefly admiring how their lips fit so perfectly together. He wondered if he would ever get used to, ever get over it, and he wondered if it was normal for a pair of lips to mesh so well, almost like puzzle pieces made just for each other. It was lingering kiss, but a few seconds in Blaine was surprised to find Kurt working his lips again, similarly to earlier that very evening. His free hand was in Blaine’s hair, working along the edge of his hair and toying lightly with the curls that had worked themselves free there and Blaine wondered if Kurt had seen him doing this very thing to himself on multiple occasions in class.
Nothing could have jolted Blaine out of these thoughts like Kurt’s tongue running along his bottom lip. A surprised noise escaped his lips, providing the temporary part in his lips that Kurt needed to deepen their kiss. Blaine squirmed, whining because he knew he should be enjoying this, knew he should be just as eager for this as Kurt seemed (if not more so), but he wasn’t.
They broke apart on mutual terms, Blaine glancing down ashamedly before meeting Kurt’s questioning eyes. “I can’t…I want to, but I can’t. Not-Not now, not like…like this.”
“Okay,” was all Kurt said, not even looking all that disappointed, and yet Blaine still felt the need to explain.
“I just…I feel really disgusting and I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Blaine, it’s okay. There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”
Blaine looked up again, the corners of his lips finally twitching up in a grateful smile. “Thank you, Kurt.”
“Of course.” Kurt smiled, pushing a noncompliant curl behind Blaine’s ear and stroking his cheek lightly, and Blaine felt it was odd that that should make him shiver more than the hand on his thigh a moment ago, tilting his head a little to lean more into Kurt’s hand. Kurt leaned in once more, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips before smiling. “Goodnight, Blaine,” he said quietly.
“Goodnight, Kurt,” Blaine mumbled, his own face lighting up with a smile that had been missing for the last hour and a half. “Text me when you get home?” he asked hopefully, grinning when Kurt nodded.
Blaine clambered out of the car, taking his suit coat with him, and walked up to his house, turning to wave Kurt off once he got the front door open. He watched as Kurt drove off, until his car rounded the corner, and headed inside, closing and locking the door to his house. So his first date hadn’t gone exactly as he planned.
But it was still pretty damn good.
Chapter Four can be found here.