DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from the insert of Panic! At The Disco's A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.
Warnings are: genderplay and, of course, sex.

Reviewers, I'm sorry, my mind's a little dead from today. But I love you all.

So, again, originally posted on my Tumblr. I'm going to start working on Lights again this week since midterms are over and it's officially spring break (woooo). So be on the lookout, hopefully, for that sometime this week :)

endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com


On the second day of spring break Blaine texts Kurt. It's a little after one in the afternoon when Kurt's phone buzzes on his nightstand, rattling on the wood in a noisy din. He twists on the bed to get it, a smile already working its way onto his face as he unlocks the screen and sets down the book he'd been reading for school.

That smile stalls, though, when he reads the text.

Parents left early. Change of plans. You can come over now

They were supposed to hang out this evening when Blaine's parents left for a two-day business trip, but apparently—and thankfully—things have been bumped up. His phone buzzes again, another gray chat bubble popping up underneath Blaine's first one before he can reply.

Come up to my room when you get there. Front door should be unlocked

Well, that's . . . new. Of course they've been having sex and getting to know what they like and don't like, but Blaine's never usually so straightforward about it. Usually they let whatever happens happen naturally and don't do too much talking about it. They're working up to that, Kurt knows. They're still both shy and new to this and it's huge and daunting and, if he wants to be frank, terrifying.

He texts Blaine a quick Okay :) and rushes downstairs to let his dad know where he's going. He runs a hand gingerly over his hair, making sure it's presentable, and checks for any potential wrinkles in his slate-gray button-up. The day is slightly colder than usual for March, so he grabs a light jacket, snatching his phone off his bed and his keys out of the bowl by his door.

He doesn't know exactly what to expect when he arrives at Blaine's house, but if he presses just that much harder on the gas pedal and stops for only seconds at every stop sign, well … who can blame him?


The door to Blaine's room is cracked open when Kurt reaches it, a tiny sliver of yellow light streaming out into the dimly-lit hall. He takes a deep breath to calm the familiar butterflies swarming his stomach and pushes open the door, a greeting ready on his lips as he expects to find Blaine lounging on his bed with a book, perhaps even dancing around like he's wont to do when he's alone. He door creeks open and he's all wide smiles and bright eyes as he steps in.

And stops.



Because there Blaine is, kneeling at the foot of his bed, naked except for a pair of tight (ohmygodsotight) red boy shorts and thigh-high black stockings with vivid red bows on the band. Lower lip drawn between teeth, his honey hazel eyes bright and wide, excited yet apprehensive; afraid, almost, in a way. His arms are pulled behind his back, enhancing his upper chest with that subtle muscle definition and scratchy-soft sparse dark hair, and how can he elicit such a strong reaction without even moving, without saying anything?

Kurt's never been big into the whole lingerie thing, but that's not to say that he hasn't looked. He's seen photos, knows he can appreciate a man's long, lean and muscled thighs in a pair of thigh-highs, knows that a gather belt is undeniably a turn-on, and panties, if fitted correctly, are amazing.

He just . . . never thought he'd experience any of it firsthand. And, oh. He's forgotten how to speak.

"Oh my god," Kurt whispers after a too-long pause, finally finding his voice. His eyes are wide and his heart is pounding and everything feels numb except for the sharp point of focus in his groin and the dull buzzing in his ears. The thin material of the shorts is pulled tight across the line of Blaine's cock, the muscles in the very tops of his thighs, in the best way possible. Whatever he had been expecting since those texts, it certainly wasn't this. And he doesn't think that he can complain. "Holy . . . Blaine."

"Hi," Blaine says a little shakily. He shifts on his knees, comforter rustling under his weight, and drops his arms to his sides where he fiddles with the black material and blood-red silk of the bows. "Do you—do you like?"

"Like?" Kurt echoes in disbelief. He sees a flicker of frightened doubt cross Blaine's eyes for a second. Then he's unbuttoning his coat and hanging it up on Blaine's coat rack before striding purposefully across the room to the bed. "You look so hot," he says, running his hands along the silky material of the stockings. He slips a finger underneath the band, pulling it away from Blaine's skin to let it return with a snap. Blaine gasps and lets his eyes slide shut, head tilting back slightly to expose his throat where Kurt watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It—it's silly," Blaine says softly, blushing. He looks down at the comforter, the expanse of his legs, and immediately Kurt's grabbing his hands, holding them tight. Now isn't time to let Blaine fall into his usual never good enough for anyone routine because, damn it, he is, and if not for his parents then he is for Kurt, and that's all that should matter.

"It's sexy," Kurt says, smiling, eyes darkened. "It's so sexy and you have no idea how much this turns me on, Blaine." He pulls Blaine close before he whispers, "The idea of your legs spread wide, stockings still on as I finger you open is so fucking hot."

Blaine's mouth drops open, wet and slick and so inviting that Kurt takes without asking, kissing him soundly, letting him know that it's okay. Blaine responds as eagerly as always, grabbing and touching like he'll float away if some part of his body isn't in contact with Kurt.

Kurt slides his hands down Blaine's naked torso, feeling the subtle dips and indentations of his ribs, his hips, then further down past the silky boy shorts until he reaches the fabric of the stockings. Now he allows himself to smooth his palms lower, trace the lines of Blaine's muscled thighs, feel the twitch of those muscles as Blaine shifts slightly under Kurt's careful scrutiny.

"You look so beautiful every day," Kurt says quietly, rubbing his palms lightly over Blaine's thighs, back-forth back-forth in never-ending cycle. "But like this, it's like you . . . you finally let your guard down. I can finally see you."

Leans close, breathes hot on Blaine's neck, "And I like what I see."

He slides back up, dragging his fingertips. From stocking to warm skin, scratchy with dark hair, then up to silky material, over until he reaches the hard, hot bulge of Blaine's cock, straining and heavy in his shorts. Blaine gasps, an inhale of air through his teeth, surprised, and grabs onto Kurt's shoulders, kissing him hard and desperate.

"I want you to fuck me," Blaine says, sentence sliced down the middle by the tremulous fissure in his voice; then, clearing his throat and adding a slight purr and half-lid of the eyes, "I want you to fuck me."

"Yes, yes, oh god yes," Kurt whispers back, pressing his forehead to Blaine's as he squeezes, rubs his palm over until he gets to the damp part of the fabric where the wet tip of Blaine's cock is pressed. "Wanna fuck you so hard; make you feel it for days."

Blaine whines, high and lilting, and grabs Kurt's face in wide, calloused hands, pulling him into a deep kiss. Kurt slides his hand under the waistband of the shorts, slipping Blaine's cock out, and already he's so damp and hot and hard, heavy in Kurt's palm until he wraps his fingers and strokes up once, twisting at the ridge.

Kurt sucks on Blaine's tongue when he slides it along Kurt's bottom lip, trailing his free hand down the muscled expanse of Blaine's back until he reaches the swell of his ass, slipping his fingers below the waistband of the shorts to run teasing fingertips up and down the divide.

Letting out a choked sound into Kurt's mouth, Blaine presses forward, then back, sliding a little on the comforter. "Fuck me," he gasps, like he's unable to say anything else. He grabs tight to the fabric of Kurt's shirt, bunching it up in trembling fingertips. "Please, Kurt, please."

It's so rare to get Blaine like this, broken down and open, begging, needing, that Kurt can't do anything but obey. He pushes away, pressing a lingering kiss to Blaine's lips, and walks over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and shuffling papers and knickknacks aside to unearth the lube and box of condoms.

He turns around, condom and lube in one hand, the other already undoing the buttons on his shirt, and promptly forgets what, exactly, it was that he had been doing.

Blaine's moved to the head of his bed, propped up on his back by the pillows he keeps there. The boy shorts are pushed down mid-thigh and he's got a hand wrapped around his cock, jerking desperately. Kurt can't move for what seems like hours as Blaine tosses his head back and moans, hips fucking up into his fist and legs trying to open wider but being inhibited by his underwear. The sounds get slicker and slicker, Blaine's noises a little higher and more desperate, and Kurt knows he's close, too close, to coming already.

Finally Kurt shakes his head, grounding himself, and steps forward, tugging the shorts down and off of Blaine's legs, letting his palms run along the definition of Blaine's calves as he goes. "Up," he says hoarsely when Blaine blinks open bleary eyes to look at him. "I don't want you coming yet," he clarifies, brandishing the lube. He makes quick work of the remaining buttons on his shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders and to the floor in a soft swish of fabric.

Blaine whines a little, low and pleading, but obeys nonetheless, reluctantly letting go of his cock. He maneuvers himself onto his hands and knees, spacing his legs wide and tilting his ass up. He looks over his shoulder briefly, eyes wide and lower lip between his teeth. Kurt sucks in a breath, moaning involuntarily as he stares at Blaine, spread wide, stockings dark against dark skin, bows standing stark in the otherwise-neutrals. His muscles work under that smooth, tan skin and he looks so, so gorgeous that Kurt still wonders how he got someone like Blaine.

"So perfect," Kurt breathes, climbing up onto the bed behind Blaine. He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, taking the constriction off his cock with a sigh of relief. Palm flat and wide, he runs it along the swell and curve of Blaine's ass, letting his thumb brush Blaine's hole teasingly. Blaine jerks in surprise, moans softly and lets his legs spread a little wider.

"Kurt," he says softly, just this side of begging.

"Shh. Just let me look."

He runs his fingers down the cleft of Blaine's ass, teases over his hole again to watch him clench, goes down further to where his balls hang heavy between his legs. He cups them, rolls them gently in his palm, rubbing at the stretch of skin between Blaine's sac and hole.

"Kurt, please," Blaine whines as he pushes back into Kurt's soft touch. "Stop teasing."

Kurt thumbs open the cap of the lube with a chuckle, drizzling some onto his index and middle fingers. He warms it up before circling Blaine's hole with his index finger, unable to help rubbing his free hand up and down Blaine's stocking-covered thigh as he slowly pushes in.

"Mm, god, yes," Blaine moans, head dropped down between his shoulders. He circles his hips slowly, pushing Kurt's finger in to the last knuckle. "You feel so good."

"It's just one finger," Kurt replies, working it in and out gently. He rubs the knuckle of his middle finger against the rim of Blaine's asshole, then slides out enough to slip that finger in, crossed over his index until he slides past the initial resistance. At two Blaine's back bows slightly, his moan a little more broken as Kurt slides both fingers in to the last knuckle and twists, crooks.

His free hand moves from thigh to cock, palming the damp tip and spreading the moisture down the length as he encircles Blaine's cock and strokes slowly and deliberately in time to the thrusts of his fingers.

At three, Blaine whines and pushes back immediately, reaching behind to grab his cheek and spread himself open further, nails digging crescents into his own skin. When Kurt presses deeper, crooks his fingers, Blaine's whole body shakes, mouth opening but only a whisper of a sound escaping. Sweat is beginning to collect on Blaine's back, visible in the bright daylight of his room. Kurt leans down, still working his fingers in and out of Blaine, the soft, lewd squelching the only noise besides Blaine's quiets pants and moans, and licks a line from Blaine's lower back down to his thigh. He takes the band of the stocking between his teeth, pulling away and letting it snap back like he'd done earlier.

Blaine moans, louder this time, his body shifting as he braces his weight on his left arm to bring his right underneath to take hold of his cock. He trembles as he does, breathing out "Oh god, oh god" under his breath. Kurt takes a deep breath to steady himself, palming his cock through his underwear. He's so close already, just from this, and he thinks that it's going to be nothing short of a miracle if he gets inside Blaine at all.

He lets his fingers slide free, Blaine clenching around nothing with a displeased noise, and slides off the bed to hurriedly toe his shoes off and undo his jeans, wriggling them and his boxer briefs down his hips. He steps out of them, peeling off his socks as he goes, and climbs back onto the bed.

Blaine's still in the same position, unmoving, and Kurt feels around, fumbles for the condom, opening it after a few shaky tries when he finds it and rolling it on. He slicks more lube over his dick, tugs on his balls to pull himself back from the edge, and gently taps Blaine on the hip, saying, "Roll over."

Kurt takes his time in appreciating Blaine like this, already worked over but not quite there yet, eyes big and pupils dilated, cock hard and leaking against his heaving abdomen. Kurt watches him breathe for a few seconds, takes note of the labored rise and fall of his stomach, the near-imperceptible quake of his thighs as he soundlessly spreads as wide as he can go.

"I love you," Kurt says, leaning down to press one kiss against Blaine's lips, then two, finally forced there as Blaine's hand tangles in his hair to hold him as he opens his mouth wider, licks at the backs of Kurt's teeth.

Kurt's hips push forward, his cock sliding along Blaine's balls and it's then that he's reminded that he wants to be buried deep inside Blaine—he needs to be. He works a hand between them, grasps the base of his cock to line it up with Blaine's hole, takes Blaine's lower lip between his teeth in a gentle bite, and pushes in.

"Oh," Blaine gasps, turning his head to the side as he sucks in a deep breath, hands gripping tight to Kurt's biceps, his legs locking around Kurt's waist. The slide of silk is smooth and cool against Kurt's skin, reminding him of how they got here in the first place, and suddenly it's not enough.

Hands insistent on the insides of Blaine's thighs, he gently unhooks his legs and pushes up, breathlessly asking "Is this okay?" as he hoists Blaine's legs close to his chest. Receiving a nod in return, Kurt slides out to the tip of his cock and back in, fingers digging into Blaine's thighs through the stockings.

Blaine moans, low and throaty in complete contrast to the soft and utter femininity of the stockings, and Kurt's breath catches momentarily in his throat. This boy—his boyfriend—loves him enough, trusts him enough, to allow this side of himself to be shown, to be paid attention to and reassured that it's not wrong, no, it's perfect, you're perfect.

If Kurt hadn't been sure that he was in love months ago, he'd know for sure that he was now.

He shifts, changes angles the best he can, and fucks forward, pushing Blaine up the bed slightly. The air in the room is thick now, temperature spiked enough that Kurt can feel the sweat beading at his hairline and dotting on his back, under his palms where he's still pushing Blaine's legs up and out.

They've been in this position before, Blaine under Kurt in one way or another, and Kurt likes to think that he knows this expanse of skin well by now. His hands constantly sliding over the silk of the stockings reminds himself that yes, he knows Blaine, knows every inch and crevice and taste, but he doesn't know this, that slick slide of fabric clinging tightly to Blaine's legs, hugging his thighs.

He doesn't know, but he's glad he's able to learn.

Blaine's worked a hand between them, fisting his cock with a moan and arch of the back, head digging into the pillows. "Yes, yes," he whimpers, hissing slightly at the burn of his muscles as Kurt pushes his legs apart just a fraction of an inch more.

Blaine clenches around him, tightening as Kurt drags out, tilting his hips up, and Kurt swears, all self-control gone as he slams into Blaine, fucking him hard and deep as desperation takes over.

"Oh, oh, god, Kurt," Blaine moans, keens. His voice is raspy, fading in and out and riddled with grunts as Kurt relentlessly fucks into him. "Oh, fuck yes, baby, fuck me, c'mon, c'mon."

Kurt lets Blaine's legs drop back around his waist, gets leverage with his hands flat on the bed and snaps his hips forward harder and harder until Blaine arches off the bed, hand still on his cock, and comes with a moan just short of a wail in long spurts over his hand and abdomen.

It's not long after that Kurt comes, teeth sharp in the curve of Blaine's shoulder as he shudders through it. Blaine's petting his hair as he slowly pulls out, reluctantly letting him out of his arms so that he can strip off the condom and toss it in the wastebasket by the bed.

They curl close, like they always do when Kurt flops back onto the bed, one of Blaine's legs slung over Kurt's. He works it back and forth over the sweaty skin, and Kurt knows without a doubt that Blaine is aware of how much of an effect the sensation has on him. Kurt strokes down Blaine's arm, stopping to twine their fingers together and lift them to his mouth to kiss Blaine's knuckles.

"You really are perfect, you know," he says softly, smiling. Blaine blinks, slowly, lashes fanning out across his cheeks in a dark brush. "Without or without sexy lingerie."

A flush spreads of Blaine's cheeks and he ducks his head down, trying to conceal his smile. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it," he admits, running the backs of the fingers of his free hand along Kurt's cheek.

"I'd have to be insane not to like it."

"I thought you'd be insane to like it."

"You're insane," Kurt replies good-naturedly, dropping their hands to pull Blaine into a kiss. He tangles their feet together and feels Blaine's lips stretch into a smile. He's always a sucker for footsie, and now is no exception. "But I still love you."

"Mm, I love you, too."

"And I hope you're going to put these stockings to good use more often. No more hiding secrets."

Blaine huffs out a laugh against Kurt's collarbone, breath hot, lips familiar as he presses a soft kiss to the spot. "Okay, okay. I swear."

Kurt smiles and kisses the top of Blaine's head. "Good."