DISCLAIMER: Don't own any characters in this story. FOX does. Appropriate title is appropriate: this is my first time writing Klaine. Hope you enjoy!

The first time is supposed to be ridiculously romantic, full of Marvin Gaye or Barry White, rose petals strewn about the duvet and floor, sticking to sweaty bodies and finding their way into the folds of discarded clothes like the silk-smooth nuisances they are. Votive candles should be casting a flickering light along the walls, their flames burning bright white and orange, wafting around a soft vanilla-meets-sandalwood scent. No sound should be higher than mezzo piano, no touch rougher than a loving caress.

It should be the textbook definition of perfect, but it's not.

Kurt finds himself wondering how he got into this situation-with Blaine, nonetheless-but he really, honestly can't find himself to be bothered by it at all. His lips still burn with that first kiss and its "more amazing than amazing" follow-up, and his suggestive remark about practising had somehow led them into this—gloriously, thankfully—unused classroom.

The door had not been locked, not even haphazardly, like they both didn't care. And with the ferocity they locked lips, it was clear that caring about anything other than the now was the farthest thing from their minds. Blaine's Dalton blazer was already discarded, his tie hanging loose and the first few buttons of his regulation button-up undone. Kurt isn't sure of he did that, or if Blaine was actually that eager. A small groan rumbles at the back of his throat and his cock twitches in his slacks at the thought that hecould make the usually-composed Blaine Anderson so greedy and anxious.

He pulls away with a breathy "Blaine," on his lips, pleading as he fists his hands into Blaine's shirt. Blaine's lips find his again, the sharp edge of teeth nipping at tender skin. "Yes," he replies, not a question, and one of his hands finds Kurt's hair and tugs. Kurt gasps, stutters out, "Oh god, want you. Want you," and very nearly tears away every button left on Blaine's shirt in his haste to expose even more of that mocha skin.

Kurt's jacket is gone in a matter of seconds, hands pulling roughly at his tie and shirt until he swats them away and hisses something about silk being a delicate fabric, to which Blaine just laughs and goes back to undoing the buttons—tenderly this time—and sliding the shirt over Kurt's smooth, pale shoulders, tie whisking softly over the skin of his throat as it's tossed off to the side.

Bare skin pressed to bare skin, Kurt has never felt so connected to anyone this way before. No clothes covering their torsos, every perfect imperfection out in the open and Kurt can't help but to touch, lay his fingers on Blaine's shoulder and trace his arm down to the wrist before pulling back, tongue on his lips in concentration.

His gray-green eyes flicker upwards and he finds Blaine staring intently at him. Without breaking eye contact Kurt searches for the waistband of Blaine's slacks and, when he finds it, undoes the button with a sense of surety that's only betrayed by his trembling fingertips. He feels Blaine's stomach tighten and the muscles ripple when his knuckles brush against his lower abdomen.

Kurt can feel the heat of Blaine's cock before he even touches the material of his briefs. It's delicious and exciting and Kurt can't help but flatten his palm along the outline, rubbing experimentally while marvelling at the pure strangeness of having someone's cock that's not his own at his fingertips. Blaine lets out a small moan and pushes his hips up slightly towards Kurt's hand.

"God, Blaine, you feel so… so amazing," Kurt breathes with something akin to reverence in his voice. By now they're pushed up against the wall, Blaine's shoulders pressed to the cool plaster, Kurt's fingers working the waistband of his slacks down until Blaine can step out of them and kick them away.

Mouth slightly open, he leans forward and grabs the back of Kurt's neck to bring him into a fierce kiss full of heavy breathing and the slip-slide of tongues. Blaine brings a hand between them, rubs the heel of his palm against the heated bulge in Kurt's own slacks. He flips their positions, Kurt's shoulders now pressing against the wall as they kiss.

"Gotta get you out of these," he says as he begins sliding the zipper down slowly, each clink setting Kurt more on edge. Blaine's fingers are hot against Kurt's skin, sliding like liquid metal down his thighs, calves, as his slacks fall to his feet, fingertips palpating the strong lines of Kurt's toned calves.

There should be more shame in standing in an unlocked classroom clad in nothing but his Calvin briefs, and Kurt would maybe feel some of that if Blaine hadn't decided to go the bold route and slip his hand inside those briefs to grasp Kurt's embarrassingly hard cock in his hand.

"Oh," Kurt gasps, his hips jerking violently as his head falls back. Blaine takes this opportunity to flip their positions, using his free hand to slowly inch Kurt's briefs down. His lips are on Kurt's neck, thumb sliding across those lips, and he breathes against pale skin, "Didn't expect that, did you?" as he sucks a light mark onto Kurt's neck, ignoring the half-hearted protests of now I'm going to have to wear scarves, Blaine, and I didn't bring that many and you'd better hope the uniform can cover thisthat come out in between gasps and needy little groans.

There's not enough coherent thought in Kurt's head right now but he manages to nod stiffly and tangle his fingers in Blaine's dark, curly hair, tugging gently at first and then harder at the moan it elicits. Blaine presses himself against Kurt's thigh, erection a hot, heavy weight that stirs a primal instinct in the countertenor and suddenly Blaine is flipped back against the wall, briefs down mid-thigh, and Kurt is hurriedly working his own down and off.

"Jesus, Kurt," Blaine says, words half-hidden in a gasp. Before he can take a full breath Kurt is kissing him, rough and wet, teeth clinking as they awkwardly shift angles, tongues sweet and wet as they dart between lips to disappear into open mouths. Kurt pushes his hips up and against Blaine's, hides his moan into Blaine's clavicle when their cocks rub together, not enough and too much all at once.

Kurt's tongue rolls down Blaine's chest, around his nipples until the other boy is squirming and whimpering above him, hands fisted into Kurt's hair. Knees hit floor with a resolute clunk, and suddenly Kurt realises that this is really happening. He's really on his knees for Blaine Anderson in an abandoned classroom, other students just on the opposite sides of the walls, and he doesn't care. Coquettishly he looks up at Blaine with half-raised lids, right hand stroking absent pattern on those strong thighs.

Blaine sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, breath bated in anticipation. Kurt wraps a hand around Blaine's cock, swallows nervously and wets his lips before he leans forward, tongue laving over the hot, slick head. Blaine lets out a tiny groan at the first slide into Kurt's mouth, hips itching to buck forward, but all he does is pet along Kurt's dark hair, eyes closed as he leans his head back against the wall.

It's quiet in the room save for the muffled sounds from neighbouring classrooms and the wet noises as Kurt takes more of Blaine into his mouth, hand just this side of tight. The sight of those pink, pink lips stretched around his cock makes Blaine moan desperately and he can't stop himself from saying, "Kurt, I want—need—you to be inside me." As he's saying this Kurt uses his free hand to slide past his balls, pushing a thumb in small circles against his perineum. Blaine chokes out a guttural moan, jerking into the touch.

One of Kurt's eyebrows arches delicately and he licks one last stripe up the underside of Blaine's cock before he pulls back. "I didn't think that this is how our first time would go."

"What, me being a big nelly bottom?"

Kurt laughs and stands up, shaking his head. "Never," he says as he rests his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "I was thinking more along the lines that we'd actually have sex in an abandoned classroom like it's some stupid high school movie. Not that I'm really complaining."

"Oh, well, in that case," Blaine says as he presses himself up against Kurt, "let's embody every stupid teen movie that we can think of." Kurt makes a small noise at the sudden friction and his fingers are all but raking down Blaine's torso. His slacks are god-knows-where in the room, which is beyond inconvenient since his convenient condom is in one of those pockets. He can't help the small groan of frustration that Blaine mistakes as one of pleasure.

"Baby, baby—ahh," Kurt hisses as sharp teeth nip at the smooth flesh of his neck. "Not one of pleasure, Blaine. The condom's in my pants. And I don't know where they are."

Blaine doesn't even bat an eye, but his face crumples slightly. "You don't have lube?"

Kurt's the one that bats an eye. "What? No, of course I don't. But that's not the problem here."

"But you have a condom?"

"Well, I—yes, I have one."

"And no lube."

Kurt drops his jaw slightly, incredulous. "Is that really your main concern right now? Not our temporary lack of protection, but complete lack of lubrication?" In the dim light he can see that Blaine is wholly unfazed as he nods his assent, and even though Kurt's frustration is mounting he can't help but be so, so attracted to the way Blaine's dark hair falls in curls, released for once from its gel.

"You know, I never actually intended to use the condom," Kurt says, trying to defend himself as he twists his neck to look for his lost slacks. "It was more of a Boy Scout thing. Just in case I ever ended up in a dark classroom after being passionately kissed by someone who I thought had zero sexual interest in me." He finally spots them ten or so feet away in a crumpled heap and he's over there and back into Blaine's embrace in a flash, wrapper daintily held like a cigarette between his index and middle fingers.

Blaine picks up on the biting sarcasm at the end of Kurt's monologue. "Oh, come off it. It's not like you don't love the situation right now," he practically purrs as he slinks a hand down to lightly rub at the head of Kurt's cock. Kurt moans a begrudging yes as he tears the wrapper off the condom, swatting Blaine's hand away so that he can roll it on.

Two fingers probe at Blaine's lips before they're granted entrance and are promptly lavished thoroughly with Blaine's warm tongue. It takes a good minute or two before Kurt can gather the muscle strength to pull his fingers back, and he can't help the wanton moan at the way Blaine chases after the digits, tongue lapping kittenishly until they're too far out of reach.

"Spread your legs," Kurt says, voice dark and smoky, and Blaine doesn't hesitate. Even though he can barely see, Kurt makes out the faint outlines of sinewy muscles just under the surface of Blaine's dark skin as they flex. As his fingers probe at Blaine's hole, Kurt captures their lips together in the most passionate kiss he can manage, but it still doesn't stop Blaine from wincing slightly and tensing up as Kurt's index finger breaches up to the first knuckle.

"Shh," Kurt whispers against his full lips, free hand tracing light, ghostly shapes down one of Blaine's arms. "Just relax, baby. Relax for me and I'll make it so, so good."

"You'd better," Blaine gasps, the threat non-threatening in his thready voice. His eyes slip closed, mouth fallen open in a slight O as Kurt slides the rest of his index finger in. It doesn't take much after that for Kurt to slip his middle finger in and Blaine's hips to begin meeting each thrust unconsciously and god he's so wrecked, skin flushed and chest heaving, nonstop litanies spilling from his lips as Kurt crooks his fingers, feeling around for that little bundle of nerves and he isn't disappointed when Blaine's back arches sharply and his scream is only cut off by his teeth on his bottom lip.

Kurt begins to go for a third finger when Blaine grabs his wrist tightly and shakes his head. "Just fuck me now," he pleads, cheeks tinged pink with arousal, and Kurt can't help but to acquiesce. Scrunching up his nose, Kurt spits into his palm and strokes his cock, looking apologetically at Blaine all the while.

"Legs around my waist," he says, and when Blaine raises an eyebrow Kurt adds, "I'm not a porcelain doll. Just do it." Using one hand to support his weight against the wall, Kurt uses the other to guide his cock in. Once Blaine's legs are securely around his waist Kurt holds onto them as he slowly inches his way in.

"Too much?" he asks softly against Blaine's cheek. His answer is a terse no, but Kurt knows that if he stops now Blaine will only continue to urge him on quicker. When he gets fully in to the hilt, Blaine's quivering like a live bundle of wires under Kurt's hands, ankles locked almost too tightly behind Kurt's back.

Kurt wants to wait, he fully intends to because the absolute last thing he wants to do is hurt his boyfriend during their first time, but when he stills for longer than thirty seconds Blaine's urging him on with a heated, "Fuck just move already, Kurt," and Kurt's only human—he gets those beautiful swears from Blaine only when he's really turned on, and fucking is what was intended.

So he draws back, fingers digging into Blaine's thighs, nails making little crescent moons, and thrusts back in, and the slide is so tight and good and he groans, lower than normal for him, as Blaine grips his shoulders and breathes out sharply.

"You like that?" Kurt asks as he pushes back in at a different angle. "You like me fucking you against a wall in our school?" He captures Blaine's lips with his own, and they're too uncoordinated, and Blaine accidentally bites down on Kurt's lip harder than intended when Kurt finds his prostate, but Kurt relishes in the way he's coming undone underneath his very palms.

"God, Kurt," Blaine pants as he tangles a hand in Kurt's hair, and when he moans out, "So close," Kurt can't help but feel bad at leaving Blaine's cock unattended. He feels it hard and slick and hot against their stomachs on every upward thrust, but he doesn't want to let go, not yet.

"Hold on," Kurt gasps as he feels his orgasm building. "Don't come yet. Wait, wait."

He comes not long after that, Blaine's name heated on his lips, and slides out as gently as possible. Blaine still winces, but he's also trembling with arousal and the desire to get off, and Kurt doesn't even bother with the condom before he's dropping to his knees and taking Blaine's cock into his mouth.

Blaine's hips jerk and Kurt does his best to tamp down his gag reflex and loosen his jaw, giving permission. Blaine stills, just for a second, and once he realises what Kurt is offering he takes it, fucking his mouth as gently as he can. When Blaine chokes out, "'M gonna come…" Kurt pulls back, jerking Blaine through his orgasm as he shoots over Kurt's lips and chin.

Kurt stands up, in quest of a tissue, but Blaine grabs his arm and pulls him close. They lock eyes briefly before Blaine is kissing him, licking his come off Kurt's lips before moving down to his chin. Kurt clutches uselessly at his back, murmuring, "You kinky bastard." He receives a warm laugh in response, pulling back just in time to see that wonderfully goofy grin that's so characteristically Blaine.

Kurt cards his fingers through Blaine's curly hair, stretches his lips in a sated smile, and says, "We really did it."

Blaine nods and strokes his thumb down Kurt's cheek. "We did. It was surprisingly fantastic for being in a dark classroom with no lube." He winces slightly when he moves to grab his discarded clothes.

Kurt, watching him from the wall, says, "I guess we're gonna have to explain to Wes why your dancing isn't up to par at practice tomorrow."

Slacks and briefs on, Blaine walks back over to Kurt and says, "We'll just have to tell him that we got some practising of our own in," before kissing him soundly, hand resting gently on the smooth curve of Kurt's hip.

They're both late for their next class.