Disclaimer:: I do not own Glee or any of it's recognizable characters or plot lines.
Warnings: Smut, mild outfit spoilers?
Summary: Blaine has mixed emotions about Kurt's kilt.
If there was one thing Blaine was not expecting when Kurt told him that he would be surprised by his outfit for prom, it was definitely not a kilt. A sequined jacket, maybe tux trousers with a pink stripe down the side. But this. This was unbelievable. There had never been a moment in his life before when he had been so simultaneously enraged and turned on. Kurt was going to either get them harassed beyond belief or kill Blaine by causing all the blood to leave other less vital organs in its haste to get to his cock. Which was not painfully hard while he was sitting on the couch in Kurt's family room while he waited for Burt Hummel to come back with the camera, nope not at all. If Blaine survived the next twenty minutes, he was going to kill Kurt himself.
"Blaine can you come up to my room for a second?" Kurt asked innocently, even though he was staring right at Blaine like he knew, like he fucking knew and was enjoying it. Blaine jumped off the couch and bounded up the stairs before Kurt had even turned to Finn to excuse them. He leaned against the wall and pressed the heel of his hand to his crotch, trying to will away his erection.
"Fuck," he hissed. Closing his eyes did nothing to help. Instead he was greeted with the image of Kurt's legs in tight black pants, spinning to show off his kilt and, inadvertently, the perfect curve of his ass. It was burned into his retinas, seared there for eternity. He could practically picture him naked, the fabric was clinging so tightly. Shit, no, that was not where he wanted his thoughts to go!
"You look positively obscene," Kurt said, suddenly in front of him and very, very close.
"You're a sadistic little-"
"Like you actually hate it."
"Come here," Kurt pulled on his hands and led him to the desk. "Sit." Blaine sat, groaning as his trousers shifted and tightened. Kurt sank jerkily to his knees, running his hands up Blaine's thighs. When they reached the button of his trousers, Blaine suddenly realized what was going on and jerked away.
"What are you doing! Your parents are-"
"Blaine just shut up and let me do this," Kurt snapped.
"You don't have to it'll go away, really," Blaine pleaded, looking desperately at the door.
"You think my dad didn't sound proof this room when I moved in? He did it for my singing, but I'm not going to say I didn't ask him to do it with some ulterior motives in mind," Kurt said, flicking open the button and pulling down the zip in a practiced way that had Blaine gasping. His hips stuttered up off the chair as he tried to hold back.
"We weren't even dating when-"
"A boy can dream, Blaine. And I have been, so sit back and enjoy this. None of the other guys will have gotten some from their dates before prom. Everything is always after for straight people. I never did understand that," And then he was sliding his hand past the elastic of his boxer briefs and Blaine could only respond in a broken sort of moan.
Kurt Hummel, declared sex-phobic romantic, had his hand around Blaine's cock. This was certainly a new development. He gave it an experimental stroke, lightly and hesitantly. When Blaine moaned he seemed encouraged and gave it another try, harder. Kurt said something. Blaine knew he was supposed to be replying but he just stared dumbly down at his boyfriend between his legs, mouth poised just inches from the head of his dick.
"Guh?" he managed.
"I'll take it," Kurt whispered and then - holy fuck. This was a completely new sort of development all together, one Blaine barely even dared to fantasize about. Kurt bobbed his head, a few inches of Blaine's cock disappearing into his mouth and coming back out shiny with spit. Blaine had to reach down and squeeze roughly at the base of his shaft to stave off the boiling feeling that was starting all too soon.
"Kurt, no, what are - oh god, please," He mumbled, still trying to keep quiet. Blaine was sure that the room actually was soundproofed, but he didn't doubt Burt Hummel's resourcefulness in protecting his sons virtue and suspected some sort of sabotage. Kurt ran his tongue gently over the tip, collecting the beads of precome already dripping out.
"You know," he said, pulling away completely and making Blaine whimper, "this doesn't taste as terrible as I expected. It's kind of like when I get moisturizer in my mouth on accident. Saltier definitely, warmer obviously, but not as weird as people say."
"Can we stop analyzing what my sperm taste like and just-"
"Right, yes," Kurt replied, taking Blaine's cock in hand once more and going back enthusiastically sucking it like it was his job, putting his tongue to perfect use and dragging it up the underside with each pull up. It was wetter than Blaine thought it was supposed to be; Kurt kept pausing to wipe his chin or make sure nothing was dripping on Blaine's trousers. He tried to find a place for his hands but they kept drifting back to Kurt's shoulders. They brushed the hair at the nape of his neck and Kurt pulled off again.
"Touch my hair and I'll tie your hands up," he growled, actually growled. Blaine's dick gave a jerk of interest and Kurt's eyes lit up with a smirk. "Really now?" But he did nothing but part his lips once again and slide them slowly over the head, eyes locked teasingly with Blaine's.
Blaine had to grip the arm rests so tightly he thought that he would snap them off to keep from shouting. The sight of Kurt's lips stretched around him, redder than usual, slick with saliva and more… Blaine would have given his car for the scene to last even just a few moments longer. But all too soon he felt the boiling pressure surge back and tried to pull Kurt away, shoved at his shoulders and even risked a hand to his hair - he earned a harsh slap to his thigh - before coming around to the idea that Kurt wasn't going to stop.
Blaine cried out then, as the idea hit him, tried to stifle it, and just ended up keening high in the back of his throat. Kurt wrapped his other free hand around the last bit of space. The complete pressure all over, the wet heat, put him over the tipping point and he was coming. He stared down and watched, half removed from his own body, as his hips bucked and twitched into Kurt's mouth and he just took it, just moved gently back to avoid choking and kept on sucking.
Blaine came back to himself a moment later when Kurt was tucking his dick away and zipping up his trousers again. He was sure that nothing that he could have come up with, ever in his entire life, would have compared to this. He'd fantasized about taking a boy to prom in the objective sense of liking most school dances and liking boys. But this, being with a boy this amazing and gorgeous, who had just moved past his hesitations about physical intimacy to suck Blaine off with his family downstairs on one of the most important nights of his teenage life… It was incredible. Kurt stood up, his knees popping, and stood before Blaine a little awkwardly, legs spread apart further than - Oh.
"Do you want me to-"
"No, no, don't worry about it."
"Blaine, I got off three times today thinking about you in this perfectly tailored jacket, the way it fits your shoulders, dips in just so at your hips. I think if I tried again right now it would fall off," Kurt whispered, reaching up to draw his fingers over Blaine's cheeks and then smoothing over a few curls that had somehow escaped their prison. "Plus the pants I'm wearing under this kilt are too tight for much blood flow if you know what I mean."
"I'm going to brush my teeth, fix your hair and change your tie."
"But this tie matches perfectly! You said so yourself!"
"No it doesn't, I lied. The one in the box on my dresser does though," Kurt called, running the water. Blaine gaped at him through the doorway.
"Did you have this planned?" He asked, voice strangled and high pitched.
"Simply put? Yes, I did," Kurt smirked at him before sticking the toothbrush in his mouth and Blaine had to leave before his mind went anywhere it wasn't supposed to again. The box was resting on a neatly coiled black leather belt, beside which there was a trial size of his favorite gel. He chuckled at himself. He should have known something was up when Kurt told him that the trousers were impeccably tailored and a belt would just over accessorize the look. He had just been too happy to not have to wear one. He was struggling with the slippery fabric of the tie when Kurt came back out, looking as poised as ever.
"You really are hopeless, you know that," Kurt asked with feigned frustration. Blaine dropped his hands and let Kurt tie the knot for him. He leaned in when Kurt was done and pressed a kiss gently to his lips.
"You're amazing. No matter what happens tonight, know I love you," He whispered. Kurt's breath audibly hitched. "It's not because of what you just did. I was going to tell you during our first slow dance."
"I would have cried, you know."
"I do. I may have a sadistic streak myself," Blaine smirked. Kurt laughed and kissed him again, smoothing down the tie between them. Blaine pulled back a moment later, wary of bruising Kurt's lips any more.
"Wait, why - did you," Blaine gestured from his lips to Kurt's which were decidedly not as red and bruised.
"Anti-inflammatory gel has been the secret of many trumpet players to soothe puffy skin after long concerts," Kurt replied, popping his lips before breaking out into a wild grin.
"You really did have this planned from start to finish," Blaine said in wonder.
"Have you ever known me to go into something without a game plan?" Kurt laughed again and took Blaine's hand before leaning in closely. "I love you too, Blaine Anderson." And then he promptly dragged him from the room and down the stairs.
"What took you two so long?" Burt asked grumpily when they reached the family room again, frowning in suspicion.
"I made Blaine change his tie," Kurt replied breezily. He slid perfectly into position in front of the fire place and struck a pose. Blaine stood there stupidly for a moment, mind still caught up on the fact that Kurt had said it back before he realized that he was supposed to be standing beside his boyfriend. He moved, muttering awkward apologies.
"It doesn't look any different," Burt said.
"Don't be silly, this one a full half centimeter thinner," Kurt said, disgusted as if he were telling somebody the sky was blue.
"This one is shinier," Blaine supplied, grinning down at Kurt for being helpful. Kurt sighed and kissed him, grinning. A camera flashed, catching the moment. Mercedes' whoop of joy told Blaine who to go to in order to snag a print of that. The topic of ties was dropped in favor of ordering each other around for various poses and groups. If Finn clapped him heartily on the back and winked and Kurt and Mercedes were texting each other just a bit too furiously, well Blaine didn't mind. As long as Mr. Hummel's shotgun stayed in the basement, the night was going to be fine.