|Blaine Stupid Anderson
Author: agnesiest PM
This is the companion piece to Blaine Anderson Loves his Poledancer. Read that first. A smutty one-shot based on Steve's pole dancing on America's Got Talent. Kurt is the initiator in this one. Have fun, and stay safe!Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Kurt H. & Blaine A. - Words: 10,527 - Reviews: 32 - Favs: 82 - Follows: 6 - Published: 07-01-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7137040
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
AN: Hello there again. This is the companion piece to 'Blaine Anderson loves his poledancer'. If you haven't read that, I suggest going and reading it first. Not because it comes first, because it doesn't – the two fics live in completely different worlds, with different versions of Kurt and Blaine inhabiting them. The first had Sweet!Innocent!Flirtatious!Kurt and Predatory!Blaine, while this one has Angry!Sexy!Kurt and Crazy!Oblivious!Blaine. Too many exclamation points. But both fics are based on the same premise, which is Kurt pole dancing after the events of Sexy and this leading to sexytimes. In the first, Blaine initiated, and in this one, Kurt initiates. And boy does he ever. I was struggling with a way to get Kurt from virginal to fucking Blaine within a one-shot and I figured the only way it would be even remotely believable was if Kurt got really angry at Blaine for all the times he's jerked him around. Of course, Angry!Kurt tends to get a bit carried away, so… yeah. Cough.
Just like the first, this was inspired by Steve Retchless's pole dancing performance on America's Got Talent. If you haven't seen it, look it up. It will give you really great images while you read this. Trust me.
I've put in a few tidbits for aneloquenpuzzle, just so she will feel love. Let me know if you spot them, dearie. :)
There's a bit of Brittany and Wes (and some others) in this fic. Let me know how you think I did with them, especially Brittany because I love her more than chocolate covered espresso beans and she makes me ten times as hyper.
One final caveat: Usually, I am a stickler for safe sex in my fics, but I strayed from that oh so righteous path in this one because it's fiction and I wanted to. But the responsible portion of my brain is making me say this: always use a condom unless you are in a serious, committed relationship and get tested regularly. This has been your PSA for the day.
"Blaine Stupid Anderson," muttered Kurt to himself petulantly, pacing his room and throwing withering looks at the mirror. He knew he was being childish, but it was better than the alternative. The alternative being that Blaine just didn't see him that way, had probably never seen him that way, and every time he opened his mouth, Kurt just made it worse. Because he got flustered, because he got scared, because he'd never had anyone to talk to about these things before and he sure as hell wasn't going to start with some condescending jerk who he was in love with. Shit. That came out wrong. Stupid Blaine. Stupid, stupid Blaine! The part of Kurt that wasn't fuming in an attempt to keep from hurting made a quick mental note to watch Impromtu sometime soon. He loved that movie. And he could totally relate. Timid virgin, here! At least he didn't have tuberculosis, or whatever it was that Chopin had.
Kurt sighed. He wasn't really succeeding in distracting himself, at least not from the hurt. The anger, unfortunately, would fade all too easily. He could never stay angry at Blaine for long, even with good cause. Blaine: oblivious, gorgeous, effortlessly sexy and charming Blaine. Who, instead of assuring Kurt that he was indeed sexy, tried to help him become sexy in the most humiliating way possible. Because he obviously thought Kurt lacked that appeal. Shit, shit, shit! Oh Gaga, his mind was foul-mouthed today. Probably another thing Blaine wouldn't expect from him. Stupid Blaine.
And then there was the larger picture. Would anyone ever think he was sexy? Would he forever be just this slender, effeminate, fashionable, bitchy, fabulous, talented, sexless boy? Okay, Kurt had to admit to himself that most of those adjectives were good qualities, but was it really too much to ask that someone would look at him and want him? The only people who had shown even the slightest interest in him prior to this were Karofsky – shudder! – and Brittany. Wait a minute, Brittany! That's brilliant! She told him he was sexy all the time, but of course he never really paid attention to it because a) she was a girl and b) she thought her cat read her diary. But she was amazing, and kind-hearted, and most importantly, unfailingly honest. Even if that honesty was sometimes a tad confusing. Kurt grabbed his car keys and his messenger bag and bounded out the door. Brittany would help dig him out of this hole, he just knew it.
"Wait, I'm confused. When did you become a penguin? I thought you were a dolphin. Oh! Can you change into any animal you want? Can you be a bear?"
"No, Brittany, that's not what I…you know what, yes, yes I can change into different animals. Just not bears. They're too growly and mean and, well, fat. That's totally not sexy, you know what I mean?"
Kurt couldn't help it; he was dissing Karofsky in his own mind – it's how he got through the day, you know? Whatever, bitches.
"Dolphins are sexy," agreed Brittany, bobbing her head in delight. "They have sex, like, all the time. Plus, they are just so cool. Pods are matriarchal, and baby dolphins are raised by large groups of adults that don't have to include the biological parents. And when they aren't eating or leaping through the air or looking up at me from beneath the boat, they are totally having sex. That's just how they roll." Brittany sighed contentedly and rubbed Lord Tubbington's ears. Kurt stared at her. He'd never get used to the way she knew so much about animals, while being perpetually confused about almost everything else. She'd make a perfect veterinarian if she could just get through the degree.
Kurt shook his head. He was here to talk about himself, and he was usually very good at that, but Brittany was just so distracting. It's what he loved most about her, he supposed. But he needed her help, so he had to stay focused and not wander off into the bizarre alternate universe she seemed to live in. Even if it was a really nice place.
"But am I sexy?" he said, getting back to the point.
"Of course you are. You're a dolphin, aren't you?"
"Yeah, sure. But I'm a…I'm a dolphin who's never had sex because there are no other dolphins around?" He ended the sentence with a question because he really wasn't sure how far he wanted to take this metaphor.
"That's not true. Blaine's a dolphin too," said Brittany, blissfully (and to Kurt's annoyance) ignoring the virgin part of the comment. Maybe she just didn't understand that part.
"He is, sweetie. But he doesn't want to have sex with me," said Kurt sadly.
Brittany just looked at him, confusion all over her face. "That's not possible," she asserted.
"It is, unfortunately. He doesn't think I'm sexy, therefore he doesn't want to have sex with me."
"But you are sexy, so all you have to do is show him that, and he'll have sex with you. And then you can have baby dolphins and join the pod and do really cool leaps out of the water and have lots and lots of sex and – "
"Brittany, you do know that boys can't get pregnant, right?"
"That's not true. Santana read me this really funny story about Harry Potter. He totally got pregnant. It was awesome. There was no stork, though, so I was kinda confused."
"Baby, Harry Potter's not real."
She just looked at him with shock in her eyes. Then she placed her hands over both of Lord Tubbington's ears and said, "Don't say things like that around him. He'll get upset!"
Kurt sighed. "Okay, I take it back. Boys can get pregnant. Harry Potter is real. Babies are brought by stork. Okay?"
She beamed at him. Then she frowned and said, "You forgot one thing."
"You are sexy."
"Okay, yes. I'm sexy. How do I get Blaine to see that I'm sexy?"
Brittany looked thoughtful for a while. Then she leaped up off the bed, dislodging Lord Tubbington from her lap. He rolled to the floor with a disgruntled thump, and then began licking himself disinterestedly. Brittany bounced over to her computer and turned it on. "You can do that dance we've been working on! It's off the hook sexy!" She'd clearly been spending too much time with Artie.
Kurt blushed. "No, Brittany. There is no way I can do that; I look ridiculous dancing like that. Plus, how could we even manage it? I can't invite Blaine over to your studio for an impromptu recital. That'd just be weird."
"We'll worry about that later. But you do not look ridiculous. I'll show you." She pressed a few buttons on her computer and a screen appeared. Kurt looked at it, and then did a double take.
"Brit, why do you have security footage of your studio?"
"I thought Lord Tubbington was going in there late at night to dance The Nutcracker and I wanted to catch him in the act. It's not nice to eat mice. Broccoli is much better."
"Okay." Kurt shrugged resignedly, a familiar feeling around Brittany. He watched the screen as he and Brittany came into the studio. Brittany waltzed over to the stripper pole she had in one corner and began to execute a series of mind-blowingly erotic and graceful moves that surely would have given him an erection if he was, you know, straight. Then he watched himself, laughing, attempt the same routine. He remembered this day, suddenly. He'd been in such a good mood. It was right after Christmas, and he was home, hanging out with his friends every day; things with Blaine seemed to be going so well (this was before he started acting all weird, serenading closeted retail workers and making out with Rachel Fucking Berry – hey! There's that mouth again!); and he was running on a high that was a combination of flirty duets and shopping excursions with his girls. He and Brittany had spent large portions of the vacation twirling around on the pole that her parents had got her for Christmas, which he thought was a bit weird because what parent would actually encourage their daughter towards stripping, but Brittany's strangeness was actually hereditary. This was the day that the routine finally gelled for him, the day he grabbed that pole and went through the moves without feeling self-conscious, without over-analyzing what he was doing. He had felt sexy, and free, and, well, happy in a way that only Brittany seemed to be able to make him feel, and that always had something to do with dancing. He watched himself, and even though he could see that he wasn't technically as good as Brittany (who was?), he owned the moves. He was really sexy. So sexy, in fact, that he felt himself starting to get hard. Kurt closed his eyes for a minute because, really? That's just weird.
When he opened them again, the routine was over and Brittany was beaming at him expectantly.
"Okay, I'll admit you're right. That was hot."
"So hot that Santana and I had sex after watching it," she informed him brightly.
Kurt cringed. "I really don't need to hear about that, okay Brit?"
She just shrugged.
"But that still doesn't help me, Brit. Like I said, it'd be weird if I invited Blaine to your studio to show him I'm sexy. I can't do that. I think I would die of embarrassment well before I got there."
"So you need an excuse."
"Yeah. Why did this sexy thing come up?"
"Uh. For regionals? Blaine thought the Warblers, and I quote, needed to get 'sexified'." Kurt scoffed, but then remembered that the way Blaine had said that had made his knees weak. Stupid Blaine.
"You're a Warbler, right? Because of that whole animal transformation thing?"
Kurt ignored the last part, and the fact that Brittany could be confused about words like 'duet' yet had no problem with 'transformation', and said, "Obviously, I'm a Warbler."
"Well, so you need to show that you can be sexy for Regionals. Show the Warblers, and Blaine will be there because he's a Warbler too, right? Oh, wait, can he become different animals too? I bet he'd make a really cute koala!"
"Um. Yeah." Brittany was doing it again, distracting him with silliness. Blaine would totally make a cute koala. Kurt shook his head to clear it. It was a good idea. A great idea, if a little out there. But he wanted to show the Warblers he was a little out there anyway; he was so tired of the conformity schtick. He'd go all out, be totally sexy, and Blaine would see, and then…and then what? Stupid virginity.
"Brit? What's…what's it like to have sex for the first time?"
Brittany frowned, her forehead wrinkling, and stared at him silently for a few minutes.
"Shhh. I'm trying to remember."
Kurt sighed. Right. He'd try a different tactic. "What was it like to have sex with Santana for the first time?"
"Oh! So amazing!" she said immediately. "I was kinda scared to go down on her because I'd never done that before, but then she smelled so great and tasted even better, and she was so smooth and she pulled on my hair and made the prettiest noises and – "
Kurt, who had stuck his fingers in his ears and begun to sing, 'la la la la!' as soon as Brittany said 'go down' screamed, "Brit! Enough! I don't need to hear that!"
She frowned at him. "Is it different with Blaine?"
Kurt sighed. "I haven't had sex with Blaine, remember sweetie? He doesn't think I'm sexy so…no sex."
She frowned harder. "You two should totally have sex."
"Yes, we should."
"Let me get this right. You want to give a performance for the Warblers, in the auditorium, to prove that you have what it takes to help us win Regionals?" Wes asked.
"That's right," chirped Kurt, hoping he could still avoid discussion of what trait it was he was trying to 'prove'.
"Why can't you do it in here?" Wes asked. He thought it was a reasonable question, but for some reason it made Kurt blush. Interesting.
Kurt glanced around the room at all the empty couches. He'd waited until after rehearsal, asking the Council to stay behind so he could make his, admittedly, non-traditional request. "It's too crowded in here. There's, um, dancing." He looked down at his hands. Please say yes. Please say yes. Don't ask any more questions; just say yes.
"Oh." Wes exchanged glances with David and Thad. David just shrugged, and Thad rolled his eyes. Right. It didn't really matter either way, so why not?
"Warbler Kurt, the Council gives you permission. When would you like to hold this performance?"
"Uh," said Kurt, caught off guard by the easy acceptance of his proposal. "Next Friday after classes? It…it should be a closed performance, Warblers only. Though…" Kurt bit his lip; this part was tricky. "Some of my friends from New Directions will be there to…help me set up."
Wes arched an eyebrow. "If this is for Regionals, shouldn't we exclude the competition?"
"It's nothing they haven't seen before," lied Kurt, "so it wouldn't help them in any way." That last part was true, at least. He held his breath.
Wes examined Kurt. For some reason, this was very important to him, and Wes doubted it had anything to do with the Warblers. Well, maybe one Warbler. He sighed. Blaine and Kurt's 'will they, won't they' shit was making him feel like he was stuck in a rom-com. And it gave him a headache. Maybe Kurt was looking to put an end to it in some way. Whatever. Headache.
"Alright," he said. "I'll send a text out to the Warblers."
Kurt looked up at him, beaming. "Thanks, Wes! David! Thad!" He skipped out of the room, ignoring the world-weary and long-suffering sighs and eye-rolls that followed him.
Somehow, Brittany had managed to corral Santana, who had managed to corral Puck, who had managed to corral Mike, Sam and Finn, into helping him. He needed it. The stripper pole was fucking heavy, which he supposed was a good thing, because the last thing he wanted was to get a video sent to Tosh.0 of his skinny ass flying through the air because the thing couldn't handle his weight.
The four football players had lugged the thing into the auditorium and set it up behind the curtain without being seen, which was a miracle in and of itself. They had teased Kurt mercilessly the entire ride over, with the exception of Finn, who just looked like he was going to be sick. As soon as they set it up, Finn bolted, muttering something about little brothers under his breath. In truth, Kurt wished they would all follow his lead, but Brittany and Santana had no intention of leaving, and Puck had settled back into one of the seats in the auditorium with a smirk on his face, clasped his hands behind his head, and said, "This is either going to be an epic fail or an epic win, but either way – it's going to be so awesome!" Mike just shrugged and joined him, while Sam shuffled his feet for a few minutes before taking off to catch Finn. Kurt was backstage getting his makeup on with the help of Brittany and Santana, who paused every once in a while to giggle at him and say things like, 'Way to get your man!' and 'Wanky!' Okay, that was all Santana. He was feeling decidedly nervous about the whole thing. What if he fell? What if he broke one of his ankles because of the ridiculously high heels he was wearing? What if he forgot the routine? He'd spent most of his free time the past week in Brittany's studio, but it was still a worry. But most importantly, what if Blaine didn't think it was sexy? What if he thought it was gauche or boring or pitiful?
"Hey baby," said Brittany, interrupting his increasingly frantic thoughts. "You are my sexy, sexy dolphin. You are going to be fine."
"What she said, Porcelain. Frodo's not going to know what hit him," agreed Santana, and then the most bizarre and horrifying thing happened. She hugged him. Kurt gaped at her, but then she ruined it (or redeemed it, depending on your viewpoint) by adding, "My boy's gonna get his man cherry popped!"
Kurt swatted at her, but her words plunged him into thought. If this worked, that wasn't actually the way he saw it going down. It was entirely the other way, in fact. But what if?… Kurt shook his head. He'd deal with that troll infested bridge if he ever managed to get there. Right now, he had to focus. Calm, sexy, confident. Just breathe, Kurt, just breathe.
Kurt stood in the wings, listening to Brittany introduce him. She was rambling a bit, talking about the dolphin life cycle, but he felt that she was a far better choice to introduce him than Santana, who would probably just address Blaine directly and tell him to get up on that or something.
"…and so, here to show his fellow avians just how sexy he really can be, is Kurt Hummel," finished Brittany, waving her hands in the air. The curtain rose on the stage, empty except for the pole. Kurt peeked out from behind the curtain, waiting for the music to start, and saw looks ranging from confusion (David) to vague comprehension (Wes) to polite interest (Blaine, of course) to sheer, unadulterated glee (Puck) on the audience's faces. Then the beat began, and he pushed their faces out of his head and started his slow strut across the stage. He reached out to the poll, swinging himself around it and jutting out his hips. A few more teasing struts around the poll and he was up, lifting himself with arms and ankles and spinning around rapidly. He felt good. He felt sexy. He felt right.
".God."muttered Wes. "I was so wrong. I thought I was living in a rom-com, but it's really a porno. A gay porno. David? Help?"
David didn't respond. He was staring at Kurt, who was dressed only in a pair of shiny, tight, miniscule, silver shorts, his body covered in silver paint and glitter; he was staring at Kurt, who was spinning and shimmying and thrusting his way around a pole wearing black fuck-me shoes. "David?" Wes whined again.
"Oh god, Wes," he finally responded. "I think I might be a little gay."
"Me too!" wailed Wes. "Hold me!" David punched him lightly on the arm.
"Ow. Blai-ine?" Wes drew out the name in a whine. "Blaine, make Kurt stop; he's making us gay!" Blaine didn't respond. He just fidgeted slightly in his seat, mouth open, eyes fixed on Kurt. Wes smirked slightly; Kurt was a wee bit devious. He liked that in people. Then he turned his eyes back to the stage and decided that no, he definitely did not like Kurt. Kurt was evil. Only evil people would be hanging upside down in a split while spinning slowly and looking incredibly hot. Evil. No question. And then Kurt managed to out-evil his evilness by dropping down to the floor into a split and then crawling around the stage. He was an evil mastermind. He was a supervillain. Wes managed to distract himself by thinking about what kind of supervillian Kurt would be. He'd have a great outfit, that's for sure. Not silver lame shorts, though. That would be too evil. Something fetching, like a parka. Yeah.
Finally, the song ended, and Kurt bounded towards the front of the stage, parts of him that shouldn't be jiggling obscenely, jiggling, well, obscenely. His friend Puck was on his feet, stomping and hollering, "Fuck yeah, Princess!", while his other New Direction friends clapped and hooted. Most of the Warblers were putting their hands together slowly, confusion on some faces, gobsmacked awe on others. Suddenly Wes's vision was blocked and something hard landed on his toe.
"Ow!" he yelled, watching as Blaine, without so much as a 'sorry', stumbled his way out of the isle and fled the auditorium. Great.
He turned to David and said, "Ugh. It just turned back into a rom-com. Seriously, why can't life just be a bad porno – all flimsy plot and athletic sex? Is that too much to ask?"
Kurt watched as Blaine ran from the auditorium. His arms slowly sank to the sides, a weird numb sensation overcoming him. There was a glimmer of some other feeling underneath it, but he couldn't quite place it yet. Puck, Mike, Brittany and Santana climbed up onto the stage with him, while the Warblers all got to their feet and began shuffling around uncertainly. Whatever. He was so over the Warblers. He turned to Brittany, who enveloped him in a soft, loving hug and said, "You were so hot, you gave me a lady-boner." He smiled at her thankfully, if a bit awkwardly. Then Puck was clapping him on the shoulder, saying, "You were beyond hot, Princess. Never thought I'd see the day. You got the little man good. He was squirming around in his seat the whole time." This was followed by Mike, who said, "I've always thought you were hot. If you were at all interested in girls, Tina and I would have invited you in long ago." Then he shrugged and wandered off. Kurt stared after him, his mouth gaping.
"It's always the quiet ones," snarked Santana. "And ditto on that, by the way." She winked at him lasciviously, hooked her pinky into Brittany's and dragged her off the stage, saying, "See ya! We gots to go take care of that lady-boner." Puck followed them, looking hopeful.
Kurt just shook his head at the crazy that was his friends. He still felt numb, but at least he could count on them to bring a smile to his face. He sighed, rubbing his hands through his sweaty hair, and noticed that Wes was walking towards him. The other Warblers were slowly making their way to the exits, a few pausing to give him a thumbs-up or a cocked eyebrow as he made eye contact. Again, whatever.
"So that was interesting. I don't know exactly what you hoped to accomplish with that. Wait, no, actually, I do know, but did you really have to do it so…publicly?" said Wes, peering at him sideways.
"I thought that was how we did things around here," snarked Kurt. "You know, songs about sex toys, pole dances, why not?" He'd finally identified that glimmer of feeling. It was rage. Nice.
"Blaine is… I don't know what Blaine is, actually. He's confusing as hell and always has been. I think maybe he has a multiple personality disorder."
"I know exactly what he is," seethed Kurt. "He's a fucking coward."
"Um," began Wes, but then he stopped because he realized he was talking to air. Kurt was gone.
Blaine Anderson was not having a good day. It had started off well enough. Morning coffee with Kurt, who had been acting all giggly and jumpy and just like the fun, excitable Kurt he lo-liked so much. Then English. Meh. English was boring. So was European History, which came next. But then it was time for Chemistry, which he had with Kurt. Chemistry was awesome. They got to play with tiny little 50 ml flasks. Kurt loved tiny things. Then study hall, which he spent texting Kurt about this play he wanted them to go to this weekend. Then lunch, where Kurt teased him about the amount of calories he consumed on a daily basis. The rest of the day flew by in a haze: Calculus, Latin, Italian, all sans Kurt. Then Warblers' practice, where Kurt was even more giddy and exited than this morning. And then…and then…Oh god.
Blaine was pacing back and forth in his dorm room, muttering furiously at himself. More specifically, at a certain portion of his anatomy that Just! Would! Not! Calm! Down! You are not going to jerk off over Kurt. Not again. You promised. No matter how glittery he was, or how round and firm his ass looked in those shorts, or how long his neck was as he bent over backwards suspended in the air, or how well-endowed you suddenly know he is, or how his muscles bunched and jerked as he lifted himself up on that pole, or how you really, really, really want to lick him from the toes of those impossible black shoes to the tip of his nose, pausing everywhere in between… Stop it! Blaine's hand away flew from the front of his pants, where he'd been grinding his palm without even noticing. He'd done that in the auditorium, too. Oh god, he hoped no one had noticed. It was just, there was Kurt, dancing and looking so unf, and he didn't even realize what he was doing, but then Kurt stopped and Blaine's brain registered the fact that he was practically jerking himself off in a room full of his peers and all he could think of was getting away. Why did Kurt do that? Of course he was sexy! He just made funny faces when he tried to be sexy! He knew that, right? He was so, so, so sexy; it wasn't even fair. Why did his best friend have to be sexy? Really, was the world that unfair? Blaine tried everything he could to distance himself from how entirely lickable his friend was – he wrapped him in notions of adorableness and mentorship and safety and general outofboundsness, but it did no good. He'd practically stopped masturbating, because every time he did, Kurt would appear in his mind's eye, and if he admitted it to himself, he'd been going a little stir crazy of late because he just wanted to get off without the image of his best friend's blue-green eyes staring down at him. But Kurt was seemingly determined on making it worse; there was no way he was ever going to be able to erase the images of today from his brain. His dick was going to shrivel up and die from lack of use.
Blaine flopped backwards onto his bed, propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at his erection. "Go away," he hissed. Then he sank back, staring at the ceiling. "Oh god, just go away!"
"I will not."
Blaine knew he might be delusional, what with all the crazy that had been swarming around in his head lately, but he didn't think he was so far gone as to imagine his penis talking to him in Kurt's voice. That meant…
"K-kurt!" he yelped, springing into a seated position and pulling a pillow onto his lap.
Kurt was standing in his doorway, once more dressed in his Dalton uniform (thank god! though his face was still silvery), scowling at him. Wait, what?
"Yes, Blaine. K-kurt," said Kurt scathingly as he turned and shut the door. Then he locked it, which caused Blaine's heart and brain to do all sorts of weird stuttery and fluttery things.
Kurt strode from the door and stood at the foot of Blaine's bed, hands on his hips and that impressively scary scowl still painting his features.
"I am furious at you, Blaine Anderson. Livid."
"What? Why?" asked Blaine, seriously confused. What could he have possibly done to make Kurt angry at him? Kurt was never angry at him.
"You ran away from me. Again. You've been doing it for months. Every time I got a little too close, you'd just slip away. And I let you. But no more. You are not going to run away from me today. Do you understand?" Kurt's voice was sharp and severe, and deeper than Blaine had ever heard it.
Blaine gaped at him. He really, really didn't understand, but he was suddenly struggling not to rut his hips into the pillow on his lap. He willed his body to stillness and just shook his head at Kurt in bewilderment.
"Get rid of the pillow, Blaine."
Blaine just shook his head harder, panic thrumming through him.
"Get rid of it, Blaine, or so help me Gaga, I will never speak to you again," Kurt gritted through clenched teeth. "I mean it."
Blaine's panic spiked, but then subsided almost instantly. When faced with a choice between shame and losing Kurt, there was no question. He couldn't lose Kurt. He picked up the pillow and dropped it off the side of his bed.
"Come sit at the edge," commanded Kurt. Blaine complied meekly, scooting his ass over his mattress until his legs were dangling over the side. He looked up at Kurt, only to find that Kurt was staring at his crotch and breathing…heavily.
"Is that for me?" he asked, his voice suddenly lighter. Blaine blushed, saying nothing, but feeling the shame wash over him nonetheless. "Answer me, Blaine. Is. That. For. Me?"
"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean…you're just so…I've tried not to…but…I'm so sorry…" Blaine muttered.
To his surprise, Kurt laughed. Admittedly, it was slightly harsh, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "Oh wow, Blaine, there is some seriously messed up shit going on in there, isn't there?" Kurt said, tapping his forefinger against Blaine's temple. "How long have you been trying to keep your hands off me?"
Blaine looked up again. Kurt's eyes were boring into his. Blue-green eyes above him, just like in his head. He sighed. There was no point prevaricating; might as well go with the truth. What a novel concept. "Since I met you."
"You are such an idiot, Blaine. But you know what? Since you've been so determined to keep your hands to yourself, that's just what's going to happen now. You're not allowed to touch me until I tell you you can. Understood?"
"Not really," said Blaine.
"Right. Well, the way I figure it, I already did a pole dance today to get your attention, so I'm going to follow it through to its logical conclusion. Which means – lap dance. But you aren't allowed to touch, or Rocko will beat your ass," said Kurt, rubbing his hands down his belly.
Blaine felt disconnected from reality. Was this really happening? Was it some sort of twisted form of torture? Or was it…? "Who's Rocko?"
"My imaginary bouncer," said Kurt, smirking slightly. "Put your hands flat on the bed and keep them there."
Blaine placed his hands on the bed to the side of and slightly behind his ass. "Why are you doing this, Kurt?"
"Seriously, Blaine? I want you, and apparently you've wanted me since you met me, which is just…urg! So I am going to make it happen. Tonight. But I'm going to torture you a little bit first, because you seriously pissed me off. You made me doubt myself, and I can't let you get away with that." He began loosening his tie.
"I made you what? How?"
"You made me think I wasn't sexy, that you didn't find me sexy, that no one would find me sexy. I'm going to rip you apart, Blaine. I'm going to destroy you."
"Destroy me?" Blaine was panicking again.
"In a good way," smirked Kurt, drawing the tie over his head and tossing it to the floor at Blaine's feet. Then he leaned down, his mouth just brushing against Blaine's ear, and whispered, "I'm going to turn you into a puddle of begging, desperate need, and then, when you can't take anymore, I'm going to fuck you."
Blaine whimpered. Kurt crawled onto his lap, his knees on the bed on either side of Blaine's thighs, his groin hovering a few inches above Blaine's, and looked him straight in the eyes, his face only inches away. "And remember, Blaine, no touching, or there will be consequences." Blaine nodded frantically, his eyes drawn downwards as Kurt began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the skin of his chest that was still covered in glitter and body paint. Kurt undid the last button and spread the shirt away from his chest, then he began rubbing small circles over his exposed skin, smoothing his hands all the way up and down his torso. Blaine watched hungrily, his mouth open, his eyes following the trail of Kurt's hands. Then suddenly Kurt hooked his feet around the backs of Blaine's knees and squeezed tightly, using the leverage he had just created to bend all the way backwards in an arch. His shirt fell from his arms and pooled on the floor, and just as suddenly he was back up again, holding his tie in his hands. He slowly slipped the knot out of the material, his eyes burning into Blaine's the entire time. Then he slung his tie around Blaine's neck and, holding both ends, tugged slightly. Blaine jerked forward just as Kurt rose up on his knees and Blaine found that his face was pressed tight against Kurt's chest, one of his bright pink nipples within easy reach of his mouth. He couldn't help it; he had to lick it. He stuck out his tongue and flicked at the bud, and he felt Kurt's erection dig sharply into his stomach. "That counts as touching, Blaine," groaned Kurt. "Consequences, remember?" And then suddenly Kurt was leaning back into his knees, breaking Blaine's contact with his naked torso and loosening Blaine's own tie swiftly.
"Is undressing me really a consequence, Kurt?" asked Blaine a bit saucily. "I mean, I think it's – oof." Kurt had pulled Blaine's tie up to his mouth and tightened it there, creating a fairly effective gag. Blaine's eyes widened as he swallowed around the fabric in his mouth.
Kurt just smiled sweetly at him. "You were saying?" Then he began undoing Blaine's shirt buttons. "I think undressing you a bit is actually a good idea, but don't think of it as a reward, Blaine. That would be dangerous." He finished with the last button and pulled the fabric of Blaine's shirt down off his shoulders. Blaine started to raise one of his hands to release the sleeve, but Kurt said, "No. Don't move your hands." Blaine froze.
Kurt grabbed hold of the ends of his own tie, which was still dangling around Blaine's neck, and once more pulled Blaine's face flush to his chest as he rose up on his knees. Blaine's right cheek grazed along Kurt's glitter encrusted chest, and Kurt began thrusting his erection lightly into Blaine's belly, the fabric of his trousers and the buckle of his best rasping against Blaine's bare skin. Blaine groaned, his hands digging into the fabric of his duvet as he attempted to keep them still and not bring them around to grasp at Kurt's ass and press him further in. Kurt chuckled lightly and pulled away slightly. Then he leaned down and licked a stripe from Blaine's collar bone to his jaw. Blaine gasped around his gag, his hands jumping slightly before he pressed them back into the mattress. Kurt pulled back even further, then he sprang up from the bed in one smooth motion and backed away from Blaine.
Kurt slowly unbuckled his belt then pulled it smoothly through the loops of his trousers. He held it up for Blaine to see, one eyebrow arched, and then he walked to the bed, carefully skirting Blaine's shaking knees, and placed it on the mattress nearby. "Just in case," he said, causing Blaine's eyes to widen even further. He walked back in front of Blaine, about three feet away, and began undoing his trousers. He slipped them off, revealing the tight silver shorts he'd been wearing on stage, and Blaine groaned, his eyes feeling like they were burning out of their sockets as he stared at the bulge in those shorts. Kurt slipped off his shoes and socks, then his trousers, picked them up off the floor along with his shirt, and carried them over to Blaine's desk, depositing them in his chair. Then he sauntered back in front of Blaine, whose eyes had not left him this entire time.
"I think I'll leave these on for the time being," he said, as he began stroking himself through the silvery fabric of his shorts. Blaine watched his hand move, and he began unconsciously tonguing at his gag, wanting more than anything to taste the erection that Kurt was languidly stroking in front of him. "Scoot further to the edge of the bed, Blaine, but make sure your hands stay in contact with the duvet." Blaine complied, and whimpered slightly as Kurt dropped to his hands and knees and began to slowly crawl towards him. Kurt reached his feet and placed his hands on them and began slowly pushing his palms upwards over Blaine's calves, squeezing his knees and spreading them apart when he reached them, and then smoothing his hands all the way up his thighs as he leaned in. Blaine could feel Kurt's hot breath through his trousers as he ghosted his mouth over Blaine's erection, and once again he struggled not to reach out and hold Kurt's head still, to push it in and grind furiously against his mouth. Kurt continued upwards, his hands gripping the tops of Blaine's thighs, thumbs digging harshly into the crevasse between groin and thigh, as he dragged his open mouth up Blaine's chest, not licking or biting, just letting his lower lip snag against skin. He traced a line all the way up to Blaine's ear, where he finally employed his tongue to lick lightly all around the shell while simultaneously pressing himself flush against Blaine. Blaine felt their erections finally – FINALLY! – rub together and without thought his hands flew from the bed and clutched at Kurt's ass, pressing him in further. Kurt granted him a few thrusts and then chuckled lowly into his ear. "Bad Blaine."
The suddenly he felt his hands being ripped away from Kurt's ass, and Kurt somehow managed to leap behind him, dragging his wrists behind his back and pining them there. He felt the fabric of Kurt's tie slipping from around his neck and then being wound tightly around his wrists. He struggled against this new bond, but the knot was tight, pulling his wrists into each other and drawing his shoulders back. Kurt slinked off the bed and stood in between Blaine's knees. With one finger, he pushed gently at Blaine's chest, indicating that he should lie back. When Blaine didn't comply, Kurt placed both his palms firmly on Blaine's chest and pushed hard. Blaine fell backwards onto his wrists, a sharp pain lancing through his shoulders as his weight settled on his arms. He bent his elbows and the pain subsided, but he was gasping and panting through the gag as Kurt hovered over him and said, "Consequences."
Then Kurt's face disappeared and he felt his hands working at his belt buckle. Blaine moaned and tried to lift his head, but that was awkward with his arms pinned beneath him, so instead he lifted his hips, seeking contact with Kurt's hands. Kurt took advantage of the lift of his hips to slip his trousers down around his knees, and then he pushed Blaine's hips back into the mattress. He pressed his face into the front of Blaine's boxers, nosing his erection and breathing deeply.
"God, Blaine, you smell so good," he muttered. Blaine whined around his gag and thrashed a little, trying to get more contact with Kurt's face, but Kurt pulled away again. He stood up on the bed, feet planted firmly to either side of Blaine's hips. Blaine gazed up at him, his eyes following the dips and curves of Kurt's body, so close but yet so far away. It was like a perspective game, and Blaine felt himself getting dizzy. Then Kurt began to slowly unzip a hidden zipper on the right side of his silver shorts, and Blaine's whining increased in volume and desperation. When the zipper was almost all the way undone, Kurt paused to say, "You like the view?" Blaine nodded emphatically and then whined deeper in his throat as Kurt resumed unzipping. The zipper apparently went all the way down on side of the shorts, because the material suddenly separated away from the right side Kurt's hips, finally exposing him to Blaine's eyes. Kurt pulled lightly at the left side of the shorts, which fluttered softly down from his hip to rest at his ankle. He kicked his left foot slightly and the shorts went flying, but Blaine didn't care to see where because Kurt was standing over him, completely naked except for swirls of silver body paint and glitter. This had to be a dream, right? Or a hallucination? He'd finally snapped from the strain of distancing himself from this beautiful boy, and now his mind was taunting him with images of Kurt dominating him like some ethereally strange, silver sex god, right? He tried to ask, "Are you even real?" but his gag prevented him and all that came out was an undignified mumble. Kurt cocked his head to the side, looking at him curiously. Then he bent down, leaning one knee lightly on Blaine's chest and the other on the bed, and gently pulled down the gag. "What?"
Blaine gasped, wriggling his suddenly free tongue in his mouth, and managed to say, "You can't be real. This has to be some sort of fever dream or something. I've finally lost it, haven't I?"
Kurt grinned at him and said in a wickedly teasing voice, "Aw, I make you doubt your sanity? That's so cute." Then he slipped his knee off Blaine's chest and leaned in close to his face. "I assure you, Blaine, I am very real." He pressed his mouth firmly against Blaine's, causing Blaine to surge forward with as much of his body as he could lift off the mattress. His hips managed to make contact with Kurt's ass, and he moaned desperately into Kurt's mouth. For a brief moment their tongues made contact, twirling around each other, but then Kurt was gone, rising up above him again.
"I don't know, Blaine," he said, smirking. "Your body seems to think I'm real enough." He reached down and began stroking at his erection.
"Oh my god, Kurt, you're driving me crazy," gasped Blaine, shuddering in fascination and lust as he watched Kurt's hands speed up.
"Good," said Kurt simply. "I'm going to come now, because if I fucked you right now, I wouldn't last a minute. But you're not allowed to come until I tell you to, Blaine, or I will punish you. That's what the belt is for."
Blaine shuddered again, his eyes rolling momentarily up into the back of his head, but he brought them back quickly. He had to watch. He could feel a sympathetic tug in his groin each time Kurt's hand jerked upwards, and he knew that if he didn't calm down he would be coming soon regardless of what Kurt wanted. He thought of the belt, and what Kurt might do with the belt, in an attempt to cool himself off, but it didn't work. It just made him feel that much closer. Oh, the things he was finding out about himself today.
Kurt's hand was moving blindingly fast now, his breath coming in short gasps and the muscles in his lower abdomen twitching. Blaine focused his eyes on the head of Kurt's penis as it winked in and out of his fist. The suddenly Kurt collapsed to his knees with a cry and was spilling all over Blaine's stomach. As soon as the liquid touched his skin, Blaine was lost. His vision went white and he came in his boxers.
When color returned to the world Blaine gasped out, "Oh my god, you are a dream. You're a fucking wet dream!" Kurt, panting slightly, looked at him quizzically. "I just came without you even touching me, Kurt. I guess you're going to have to punish me." He tried, and failed, to not make his voice sound too eager.
Kurt leaned back onto Blaine's knees, inspecting the dark patch spreading over the front of his boxers. "Oh. Wow," he said, and then he giggled, an awed expression on his face, and he was suddenly Blaine's Kurt again, not a bizarre silver sex god. Blaine felt a wave of affection steal over him. This was real; this was happening. Blaine had never been more thankful for anything in his life.
"I love you," he whispered.
Kurt's head whipped up, eyes flying like an arrow to Blaine's. Their gazes remained locked for a few long moments. Then Kurt crawled up Blaine's body and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "I love you, too," he breathed. They kissed languorously for a few minutes, and then Kurt pulled back, pressing his forehead against Blaine's. "God, Blaine, you make it so hard to stay angry at you."
Blaine smiled dopily and said, "Well, I'm sure I've done enough crazy, idiotic things that you can find something to fuel the anger. I still need to be punished, remember?"
"And fucked," whispered Kurt in a low voice.
Blaine groaned, already getting hard again. "Oh yes, that too. Please get angry again," he whined.
Kurt laughed and pressed their lips together swiftly. Then he sat back on Blaine's knees again and said, "Well, I do have a lot of fuel. A certain drunk make-out session with a pint-sized diva comes to mind, which would be bad enough, but then you followed it up by trying to date her. One of my friends. Sort of. In what code is that okay? What was going on there?"
"Basically a desperate desire to be interested in anyone but you," replied Blaine.
"Yeah, that's more than mildly irritating," growled Kurt, swatting Blaine on the chest. Blaine grinned happily.
"Oh, so now you're smiling about it? Do you know how it made me feel, that the one gay guy I knew, not to mention the guy that I loved, would rather kiss a girl than me?" Kurt hissed.
"No," said Blaine dreamily. "Why don't you show me?"
Kurt suddenly yanked Blaine upwards by his tie, which was still dangling around his next after he'd stopped using it as a gag. He kissed him savagely and then reached around his body, nimble fingers quickly untying Blaine's wrists. Once he was free, Kurt shoved him back down onto the bed and growled, "Turn over." Blaine complied happily, rolling his shoulders to get some feeling back into them. "Arms over your head," Kurt commanded. When Blaine had stretched out his arms, Kurt moved up his body and tied his right wrist to the bed frame. Then he paused and said, "I need something for the other one."
"Use my tie," suggested Blaine.
"No. I want to keep that there in case I need to gag you again. Or…"
"Or?" Blaine's heart thrummed in his chest.
"Or choke you," spat out Kurt.
"Oh god," groaned Blaine, shivers running down his spine. "Top drawer, on the left. Lots of ties," he managed to gasp out.
Kurt was off the bed in an instant, rummaging through Blaine's drawers. Blaine watched him, his head turned to the side. Kurt returned, holding a scarlet and gold tie in his hand. "A Gryffindor tie, Blaine? Really?"
Blaine shrugged as well as he could with one arm tied to the bed.
"Your dorkiness is adorable," smiled Kurt condescendingly as he leapt back onto the bed. He tied Blaine's other wrist up, smirking fondly. Then he swore. "Blaine, say something irritating."
"Yeah, that works," sighed Kurt happily, and then he smacked Blaine's bottom hard. "I can work with naïve, moronic, and slightly Hallmarkish advice that leads to sexual assault." He smacked him again. Blaine groaned and ground his hips into the mattress.
"Lift your hips," Kurt commanded. Blaine raised them up and was rewarded by Kurt sliding his boxers down to join his trousers, which were still twisted around his knees. Kurt remedied that quickly, divesting Blaine of the rest of his clothing. "Oh wow, Blaine, your ass is perfect," he breathed. He reached out and began kneading both cheeks roughly, pressing Blaine's erection into the mattress.
"Hmm. That's no good. Hips up off the bed, Blaine. You get punished every time you make contact, okay?"
"That's not really the best motivation," snarked Blaine as he lifted his hips slightly.
"Oh, I'll make sure it is," said Kurt darkly, and then he smacked him viciously. Blaine yelped and tried not to press down. "So red," Kurt murmured, and then Blaine felt his lips ghosting over the spot he'd just slapped. The lips were suddenly replaced by teeth. Kurt bit down hard on the soft flesh of Blaine's ass, and Blaine couldn't help surging into the mattress with a moan.
"Not hard enough, I guess," said Kurt. Blaine heard a tinkling sound that he identified as Kurt's belt buckle, and then Kurt was hovering over his face, showing the belt to him. He doubled it up and then slapped the leather against itself. The sharp sound sent waves of anticipation through Blaine's body. "I want you to tuck your knees under yourself, Blaine, so your ass is high in the air. Do that for me, okay?"
Blaine's body was shaking slightly as he pulled his knees up. He looked like he was in some bizarrely sexual version of child's pose.
"Good," said Kurt, and then he disappeared from Blaine's view. Blaine felt him rub his hand soothingly over both cheeks and then he brought the belt down. The sharp, stinging pain combined with the piercing sound of leather hitting skin caused Blaine to scream and writhe against his bonds. Kurt followed it up with another, and Blaine felt tears start to pour down his cheeks.
"Too much?" asked Kurt suddenly, obvious concern in his voice.
"Not yet," gasped Blaine. "I-I'll let you know."
"Ha," deadpanned Kurt, and then he hit him again. He started a steady rhythm of blows, interspersed with his hands soothing the redness on Blaine's cheeks, and Blaine felt himself falling apart. His screams became shorter and steadily higher pitched, until he was reaching registers he was sure Kurt would be jealous of. After about ten blows, it was becoming too much. His mind felt displaced, though, and it took him the space of two more blows to remember the word, "C-aaah! Courage!" he yelped.
Kurt tossed the belt to the floor and began pressing soothing kisses all along Blaine's raw backside, following the kisses with his palms, kneading the pain out of Blaine. Then he flicked his tongue over Blaine's entrance and Blaine felt the pain in his ass meld with a warm sensation that traveled outwards from his sensitive hole. He whimpered slightly, and then sighed as Kurt's tongue pushed inwards, probing, wriggling, stretching gently.
"Oh, you taste so good," murmured Kurt, pressing a kiss to Blaine's hole before continuing his explorations. He stiffened his tongue and pressed it in as deep as he could. Blaine trashed slightly, not enough to dislodge Kurt, and began panting out "Oh!" with each exhalation of his rapidly increasing breath. Kurt began to fuck Blaine with his tongue, plunging it in and out of him with swift, wet thrusts.
"Oh my god, Kurt," Blaine managed to moan. "Please fuck me. I'm so – ah!"
Kurt pulled back. "Lube? Condoms?" he asked breathlessly.
"Bottom drawer," gasped Blaine. "But we're both…we're both virgins. Could you?..."
Kurt, who had once again leapt from the bed to rifle through Blaine's drawers, paused. "Bareback you?"
"Ngffn," whined Blaine, pressing his face into the mattress.
"I don't know, Blaine, we wouldn't want you to end up like Harry," said Kurt in a teasing voice.
"Huh?" It was enough of a non-sequitur to pull Blaine out of his mindless lust.
"Nothing. Just something Brittany said. Baby dolphins and all that," said Kurt as he strolled slowly back to the bed.
"One, I'm really confused, and two, you're talking about Brittany? Now?" whined Blaine.
"Hmmm. Just trying to pull you back a bit. Don't want you to come the instant I get inside you," said Kurt and then – "With nothing between us."
Blaine groaned and muttered, "Thank you, god!" into the mattress.
Kurt crawled back onto the bed behind Blaine, who heard the snick of the bottle of lube being opened and a small, slippery sound that he assumed was Kurt rubbing some on his fingers. He shivered.
"Hey Blaine," said Kurt conversationally.
"I'm kinda nervous about this and I don't want… You'll tell me if I hurt you, right?"
"Of course," assured Blaine. "But I know you'll do great. You've taken to this whole sex thing like a duck to water."
"Like a dolphin to water," Kurt corrected him.
Kurt just chuckled and began teasing Blaine's hole with his right index finger. Blaine's mind threw out all questions of Kurt sudden obsession with aquatic mammals as he focused in on the finger that slowly, so slowly, slipped inside of him. He let out a satisfied sigh, feeling hardly any pain thanks to Kurt's earlier tongue work. The finger pressed deeper, deeper, and then it hooked and Blaine's sigh turned into a keening moan. Kurt began to rhythmically pump and curl his finger, listening intently as Blaine's moans matched his movements. He was just thinking about adding another finger, when Blaine moaned out, "More!" Kurt smiled at this synchronicity and pushed his middle finger in alongside his index. Blaine hissed slightly but soon returned to moaning in time with Kurt's thrusts. Kurt's body began to shiver and twitch, and he added a third finger, suddenly intent on speeding things along. Blaine keened at the intrusion but quickly began to shift his hips back into Kurt's hand, forcing Kurt to speed up his thrusts.
"Oh god, Kurt, stop, please! Get inside me!" whined Blaine, his thighs twitching with tension. Kurt pulled his hand out.
"Blaine, I want you to hold onto the slats of the bed board," he said. Blaine reached out his hands and gripped the slats, inching his way upwards until his back was perpendicular to the bed, his knees still tucked beneath him. Kurt reached forward and pulled on the ends of Blaine's tie, which were dangling down his front, and twisted them around so that they were lying on his back. He smoothed his hand along them, making sure they would stay there until he was ready to use them. This little bit of preparation made Blaine's mind go completely blank, but he was shocked from his stupor by the feeling of Kurt lining himself up against his entrance.
Kurt pushed in slowly, holding on to Blaine's hips to keep him from moving. After what seemed to be an impossibly long time to Blaine, whose entire being was focused on the creeping slide of Kurt entering him, Kurt's hips made contact with the globes of Blaine's ass. His mind swimming with fullness and want, Blaine pressed back hard into those hips, causing a jerk and a startled yelp from Kurt, who had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply to control himself. "Fuck," he groaned. "So tight."
"Ride me, Kurt. Fuck me hard," begged Blaine, pushing back again. He felt Kurt let his control go, pulling out of him and slamming back in. He focused on the rasp of Kurt's head against the incredibly sensitive muscles right near his entrance, the slide of Kurt's shaft on the upthrust, and the sudden pressure as Kurt slammed into his prostate. He was lost, out to sea on the sensations of Kurt moving within him more and more rapidly. His entire existence was slowly circling down into the pit of his belly, warm and tight, and then he felt a tug on his neck, and his breath left his body.
Kurt pulled back on the tie, not too hard, but enough to constrict Blaine's windpipe as he geared up for his final few thrusts. As he came, spilling himself deep into Blaine's body, he tugged more sharply and heard Blaine's throat emit a dry, coughing scream. And then he was gone.
Blaine was drowning in blackness and euphoria, no longer even conscious of the body behind him or the tightness around his throat. His body convulsed, collapsing together with his mind. He was wrecked, destroyed, separated from everything he had ever been. He floated in this non-existence for several long moments, and then he was suddenly slammed back into consciousness by the press of Kurt's lips against his own. Kurt was fumbling with the ties on his wrists, pressing swift kisses to his lips and murmuring, "Come back to me, Blaine. Come back."
Blaine wrapped his suddenly freed arms around Kurt, pulling him close to his chest. "Oh Kurt, I love you so much. Can you be angry at me every day?"
"Probably," sighed Kurt, nuzzling into him. They drifted off into sleep.
Wes sighed happily, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Best gay porn ever!"
"I feel so dirty," said David, leaning his head back against the wall.
"Why? We always watch porn together," said Wes as another piece of popcorn flew through the air.
"First off, we didn't watch anything. We just listened. Second, they're our friends. Third, we don't watch gay porn," David huffed.
"Well, we couldn't really help it, could we? They're right next door, and they are seriously loud. And you better get used to it because I have the feeling it's going to be happening often." Wes smiled again, humming happily as he threw a piece of popcorn at David's head.
"Why are you so pleased about this? It's a bit creepy," said David, rubbing at the butter stain on his forehead.
"I hate romantic comedies," he explained. "They're so insipid. This way, whenever they start making eyes at each other and sighing dramatically, I can remind them that I heard them have incredibly rough sex. It's all about the blackmail."
"Hmmm, just so long as they don't find out about this," said David, gesturing down at their naked bodies. "Blackmail goes both ways."
"Whatever, there's nothing weird about two straight guys jerking off to porn. It's not gay at all."
AN: Review, and tell me which one-shot you liked more! And why! I'm not a mind-reader, people!