Warnings: Sex, drinking, smoking, drug use. Homophobic slurs, gratuitous homo/hetero phobia, sex between a 28 year old and a seventeen year old. It’s probably not for the fainthearted.
Word Count: 3300+ for this bit
Summary: Kurt’s the best at what he does, and what he does is whatever the fuck he wants. Until Blaine Anderson turns up and somehow turns his world around. Based loosely on Queer As Folk.
Kurt became acutely aware of the moving shape in the bed beside him when he reached over to slap the blaring alarm, and landed across something warm and soft. Rubbing his eye, Kurt blearily contemplated the tangle of dark hair and spread of sun-warmed limbs sprawled amid his bedcovers. Blaine looked even younger as he blinked his eyes open and ran a hand through his hair with a wide yawn.
“You’re still here,” Kurt said, falling back onto his pillow.
“You said I could stay.”
“I did? Oh. Right. Your parents.” Kurt swung himself from the bed and stumbled towards the kitchen, whacking the coffee machine until it buzzed into action. “Anything else I should remember…um…”
Kurt drank straight from the coffee pot, not caring when it numbed his tongue and scorched down his throat, a wayward drop slipping from his lips and staining its way down his pale skin. Blaine was sitting in the centre of his bed, arms wrapped around his knees.
“Um…can I take a shower?”
He nodded, still drinking, and gestured vaguely towards the bathroom. The answer machine was blinking at him from across the room and Kurt padded towards it, suppressing a laugh when he heard Blaine exclaim loudly from the bathroom about the hot water.
“– Britt went into labour about half an hour ago. You cannot fucking leave me hanging Hummel, get your skinny ass to the hospital right now…”
The empty coffee pot fell with a clatter and bounced from the table to the floor, where it rolled unheeded into a corner.
“Shit. I have a daughter. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Kurt snapped, slamming the shower door open and joining Blaine under the stinging spray of water.
“I thought you’d remember that! She’s called Grace, by the way. I named her,” he was grinning smugly as he pushed his hair back.
“Perfect. Now I’ll have something to remember you by,” Kurt said harshly, rubbing a smooth bar of soap over Blaine’s ribs. Blaine opened his mouth to answer, but Kurt slid his hand down to between his legs where he was already hardening.
“Fuck, you’re such a teenager,” he grinned, taking Blaine’s earlobe between his teeth as his head fell back to hit the shower wall with a soft thud. The soap foamed between Kurt’s fingers as he worked his hand around Blaine’s cock, moving his mouth against the skin of his neck until the boy quivered and jerked and came with a moan.
When Kurt moved back, Blaine was blinking lazily and a purple blemish spread across the side of his throat.
“Something for you to remember me by,” Kurt said, kissing the mark once before slipping from the shower, “Now hurry the fuck up, because I’m taking you to school.”
Kurt was not the sort to get emotionally attached. He loved his family, no matter how irritating they could be, and he even harboured secret affection for the lesbians and the porn star, and sometimes even the spotlight-hogging diva he called his friends. But being connected by blood, ten years’ worth of schooling or even just the genes that helped create a baby girl was a different sort of attachment compared to the one created when he had sex with somebody. That is to say, it was non-existent.
When he’d finally pulled Blaine from his kitchen worktop after barely refraining from fucking him all wet and slippery from the shower, over the counter, Kurt dropped Blaine at the gates of McKinley High.
“When can I see you again?”
Kurt almost laughed at the earnest expression on Blaine’s face, “You’re seeing me right now.”
“I mean again, again.”
“You can see me in your dreams, Blaine.”
He straightened the boy’s jumper, pressed a kiss to one finger and touched it to Blaine’s lips and spun his Navigator away from the school with a screeching squeal of tires.
“What the fuck were you doing with that kid last night?” Finn said, punching Kurt too hard on the arm as he filled an entire seat in the booth opposite Kurt.
Kurt shrugged, poking at the slice of cheesecake on his plate, “Just some friendly neighbourhood sodomy.”
“He looked about sixteen!”
Kurt pushed his plate towards Finn with a scoff, “He was seventeen, thank you very much. Over the age of consent, he wasn’t drunk or on any illegal substances and I didn’t fucking seduce him, okay. The kid wanted to know what sex was like. I thought I was doing a good deed by letting his first time be with somebody actually decent, rather than a half-closeted football player in the gym changing rooms one evening!”
Finn winced slightly, taking Kurt’s fork to eat the desert in three noisy bites and at least he had the decency to look abashed.
“Yeah. I know you are.”
Kurt picked at the scuffed plastic table, “Anyway, I made it very clear that it was a onetime thing.”
Finn laughed, “It’s always a onetime thing with you, bro.”
Apparently Kurt hadn’t made it quite clear enough, which is why he was greeted with a doorway full of Blaine as his elevator signalled his arrival home. Blaine looked up from where his fingers had been tracing patterns on the denim of his jeans, his face falling as he saw the shirtless blonde kneeling at Kurt’s feet, mouthing at the outline of his cock through his jeans.
“What the fuck?”
Blaine had jumped to his feet, one hand clutching the doorframe.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Kurt said, pulling the blonde to his feet to walk him backwards to his door, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I had a fight with my dad,” Blaine muttered, staring at the floor, “I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck! Enough with the kid already,” the blonde snapped, working one hand inside Kurt’s half open jeans, “Are we gonna do this, or not?”
Kurt looked between them. Blaine was biting his lip, playing with the cuff of his jumper with his shoulders hunched and Kurt knew that he was going to regret this decision. Maybe not now, or even tomorrow, but in the weeks to come it would surely flip around to bite him where it hurts.
“No. Go home.”
The blonde was looking at him disgusted, with one hand still trapped inside Kurt’s jeans and did he really have the gall to look down on Kurt, while he was still jerking him off?
“I said go home. Fuck off.”
Blaine really needed to stop looking at Kurt with those eyes, so bright and full of hope and happiness that it ached right to Kurt’s core. He didn’t want to be a hero or a saviour, to be put on some homosexual pedestal by a kid with too much hair gel and an older man fetish.
“Just for tonight,” he said, grabbing Blaine by the back of his jumper and pushing him through the door, “You can sleep on the couch.”
Blaine turned with a happy noise and leaned in to kiss Kurt hard on the lips. Kurt pushed him gently away and into the direction of the couch, falling onto the cushions and pulling Blaine with him with a sigh.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I am never going to get rid of him,” Kurt said to the table, his forehead pressed to the sharp ridge of plastic in a futile effort to detract from the throbbing behind his eyes.
It was a week later, and Blaine had cropped up unwanted in Kurt’s life, no more or less than six times already.
“Poor baby,” Santana cooed, fussing Grace’s blanket until it was tucked around her tiny shoulders.
“Thank you for the sympathy.”
“I’m talking about the kid. Having to put up with you.”
“And I was worried that you suddenly becoming a stay-at-home mother would have an effect on your devastating bitchiness,” Kurt deadpanned, raising his head enough to glare at her across the table. She ignored him.
“So you fucked the kid and gained your own personal stalker. I thought it was your dream to have someone follow you around and tell you how amazing you are,” Puck said, dangling a plastic toy inches from Grace, letting her swipe her tiny fists at it.
“Language, Sunshine!” Burt reprimanded, appearing at Kurt’s shoulder to refill his cup and swatting him on the shoulder.
“Don’t call me that,” Kurt muttered into his coffee.
“It’s what your mother –”
“I know Dad. Just…don’t, okay?”
Burt raised his eyebrows, “Well someone hasn’t been getting his own way.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper at Puck and Santana, “Have you been giving Gracey too much attention around Kurt? You know how jealous he gets when you don’t pay attention to him.”
They snorted, and Kurt felt an angry flush creep up the back of his neck.
“Fuck all of you,” he said, slamming his cup onto the table so the coffee sloshed over the sides and making to stand, but Burt held his shoulders down to keep him in his seat.
“I’m joking, kiddo. What will it be, Noah?”
And as if Kurt thought his day couldn’t get any worse, a figure landed heavily in the seat beside him and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Morning Sunshine!” Carole sang, bringing over Puck’s food and ruffling Blaine’s hair as she set it down.
“Hey!” Kurt said, slightly outraged at the smile on Blaine’s face, “That’s my nickname!”
“Oh now you want it,” Burt said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, “When somebody more deserving comes along.”
“So what are we doing today?” Blaine said, swallowing a mouthful of Kurt’s coffee until he plucked the cup from him.
“You are going to school and getting an education.”
“For fucks sake what am I, your mother?” Kurt snapped, turning to Santana, “Remind me to never have a kid if they all end up like this.”
“I don’t want to,” Blaine sulked, crossing his arms, “I never want to go back there.”
Burt frowned, leaning on the table to look Blaine in the eyes, “Has something happened?”
Blaine scoffed, thumping his foot against the table leg over and over, “Kids are fucking assholes, that’s what’s happened.”
“Tell me something new,” Kurt said, earning a sharp look from Carole.
“What is it sweetie?”
“They all pick on me because they think I’m gay!”
“Well you…are gay,” Kurt reminded him, receiving another round of glares from the table.
“You’re right, I’m mistaken. It must have been him taking it up the ass that confused me,” he spat.
“Can we please keep the talk of anal sex to a minimum around my daughter,” Santana huffed, covering Grace’s ears.
“Come on, Satan. She’s being raised by you, Barbie, and gay Casanova. I think she’s going to end up knowing about a lot more than just anal sex before she hits her first birthday,” Puck laughed.
Kurt ignored them, turning to where Blaine was hunched moodily in his seat.
“Blaine,” he touched the boy’s shoulder softly, harder when he tried to shake him off, “Blaine you have to go to school. I know what it’s like, believe me.”
“You don’t –” he began, but Kurt cut him off.
“I do. I know, Blaine. And it’s horrible and tough, but you can’t let it get to you.” His hand cupped Blaine’s chin, one thumb stroking over the skin of his cheek.
“I’ll take you, if you want.”
Blaine bit his lip, and nodded once. Kurt led him from the diner, one hand brushing against Blaine’s waist as they walked.
“Fucking persistent little shit isn’t he, that kid?” he heard Carole say as the door swung shut behind them.
The drive was silent and Blaine kept a death grip on Kurt’s hand the whole way, even tangling their fingers together as he changed gears. He didn’t let go as Kurt stilled the car outside McKinley, his face paler than usual.
“Come on, Blaine. It’s just school. It’s just half a year, and then you never have to look back.”
He nodded, “I know. But six months is a long time when I hate every second of it.”
Kurt didn’t know what to say to that. He knew how school life could drag for a teenager, especially one suffering due to the pure unbridled ignorance of those around him – he’d been there and lived through it.
“You know, the only thing you can do is survive it,” he said, “They want to see you break completely, to give up who you are for the sake of peace and quiet, and you can’t let them do that. The only real way to fight their hatred is to come out the other side stronger.”
Blaine nodded, steeling a deep breath as he gripped the strap of his bag and left the car, walking towards the school with his head down. Kurt wound down his window for a moment, letting the cool morning air brush his face as he watched Blaine grow smaller.
Blaine wasn’t even ten feet into the school grounds, and Kurt could see his shoulders hunching in resignation as the words drove into him from a crowd of boys clustered around the front entrance. He knew how Blaine felt and he knew exactly how the words could pierce deep into your heart for years to come.
And Kurt knew that surviving it was one thing, but sometimes you had to make your point loud and clear.
He got out of his car, slamming the door hard behind him.
“Hey Anderson, feel like sucking my dick this morning?”
“No,” Kurt said, his voice ringing clear across the steps, “But if you’re not careful I’ll pound your virgin ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
There was a hushed silence, a scatter of quickly silenced laughter and the group of boys were struck scarlet, gawping unattractively as Kurt stood with one hand on his hip and his glare burning over the top of his sunglasses.
There was a frozen second of tension, and then Blaine was running at Kurt and hitting him in a flurry of curls and books and before Kurt could get his breath back Blaine’s tongue was against his lips, his mouth hot and wet and panting against Kurt’s own. And as Blaine kissed him furiously in front of his entire school, Kurt couldn’t think of a better way to come out of the closet.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Blaine pulled away enough to whisper against Kurt’s mouth, “Fuck. Thank you so much I –”
“I know. Don’t mention it.”
Kurt kissed him once more before turning Blaine back round to walk towards school, and this time no one spoke.
“Okay, I definitely just saw your boy-toy over there. Is he even old enough to get in?”
“He’s not my anything, Tana.”
“Right. Because you drive all the neighbourhood baby homos to school and tell their bullies to go fuck themselves.”
Kurt groaned and raked his hand through his hair, “I just fucked him, okay. That was all it was. And now he’s just…everywhere. All the fucking time, and the thing is I can’t actually find it within myself to hate him for being so…I just wish I knew what he wanted from me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want anything. Not everyone is you, you know. Maybe he actually likes you.”
Kurt shot her a glare.
“No, you’re right. Stupid idea,” she counteracted, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I hate you,” he said, “Remind me again why I agreed to come out with you tonight.”
She shrugged, signalling for two more drinks, “You need to get laid, I needed a moment away from the sudden family-zone my house has become.”
Kurt threw back his head to swallow the tequila in one, letting the itch and burn fill his mouth and throat.
“Fine, so you can help me chose my guy for the night. I’d always imagined cruising with a lesbian in a gay bar to be a lot easier.”
“Well you hate cock, and these guys hate lady parts. But you can still pass accurate judgement on who’s good enough to fuck.”
Santana considered him for a moment, quirking her eyebrows thoughtfully.
“You think too much, Hummel. What about him?”
Kurt wrinkled his nose as he followed the line of her finger towards a tall figure, with ice blonde hair and sharp cheekbones.
“Too skinny. I’m skinny enough, if I fucked him we’d both end up with paper cuts.”
Kurt shook his head, “Been there, fucked him.”
“So…fuck him again?”
“Tana, if I wanted repeats I’d get TiVo.”
“What about…fuck. Isn’t that your kid?”
Kurt turned to where she was pointing, and his mouth was suddenly bone dry.
The music had dropped to a dirty, grinding dance beat and Blaine was rocking his hips in time, raising both arms into the air to sway over his head. Kurt didn’t know where Blaine’s shirt was, nor did he care because Blaine was sliding one hand down over his throat, flat down over his ribs to tease at his belt. His head was arched back, neck curved and smeared with glitter and sweat had plastered the curls flat around his ears, but Blaine was throbbing and pulsing and vibrating along every strand and vein of the music as though he belonged there.
His hands slid and danced over his own body, teasing lightly at the trail of hair that disappeared into his waistband, reaching up to clasp at the air above him, gliding and grinding and shifting to the music until all Kurt could see was the glints of sweat and glitter that shone on his skin. There was an uncomfortable tightness building in Kurt’s jeans, and he’d almost forgotten Santana was there until her hands were on his back propelling him through the crowds towards Blaine.
And then Blaine was there, and his sweat-slicked body was tight against Kurt’s. The men around them fell away until all Kurt could feel and think was Blaine, and they were rocking together to the beat as Blaine smiled into the crook of his neck.
“I thought that might get your attention,” he said against Kurt’s skin, tongue flicking out to trace a line beneath his jaw. Kurt repressed a shudder, scraping his nails down to the base of Blaine’s spine.
“One day I am going to regret this,” he whispered, the words muffled where his lips touched Blaine’s cheek, “Regret you.”
“But not today,” Blaine said, and Kurt didn’t know how to reply.
Kurt didn’t remember the harried drive home, only the way Blaine’s tongue never left his neck, his hands squeezing and rubbing over every inch of Kurt’s skin. He didn’t remember much of the stumbling trip up the stairs, but the way Blaine was pressed hot against him, curving and licking his way into Kurt’s mouth, leaning away to gasp and giggle and whisper filthy words into Kurt’s ear. Everything was rushed and blurred and sweat until they were naked and Kurt was buried deep inside Blaine, and the world stilled around him and Blaine was flat on his back on the kitchen counter, legs hooked around Kurt’s waist as he drove into him again and again until Blaine held his hips tightly to still him.
There was a glint in his eye and before Kurt could move he was pushed backwards into the couch, teetering on the arm as Blaine scrambled onto his lap. Kurt was motionless, his legs screaming as he tried to hold himself up and his arms looped under Blaine’s thighs as he rode Kurt hard and fast and scorching until they fell backwards on to the cushions with a grunt. Somewhere between the sweat and the vertigo Kurt came with a jolt and Blaine was still rocking in his lap as they lay face to face until he shuddered and cried out, and Kurt was twinging with oversensitivity but he never wanted to move from their tangle of limbs.