Kurt doesn't think about it while he's getting dressed, but when he hurries back to the dressing room to fetch the brooch he'd forgotten on the table, he realizes that Elliott had taken very long to examine his clothes before actually changing, and he realizes why.

Elliott is standing with his performance pants halfway up his thighs when Kurt bursts in through the door, which leaves Kurt with a spectacular view of Elliott's ass.

Elliott's ass, which is covered in lace. Because Elliott is wearing lace panties.

"I—," Kurt says, then falters. Elliott isn't moving, he'd froze when Kurt opened the door.

"In or out," he bites eventually, when Kurt doesn't continue. "Just close the fucking door."

Kurt walks out.

x

The performance is awkward. The audience probably doesn't notice, because they still sing and move together effortlessly, but Kurt gets questioning and sharp looks from Rachel and Santana, respectively, when Elliott shies away from him instead of the opposite.

"What happened?" Rachel mouths at him when they dance towards each other on the back of the stage. Kurt has to force himself not to roll his eyes, they're on stage, it's not like he can reply, but he can see where Rachel is coming from. He and Elliott have been dancing around each other for weeks, and just on the subway here, they were sitting close and whispering scaring remarks about the other passengers' outfits in each other's ear.

And now, well. Kurt doesn't really know what will happen now. The thought of lace underwear has crossed his mind before, of course, but he hasn't exactly thought about it. Which, given his current reaction, he maybe should have, because it seems like it could've led to a lot more, uhm, interesting moments of privacy.

Elliott's last solo of their performance is a bridge, and he leans back when he sings it, and Kurt can't tear his gaze away from the stripe of skin displayed between Elliott's pants and his shirt.

He's staring so intently that Santana has to knock her elbow into his side to get him to react, and her grin says more than any cutting remark. When the song ends, they take their bow, and when Elliott is the first one to hurry off the stage, Kurt doesn't hesitate to follow.

"We won't wait for you, then!" Santana calls after him. Kurt doesn't bother to reply, it doesn't matter what he says, he'll still get hell for this when he gets home.

He catches the door just as Elliott tries to shut it and lock it, and the glare he receives when he slides in is harsh.

"Look, I'm not in the mood," Elliott says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," Kurt points out.

"Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure I've heard it before."

"You really think I'm the one to judge?" Kurt asks, nodding down the length of his own body and his stage clothes. Elliott follows him, lingers a little longer where Kurt knows his half hard cock is pressing against the zipper, and seems to relax a little.

"I guess not," he concedes. Kurt steps closer, and when Elliott doesn't back away, he takes another step. When he's close enough to touch, he reaches out and places his hand on Elliott's hip, sliding his thumb in under the hem of Elliott's shirt to rub against his skin.

"Can I kiss you?" Kurt asks, watching Elliott's eyes flutter shut as he nods.

"Yes," he says, so Kurt does. It's heated from the start, it only takes a second before he feels Elliott's tongue against his own and they both moan into the kiss. Kurt places his other hand on Elliott's hip, too, slides his fingers down under the waistband of his pants, rubbing against the lace.

"Can you—off?" Kurt asks, tugging on the pants.

"Yeah," Elliott agrees, reaching down to unbutton his pants and slide them down. He can't get them further down than halfway down his thighs without breaking their kiss for longer than a second, but it's good enough for Kurt. He reaches around, puts his palms on Elliott's ass and squeezes. He tears himself away from the kiss and looks down, takes in the way the sheer, red fabric hugs Elliott's hips, how it stretches over his cock, his pubic hair sticking out through the holes in the pattern.

"God, you look so hot," Kurt breathes out, moving his hands to the front of Elliott's body to palm his cock.

"Really?"

"Yes," Kurt says, hauling him in for another kiss. He pushes Elliott backwards until he hits the counter, then urges him to hop up on it. Elliott complies easily, kicking his pants down to make room for Kurt between his spread legs. Kurt is torn between wanting to keep kissing him, and wanting to take a step back and look at him. "You have a condom?" he asks between kisses. "'Cause I really want you to fuck me."

"God," Elliott gasps, leaning away from Kurt to get his toiletry bag. Kurt backs away slightly, takes in Elliott's flushed face and how he looks positively debauched, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his pants hanging around his feet. "Here," Elliott says, handing Kurt a strip of condoms and a bottle of lube.

"You keep them in there all the time?" Kurt asks, pushing Elliott's hand back to the counter to get him to put down the items.

"I've been at your place a lot, lately," is Elliott's reply, and oh.

"I feel like I should be judging you," Kurt says, trying to keep some of his cool, despite the fact that Elliott just admitted to have been wanting this for awhile, has been hoping for this for awhile.

"I feel like you won't."

"You're right," Kurt agrees, and kisses him again. He wants Elliott to fuck him, which requires them to change their position, but he doesn't want to stop kissing.

"You need to take off your clothes," Elliott says, but he doesn't seem too keen on letting Kurt go, either.

"Mm, you too," Kurt says, tugging on Elliott's shirt. "Not these, though," he adds, sweeping his hands over the panties again. Elliott's breath hitches when Kurt rubs his thumb over the head of his cock, precome soaking through the nylon.

"O-okay," Elliott says, then pushes Kurt away and pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons. He plants his foot on the counter and starts to unlace his shoe, and Kurt starts to undress himself, putting his clothes over the back of a chair. He takes off his underwear, too, and while he feels a bit exposed, standing naked in the dressing room, it mostly fades away when he takes a good look at Elliott again.

Kurt has seen bits and pieces of Elliott's tattoos before, but he rarely goes without long sleeves, so this is the first time Kurt sees all of them. Kurt steps close again, trails his fingers over the black ink, tries to tune out Elliott's eyes on him.

He scratches lightly with his nail and hears Elliott's breath hitch again, smiles and leans in to press a kiss to where he just scratched.

"Switch places?" Elliott asks, roaming his hands over Kurt's back, his fingers lingering where Kurt's own tattoo is still a little raised from the rest of his skin.

"Mhm," Kurt nods. He backs away again, realizes he doesn't want to put his bare ass on the counter and turns around to get the towel from his bag. When he turns back, Elliott is cupping himself, and Kurt flushes when he realizes he just put his ass on display. There doesn't seem to be any complaints, though. He holds up the towel and Elliott slides down, Kurt puts the towel down and jumps up to sit on it. He spreads his legs and takes Elliott's hands, pulls him in and moves his arms around to grab his ass. Kurt slides down a little until his cock is pressing against Elliott's, the lace rubbing against his skin, and he burrows his face in Elliott's neck, kisses the skin there.

"Mmm, please," Elliott murmurs, arching his neck to give Kurt better access. "Right—there, yes," he gasps when Kurt bites down, lightly, and Kurt can feel his cock twitch inside his underwear.

"Yeah?" Kurt says, licking where he just bit. He hopes there will be a mark, and heat surges in his stomach at the thought of everyone seeing that mark on Elliott, knowing that he's—claimed, oh god, Kurt blushes at his own thought, but he doesn't let up, just sucks harder instead.

"Yes," Elliott repeats, reaching up to grab the back of Kurt's head, holding him in place. Kurt bites down again, harder this time, and Elliott shudders against him. "Kurt, god, come on," he says, and Kurt fumbles around for the lube and presses it into Elliott's hand.

"Yes, come on," he urges, raising his hips a little to give Elliott better access to his ass. "Fuck me."

"How do you—" Elliott starts, but Kurt just hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the panties and pulls them down under Elliott's balls. It looks obscene, his package hanging out of his underwear, the dark red lace stark against his skin. It also looks ridiculously hot.

"Like this," Kurt says, grabbing Elliott's cock and stroking it. "Just like this."

Elliott looks down at Kurt's hand and takes a deep, shaky breath. "Okay." He uncaps the lube and coats his fingers, then puts it on the counter and reaches down to press against Kurt's hole.

Kurt hisses when the cool liquid gets in contact with his skin, but it warms up quickly enough when Elliott rubs his fingers against Kurt's rim

"I can take it," Kurt says when Elliott keeps on teasing, not putting anything inside. "Just do it."

Elliott arches an eyebrow but doesn't say anything, just complies and slides a finger into Kurt. "Yeah?"

"Mhmmm," Kurt moans. "Another, come on," he urges.

"God, Kurt, you really want it," Elliott murmurs, almost more to himself. He obeys, sliding another finger into Kurt, spreading them as much as he can, loosening Kurt up. Without prompting, he adds a third finger, reaching out with his other hand to add some more lube.

"Yes," Kurt says, not trying to pretend otherwise. He leans back a little, then reaches down to grab his cock and jerks it a couple of times. "Please, just—" He fumbles for the condoms, rips one off and tears the package open. Elliott removes his fingers and wipes them on the towel, then takes the condom from Kurt and rolls it on.

"You ready?" Elliott asks, slicking himself up. The lube drips down on the underwear, staining it darker, and Kurt can't help but to reach out and rub it in, smearing it on Elliott's skin through the fabric.

"Yeah," he says. "Do it, come on." Kurt spreads his legs further, placing one foot on the counter, exposing himself as much as possible. Elliott grabs his hip with one hand, using the other to align his cock with Kurt's hole. He pushes in slowly, tightens his grip on Kurt's hip when Kurt tries to urge him on, stills when he's all the way in.

"You okay?" he asks, obviously straining to keep still.

Kurt nods, shifting a little. "Yeah. Just—move," he gasps, putting one hand on Elliott's shoulder and one on his ass. He rubs his thumb against the lace, can't stop touching it, and urges Elliott to move.

"Fuck, you're—god," Elliott moans, sliding out and then pushing back in.

"Can you—touch me, please," Kurt begs, digging his fingers into Elliott's shoulder when he starts thrusting. Elliott obeys, wraps his palm around Kurt's cock and starts to stroke it, and when Kurt presses his nails into his shoulder, Elliott lets out a sharp exhale and thrusts in extra hard.

"Kurt," Elliott gasps, moving his hand from Kurt's hip to the counter to stabilise himself.

"Yeah?" Kurt says, pressing his nails into Elliott's ass, too. The lace dampens the effect a little, but it's still enough for Elliott to let out a broken moan and fuck into him even harder.

"Shut up," Elliott says, smiling at him. "You're not—uh—really the one to—to talk," he stutters in time with his thrusts.

"I'm not the one wearing the panties," Kurt points out, moving his hand further up to tangle in Elliott's hair instead. It's full of product, and he's sweaty from both the performance and from what they're doing now, but Kurt still scratches his scalp and tugs on his hair, just to watch his reaction.

"Fuck, fuck," Elliott moans, thrusting hard. "Kurt, don't—don't stop, I—"

"Yeah, come on," Kurt urges, clenching down on Elliott's cock and trying to thrust up into his fist at the same time. He tugs harder on Elliott's hair, almost afraid he'll tear it out, but Elliott just continues to fuck him, continues to jerk him off, and it feels so good. Kurt feels the tension build up in stomach, clenches down involuntarily when he gets close, revels in the sounds Elliott makes when he tightens around him. He moves his hand from Elliott's ass and shoves his hand away to grab his own cock, starts to jerk himself off furiously, finding the exact pace and firmness that will get him off. He's too wound-up, too frustrated to wait for Elliott to find the perfect grip, but judging by Elliott's moan when he looks down between them, sees Kurt's hand flying over his cock, he's not complaining.

"Come on," Elliott murmurs, leaning in to suck on Kurt's neck. "Come on, Kurt, come for me, that's it, touch yourself, just—" he gets cut off by a drawn out groan from Kurt when he comes, spurting up on his stomach and all over his hand.

"Fuck," Kurt breathes out, his whole body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. "Fuck, come on, you need to—" He knows Elliott needs to come now if he wants to finish inside of Kurt, because the oversensitivity will kick in soon, so he puts both hands on Elliott's back, digs his nails in, and drags them down. It's enough to set Elliott off, too, his hips stuttering and his breath coming out in warm puffs against Kurt's neck. He slumps against Kurt when he's done, puts both hands on the counter to take some of his weight, rests his forehead on Kurt's shoulder.

"God," he says, and Kurt can hear the laughter in his voice. "That was not what I expected when you walked in on me earlier," he continues as he pulls out, a firm grip around the base of his cock, keeping the condom in place.

"Me neither," Kurt says. "I'm not complaining, though."

"Shit, no, me neither." Elliott ties of the condom and throws it in the trash, then pulls his underwear up over his cock again and reaches for his own towel. "Where are the girls?" he asks as he drags the towel over his face and neck. Kurt sits up straighter, wipes his own sticky hand on his towel and grimaces when he doesn't get rid of what's stuck between his fingers.

"They went home," he says, smiling gratefully when Elliott hands him a couple of wet wipes. "Santana thinks we're having sex," he continues as he unwraps one of them.

"She wasn't wrong."

"No. But we'll hear about this for months, just so you know," Kurt warns, flexing his fingers and deeming them clean. He slides down from the counter and walks over to where he put his clothes.

"Okay," Elliott says, reaching for his own shirt. "I can live with that. Especially if—" he cuts himself off. Kurt turns around to look at him.

"Especially if…?" he prompts.

"If we can keep doing it?" Elliott finishes, glancing up at him, looking unsure again for the first time since he eyed Kurt's cock. Kurt drags his underwear up all the way and snaps the waistband into place, then walks over to Elliott and kisses him.

"Yes," he says when he breaks the kiss. Elliott smiles at him.

"Good."

Kurt finishes getting dressed before he deals with the rest of his stuff, but Elliott stops at his shirt and walks around in just that and the panties while he folds his stage clothes into his bag.

"Why—" Kurt starts, but stops himself, then starts again. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, but why—"

"Do I wear them?" Elliott finishes with a smile. Kurt nods. "They make me feel good," Elliott says. "Keeps me on edge during the performance."

"So this is…not the first time you're wearing them?"

Elliott looks down at himself. "These? First time, yes. First time wearing lace on stage? No, definitely not."

Kurt swallows. "You—you've done this before?" Then he realizes exactly what Elliott said. "Wait, you have more?"

Elliott smirks and hauls him, presses a kiss to Kurt's stunned expression. "Yes, I have many,many more."