
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2026215.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
  Character:
      Blaine_Anderson, Kurt_Hummel, Rachel_Berry
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher_Blaine, Student_Kurt, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Mpreg,
      Boypussy_Kurt
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-26 Updated: 2014-12-10 Chapters: 16/? Words: 63117
****** Too Beautiful to Fuck (Abandoned) ******
by captainblanderson_(orphan_account)
Summary
     Student!Kurt seduces Teacher!Blaine into taking his virginity and
     gets knocked up.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     This story is a fill for a prompt on the Glee Kink Meme. A link to
     the prompt (as well as extensive warnings and detail) and the story
     itself can also be found on my Tumblr: captainblanderson.tumblr.com
Every article of clothing he owned Kurt had carefully tailored to fit his body.
It drew boys’ eyes; it was especially satisfying for Kurt to see some of the
shocked faces. The ones where he could practically see the brains behind them
working to understand why they found themselves ogling a boy’s ass.
And not just his ass, either. It was common knowledge that Kurt had a pussy.
He’d hooked up with enough guys for it to be a confirmed rumor. Kurt thought it
particularly amusing that, though he’d never lost his virginity to any of them,
the collective agreement was that Kurt was a slut. The boys of Dalton knew him
that way. His reputation had even spread to Crawford Country Day, and the girls
gossiped about him.
It was only two months into his senior year and Kurt knew already that it was
going to be the best year yet. He’d had a boy in his grade in his sights for a
little more than six weeks. He was one of Dalton’s Warblers, the school’s show
choir. He was tall and broad-chested and absolutely gorgeous. And he claimed to
be straight, but that had never deterred Kurt before. It only made it more fun
when the straight boys finally gave in and jumped him.
Hunter would take a while, though. And Kurt liked getting his pussy eaten too
much to wait for that. It could take months.
It was a day in early October, one of the last nice days of the year, and Kurt
had taken the opportunity to wear his tiniest jean shorts. He sat at his desk
in English with one leg crossed over the other, putting nearly his entire right
thigh on display. He’d seen Hunter look over once. Just once, but that was
enough.
Beside Kurt, one of the boys on the rugby team was looking at him. Kurt had
hooked up with him before—he was gorgeous, that was to be sure. He just wasn’t
the best at licking pussy, and that was Kurt’s absolute favorite. Still, he
would do for now. Kurt smiled at him teasingly and crossed his legs more
tightly, causing his shorts to ride up further.
As he was doing this, he missed the substitute (whom they’d had the past four
weeks, ever since their teacher had had a heart attack and gone on medical
leave) telling them that the school had hired a new teacher for them, and that
teacher would be starting tomorrow.
After school that day Kurt and the rugby player drove to the overlook at the
beach and made out until sunset. Kurt let him touch his pussy, but like every
other time with any other boy, he never allowed him to use fingers. He had a
fantasy about his first time. It probably wasn’t like most other people’s
fantasies, he thought, but what of that? He wanted to be nice and tight for the
person he decided to give his virginity to. He wanted it to hurt a little bit;
for that cock to rip him open.
Hunter seemed like a possibility, but there was doubt. Kurt was fairly certain
that, when he found the man, he’d know. It would be like the answer to a good
riddle: self-evident.
* * *
Blaine walked into the apartment carrying two bags from Office Depot. They were
filled with school supplies, because just last week, he’d landed a job at a
private high school for boys in Westerville. It was wealthy and prestigious and
it was a better job than Blaine could have ever dreamed of obtaining. Of
course, Ohio wasn’t ideal, but teaching jobs were impossible these days, and he
wasn’t about to pass up a job at a private high school just because he didn’t
want to be in the place he’d grown up. He’d always planned on moving out,
getting to some big city or another, but this job (right out of his undergrad,
no less) was the best he was going to find anywhere.
“Will?” Blaine called, shutting the door behind him and dropping the bags onto
the coffee table in the living room. “Babe, where are you?”
“Kitchen!” came from down the hallway. Blaine smiled to himself, feeling that
familiar warm and tingly feeling when he came home to Will cooking dinner for
him. Trying to cook dinner, might be more accurate. He found his boyfriend
staring intently at the contents of pan on the stove top. It smelled like it
was supposed to be stir fry, but had burned in soy sauce and a mixture of
herbs. It was highly unpleasant, but sort of endearing.
Blaine slipped his arms around Will’s waist and kissed his shoulder.
“Hey,” he said softly, “why don’t I order Chinese food?”
Will huffed. “I wish I could cook.”
Blaine chuckled and kissed Will’s cheek. “We’re a couple destined to frozen
food and takeout.” This made Will laugh and he turned his head to return
Blaine’s kiss.
“Hey, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” he said when Blaine had let him go so he
could start cleaning up the mess he’d made. Blaine took down a glass and
grabbed the open bottle of red wine they’d started the night before. He poured
a good amount and handed it to Will, who took it with a coy smile, then made
one for himself.
“It sure is. I’m nervous as hell, but I’m excited. These are smart kids, ya
know? It’s a good curriculum. I can really get into the books with them.”
Will sipped his wine and looked at Blaine over the rim with raised eyebrows.
“I’m sure they’re very smart and incredibly talented.” He smirked. “But don’t
forget, Blaine, it’s an all boys school. Don’t let yourself think that just
‘cause it’s a private institution they’re gonna be well-behaved.”
Blaine waved him off. They’d wandered into the living room and Blaine pulled
Will down into his lap, nuzzling his neck before reaching into his pocket for
his phone to order the Chinese.
“There’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, nipping at Will’s ear. “No group of
kids I can’t whip into shape.”
Blaine dialed, and as the phone was ringing, Will leaned into his ear.
“I love it when you get all authoritative,” he breathed. Blaine squeezed his
thigh but Will only chuckled. “Mm, if you were my teacher, I wouldn’t be able
to keep my hands off you.” He breathed across Blaine’s neck, and then added,
“Mr. Anderson.”
Blaine had never gotten so hard so quickly in his life.
* * *
The classroom was perfect. Blaine had gotten to the school early on his first
day just to sit behind the desk and shuffle his papers and look out at the
empty seats. In an hour and a half they’d be filled with rowdy teenagers who
cared not one iota for language or literature. And Blaine was going to change
that, even if he had to drag them kicking and screaming by the ears.
The headmaster walked into the room and Blaine stood so abruptly he nearly
knocked his chair over. He blushed, but the headmaster only chuckled. He was an
old man who, despite his notoriety for zero-tolerance rule-breaking, was a
genuinely good person. It hadn’t escaped Blaine’s notice when he’d first been
hired by the school that that zero-tolerance policy extended to bullying and
harassment. So yes, Tom Boyd was a strict man; but he was fair, and beyond
that, he cared about his students. And Blaine admired him for it.
“Only me,” Tom said, waving his hand at Blaine’s gesture of having stood when
he walked into the room. “How’re you feeling? You know, we’ve never hired a
teacher quite so young before.” He raised one bushy eyebrow, but Blaine saw his
mustache twitch with a smile.
“I’m thrilled, sir,” Blaine told him. He was so thrilled, in fact, that he
couldn’t sit back down. “You’ll have no reason to regret hiring someone my
age.”
Tom laughed, nodded. He appeared genuinely unconcerned. “I don’t doubt you for
a moment, Blaine.” And it was still novelty for Blaine, to be addressed by
teachers as an equal. He couldn’t seem to kick the “sir” habit, but he thought
it would eventually fade away. He’d been a TA his last two years of college,
but it was different. This was his class. His class to teach however he wanted.
“I just stopped by to wish you luck and see if there was anything else you
needed from me before the first bell rings.”
Blaine grinned, his chest swelling with excitement and elation. This was it. He
had a real class. And a classroom. He had students. He was only twenty-three,
for god’s sake, and he was an hour away from beginning his first real teaching
job. At a private school.
“I think I’m all set,” he said, and Tom nodded, still smiling.
“I think you are too.” Tom gave Blaine a thumbs-up before leaving, letting the
door swing shut behind him. Blaine took in a deep breath and looked around the
room, feeling as though his smile might become permanently etched onto his face
if he didn’t cool it.
Ten minutes before the bell was set to ring, Blaine opened the door and
stoppered it. He leaned against the edge of his desk and watched as the
students began to wander in, most of them looking sleepy and on the other end
of the spectrum from Blaine in terms of enthusiasm. When the bell rang, he shut
the door, and the class quieted. He didn’t delude himself into thinking this
was because they were well-behaved; it was because they were curious,
particularly at finding their new teacher so young.
And he was young, but Blaine wasn’t a pushover. When he’d told Will he knew how
to handle a classroom, he hadn’t been showing off. Blaine loved kids, he loved
teaching, and he wanted to do it for the rest of his life. But he had no qualms
about being strict when he needed to be. In fact, it was one of the things he
liked so much about Tom Boyd: the man was an exemplary person in his eyes. Just
the right amount of no-bullshit.
During his first four periods, Blaine had very little trouble. The boys were
all too interested in their new teacher to be much of a pain as of yet. There
were a few showoffs who made what they probably thought were witty remarks
which Blaine either countered (depending on what was said, and both times this
had happened the class had fallen silent with reluctant respect) or else
ignored.
It was sixth period that threw Blaine for a loop.
He noticed the boy when he walked in, eyes drawn to the sway of his hips and
the little shorts he was wearing that showed off a whole lot of smooth, pale
leg. And those legs went on for days. Blaine had to literally wrench his eyes
away, feeling his face suddenly flare with heat when he realized he’d been
staring.
And wow, something about the way that kid was looking at him, like he knew…it
made Blaine nervous. And not in an entirely bad way, either. Which, actually,
made it a very bad way.
He shook his head.
“I’m Mr. Anderson,” he told them, “the new English teacher.” His eyes flickered
to the boy and away again. He gave the class the same spiel he’d given the last
four (having had an hour to regroup during fifth period) and handed out a
syllabus that outlined the topics they’d be covering and the books they’d be
reading up through the end of the first semester. And the whole time, his eyes
kept finding that boy, whose name, he had learned, was Kurt.
Kurt Hummel, he found out later, when he’d picked up his attendance sheet and
found the name. Hummel. It was appropriate; there was a likeness to the
porcelain dolls. Something that made him seem…delicate, Blaine supposed was the
closest word to describing what he thought about Kurt Hummel. He hadn’t spoken
once during the class—but the whole time, his eyes had never left Blaine. And
Blaine had felt it like Kurt had been touching his skin.
“Kurt Hummel,” he said under his breath, eyebrows drawn.
“What?” mumbled Will, turning over in bed and blinking blearily at Blaine. “Did
you say something, honey?”
Blaine swallowed. He shook his head and looked down at the forgotten book in
his lap.
“Nothing,” he said finally, smiling at Will. “Go back to sleep, baby.” Will
settled against Blaine’s side and Blaine lifted his hand into Will’s hair,
playing with it as he fell back asleep.
The book stayed open in Blaine’s lap for another half hour, but he didn’t
manage to finish another page. He was too busy thinking about Kurt’s legs.
* * *
The kids were not so well-behaved the next day. It was easy enough to get them
to calm down, with the occasional class clown thrown in. But for the most part,
he found the Dalton boys to be a pleasure to teach.
It was again sixth period that turned this around.
Of course, he’d been thinking about it all day. He wondered if Kurt would be as
gorgeous as he remembered, or if he’d built him up in his head. But no. He was
exactly as attractive as he’d been yesterday, maybe more so, unnervingly
enough.
It seemed to him a distinct possibility he’d been so focused on Kurt that he’d
inadvertently allowed himself to lose some of the authority in his demeanor,
and the class was acting out because of it.
He blinked several times, snapped his gaze away from Kurt (who he could have
sworn was smirking), and looked around the room. The boys were talking, paying
him no mind whatsoever. Blaine watched, let it go on for another ten seconds,
waiting to see if they’d notice him waiting.
Blaine’s other passion in life, besides teaching, was singing. He’d been
singing his whole life. And he knew how to project.
So when he said, “HEY!” in a loud, sharp bark that made their ears ring, they
shut up so fast you could hear teeth clacking. They stared at him with round
eyes, not quite sure what to make of what had just happened. He was such a
young teacher, could that have possibly come from him? The boys looked at one
another and then back at Blaine, who had an eyebrow raised.
He smiled. “Do I have your attention?”
The class continued to stare. Blaine’s smile grew. He felt entirely satisfied.
Until he looked at Kurt. Whose eyes were just as round as everyone else. Except
no one else’s pupils were quite so dilated. Blaine had a semi before he even
realized he was turned on.
But he pushed that out of the forefront of his mind, regaining control of his
face (and his dick) and forcing those thoughts to the side. Not…away. Just to
the side. Just aside until after class, when Kurt took way too long to gather
his things up, and just so happened to be zipping his bag closed when the door
swung shut on the last person. Blaine’s heart began a valiant attempt at
escape.
“Hey, Kurt, what’s up?” he said casually, going to his desk so he’d have
something to do, papers to pretend to grade (and so he could hide the erection
that was returning with a vengeance.
Kurt’s voice when he said, “Um, Mr. Anderson…?” was downright filthy and Blaine
nearly choked on his spit. He took a single deep breath before looking at Kurt
and putting on a smile.
“Yeah?”
Kurt bit his lip and leaned against Blaine’s desk, the edge digging into his
ass, drawing Blaine’s eyes.
But then Kurt was grinning mischievously and his eyes sparkled with humor and
blatant flirtation. Blaine couldn’t speak. Kurt apparently had no such qualms:
“Welcome to Dalton, Mr. Anderson,” he said softly, and he held Blaine’s eyes
for another heavy moment before pushing off the desk and sauntering out the
door, swinging his ass for Blaine. As soon as the door closed behind him,
Blaine’s jaw dropped.
That boy had just blatantly, shamelessly, flirted with him. With his teacher.
And Blaine, for his part, was stiff and throbbing beneath his desk.
* * *
The next few days, sixth period was all Blaine could think about. The end of
every class was just one period closer to when Kurt would come waltzing into
Blaine’s classroom in his tiny clothes with his endless legs and that teasing,
coquettish smile he always wore. He made it just about impossible to teach.
Blaine always found his gaze back on Kurt. He had to consciously not look at
him or his eyes would drift back, like they were magnetized.
Maybe Kurt was a witch, he thought one night, listening to the sound of the
shower down the hall. Or, like, an enchanter. A vixen!
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Will start singing and Blaine
chuckled.
Whatever Kurt was, it didn’t matter, because Blaine had a beautiful, amazing
boyfriend he wouldn’t give up for the world.
But Kurt sure wasn’t making it easy.
They’d begun their first book, one not often read in high schools; The
Stranger, by Albert Camus. Blaine thought the boys were more than capable. Some
of them would be taking philosophy classes next year and reading Aristotle’s
Metaphysics. They could handle Camus.
The Stranger was a book Blaine had been dying to teach since he’d read it when
he was nineteen. And now that the moment was finally here, he was being
distracted by a student wearing shorts that barely covered anything. Kurt was
bouncing his leg over his knee and watching Blaine with a gleam in his eye that
was verging on entirely inappropriate. And he couldn’t even be sure it was
deliberate. For all he knew, Kurt did this in every class, taunted every
teacher this way. He was surprised no one on the faculty had complained.
On second thought, yes he could. It would take more than a straight man to
resist those legs.
Blaine had gotten a rather heated discussion started about Meursault’s neighbor
and his diseased dog. The kids were so into it that they were talking without
his having to prompt them, going back and forth among themselves as he leaned
against his desk and listened with immense satisfaction.
His eyes drifted to Kurt. Kurt was watching him. His head was cocked and he
wore a coy expression that made Blaine nervous indeed. No one else in the
classroom appeared to notice what was going on (and had he been able to focus
on anything but this absurdly attractive boy, he would have been bursting with
pride), every last one of them engaged in a debate over the neighbor, why he
kept his dog, what the relationship symbolized.
Kurt brought the pen he was holding to his mouth and, without removing his eyes
from Blaine’s, ran the end along his lower lip, tugging it down just enough
that Blaine could see the tips of his bottom teeth. It was only when he noticed
the ache that had begun in his lower belly that he forced himself to look away,
face and neck flushed.
He kept his eyes off Kurt the rest of the class. But when the bell rang, he
couldn’t usher Kurt out of the room, and for the second time he lagged behind
the rest of the students, waiting until the last person had left to approach
Blaine’s desk.
Before Blaine could say anything, Kurt began, “Our teacher before you was going
to have us do Macbeth next.” Blaine’s eyes widened a bit, taken aback. Was Kurt
complaining? But then he continued: “And not that I don’t like Shakespeare, but
The Stranger is one of my favorite books.” He adopted that delicious, teasing
smile again and Blaine felt his heart rate jump at least twenty beats per
minute. Kurt planted his hands on Blaine’s desk and leaned closer, the smell of
his soap and shampoo snaking its way inside Blaine’s head and making him dizzy.
Kurt’s pretty blue eyes sparkled. “I’m excited to see what we’ll do this year.”
Blaine watched him leave with a nauseating combination of arousal and extreme
irritation.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Kurt was becoming frustrated. His efforts at gaining his teacher’s attention
were working spectacularly; it was getting that teacher to do something that
didn’t seem to be as successful. Sure, Kurt had never gone for a teacher
before, so there was that to take into consideration. It wasn’t only frowned
upon but illegal. But that first day he’d walked into English and seen Mr.
Anderson leaning against his desk, Kurt had forgotten about Hunter. Hunter, in
fact, held little appeal anymore. He paled in comparison to Kurt’s new teacher,
with his curly hair and that smile and those arms. Kurt had spent entire
periods staring at them and soaking his panties. Imagining Mr. Anderson holding
him down and fucking him, making him take his cock.
The weather still admitted revealing clothing, and Kurt took advantage. He’d
worn a skirt to school once before. Last time he hadn’t worn lace panties,
though. In Mr. Anderson’s class, he crossed his legs and hiked his skirt up,
giving Mr. Anderson a clear shot of his lace-clad ass cheek. It was gratifying
to watch him struggle not to look. Or look too long.
They were on to the second part of The Stranger. It really was one of Kurt’s
favorite books, and had he not been distracted by his gorgeous teacher, he
would have been thrilled to be reading it in school. The way Mr. Anderson
talked gave Kurt the impression that for the first time in his life, he may
have found somebody who shared his philosophical views. It brought on a level
of attraction to his teacher that went beyond physical, and that made him
nervous. He didn’t dwell on it, though, much too focused on getting Mr.
Anderson’s attention and pushing him to finally do something.
Throughout the class, he kept his skirt hitched up, and every time Mr.
Anderson’s eyes drifted over and landed beneath Kurt’s desk, Kurt could feel
his pussy dripping. The heat in his belly was almost painful. His mind kept
going back to the way Mr. Anderson had grabbed the class’s attention, the
authority inherent in it.
As Mr. Anderson led the class in another discussion (which was impressive,
because his peers didn’t usually show so much interest in books they read for
English class), Kurt let his mind wander. He imagined Mr. Anderson—what had he
said his name was? Blaine, that was it—bending him over his desk, teasing his
soaking wet cunt with his no-doubt big cock. Would he be rough? Yes, Kurt
thought. His teacher would likely be an animal in bed. It was always the polite
ones, the ones who dressed nicely and held doors and inevitably charmed you out
of your pants and into their beds.
Kurt squirmed in his seat and found that his face was hot. Not out of
embarrassment, but arousal. His pussy was aching. He squeezed his thighs
together and let out a shaky breath. When he looked up, he saw Mr. Anderson
watching him. He looked furious, but Kurt thought he also looked turned on.
Kurt, throwing caution to the wind as he was wont to do, bit his lip and
lowered his chin, looking at Mr. Anderson through his eyelashes. He let one
hand wander over his thigh, dipping his fingers between his legs. He felt the
stickiness there, and used the side of his hand to press against his pussy. His
mouth fell open just enough that Mr. Anderson would know exactly what was going
on. And since Mr. Anderson was the only one who could see what Kurt was doing,
he pressed a little bit harder, pushing the material of his panties between his
folds. He was able to pinch the fabric and pull it up, rubbing it against his
clit. He did this over and over, dragging the cloth of his panties up through
his slick pussy lips, creating a constant source of friction on his clit. Mr.
Anderson had seen, because he was adamantly looking away and his face was
bright red. He’d also gone to lean against his desk, and his hands were folded
in front of his crotch.
Oh god, he’s hard, Kurt thought, and had to stifle a whimper. He imagined what
it would be like to feel his teacher’s cock sliding into him, splitting him
open. And what it would feel like to grip the edges of his desk while Mr.
Anderson fucked him.
He was beginning to think he might actually come right there in class when the
bell rang. Kurt let go of his panties. The joints in his fingers ached from
having been clutching something so tightly for a good ten or fifteen minutes.
He had to take a breath, and for a moment worried that when he stood there
would be a wet spot on his chair. But when he got up, he saw only a hint of
dampness. That was fine. It wasn’t noticeable unless you looked for it, and it
would be gone by the time the next period started.
Kurt took his time gathering his things up, and when everyone else had left the
classroom, he made for the door with a satisfied little smile on his face (and
an ache in his pussy that would make his next class unbearable).
Just before he left, Mr. Anderson, without looking up from the papers on his
desk, said, “I’m glad you enjoy my class so much, Kurt.”
Kurt decided it would be more prudent to skip his next class in favor of going
out to his car and finishing what he’d started.
* * *
When Kurt had left the classroom, Blaine let out a long breath. His face was
hot with arousal and embarrassment. He couldn’t believe what he’d said before
Kurt had left. He just hadn’t been able to help himself. Sure, he was pissed
off. What Kurt was doing was not just inappropriate, but it was hazardous to
his job. But he couldn’t deny being turned on. Kurt’s little display had shown
Blaine something he wouldn’t have otherwise known.
Kurt had a cunt. Some time around the middle of the class, he’d slipped his
hand between his legs and started rubbing himself. It hadn’t been until he’d
started dragging his lacy panties—pink ones—through his pussy, though, that
Blaine had been sure. And he’d done a pretty good job of determinedly looking
away. It was only when Kurt’s eyes had fluttered shut a few times that he’d
allowed himself to stare. He couldn’t see much with Kurt’s legs crossed, but he
could just make out the way Kurt had had his fingers wrapped around the
material of his panties and was tugging on them enough to slip them between his
lips.
Blaine had never seen a boypussy before. They weren’t common. He’d thought
about it, but never seriously. And now, he was surprised by how turned on he
was. By the aching desire he felt to spread Kurt’s legs open and play with his
sweet little cunt, make him all nice and wet, and then fuck him until he came
all over Blaine’s cock.
Feeling like a huge pervert, Blaine went over to where Kurt had been sitting
and looked at the chair. There were little dots of perspiration—sweat,
probably, from his bare legs. And maybe something else, too. If he touched it,
would it be sticky? Would it smell like Kurt’s pussy?
Maybe. Probably. But Blaine didn’t touch it, and he certainly didn’t smell it,
because he felt horrific enough with his cock as hard as it was.
This couldn’t go on. But what was he supposed to do? Go to the headmaster? Tell
him Kurt Hummel was touching himself in his class? He didn’t want to get the
kid in trouble. (He absolutely refused to acknowledge the part of his brain
that didn’t want to do anything about the situation because he wanted it to
happen again.)
He had to sit at his desk the first ten minutes of his next class.
* * *
“Do you like it?”
Blaine blinked and stirred his fork in his pasta, absently stabbing a mushroom.
“I do, yeah.” He stuffed some in his mouth and grinned around it at Will, who
raised an eyebrow and curled his lip.
“Blaine, that’s so gross.”
Blaine’s cheeks gained a bit of color. He chewed his food and swallowed before
grinning apologetically at his boyfriend.
“Sorry, babe. It’s delicious, it really is.” He impaled another mushroom on his
fork and held it up. “You made my favorite.”
Though it seemed to be in spite of himself, Will smiled.
“You’ve seemed sort of tense the last few days,” he said with a shrug. “But you
said school’s going well, right?” He looked concerned, and Blaine felt so much
relief at the swell of affection this brought on that after dinner he dragged
Will into their bedroom and fucked him into the mattress. It was only later on,
in the dark silence of the room in the early hours of the morning, that Blaine
thought about Kurt again. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately after
they’d had sex, but Blaine hadn’t been able to. Over the last twenty minutes
he’d been slowly getting hard, thinking about sixth period yesterday. About
Kurt rubbing his pussy and dragging his panties over his clit. He wondered if
Kurt had come. He wondered how wet he’d been.
He wondered how wet he could make Kurt.
And then he thought about that cute little wet spot that had been on the chair
after Kurt had left, and Blaine slid his hand beneath his boxers, gripping the
base of his swollen cock and squeezing lightly. He made a choked-off noise and
his head tilted back. He scooted back, settling himself against his pillows
since obviously this was going to happen, and closed his eyes. He imagined Kurt
sitting in that same desk without any panties on under his skirt.
But when he came, he was thinking about getting on his knees and putting his
head beneath the desk, between Kurt’s legs.
* * *
He was wearing a fucking skirt again. And today, he was wearing calf-high
socks, too.
Blaine felt shitty enough about having gotten himself off last night to the
thought of fucking Kurt’s pussy. It so wasn’t fair that he had to endure this.
What had he done in his life to do deserve this? Really?
Kurt was wearing a decidedly wicked smirk today, and Blaine was resolute about
pretending he didn’t exist. This was made difficult when, halfway through the
period, Kurt’s legs fell open just enough that Blaine (weak human that he was)
couldn’t help looking, because he had a clear shot at the front of Kurt’s
panties, light blue today, and with a little damp spot where his hole was
leaking.
He didn’t rub himself off today, but he kept squeezing his thighs together, and
every time Blaine would look at him, Kurt would bite his lip. By the end of the
class, Blaine was pissed off. He was angry that it was happening, and he was
even angrier that he was so fucking turned on by it. That he had a throbbing
erection he’d probably have to hide the rest of the day.
He’d thought his comment the day before would have scared Kurt off. He’d
acknowledged it, for crying out loud. Wasn’t he embarrassed?
Well, evidently not. And Blaine was beginning to wonder whether that had been a
bad idea; only egged Kurt on. He’d have to be more direct, clearly. And with
his cock swollen and uncomfortable in his slacks, Blaine didn’t think it would
be a problem.
Kurt was a few feet from the door when Blaine said his name, his voice low and
stern. Kurt turned, and Blaine saw the flush of arousal on his cheeks and his
neck. It was so attractive he nearly backed down on what he was going to do. In
the end, though, he knew this was the only way to stop it. And it needed to
stop.
He stood up from his desk, wishing his cock wasn’t tenting his pants, but
knowing he couldn’t be sitting down. He was the teacher and Kurt was the
student. If he was going to put an end to this, he had to hold his authority
over Kurt’s head and scare him out of it.
His voice was soft and seductive when he said, “Yes, Mr. Anderson?”
Blaine rested back against his desk, keeping his face unreadable, and motioned
to Kurt with a finger. He saw Kurt’s chest rising and falling more quickly and
forced himself not to let it get to him. Kurt went to him obediently. Blaine’s
cock twitched. He swallowed and further ignored it.
He stayed silent a few moments, letting Kurt stand there without knowing what
was going to happen. He watched him squirm where he was, looking up at Blaine
every so often and then back down. His fingers fidgeted where they were clasped
in front of him. He had an idea that Kurt was not nearly as nervous as he was
making himself out to be. It enraged Blaine further. His fists clenched at his
sides and he gritted his teeth.
“I’m gonna give you one warning,” he said eventually, his voice deep and
intimidating. Kurt looked at him with wide, innocent eyes that pissed Blaine
off further and made his libido rage.
“What?” Kurt said softly. Blaine pushed off his desk and stepped forward.
“One warning,” he said again through his teeth. Kurt looked both frightened and
horny. His pupils were huge. Blaine couldn’t help wondering how soaking wet his
pussy was under that skirt. “If you wanna wear slutty little skirts like that
to school, you make sure you sit with your legs closed in my class. Do you
understand?”
Kurt, whose breathing was audibly unsteady, nodded.
“Yes, sir,” he breathed.
Blaine held his eyes for another moment before saying softly, “Good. Get to
your next class.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
The next couple of days, Blaine couldn’t get the encounter off his mind. He had
a difficult time sleeping, tossing and turning all night in his bed and getting
almost no rest at all. It made it difficult to deal with his rowdy students,
and it made being in the same room as Kurt even worse. He couldn’t even look at
him or he got angry. The number of times he’d made himself come to thoughts of
Kurt’s pussy was no laughing matter, and having to stand there and teach a
class while Kurt made eyes at him and bared his long legs was painful. He
didn’t wear any more skirts, but the short, shortshorts were bad enough.
Thursday night he got no sleep at all. Not even an hour. He lay awake staring
at the ceiling, trying to fight back the thoughts that had become habitual at
night. His mind went in circles, first deciding he’d done the right thing when
he’d pulled Kurt aside after class, then changing his mind and worrying it had
been crossing a line to have called him slutty. Well…not him, he reasoned. His
skirts.
Blaine closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, disgusted with
himself. He crawled out of bed, careful not to wake his boyfriend, and padded
through the apartment into the kitchen, where he made himself a cup of coffee.
It was already four in the morning; going to sleep now would be a bad idea.
He’d feel even worse having to wake up in two hours. So he sat at the kitchen
table and sipped his coffee, giving up and letting himself think about Kurt
without trying to fight it off.
The interesting thing was, Kurt was smart. The essays Blaine had thus far
assigned showed his talent. He was a thoughtful, abstract thinker, and had he
not been masturbating in class, Blaine thought Kurt would have been a favorite
student. He would even have loved to talk to him about the essays, pick his
brain, hear what his thoughts were on different books and ideas. Knowing he was
intelligent only made him more attractive to Blaine, and he resented Kurt for
that. For being not only physically but mentally attractive, as well.
In past relationships, Blaine had always made a point not to compare his
partners to other people. It was natural to be physically attracted to more
than one person, but he never cheated on his boyfriends. Ever. He thought it
was a shitty thing to do. As was putting your significant other up against
someone else.
But he couldn’t help himself as he sat there drinking his coffee at four in the
morning. He thought about how Will had common sense, but he wasn’t someone
Blaine could have intellectual conversations with. Without having ever actually
talked to Kurt, Blaine still felt sure his student could provide him with
better fodder for conversation than his boyfriend. But what of that? Will was a
good person. And Blaine was sureWill had never worn skirts and thongs to his
classes in high school when he’d had a cute teacher. It was indecent.
Disgusting.
And yet, Blaine couldn’t get rid of what seemed to be a perpetual boner ever
since that first sixth period he’d had with Kurt.
* * *
He was cranky at school the next day. The boys could tell, and each of his
classes had gone by without anyone goofing off. Blaine was a mild-tempered guy,
but when he was pissed off, everyone could tell, and no one liked to fuck with
him. It had always been that way, and Blaine had never discouraged it. That way
people kept their distance when he was in a bad mood. He’d been known to blow
his top before; once, in high school, he’d gotten in a fight. He’d been a
junior, and he’d had his first boyfriend. He’d kissed him in the hallway and
some idiot on the hockey team had guffawed loudly. Blaine had been able to
ignore that. What he hadn’t been able to ignore was the word “faggots” coming
out of the kid’s mouth. Blaine had punched him in the face so hard he’d hit the
lockers behind him and had a bandage on his nose the next couple weeks.
Needless to say, he’d gained some respect, and high school had been a breeze
the last year and a half after that. Some people had still sneered, especially
when he dated his next boyfriend senior year, whom he’d thought he’d been
completely in love with and made grand spectacles asking him to dances and to
prom.
But high school was over, and he couldn’t just punch people that made him
angry. Especially students. And anyway, he didn’t want to punch Kurt; he wanted
to fuck him. Now more than ever, perhaps, his libido fueled by his anger. Where
first he’d imagined fucking Kurt slowly, pulling noises and gasps and exquisite
faces out of him, now the pictures playing in his mind were more along the
lines of pounding his slutty little cunt until he begged Blaine to let him
come.
“Alright,” Blaine said, closing the door once the bell hand rung and sixth
period had started. Kurt was wearing jean shorts again. It was getting colder,
and Blaine had the funny feeling that, had Kurt not been trying his damned
hardest to make Blaine’s life as difficult and sexually frustrating as humanly
possible, he wouldn’t have worn them. He was little, and he had to be cold.
Good, Blaine thought with a grimace. Let him freeze. Too bad I can’t turn the
air on in here.
But that only made him think about Kurt’s nipples getting hard and showing
through his shirt and Blaine really, honestly was beginning to irritate
himself.
“So, you should’ve finished the book in the last two days,” he said, looking
around at the class and taking in three different kinds of faces: satisfied,
uninterested, and entirely uninterested. Well, that was hopeful. “Does anybody
have any feelings about how it ended? Were you surprised? Did you agree with
what the priest was saying? What do you think Camus was trying to say with the
conversation between those two characters?”
Trent, a chubby boy with round, rosy cheeks, raised his hand. Blaine nodded at
him.
“I think Camus is implying that Meursault’s future was set in stone.” He opened
his book and turned to one of the last pages, placing a finger on one line and
squinting before looking back up. “Yes, right here Meursault is thinking about
how he’s come to terms with what’s happening to him. He calls his imminent
death ‘a dark wind’ that’s been rising toward him. I think Camus is saying that
things are planned out—“
“No, no, no, that’s not what he’s saying atall.” The whole class snapped their
heads around to look at Kurt, who very rarely spoke. He was frowning at Trent,
clearly unimpressed with this conclusion. “If you go back two, three
sentences—“ and Blaine didn’t miss the fact that Kurt didn’t have his book out,
“—Meursault iscoming to terms with what’s happened to him, but he doesn’t think
anything was ever set in stone. The point is that it wasn’t. That he could have
done anything differently, but he chose to kill that guy, and that’s that.
Camus denied the book having an Existentialist backbone, but I think that wraps
it up perfectly.” And now Kurt looked at Blaine, and he was wearing a little
smirk. “It is what it is. That’s the point. You do something, and you face the
consequences of it.”
Blaine blinked a few times, trying to decide whether it would be taking it way
too far to find symbolism in what Kurt had just said. Was that what happened to
you when you became an English teacher? he wondered absurdly. Dear god, he’d
only been teaching a week and a half.
He snapped himself out of those thoughts and centered back on what Trent was
saying in response:
“But Camus says…” He trailed off and found the quote in the book: “’Throughout
the whole absurd life I’d lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from
somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come…” Now he
looked at Kurt with a satisfied smile on his face.
Kurt rolled his eyes and Blaine had to bite his lips so he wouldn’t laugh. Of
course, there was no rightanswer, there never was with books, or art, or
poetry. Just interpretations. However, he’d always sided with Kurt’s
interpretation.
“Yes,” Kurt said, and now he took his own book out, which, Blaine noticed, was
not the copy everyone else had gotten from the school’s book store. It was a
tattered old copy with cover art from the very first edition. “But a few
sentences back he says, ‘I had lived my life one way and I could just as well
have lived it another. I had done this and I hadn’t done that. I hadn’t done
this thing but I had done another.’” He closed his book and raised an eyebrow
not at Trent, but at Blaine, as though he expected Blaine to disagree. Blaine
found his temper coming back so quickly it might never have gone away. God, why
did the kid have to be such a shit? “He’s saying we live by our choices. We’re
going to do what we’re going to do, and once we’ve done it, it’s over. You
could actually summarize the book with the euphemism ‘No use crying over
spilled milk.’”
Blaine was taken aback. He’d never heard that before, but it was so…on point.
It made him angrier at Kurt. He couldn’t have been gorgeous but dumb? Or at
least…not so smart. It was infuriatingly attractive. And the sparkle in Kurt’s
eyes, that challenging, teasing gleam that was always there when he looked at
Blaine, settled like an exclamation point on top of Blaine’s irritation. He
needed a drink.
Kurt’s and Trent’s arguments had sparked a conversation that took them through
the rest of the period, and Blaine was reluctantly pleased with the certainty
that at least half of the kids who hadn’t finished the book would go home and
at least skim through it tonight.
That didn’t lessen his annoyance with Kurt. Especially not when he’d crossed
his legs and settled back in his chair enough that Blaine could see up his
shorts—and what he saw was that Kurt wasn’t wearing panties beneath them. And
that was as far as Blaine felt he could let it go without exploding. Will
didn’t even cross his mind when he made his decision.
When class had ended and the students were filing out, Blaine told Kurt to hang
back. Kurt looked much too excited by this, and Blaine, with his utter lack of
sleep, itchy eyes, and short fuse, had to restrain himself from yelling.
Seventh was another free period for him, and Blaine usually used it to grade
and to prepare for eighth period, which was a sophomore class and reading a
different book.
Today, however, Blaine did not intend to use the period for either purpose. The
way Kurt sauntered over to him, like he knewwhat he was doing to Blaine—and he
did, he had to know—was enough to make Blaine feel like Kurt had taken a pair
of scissors and finally snapped a thread that had been pulling tighter and
tighter every day since he’d started at Dalton.
Blaine went and closed the door to the classroom. When he looked at Kurt, that
sparkle was in his eyes again. He looked like someone who’d been waiting for
something a long time, and was finally about to get it.
And oh boy, was he going to get it.
“Go over to my desk,” he told Kurt, his voice low and rough and begging no
arguments. Kurt’s face flushed prettily and he nodded, doing as Blaine had
said. Blaine’s cock had been hard since he’d noticed Kurt’s lack of underwear,
but now it was beginning to strain against his zipper, like it knew it was
finally going to get what it wanted. Blaine felt an irrational burst of
annoyance at his own dick, as though it had betrayed him.
He watched Kurt for a few moments, taking in the way he shuffled his feet and
played with his fingers. And he had no idea whether he was actually nervous, or
if it was just an act. He wouldn’t have put it past him. Regardless, it was
working, and the lust in Blaine’s blood roared. He doubted very much whether
Kurt was innocent, but the act still managed to be alluring.
He stepped in front of Kurt, getting close enough that when Kurt automatically
tried backing away, his ass connected with Blaine’s desk. Blaine put his hands
on the desk’s surface, framing Kurt’s waist and leaning in toward his ear. He
could smell his shampoo and some sort of cologne that made his cock twitch in
interest.
“You’ve gone to desperate lengths to get my attention,” he whispered, and he
was satisfied to feel Kurt’s body shiver beneath him. “Now you’ve got it.” His
hands relocated to Kurt’s hips, and he wasn’t gentle. He squeezed, exerting his
authority, the power he held over Kurt. He was older, he was stronger, he was
more experienced, no matter what kinds of things Kurt had done, and he was his
teacher.
“What’re you gonna do?” Kurt breathed. Blaine clenched his teeth, both turned
on and further enraged by the question.
“Get on my desk.”
He heard Kurt swallow before he looked up into Blaine’s eyes, his own blue ones
round and for all the world completely innocent. Blaine growled low in his
throat and Kurt seemed to take this as a hint to get a move on. He hopped up
onto the desk and his legs fell open. Blaine laughed bitingly.
“God, you’re gagging for it,” he said softly, putting his hands on Kurt’s
thighs and spreading them wider. Kurt whined, but Blaine didn’t look up, didn’t
let Kurt know how much it affected him. His hands slid up Kurt’s legs, over the
smooth, bare skin, until he reached the legs of his tiny shorts. There was a
small gap between the crease of his thigh and the fabric, and Blaine’s head
throbbed with the knowledge that just past the hemline, Kurt’s pussy was
waiting, soaked and needy and all for him. He circled his thumb along the
inside of Kurt’s thighs, letting the tips drag just beneath his shorts, feeling
the humid stickiness that had gathered there. Kurt made a soft, desperate noise
that made Blaine squeeze around his legs. As he continued to tease, he leaned
back into Kurt’s ear: “Is that slutty little pussy of yours all wet?”
“Yeah,” Kurt said, his voice breathy.
Blaine pushed one of his thumbs further beneath Kurt’s shorts, until he could
feel the smooth, shaven mound of his cunt. The slit was soaking wet, and when
he felt further down, it became apparent that his juices had leaked out from
between his folds. Kurt took in a shuddering breath and whimpered.
“Is this what you wanted?” Blaine pressed, pushing his thumb between Kurt’s
labia and brushing over a hard little button of flesh he knew had to be Kurt’s
clit. Kurt’s whimper turned into a whine and his hips tried to buck forward
unsuccessfully. “Yeah? You wanted to get your pussy rubbed, you little slut?”
Kurt mewled, his hands coming up to hesitantly grip Blaine’s shoulders. He
looked at him with eyes that belied his otherwise promiscuous demeanor.
Blaine’s arousal throbbed in his veins, making his heart race, his head dizzy.
He could feel his pulse in his temples. Kurt was so wet, so warm. And Blaine
had never touched a pussy before.
“M-Mr. Anderson,” he stuttered, body jerking when Blaine rubbed over his clit
again, harder now. Blaine let out a sharp breath and brought his face closer to
Kurt’s neck.
“Tell me,” he said, voice dangerously low. Kurt’s grip tightened on his
shoulders. He felt his nails digging in through the fabric. “You’ve been
begging for it all week. Just say it.” He brought his lips to the skin where
Kurt’s neck met his shoulder, dragging them over it lightly. Kurt shivered
again. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
This made Kurt whimper.
“Please, Mr. Anderson…”
Blaine’s cock throbbed and ached, trapped inside his pants. He stifled a groan.
“Please what, Kurt?”
Kurt let out a small, desperate sob. His hips twitched forward, trying to make
Blaine touch his clit again. But Blaine moved his thumb, leaving his pussy lips
parted enough that the swollen little nub would be exposed to the air.
“Fuck me,” Kurt whispered. Blaine’s grip on Kurt’s thighs tightened again. He
squeezed hard—pissed off, turned on, and utterly devoid of rational or coherent
thought at this point. He sucked on the skin of Kurt’s neck as he unzipped and
unbuttoned his little jean shorts and slipped them down over his long legs,
letting them drop to the floor. He felt Kurt shaking very lightly, but whether
it was from arousal, anticipation, nerves, or a combination of all three, he
didn’t know.
With his legs spread open, Blaine had excellent access, and he moved his hands
up Kurt’s thighs, spreading him open wide with his thumbs. Kurt sucked his lip
into his mouth and was looking at Blaine through lidded eyes. Blaine could see
his tight little hole clenching around nothing.

"Look at this,” he said softly. He stared greedily at Kurt’s pussy, taking in
his swollen lips and the hard bump of his clit. He was leaking fluid and it was
beginning to create a little wet spot on Blaine’s desk. Blaine wondered vaguely
how big he could make it. He slipped a thumb between Kurt’s pussy lips, letting
it dip into his hole enough to tease. Kurt drew in a sharp breath. Blaine
continued to stroke his pussy as he kissed beneath Kurt’s ear. “Is this why you
wore those slutty skirts?” Blaine dragged the pad of his thumb through Kurt’s
juices and spread them over his clit, stimulating it briefly. “You needed me to
take care of this dripping cunt of yours?”
“P-please, yes…”
Without any warning, Blaine slid a finger deep into Kurt’s pussy, slowly but
without stopping. Kurt let out a long moan, head tilting back, clenching around
the digit. Blaine took one look at the skin of Kurt’s sweaty neck and attached
his lips, sucking hungrily. His hand sped up without much conscious thought,
both his libido and anger taking over. This kid had been taunting him for more
than a week; now he’d pushed Blaine past his limit, and he was going to get
what he’d asked for.
“You love this, don’t you?” Blaine panted, sweat beading at his temples and on
his neck from the exertion of fucking Kurt’s pussy with his fingers. When he
looked down, he was entranced by the sight of the swollen pink skin and the
little bundle of nerves at the peak. He was soaking wet, too, and Blaine had
never thought about pussies before, but he wasn’t quitesure how he’d lived
without this. The tight heat was astounding, and his cock stiffened until it
was extraordinarily uncomfortable to keep it in his pants, as it were. “Fuck,
you’re so hungry for it. Such a little slut.” He slipped another finger into
Kurt and started pounding him with them. “You’ll let anyone spread these pretty
legs of yours, won’t you?” he taunted. In fact, he was a little surprised by
the small hisses of pain that Kurt kept issuing, but they reduced in number
after a fair amount of minutes, so he forgot about it. “That’s right. C’mon,
you want it? Fuck yourself, Kurt. Fuck that slutty cunt of yours on my fingers,
make yourself come.”
Kurt squirmed on Blaine’s desk, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as he
rocked down onto his fingers, whimpering and panting and completely falling
apart. Blaine, for his part, couldn’t tear his eyes away. He did for only a
moment, and that was so he could find Kurt’s clit with his other hand, rubbing
over it in fast circles until Kurt was coming. His hips stuttered and his body
shuddered and fluid rushed out around Blaine’s fingers, creating a puddle on
the desk beneath Kurt’s ass. Blaine stared, fingers limp inside Kurt’s cunt,
oblivious to the way Kurt kept flexing around them with aftershocks.
“Mr. Anderson,” he said, his voice soft and a little scratchy. Blaine’s eyes
lifted to Kurt’s face.
“Lie down,” Blaine said. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but Blaine cut
him off: “Lie down,” he said again, more sharply. Kurt swallowed loudly before
nodding and doing as he’d been told. Blaine stripped off his own clothes and
divested Kurt of his shirt. He ran his hands reverently down Kurt’s chest,
stopping when he reached his thighs. He lifted them, opening Kurt up obscenely.
His pussy lips parted so Blaine could see his hole, a little loose from the
fucking it had taken by Blaine’s fingers. But still tight. Sotight. Blaine’s
cock would stretch Kurt infinitely more than his fingers had.
He gripped the base of his cock and stroked over himself lazily, staring at
Kurt’s pussy, enjoying the way it clenched under his heavy gaze.
“This what you want?” he breathed, and he lightly tapped Kurt’s pussy with his
fat cock, bumping his clit rudely with the swollen head. Kurt moaned and
writhed beneath him, but Blaine didn’t let up. He would get his revenge for
what Kurt had done to him, even if it meant getting dangerously close to eighth
period. “Want me to stuff that needy cunt with my cock?”
Kurt rolled his hips. Blaine slapped his pussy again, a little bit harder, and
Kurt keened.
“Yes!”
Blaine grinned wickedly and passed his cockhead over Kurt’s hole. God, he was
tight.
“Gonna have to do better than that, Kurt,” he whispered. He pushed the tip of
his dick just barely inside and Kurt’s pussy tried to swallow him in, but he
slipped back out. Kurt sobbed.
“Please, Mr. Anderson,” he begged, voice breathy and ruined.
Blaine pushed the tip in again, pulling another long groan out of Kurt’s pretty
throat. He leaned into Kurt’s ear, leaving the fat head of his cock just inside
Kurt’s hole. “You want my cock?”
Kurt whined. “Yes.”
“How bad do you want it?”
Kurt sobbed again. His fingers dug into Blaine’s biceps.
“Need it…”
Blaine cooed and kissed the underside of Kurt’s jaw. He pushed in steadily,
feeling Kurt’s tight walls grip his cock, adding resistance. It was heaven. He
was nice and tight, wet and so hot. Blaine groaned and pulled back out almost
immediately, giving Kurt no time to relax or adjust. It didn’t even cross his
mind that it could have been Kurt’s first time.
“’s that feel good?” Blaine said, breathing heavily, building a rhythm as he
fucked deep into Kurt’s clenching pussy. Kurt’s head had tilted back against
the desk and his body was arched up into Blaine, mouth fallen open in silent
ecstasy. It was so fucking hot Blaine had to slow down a moment, catch his
breath and pull himself back from the edge. They still had twenty minutes. He
wasn’t about to end this yet. “You like getting fucked by a nice big cock?”
He bent Kurt’s legs back farther, until they rested against his chest, and
picked up the pace again. He’d have bruises from where his hips were slamming
into the desk, but he couldn’t even feel that now. All he could feel was the
pressure of Kurt’s cunt around his cock, squeezing and pulling him back in
every time he pulled out.
“Come on my cock,” he said into Kurt’s neck, mouthing the skin there, breathing
too heavily to do anything else. “C’mon, this is what you wanted, right, Kurt?
You wanted to get your greedy pussy fucked? Come again for me.”
Blaine got his hand over Kurt’s mouth just in time to muffle his shout of
release. He started pulsing around Blaine’s dick, and it went on for about six
or seven seconds before his body shuddered and Blaine felt his cock being
pushed out. Fluid squirted out around him, soaking both their bellies. Blaine’s
jaw fell open. Kurt’s chest heaved, eyes closed, limp on Blaine’s desk. It took
Blaine about twenty seconds to fully register what had just happened before he
started slamming into Kurt again, gripping his thighs and fucking his
overworked pussy for another solid two or three minutes before he was
transferring his hands to Kurt’s waist and holding him in place as he ground
into him, coming so hard his vision went white. Kurt was rubbing frantically at
his clit, and Blaine felt him come again weakly, his body jerking and
shuddering with pleasure.
They stayed like that for several minutes, both catching their breath. Blaine
eventually slipped out, pulling a little moan from Kurt. Blaine grabbed his
boxers and put those on, falling into his desk chair and running a hand through
his sweaty hair. Kurt sat up shakily. That was when Blaine noticed the blood.
His heart started pounding.
“Kurt,” he said, voice guarded, eyes glued to the small spots of red mixed into
the puddle of pussy juice he’d left on Blaine’s desk. “Kurt, what isthat?”
Kurt, looking somewhat lost and dazed, glanced around before seeing where
Blaine was looking and dropping his gaze between his legs. When he saw the
blood, his cheeks filled with color. Blaine’s fists clenched on his thighs.
“Kurt…” he said dangerously. Kurt seemed to feel the gravity of the situation
because he carefully got off Blaine’s desk, wincing a bit when his feet touched
the ground. Blaine could have screamed. But there was no way. There was no way…
“Mr. Anderson—” Kurt began, but Blaine, in his fury, interrupted.
“Tell me you weren’t a virgin,” he bit out. All the answer he needed was Kurt’s
silence and the deepening color of his face. “Kurt—!”
“It’s okay,” Kurt cut in, sounding rushed and nervous. Blaine saw red. “I
swear, it’s okay, I wanted—”
“You’re eighteen years old!” Blaine said loudly, eyes flashing. Kurt looked
frightened, and this only served to further Blaine’s anger. “You don’t know
what the hell you want!”
“I…I’m seventeen, actually…” He trailed off when Blaine’s eyes widened.
Seventeen? So he hadn’t just taken his student’s virginity. He’d taken his
seventeen-year-oldstudent’s virginity. Like the maraschino cherry on top of a
five-hundred-calorie sundae.
“Go,” Blaine said suddenly, pointing at the door. “Get dressed and go.”
Kurt looked truly scared now. Blaine’s guilt was so huge it nearly choked him.
“Mr. Anderson—”
“Get out of here, Kurt!” he snapped. “Now!”
Kurt scrambled to gather his clothes, slipping his shorts back on over his
wrecked pussy, then his shirt. He grabbed his messenger bag, and just before he
left turned to look at Blaine like he was going to say something. Blaine gave
him a hard look that told him to think again, and then he was gone.
Blaine dropped his face into his hands. He’d just fucked up so badly.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Despite having had the best sex of his life, Blaine was notin a good mood when
he got home. He’d stayed at school until six, the same essay sitting in front
of him the whole two and a half hours. His mind was too occupied contemplating
what the fuck had just happened to devote much time to grading. Besides, he was
in such a bad way he would have given away F’s like he was Oprah. Take an F!
F’s for everyone!
Jesus Christ, he’d taken his virginity. He’d taken Kurt’s fucking virginity.
And the kid wasn’t even eighteen. With his luck, Kurt wouldn’t be
turningeighteen, either, for many months. Not that it mattered. As far as the
legal system was concerned, Kurt could have been eighteen tomorrow and he still
would have committed statutory rape.
But he didn’t think Kurt was going to say anything. No one had to find out. And
it was Friday, so Blaine had the weekend to cool down. To try and forget it had
happened. He’d just keep his distance from Kurt the remainder of the year. He’d
be graduating in May, anyway. Then he’d be gone, and Blaine could really get
into this teaching job. In the mean time, only as much contact as was required.
And maybe Kurt would quit it now that he’d gotten what he wanted and Blaine had
completely lost his mind at him.
Even this resolution could only loosen the knot in Blaine’s stomach so much,
though. The fact remained that he’d just cheated on his boyfriend of three
years with his seventeen-year-old student who’d been taunting him in class for
a week with skirts and lacy underwear. God, this was so fucked up. And it
wasn’t fair, but Blaine couldn’t help taking it out on Will. He was the only
person around, and Blaine’s guilt hid beneath the convenient cover of anger.
When he found Will cooking again, he rolled his eyes. He couldn’t remember why
he’d ever found it cute. Now they’d only have more to clean up before calling
food in. And if he’d just quit the bullshit, the takeout could have already
been here waiting for Blaine when he got home.
“Hi, honey!” Will said brightly when Blaine walked into the kitchen. Blaine
dropped into a seat at the table and pushed a hand through his hair, looking
irritatedly at Will. Will didn’t seem to notice. He continued, “I’m making
pasta. Figured I couldn’t screw that up.”
Blaine just barely managed to hold back a retort.
Will stirred the pasta and then went to Blaine, settling in his lap and winding
an arm around his shoulders.
“Why were you at school so late?” he asked, nosing along Blaine’s jaw. There
was more stubble than usual, since he hadn’t been sleeping well, and had gotten
a little lazy about keeping his beard trimmed. Will had always liked it,
though.
It was a legitimate question, obviously, but Blaine’s guilty conscience didn’t
like it one bit.
“I had stuff to do,” he snapped, and lifted Will off his lap and onto the floor
so he could stand up. Will looked at him with drawn eyebrows.
“Oh…kay,” he said slowly. But the frown turned into a seductive little smile
that normally would have made Blaine pounce, regardless of what they were
doing. He sidled over to Blaine and put his hands on his chest, leaning in
toward his ear. “What do you say we skip dinner and I can help you…relax?”
Blaine shook him off. His heart had climbed into his throat and seemed to have
made itself comfortable there. He couldn’t get Kurt’s face out of his mind.
“I’m really hungry, Will,” Blaine said shortly. “I had a long day.”
Will’s hands dropped to his sides and he frowned. His hip jutted out and one
hand landed there; it was the stance he always adopted when he was about to get
sassy with Blaine. And Blaine felt like an asshole because he didhave something
to hide, a reason he was being so cold, but he mollified himself by coming up
with the argument that, had he really just had a long day, he wouldn’t have
wanted Will to be acting this way anyway. He’d have just wanted to eat and go
to bed.
It just happened to be that Blaine had a reason to feel guilty this time.
“What is wrong with you? Did something happen today?” He paused in order for
Blaine to answer, but something else seemed to cross his mind. “You know,
you’ve been acting weird since you startedat Dalton. You haven’t been
yourself.” All at once the irritation drained from his face and he looked
worried again. “Is everything okay, Blaine? Seriously. Is it not…are you not
enjoying it like you thought you would?”
Blaine groaned in frustration. He pressed his palms into his eyes.
“Jesus, Will, can you just leave me alone for a minute? For chrissake, I’m just
a little stressed. Stop freaking the fuck out.”
Will’s nostrils flared and his eyes became slitted.
“Whatever, Blaine. Fine. Have a tantrum. See if I care.” He rolled his eyes and
went back to the stove, where he shut off the flame and stopped the boiling
water with most of the pasta still sticking out of the pan. “You want something
to eat, make it yourself.” He threw his hands up in the air and stalked out of
the kitchen. A few moments later Blaine heard their bedroom door slam. His
teeth clenched. He got up and went into the living room, where he was so
overcome with rage over his situation that he punched the wall. They lived in
an old apartment and the walls were plaster. He did more damage to his hand
than to the wall. His knuckles were bleeding, but at least a few cracks had
appeared and some of the paint had chipped off. He shook his hand out and
flexed his fingers, making sure nothing was broken (because now that hurt on
top of his head), and finally went to the couch, where he threw a few cushions
onto the floor to make more room. He’d be sleeping there tonight. There was no
chance in hell Will would open that door until morning.
* * *
There was something to be said about selective hearing.
The first five hours of the day on Monday, Blaine heard Kurt’s name three
times. Had he not noticed before? Was he only noticing nowbecause of what had
happened Friday? Or had his subconscious blocked those things out before?
The only plus side was that he didn’t hear his own name in conjunction with
Kurt’s (yet, his mind supplied helpfully).
The things he was hearing, though, were mystifying. He’d definitely seen blood
on his desk after he’d fucked Kurt. And Kurt had admittedhe was a
virgin…hadbeen a virgin. So why did the general consensus seem to be that Kurt
was a huge slut? It fit with everything Blaine had thought before he’d actually
gone and had sex with his student. Before he’d seen for himself that Kurt had
never been penetrated before.
He’d had the weekend to cool off a little bit. He’d made up with Will, giving
him the excuse that he was just getting used to the workload of being a real
teacher. And with the actual incident a few days behind him, he was able to
look at it without the clouded judgment of the anger.
He’d obviously fucked up big time, but having shooed Kurt away afterward like
that? That had been the biggest mistake. They were each at fault (him more so,
probably; as he’d reminded Kurt several times the other day, hewas the teacher.
That left himwith more responsibility), and Blaine had kicked Kurt out of his
classroom as though the boy had forced him to do it. As if he’d liedabout his
virginity, when Blaine hadn’t even inquired. Just assumed.
Like everyone else in the school, he thought, eyebrows drawing together as his
stomach knotted up. I assumed he was a slut just like everyone else. And I was
wrong.
Well, not wrong, maybe. If everyone seemed to think Kurt was a slut, he had to
be getting up to something. But he hadn’t been having sex. That was certain.
Blaine didn’t know what to make of it. Kurt was an anomaly. And he felt a
massive headache coming on.
* * *
Kurt spent the weekend at home, brooding. Ignoring his dad’s questions.
Rachel came over Sunday afternoon.
He and Rachel had met in sixth grade, and they’d been inseparable throughout
middle school. It had been tough on both of them to go to different high
schools, but they still saw each other two or three times a week, even now.
Rachel was his best friend.
They sat in his room, both flipping through magazines. Kurt had Vogue; Rachel
had Seventeen.
“I just think it’s really sad what happened to Justin Bieber,” Rachel said,
shaking her head at yet another picture of him making a bored face beside a
picture of Selena Gomez looking gaunt.
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said. He heard the ruffling that meant Rachel
had put her magazine down. He braced himself.
“I thought you hated him,” she said accusingly. When he looked up, her eyes
were slitted.
“I do. So does, like, ninety percent of the world these days.”
“Well, you usuallyput up more of a fight when I try to defend him.”
Kurt clenched his teeth. Leave it to Rachel to make a big deal out of nothing
at all. He was beginning to regret hanging out with her today. Trying to hide
the turmoil going on inside his mind was just about killing him.
“Maybe I’ve just stopped caring,” he said, rolling his eyes. “There’s only so
many obnoxious things he can do before it gets old, you know.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow and a sudden thought came to him: This isn’t about
Justin Bieber.
“Alright,” Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Spill the beans.
What’s got you so moody, huh?”
Kurt blinked several times. He hadn’t expected that. He’d thought he’d been
doing a spectacular job at hiding his bad mood.
“What are you talking about?”
Rachel sighed so dramatically Kurt thought about smacking her.
“Kurt. I have known you since we were eleven years old, and I know when
something’s bothering you.” Her face fell into one of gentle concern. She could
be a drama queen like no one else, and sometimes she lost sight of what was
important to her when her enormous aspirations came into play, but she was a
hell of a friend, and she would always come back around. Kurt’s shoulders
slumped and for the first time since Mr. Anderson had kicked him out of the
classroom, Kurt let himself feel his emotions. He was mostly super bummed out,
because the sex had been everything he’d imagined and more (god, the way he
teacher talkedto him). But he was embarrassed, too. He hadn’t realized Mr.
Anderson thought he was eighteen. In fact, Kurt hadn’t even really taken that
into consideration. The repercussions. He’d just been so focused on getting his
teacher’s cock.
“What is it?” Rachel pressed again.
Kurt licked his lips, which were suddenly dry, and then laughed lightly.
“God, Rachel, you’re not going to believe me when I tell you what happened on
Friday.”
* * *
He told her almost everything. She’d known about Hunter, and Kurt explained how
he’d completely lost interest the day Mr. Anderson had come to the school. He
told her he’d been flirting with him, but not how. He told her about the sex,
and about Mr. Anderson flipping out afterward. She’d winced when he explained
what had been said and looked angry.
“He said that to you?”
Kurt nodded and shrugged.
“I mean, I guess I didn’t really think things through.”
Rachel didn’t appear to agree with this. She made a face. “Well, no, obviously
not. But, Kurt. I mean.” She shook her head and laughed incredulously. “This is
all kindsof screwed up. I know you know that. But he’s your teacher. So aside
from the obvious, which is that hehas the most responsibility, he should
neverhave kicked you out like that.”
Again, Kurt shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. His cheeks were on fire and
he was more confused than ever. Rachel sighed long-sufferingly and gave him a
motherly look.
“Well. What’s done is done, right? No use crying over spilled milk.”
Kurt’s mouth twitched with a smile.
“Right,” he said. “And at least I’ve been distracted from Hunter, right?”
Rachel grinned. “I haven’t been hearing good things about him in the show choir
world,” she told him. “Talented, yes. But a real tool.”
Kurt rolled his eyes and waved the comment off. “Oh, everyoneat Dalton is a
tool, Rachel. If you could hear the things people say about me.” He fell back
on the bed and Rachel followed. “It’s funny, you know, ‘cause they all think
they’re the only one I didn’t let actually fuckme.” Rachel made a face. She
liked to vocally disapprove of Kurt’s behavior. “So I get this reputation I
didn’t even earn. But, hey. It gets me laid.” Rachel made another face.

She gave him a dull look before saying, “You don’t think we’re done talking
about this teacher of yours, do you?”
He laughed.
“Well, now that I’ve reprimanded you,” she continued, “I have a few questions.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“What does he look like?”
“Rachel!”
“What?” she said with a coy smile. “I’m curious! It’s not every day your best
friend has steamy illicit sex in a classroom with his teacher.”
Kurt’s face turned red in reaction to Rachel’s description of the events.
“Well, he’s gorgeous, of course.” Kurt sighed dreamily and came up with a
picture in his mind of Mr. Anderson’s face. “He’s got this amazing curly hair,
and this smile, and, ugh, Rachel, his arms. God, they look like they were
sculpted.” He swallowed hard, remembering being held down by those arms and
fucked within an inch of his life. His pussy throbbed. He was still sore,
though it was beginning to fade finally. He kind of liked it, if he was being
honest. Every time he moved, and especially when he sat, it was like a physical
reminder of having been fucked by Mr. Anderson Friday. “And he’s…well…” Kurt
bit his lip and grinned wickedly at Rachel, who blushed when she realized what
Kurt was about to say. “Let’s just say he’s packing.”
“Kurt!”
“Well, he is!”
She gave him a disapproving look that was ruined by a smile she couldn’t hold
in.
“I can’t believe you had sex with your teacher.”
“I know, right?”
Rachel shook her head, but the smile was still there. “He wore a condom though,
right?”
Kurt again waved her comment off. “I can’t get pregnant. It was too spur-of-
the-moment, anyway.”
“Kurt,” Rachel said, eyebrows drawing together. “First of all, I thought you
said you didn’t know for sure if you could get pregnant. Just a few months ago
you told me it wasn’t conclusive. You get your period.” She said this part very
deliberately, and Kurt had to admit, she had a point. But the doctors had
saidit was so unlikely… Plenty of men with boypussies and periods never got
pregnant. “And second, just because you can’t get pregnant doesn’t mean you
shouldn’t be using condoms. You have no idea who his last sex partner was!”
Kurt blushed. “God, you don’t have to be so graphic about it. I’m fine, I
promise.”
“Just…you should be using condoms, okay? Don’t get into the habit. You don’t
want to end up with an STD, and you don’t want to find out the hard way that
you canget pregnant.”
“I’m fine, Rachel.”
* * *
Monday was trying. He was nervous for sixth period, but determined not to show
it. Still, some of the comments thrown his way, some of the gossip, got to him
more than usual. He’d been feeling vulnerable (and understandably so, he didn’t
mind saying) ever since Mr. Anderson had told him to get dressed and leave.
That walk of shame from the classroom to his car had been awful.
Kurt didn’t own clothes that didn’t show off his body, but he decided to be a
little bit more conservative and at least wear regular jeans today.
The first five periods of the day came and went, and too soon Kurt found
himself walking into Mr. Anderson’s classroom and taking a seat. Most of the
class was already there and Mr. Anderson was sitting at his desk, finishing
something up from the last class. Kurt blushed fiercely and had to look away`
from that particular piece of furniture which he’d come all over just a few
days ago.
To his great relief, Mr. Anderson played it off very well. He acted totally
normal, and his eyes kept passing right over Kurt, sparing him any awkward eye
contact. Really, the worst part for Kurt was finding that he was still
enormously attracted to his teacher. And now that he knew the way Mr. Anderson
looked when he was naked and sweaty and fucking someone raw, whispering filthy
things and using those muscles to hold that person down, god, Kurt couldn’t
unsee it. He didn’t want to. And as ridiculous as it was, he just couldn’t help
fantasizing about fucking his teacher again. It was a good thing he was wearing
jeans, because he soaked his panties again throughout the class.
He kept his eyes down, though, and wore a small pout.
Kurt still took longer than most of the others to pack his stuff up when the
bell rang, but he went a little more quickly than he’d been going. He didn’t
know what he was waiting for until Mr. Anderson told him to stay a few minutes.
His pulse raced.
When the door shut behind the last person, Mr. Anderson finally looked up. Kurt
hugged the textbook he was holding against his chest, unsure of what to expect.
This was exactly what he’d wanted, but now that it was here, he didn’t know
what to expect. After all, he hadn’t exactly been prepared for the animal he’d
unleashed in his teacher on Friday. Not that he was complaining, but the
principle remained. Anything could happen with this guy
“Come here,” Mr. Anderson said, his voice low but gentle. As Kurt went to him,
he stood up. Kurt looked into his warm brown eyes and felt his stomach turn
pleasantly. “Look,” he said, “there’s a lot I should say, but first I should
apologize.” Kurt opened his mouth to protest instinctively but Mr. Anderson
went on, “No, it was really shitty of me to have kicked you out of here.” He
moved a little bit closer to Kurt and reached out, swiping a thumb over his
cheek. “I wanted that just as much as you did, trust me. What I don’t
understand, Kurt, is why you would give up the experience of your first time.”
Kurt bit his lip and shrugged. “I didn’t…give it up,” he said softly, and he
saw Mr. Anderson’s eyes blaze. His pussy throbbed again. “I decided I wanted it
to be you.”
His teacher searched his eyes, coming closer still. “But why?” he whispered.
Kurt smiled coyly. “You turn me on.”
Mr. Anderson shook his head, looking bewildered. His hand rose to Kurt’s neck,
and Kurt, heart beating out a tattoo against his ribcage, let his teacher pull
him slowly—agonizingly—in and brush their lips together. Kurt let out a shaky
breath and felt Mr. Anderson smile.
Their lips brushed again, with more pressure this time, and Kurt breathed, “Mr.
Anderson…”
His teacher hushed him, kissing him again, again, and finally trailing his lips
down Kurt’s jaw, onto his neck. “I’ve got you, baby.” Kurt’s knees nearly
buckled at the endearment. He wrapped his arms around Mr. Anderson’s shoulders
and was spun around and placed on his desk. “How’s that pussy doing?”
Kurt groaned and rolled his hips forward, keening when he felt Mr. Anderson’s
big, warm hand cup him through his jeans.
“M-Mr. Anderson,” he stuttered, crying out softly when he felt his teacher
press up with his fingers against his hole. It was so sore, but it felt so
good.
“Blaine,” Mr. Anderson said against Kurt’s neck. “Call me Blaine, Kurt.”
A pulse of heat made Kurt’s whole body throb. “Blaine,” he whined, rocking
against his hand. “Oh, that…oh…”
“Yeah, that feel good?” Blaine whispered, speeding his fingers up. “Is your
cunt still sore, baby?”
“Mhm,” was all Kurt could manage, nails digging into Blaine’s shoulders. And
then Blaine stopped suddenly and Kurt could have screamed. Blaine leaned in to
kiss him again.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing Kurt’s thighs before moving to undo his
jeans and pulling them down and off his legs. His fingers found Kurt’s pussy
again and he slipped them beneath Kurt’s panties, rubbing gently between his
lips and over his clit. Kurt whimpered, rocked his hips. Blaine kept kissing
his face, his cheeks, his eyelids, his mouth. His fingers dipped into Kurt’s
hole but not far. And that was good, because Kurt found that it still hurt way
too much. Blaine had reallyfucked him hard, not having known it had been his
first time. He was probably feeling bad, Kurt thought, and that made him grin.
“C’mere,” Blaine said, guiding Kurt to the center of the desk. Blaine sat in
his chair and spread Kurt’s legs open. Kurt knew where this was going and his
head fell back, his pussy clenching in anticipation.
“Are you…?” he breathed. Blaine grinned with all his teeth. He hooked his
thumbs into Kurt’s panties and dragged them down slowly. He ran his fingers
over Kurt’s thighs, creating goose bumps, and then started kissing. He kissed
up and down his leg, getting so close, but not there. He even spent a good two
or three minutes kissing the crease of Kurt’s thigh. But finally he licked up
one of Kurt’s lips, then the other, and then dipped his tongue inside and
licked all the way up to his clit, where he flicked his tongue and Kurt cried
out. Blaine chuckled and looked up through absurdly long eyelashes.
“You’ve gotta be quiet,” he told Kurt softly, and before Kurt could answer,
he’d dived in. He opened Kurt up until he was exposed to the air, and Kurt’s
clit throbbed and pulsed. Blaine placed a gentle kiss there and it made Kurt
sob and clench and try to close his legs around Blaine’s head. But Blaine held
them in place, and that itself was ridiculously hot. He used the tip of his
tongue to make idle patters and sucked on his lips, and Kurt watched this all
with wide eyes. Blaine’s face was soaking wet with his juices. He stabbed his
tongue into Kurt’s hole a few times, but he focused mostly on the rest. It was
honestly like he was kissing Kurt’s pussy, and Kurt couldn’t say why, but it
was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He sank his hands into Blaine’s hair, and
Blaine seemed to take this as Kurt’s cue that he was getting close. And he was.
God, he’d never been so close so quickly before.
Blaine wrapped his lips around Kurt’s clit, and when he started sucking hard,
Kurt saw stars. He ground against Blaine’s mouth, riding his face and tugging
on his hair as his pussy pulsed with his orgasm, again and again and again, it
seemed never to stop. He could feel the fluid leaking out of him, all over
Blaine’s face, down his chin. And Blaine just kept sucking him through it until
Kurt had nothing left in him.
He came up from Kurt’s pussy when Kurt had stopped pulsing and clenching, and
he kissed him. Kurt groaned into Blaine’s mouth, tasting himself on his tongue.
Blaine wrapped a hand around Kurt’s head and held him steady as he pushed his
tongue in and out of Kurt’s mouth. Kurt tried to catch his breath, but it
seemed impossible. Blaine was everywhere, rubbing over his sore pussy, fucking
into his mouth with his tongue, stealing his breath. Kurt felt entirely
consumed by him, and he never wanted that to go away.
“Did that feel good, baby?” Blaine said against Kurt’s lips.
“Yes,” he sighed.
Blaine cooed and kissed him again, leaving him panting. “Yeah? You like when I
touch that slutty pussy of yours?”
Kurt whimpered. “Yes.”
“Good boy.” He swiped his thumb over Kurt’s sensitive pussy one more time
before stepping away. He helped Kurt off the desk and Kurt put his clothes back
on. Blaine swept him into another kiss and Kurt felt the stiff length of his
cock in his pants.
“Oh! What about…?”
Blaine chuckled and kissed Kurt’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You have to get
to your next class and I have to get ready for mine.” He kissed the corner of
Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt shivered. “Come back here after school. We’ll talk more
then.”
Kurt nodded at him and allowed himself to be kissed once more before leaving.
Suddenly, all those things people were saying that had bothered him that
morning didn’t seem so important anymore.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Eating Kurt out had not been his plan. All he’d intended to do was apologize
and tell him why it could never, ever happen again. But then Kurt had spent the
period looking so utterly wounded, pouting those lips Blaine had never tasted.
And, well, needless to say, now he hadtasted them. And if he’d thought having
sex with Kurt had been a bad idea, it was laughable in comparison to the shit
storm Blaine had brought down upon himself by kissinghim. He was perfectly
convinced that had he not given into the temptation to kiss Kurt, he would have
been able to reign the rest of himself in as well. He might not have found
himself sitting in his desk chair with Kurt’s legs spread open around his face.
But god, had it been good. And the worst part? He was going to do it again. For
the first ten minutes after Kurt had left Blaine had tried to delude himself
into believing he was actuallyjust going to talk to him when he came back after
school. But he quickly gave up on that lie.
The truth was, while he felt like the biggest shithead on earth for cheating on
Will, Blaine was also entirely aware of that all-too-familiar sensation in
one’s belly when one realizes he has just developed a crush on someone out of
absolutely nowhere, like a punch in the face. It sort of made him feellike he’d
gotten punched in the face, too. He’d never in his wildest imagination seen
himself being attracted to someone so young. Of course, there was something
about Kurt that made him seem older. The way he carried himself, maybe. He
exuded confidence, more than most teens could claim, anyway. And he was smart.
That much Blaine knew for sure. Aside from his promiscuous behavior, Blaine had
an inkling Kurt was incredibly mature for his age. And Blaine was fascinated.
There was so much to be fascinated by. For one thing, Blaine found himself
feeling addicted, for lack of a better word, to Kurt’s pussy. He couldn’t stop
thinking about it. And after having gone down on him, Blaine knew he was
hooked.
For the time being, he decided, it was best to just do what felt right. Not
that cheating felt right, but…Kurt did. Kurt felt right.
The fact that he felt more right than Will, Blaine put down to the thrill of
being with someone new. That was all. He was used to Will. That didn’t mean he
didn’t still love him.
* * *
Blaine felt a little bit like he was shooting a porno.
Kurt walked into the room with his gaze lowered to the floor and his cheeks
pink. He was the very picture of innocence, especially with the outfit he was
wearing, which was almost not slutty at all. Really it was just tight.
Reallytight. Tight enough there could be no mistaking what Kurt had under
there. Or…didn’t have under there.
“Go ahead and close the door,” Blaine said. He sat down on the edge of the his
desk and watched as Kurt removed the stopper and let the door snick shut. When
he turned back around, there was a coy little smile on his face. It made Blaine
laugh.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Anderson?” Kurt said in a breathy voice, lips still
quirked.
“I thought I told you to call me Blaine.”
Kurt stepped closer to the desk. Blaine marveled at the whole situation.
“Oh,” Kurt said, and he bit his lip briefly. “Right. You wanted to see me,
Blaine?”
Blaine just barely restrained himself from pouncing. If this was going to
happen, there would be plenty of time for sex. Right now, they needed to talk
about it. It wasn’t the conversation Blaine had had in mind this morning, yet
it had him in a better mood.
“C’mere,” Blaine said. He hopped off the desk and patted the spot he’d vacated.
Kurt took his place, swinging his legs, bumping his heels into the desk and
making dull, hollow sounds. Blaine put his hands on Kurt’s thighs and he
stopped. He smirked at Blaine.
“Sorry.”
Blaine shook his head, grinning, and leaned in to brush his lips over Kurt’s,
more a tease than a kiss. Kurt made a noise in his throat that made Blaine
chuckle. Whatever else Kurt may have been, he was still a horny teenager. Not
that he himself wasn’t almost constantly horny, Blaine reflected. But that was
off the subject.
“We have to talk, Kurt,” he said softly. “Before anything else happens—“
“So something else isgoing to happen?” Kurt said slyly. Blaine huffed out a
breath but couldn’t help smiling.

“Before anything else happens,” he continued, ignoring Kurt’s question, “we
have to…set some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” Kurt drawled. He rolled his eyes. “You are such a teacher.”
Blaine clenched his teeth and grabbed Kurt’s legs, opening them wide so he
could step between them. His breath floated across Kurt’s ear. “Yourteacher,”
Blaine bit out. He squeezed his hands on Kurt’s thighs, earning a little
squeak. It made his stomach twist hotly. “And if you want me to fuck you again,
we’re gonna do this my way. Is that clear?”
Kurt, eyes wide, nodded. Blaine kissed just beneath his ear.
“Good,” he whispered. He pulled back, but his hands stayed where they were. It
was his discreet way of maintaining power over the situation. His dominance in
whatever relationship it was they had. Or were on their way to having. “Do you
have a boyfriend, Kurt?”
Kurt shook his head.
“Good,” Blaine repeated. “Are you hooking up with anyone regularly?”
Kurt uttered a small laugh. “Sorry. It’s just weird to hear a teacher use that
term.”
Blaine smiled and rolled his eyes. “I’m only twenty-three, you know. I just
graduated college this past May.”
Kurt spread his legs open wider and gave Blaine a sultry look, his eyelids
lowered. “Almost six years older than me,” he said in a breathy voice. Blaine
squeezed Kurt’s thighs again and tugged him forward, smashing their lips
together. Kurt’s hand ended up in his hair and Blaine had to tug it back out.
When he tried to pull away from Kurt’s mouth, Kurt bit his bottom lip. Blaine
had already been at half mast. This pushed him the rest of the way.
“Are you?” he pressed, pushing Kurt back with a hand on his chest. “Are you
hooking up with anyone?”
Kurt snorted. “Everyone.”
Blaine huffed in annoyance. “Regularly?”
“Very,” Kurt said with a teasing smile. Blaine’s grip tightened again on his
thighs.
“Kurt,” he said through clenched teeth. Kurt’s face grew pinker with arousal.
“Okay, okay,” Kurt conceded. “No. No one in particular on any regular basis.”
Blaine nodded, mollified. Somewhat.
“It’s true, though? You get around?”
Kurt frowned. “What do you mean, ‘it’s true’?”
“Kurt,” Blaine said softly. “I know you know the things the kids say about
you.” He rubbed over Kurt’s legs and kissed his cheek. “That’s what’s gonna
happen if you’re gonna, you know…throw yourself around.”
“I don’t throw myself around,” Kurt snapped. He tried to shove Blaine’s hands
away but Blaine held tight. He enjoyed the way Kurt’s face deepened in color.
“I was a virgin, remember?”
“Just ‘cause you’re not having penetrative sex doesn’t mean you’re not having
sex,” Blaine told him with a raised eyebrow. He leaned forward and kissed the
edge of Kurt’s jaw. “I don’t care what you were doing before. I don’t want you
doing it anymore.”
He heard Kurt swallow and grinned against the skin of his neck.

“Possessive?” Kurt breathed. Blaine chuckled.
“A little bit.”
“And what about you?” Kurt leaned back enough that he could see Blaine’s eyes.
“Do youhave a boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Blaine said without hesitating. He looked back and forth between Kurt’s
eyes. “And he can’t find out.”
Kurt smirked. “Whatever.” He grabbed Blaine’s tie and ran it through his
fingers, looking up at Blaine through his eyelashes. “As long as I have you
when I want you.”
Blaine allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss. He dropped his mouth open and
slipped his tongue through Kurt’s lips, licking across his pallet and pulling a
shuddering gasp out of him.
“What were those ground rules?” Kurt mumbled.
Blaine elaborated between kisses:
“You’re done with everyone else. I don’t share.”
“Not a word to anyone.”
“Don’t ever talk to me about anything not school-related while we’re in the
building.”
“This doesn’t mean you can slack on your work.”
This last one made Kurt pull away from a rather hungry kiss.
“Oh my god, seriously?”
He was laughing, but Blaine frowned. “Yes, seriously. Kurt, I have to cover my
bases. This is so illegal.”
Kurt pursed his lips. “What does the legality of it have to do with my grades?”
Blaine ignored that. “I have one more rule,” he said, and he pulled away from
Kurt, looking at him seriously. “I’m gonna give you my number. Do notgive this
to anyone else. Don’t text me or call me during school. Don’t tell anybody you
have it. In fact, don’t even put my namein your phone. Save it under something
else.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kurt. He did. Probably too much, in fact. But it
was true, he had to cover his bases. If anyone were to find out, Blaine would
lose everything. His job, his boyfriend, probably most of his friends. He’d go
to jail. It would be on the news. He’d have to register as a sex offender, for
crying out loud.
It struck him how absurd it was that he’d be willing to risk all that, but it
didn’t feelthat absurd. Maybe a little scandalous—or a lot—and perhaps pretty
douchey, considering he was cheating on his boyfriend. But there was just
something about Kurt that made it worthwhile. And Blaine didn’t feel like
exploring that too much just yet.
“I think I’ve got the ground rules down,” Kurt said, his smile impish.
Blaine marveled again. This time at the snarky, delicious piece of ass sitting
on his desk.
* * *
Blaine learned the next day that Kurt had lunch fourth period.
He was in the middle of discussing an essay he was going to be assigning when
the door opened and Kurt peeked his head in. Blaine gaped for a moment before
composing himself, though his fists clenched into balls at his sides.
“Mr. Anderson?” Kurt said, looking for all the world like he was entirely
innocent. “The headmaster wanted to see you. He said it wouldn’t take more than
ten or fifteen minutes.”
Blaine’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He almost asked why Tom wouldn’t have
called, then realized it would be counterproductive. Kurt would have to fumble
for an excuse. Of course Tom didn’t really want to see him. Day two and Kurt
was already breaking the rules.
Although, he didn’t recall exactly forbidding sexduring school hours.
Fuck.
He looked back at the class. It was only ten minutes into the period. He’d
still have time when he came back.
God, he was seriously doing this, wasn’t he?
“Don’t go anywhere,” he warned the class. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes
tops.”
He followed Kurt out of the room, closed the door behind them, and looked up
and down the hall. When he’d confirmed they were alone, he pushed Kurt up
against a wall and buried his face in Kurt’s delicious-smelling neck.
“You little slut,” he breathed. Kurt whimpered softly. “Couldn’t even wait
until the end of the day, could you? You had to interrupt my class just so your
needy pussy could have my attention.”
“Blaine,” Kurt said brokenly. Blaine sucked at Kurt’s skin and pressed his hips
into Kurt’s, grinding his hardening cock against Kurt’s pussy.
“Uh uh,” Blaine said. His hand snuck down to cup Kurt through his jeans,
rubbing over his pussy slowly, teasing him. Kurt’s mouth fell open. “Not during
school hours, Kurt. If you’re gonna cut into my class time ‘cause of your
greedy little cunt, it’s gonna be Mr. Anderson.”
Kurt sobbed quietly and moved his hips desperately against Blaine’s hand,
looking for more friction. Blaine pressed harder. He would have liked to drag
it out, but he didn’t have time. He had to get back to class.
And god, so many kids were just on the other side of the wall. Even more in the
other classrooms lining the hallway. And teachers. Other teacherswere in there.
And here he was, slipping his hand beneath his student’s pants, past his
panties, and dipping his fingers into his pussy.
“You’re so wet,” he breathed. Kurt nodded and swallowed loudly. His hands came
up to squeeze Blaine’s shoulders. “How long have you been thinking about this,
baby? Have you been soaking yourself in every class thinking about my cock?”
“Yes,” Kurt whined. He humped against Blaine’s hand, but Blaine kept his
touches light, teasing. He couldn’t help himself.
Anyone could walk by. Someone could walk out of any of those doors. But Kurt
brought out something in Blaine that he couldn’t control. He spun Kurt around
and pulled his jeans down over his ass. He kept his hand rubbing over Kurt’s
wet pussy and the other worked on his own pants, opening them just enough so he
could pull out his swollen cock. He was so hard, leaking copious amounts of
precome. He slipped his cock between Kurt’s legs and let it glide over his
pussy lips. Blaine could feel his heart in his throat, hear it pounding inside
his head, but he couldn’t stop. Kurt brought his legs together and stuck his
ass out further, giving Blaine a better angle. He gripped Kurt’s hips and
fucked his thighs, sliding in and out, the head splitting Kurt’s lips open and
bumping over his clit every time he fucked forward.
“Please,” Kurt whispered, voice scratchy and desperate. “Please, Mr. Anderson,
please, fuck me, I need it so bad.”
Blaine’s fingers tightened on Kurt’s hips and he kept going, moving more slowly
and then speeding up again, stopping only when he knew he’d come if he didn’t.
“Fuck,” he breathed. He gripped the base of his cock and moved it forward until
he felt it dip into Kurt’s cunt and Kurt’s breath hitched. “Is this what you
needed, baby? You need a big cock to stuff your pussy? Couldn’t even wait
another few hours, you greedy slut.”
He started to push inside and he heard Kurt sob. His head fell forward and
Blaine saw his fingers turning white where they were gripping the wall. It was
so wrong, but somehow, the fact that they were doing this in the middle of a
hallway at school only made it hotter. They’d already been gone at least five
minutes, so Blaine didn’t waste time before fucking him. He grabbed Kurt’s hips
and started pounding, glad for the way their clothes muffled any noise.
Blaine leaned over Kurt’s back and kissed between his shoulder blades, the nape
of his neck, beneath his ear.
“C’mon, Kurt,” he whispered. “C’mon, are you gonna come for me, baby? Right
here in the middle of school? You love it, don’t you?” He nipped at Kurt’s ear
and his hips sped up further as he got close himself, feeling his balls draw up
tight. “You want someone to walk out of one of those classrooms and see you
getting fucked by your teacher? Is that what you want, you slut? You want
everyone to know you’re mine?”
Kurt’s whole body shuddered. He clenched down around Blaine’s cock and started
to come, squirting around him and pumping his hips like he couldn’t control
them. And he probably couldn’t. Blaine fucked him harder, using his body like
it was a rag doll, slamming into him relentlessly until his own orgasm hit and
he fucked Kurt through it. Kurt scrambled at the wall as Blaine pounded him
into it, easing himself down from his orgasm. His come leaked out around his
cock and down Kurt’s thighs, pooling in the crotch of his jeans. They stayed
like that for almost a minute before Blaine gathered himself enough to pull out
and tuck himself back into his pants.
With shaky hands, he spun Kurt back around. Kurt lunged for his mouth and
Blaine met him halfway. He pushed Kurt back against the wall, licking into his
mouth and sucking on his lips. Kurt whimpered and whined and clawed at Blaine’s
chest.
“Jesus, Kurt,” he said finally, and Kurt laughed. Blaine cracked a smile. “We
can’t do this.”
Kurt grinned coyly. “I think we already did, Mr.Anderson.”
Blaine reached down and cupped Kurt’s bare pussy, making him gasp. He kissed
Kurt’s lower lip.
“Lose the attitude,” he whispered. “Don’t ever pull me out of a class again. Do
you understand me?”
Kurt took a shaky breath, moving his hips against Blaine’s hand.
“Do you understand me?” he said again, sharply.
Kurt nodded.
“Good. Now go get cleaned up.”
And just as Kurt turned away, Blaine did something he hadn’t planned on doing.
Again.
He grabbed Kurt’s wrist and spun him back around, kissing him hard on the lips.
Kurt froze at first before melting into it and smiling. When they pulled away
from each other, Blaine saw his eyes were sparkling.
“See you sixth period, Blaine.”
Blaine watched Kurt until he disappeared around a corner before going back into
his classroom with butterflies in his stomach.
***** Chapter 6 *****
One of his many talents had always been finding loopholes. Kurt liked to toe
the line, see what he could get away with. Pulling Blaine out of class for a
fuck had been thrilling indeed. All those other students, all those teachers,
any of them could have waltzed out of their classrooms at any time and the
first thing they would have seen would have been the new English teacher
pounding one of his students into the wall. He thought Blaine had gotten off on
it too, but he also knew Blaine had been entirely serious when he told him not
to do it again. Which, of course, didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to get
Blaine to fuck him at school.
He had an idea, and it was all he could think about during lunch the next day.
His friend Evan, a boy with neatly-cropped brown hair and a smile that had made
Kurt swoon more than a few times, sat across from him eating a sandwich.
“You know,” Kurt said, scanning over a math test he’d gotten back earlier in
the day with a big fat “B” circled in red at the top, “I get the feeling Mr.
Weiland has it out for my blood. Why didn’t I get an A? The answers are all
right. For god’s sake, you’d think an institution like this would, I don’t
know, hire goodteachers.” He rolled his eyes and slipped the test into a
folder, the folder into his bag. Evan shrugged and stuffed the last large piece
of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing obscenely. Kurt raised an eyebrow.
When he’d swallowed, he said, “Mr. Weiland’s kind of an asshole, yeah.” He
wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin—it was things like that which made
Kurt glad all over again that he went to a private prep school—and when he put
it back down on the table, Kurt felt a shift in the atmosphere. “But, um…not
all the teachers are bad, right?” He gave Kurt a look, one that was so obvious
Kurt just about felt sorry for him.
“Go ahead,” Kurt sighed. He leaned back in his chair and opened his arms in a
gesture of capitulation. “I know what you’re gonna ask. Ask me.”
Evan looked troubled, a bit iffy about whether or not to pose the question that
had surely been chasing itself around inside his head the past couple of days.
People were starting to talk about it. It was the kids in Kurt’s English class,
of course—they were the ones who’d inevitably caught onto the thick, cloying
tension he and Blaine created in the classroom. And Kurt was a favorite subject
of gossip, so of course something as scandalous as an affair with a
teacherwould become a hot topic.
No one had a shred of evidence, but Evan looked nervous. And Kurt, with his
insides squirming, put on his best bitch face with which to receive Evan’s
stupid (accurate) question.
“Well, I…” Evan trailed off, looking both confused and nervous. Like he wasn’t
sure he wanted to ask the question for fear of the answer he’d get. Kurt
privately thought it said something about Evan’s intelligence if he thought
Kurt would ever, everfess up to something like an affair with a teacher,
regardless of its validity. “It’s just, you know, people have been talking.”
Kurt raised both eyebrows, urging Evan on. Evan looked flustered, but continued
“The new English teacher,” he said finally. “Mr. Anderson.” And Kurt was
horrified to feel his face become a rather telling shade of pink at Blaine’s
name. He fought it back with every ounce of willpower in his body.
“What about him?” he said, affecting a tone that was at once amused and
pitying. As though Evan were childish to believe the rumors he heard.
“Oh, come on, Kurt. Like you haven’t heard the things everyone’s been saying
about you guys.”
“Of course I have,” he snapped. “But I want you to say it, because maybe when
you hear it leave your mouth you’ll realize how stupid it sounds.”
Evan did not appear offended by this. He only continued looking uncomfortable.
“So it’s not true?” he pressed. Kurt stayed silent, forcing him to answer his
own question. “You’re not…sleeping with him?”
Kurt folded his arms over his chest and looked at Evan through slitted eyes.
“Let me ask you something, Evan,” he said, and Evan looked suddenly more
nervous. “You’re my only realfriend at Dalton. You’re the only person in the
whole school who knows all those rumors are just bullshit and I’ve never
actually slept with any of the boys I hook up with.” Evan, his face red,
nodded. “Does that answer your question?”
Evan blew out a long breath and his shoulders visibly relaxed. He cracked a
smile.
“Yeah, I guess it does.” He shrugged again. “Sorry, Kurt. I just…I had to ask,
you know? Everyone’s, like, pretty adamant about it.”
Kurt heaved a long-suffering sigh and stood up from the table. The period was
almost over and he had English next.
“We go to a private, all-boys prep school, Evan,” Kurt said, dropping his bitch
act and shrugging one shoulder up. “What would everyone be doing if they
weren’t spreading rumors about me?”
* * *
Kurt found his chance after school that day. He’d just walked out into the
parking lot when he saw Blaine, head bent over his phone, a grin stretching his
face. His boyfriend? Kurt wondered. And he was startled by the pang of
something that felt a lot like envy in his chest. What did he care if Blaine
had a boyfriend? They were just fucking, after all. And as he’d told Blaine the
other day, as long as he got to have him when he wanted him, it was all the
same to Kurt who Blaine chose to spend his time outside of school with. They
weren’t a thing. They weren’t even friends. They were a teacher and a student
who had some kind of crazy chemistry they needed to get out of their systems.
He followed Blaine to his car, waiting as he finished texting and then got into
the driver’s seat. With a smirk planted firmly on his face, Kurt sauntered over
to the other side of the car and opened the door, glad to find it unlocked. He
slipped inside and smiled at Blaine, giving him a coquettish bat of his
eyelashes. He was a little bit nervous, but it was almost entirely eclipsed by
the fire in his belly, at the base of his spine, prickling and tingling and
winding its way up each and every vertabra until it reached the back of his
neck and settled there like a little flame. His cunt pulsed and Kurt clenched
around nothing. His eyes flicked to Blaine’s lap and back up.
He’d fully expected Blaine to freak out first. But Kurt was beginning to
understand that, with Blaine, nothing was predictable, nothing was what it
seemed at first glance. He was this preppy, done-up, twenty-three-year-old
English teacher straight out of college who had a knack for controlling entire
classes of teenaged, private-school boys and a penchant for cheating on his
boyfriend with his students.
Well, maybe not a penchant for it. Just him. Just Kurt.
Blaine stared at him a moment, burning Kurt with those eyes that held such
filthy promises, those eyes that froze Kurt in place and kept him there under
their scrutiny until he felt like squirming.
Finally, Blaine said, “Get in the back,” with a gesture of his head. Kurt’s
chest exploded with heat and his pussy throbbed, pulsing out fluid and soaking
his panties. God, this was even hotter than yesterday, getting fucked in the
hallway. This. This was something out of his dirtiest fantasies. His peers
weren’t hidden behind walls now, tucked away in classrooms, out of sight. They
were everywhere, all over the parking lot, talking to friends, texting in their
cars, talking about such incredibly trivial things that weren’tKurt having sex
with Mr. Anderson right under their noses.
Or, maybe they were talking about it. Shit. Some of them probably weretalking
about it. And they had no idea how close they were to the subject of their
gossip, their rumors. Kurt moaned where he’d settled into the back seat, back
against one window, legs spread open in front of him. He was beginning to pant,
so worked up over this whole situation, over Blaine. His gorgeous, sexy
teacher, so dapper, so put together and polite on the outside. Such a
delicious, filthyanimal just below the surface. And Kurt, he’d unleashed that.
He’d gotten Blaine to that point where he lost control of his careful temper
enough to fuck one of his students.
Blaine climbed carefully over the console to join Kurt. He lifted Kurt’s legs
and settled between them, resting them at his sides.
“You’re insatiable,” he said softly, without even a trace of that facetiousness
Kurt had become used to when they had sex. Instead, he sounded reverent. Like
maybe he’d been thinking about this all day. Maybe he wanted it just as badly
as Kurt did. Needed it, even, just like Kurt felt like he needed it. Every time
they did this he needed it more.
“Well you’re a good fuck,” he countered, signature coy smile on his face.
Blaine laughed and began planting little kisses beneath Kurt’s ear, trailing
them along his neck, down his collarbone. Kurt’s hands found their way into
Blaine’s hair, tamed with just enough gel. He thought he’d like to see Blaine
in the morning, or after a shower. See what his hair looked like after he’d
slept on it. Dried it with a towel.
Kurt was wearing a skirt today, having decided it would be fun to tease Blaine
that way now that they’d established something, some sort of…not relationship,
but. Well. Whatever it was. Now, Blaine lifted the front of Kurt’s skirt so it
fell to his stomach. He was wearing these really pretty pale blue panties he’d
gotten from H&M only two weeks ago, and there was without a doubt a sizable wet
spot on them. He’d been soaking himself all day, thinking about how he’d get
Blaine to fuck him at school without pulling him out of a class. And maybe it
was a bit detrimental to this thing they were doing, the fact that Kurt got off
so hard on getting fucked in public, with the looming possibility of getting
caught.
Packed into such a cramped space, both of them desperate for one another’s
body, they didn’t drag it out. Kurt was beginning to feel disappointed by the
fact that they neverreally got to drag it out, always pressed for time, always
under the shadow of fear at actuallybeing found out.
As he pulled Kurt’s panties down over his legs, throwing them into the trunk,
leaving his skirt, he said, “Did you wear this skirt for me?”
Kurt blushed a little, grinned and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice soft and
breathy, his eyes lidded.
“God, I can’t get enough of you,” Blaine groaned. His fingers traced light
patterns over Kurt’s mound, pulling moans and gasps and pleas for more, oh
more, Blaine, pleaseout of him. He felt his clit throbbing, and every time
Blaine dragged his thumb over it, he whined pitifully. He finally slipped two
fingers into Kurt’s hole, all the way to the knuckles, and Kurt’s back arched.
He felt Blaine watching him with his dark, intense eyes, fucking him hard and
fast, using his palm to grind against Kurt’s clit.
Kurt was gripping the back of the seat with one hand and holding onto Blaine’s
arm (thick with hard muscle) with the other, trying to keep himself steady,
trying to ground himself. But it was impossible. Blaine’s fingers felt so good,
so hot, and they were slamming into him over and over again, bringing him
mercilessly to the edge. There was no teasing, no slow build up. Blaine was
watching his fingers with an expression that made him look slightly insane.
Blaine put his face beside Kurt’s ear, breathing hot over his skin. The fire in
Kurt’s belly flared. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “That’s it, come on. Are
you gonna come on my fingers? All over my car? You little slut.”
Kurt’s fingers dug into the surfaces they were gripping and he did come,
overwhelmed by the smell of Blaine in this small space, his presence
everywhere, hovering above him, inside of him, all around him. He humped
Blaine’s hand, body shivering as pulse after pulse of exquisite pleasure made
his whole body throb.
He didn’t know if he’d been expecting it, didn’t have time to contemplate
before Blaine was unzipping and pulling his big, hard cock out of his pants.
Kurt’s pussy twitched and throbbed and he watched with round eyes as Blaine
pushed the fat head against Kurt’s fucked out hole. He slid in at a steady
pace, ripping Kurt open on his girth. His cock was so hot, so big, Kurt swore
he could feel every dip, every vein, could feel the thickness of the head as it
pushed deeper inside his body.
“Fuck,” Kurt bit out. Blaine’s hands were big and warm and strong where they
held him down, held him steady. Kurt thought there wasn’t anything in the world
quite like the feelings Blaine evoked in him when he was sliding in and pulling
back out just to slam inside again, forcing Kurt up against the window, foggy
with their heavy breathing.
“You’re so tight,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. His fucking was relentless,
knocking the breath out of Kurt’s body with every rough stroke. Was the car
moving? It could have been. There was every possibility that it was, that all
his peers, all his teachers, could see Mr. Anderson’s car rocking like he’d
installed hydraulics. And they’d wonder, but they wouldn’t know for sure that
it was Kurt.
And then Blaine shifted, and suddenly the angle was just right, and Kurt’s head
fell back against the window with a dull thud. Blaine got his hand over Kurt’s
mouth just in time to muffle his scream. Blaine mouthed at Kurt’s neck, leaving
his hand on his mouth, both to keep him quiet and because it was kind of hot,
actually.
“There?” he whispered, punctuating his question with a hard thrust, making Kurt
moan beneath his hand. “Yeah? Fuck, you take my cock like you were made to do
it.” He kissed Kurt’s cheek, his chin, and then his lips. His fingers dug ten
bruises into Kurt’s pale waist. Kurt couldn’t imagine how good this was, how
raw and dirty and incredible. Blaine’s cock filled him, stretched him to what
he was sure had to be his limit, anything more and he would split in half.
Privately, ridiculously, Kurt thought maybe he wasmade to take Blaine’s cock.
It certainly felt that way. And when Blaine found his G-spot and his thick,
swollen cock began to hammer against it on every single thrust, Kurt thought he
might lose his mind.
“Don’t stop!” he tried to scream, but it was stifled by Blaine’s palm. “Please,
please don’t stop!”
Blaine grunted and Kurt could feel his desperation, could feel the way he was
willing himself to hold on until Kurt came. And that was so unexpectedly
attractive—that Blaine cared about his pleasure, his orgasm, even in this
twisted game they were playing—that Kurt was startled into an orgasm. The
pleasure climbed, starting in the base of his spine and radiating outwards
until it lit his whole body on fire and the orgasm peaked. Kurt could hardly
breathe and he felt it as he started to squirt, this enormous, overwhelming
explosion of unearthly pleasure that was so big it couldn’t be contained inside
of him. Somewhere in there Blaine lost it—there was a hot, wet burst inside
Kurt’s pussy as Blaine filled him with his come.
His hips slowed gradually and Kurt’s arm fell over his sweaty face. He
swallowed several times, tried and failed to form words. Blaine seemed to be in
a similar state.
Finally, he rasped, “That was…”
“Yeah,” Kurt responded. Neither seemed to know adequate words. Blaine pulled
out carefully and flopped down beside Kurt, whose hand found its way back to
Blaine’s hair and stroked through it absently. The domesticity and strange
familiarity of it just barely penetrated the cloud in Kurt’s brain.
When they’d been lying there a few minutes, both heads down so as not to be
seen through the windows (which were probably opaque with fog anyway), Blaine
lifted his head. His eyes were sparkling.
“Hey,” he said, his smile devious, making Kurt’s heart flutter. “Would you like
to come over to my apartment for a little while? Have…dinner? Or something?”
The way his teacher’s face filled with color was positively charming and Kurt
laughed.
“I’d love to.”
* * *
Blaine opened the door for Kurt and gestured inside, wearing a smile that made
him look like Prince Charming’s even more attractive brother.
“Wow,” Kurt said, raising his eyebrows as he looked around. He dropped his bag
on an overstuffed chair and turned to look at Blaine, rather impressed. “This
is really nice.”
Blaine smirked, rolled his eyes. “Will decorated it. I’m hopeless at that kind
of thing.”
“No kidding?” Kurt said, his grin impish. He went over to Blaine and put his
hands on his chest. “So there arethings you aren’t good at?”
Blaine laughed. He kissed Kurt softly, and when he pulled away Kurt felt like
he’d taken his breath with him. His heart was beating as if he’d just got done
running.
“Not many,” Blaine said. Kurt tried to scoff, but was cut off when Blaine’s
mouth covered his again.
“Where is your boyfriend, anyway?”
Blaine pulled away and helped Kurt out of his coat, which he hung in a closet
near the front door.
“Oh, he’s still at work. He’s Accounts Payable and Receivable at a car
dealership. Long hours, but he makes pretty good money doing it.”
Kurt hummed, feigning interest, though he was sure Blaine could see right
through it.
“Anyway,” Blaine continued, leading Kurt into the kitchen, where he flicked the
lights on. “What d’you wanna eat?” His smile was huge and dorky and Kurt
couldn’t imagine anything more attractive. “I should warn you, though. I’m a
terrible cook. We actually may be better off ordering something in.”
Kurt gave him an unimpressed look and went to the freezer.
"Blaine," Kurt deadpanned, a smile pulling at his lips. "Really? All frozen
food? Don’t you ever cook?”

Blaine looked sheepish. He shrugged and rubbed his arm. “Neither of us can cook
anything very well. Will tries sometimes, but…” Again, a shrug. Kurt sighed
emphatically and began rummaging around, excited by the prospect of cooking for
someone who may actually appreciate it.
“Well lucky for you, I’m an excellent cook. Prepare your taste buds.”
* * *
He found enough ingredients in Blaine’s apartment to put together pasta
primavera. He even found the right Italian herbs, though there was no squash or
zucchini. Still, the peppers were fresh and delicious and Blaine, who was used
to frozen food and take-out, didn’t stop groaning.
Kurt eyed him from across the table, forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth,
eyebrow raised.
“Do you alwaysmake those sounds when you eat?”
Blaine laughed, nearly spraying his food all over the table. Kurt had to cover
his own mouth to keep from doing the same.
“Only when the food is this good. Think you could come cook for me, like, every
night?”
Kurt snorted. “I don’t know, would your boyfriend be happy about that?”
Blaine pouted at him and went back to eating. Kurt marveled at the way Blaine
transformed when he wasn’t in school. He finally seemed his age. And Kurt was
discovering this new side of him that wasn’t just an ungodly attractive
teacher, but someone he could see himself being around. Spending time with.
Was this a one-time thing? He found himself hoping not.
When they’d finished eating they brought their dishes into the kitchen and
cleaned up, Kurt washing, Blaine drying. Again, Kurt was struck by the
domesticity of it, and it created a warm bubble in his belly. He’d just
finished rinsing out the pot he’d used, the last of the dishes, when he felt
Blaine’s arms wrap around his waist. His face descended into Kurt’s neck, where
he began sucking tiny kisses into his skin. Kurt breathed, trying to will away
his blush to no avail. It was so strange, doing this in Blaine’s apartment with
his boyfriend absent, totally none the wiser.
So hot.
Blaine’s hand slipped down until his fingers brushed the waist of Kurt’s skirt.
And when Blaine pressed forward, he could feel his cock against his ass, so hot
and already hard. For him.
God. How was anyone supposed to get anything done around here?
“Blaine—“
“Shh,” Blaine whispered, nipping at his ear and sliding his hand further into
Kurt’s skirt, until he was cupping him over his panties. “Just—“
Blaine’s phone cut him off. The ringtone was loud and obtrusive in the little
bubble they’d created for themselves here. The phone popped it and sent them
spiraling back into reality.
“Holy shit,” Blaine breathed. With one hand still in Kurt’s skirt, he reached
for his phone with the other. Kurt was frozen as he listened to Blaine answer:
“Hello? Hi, baby, I… Oh, good, yeah, that’s awesome! Okay! Oh, I um…I already
ate, actually, I thought…yeah. Sure, okay. Yeah, no, I just…I was napping. Had
Chinese.” He laughed and it was so transparent that Kurt winced, glad his
boyfriend couldn’t see the fear in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Yeah,
love you, too, baby. Okay, bye.”
He ended the call and put his phone down on the counter in front of Kurt. He
breathed out a long, heavy breath and then seemed to realize where his other
hand was. He pulled it out of Kurt’s skirt and, looking at it for a moment,
decided to run it under the tap to wash off Kurt’s juices. Kurt’s face was
bright red.
“So…he’s coming home early, I gather?”
Blaine only nodded. Kurt heard him swallow.
“Okay, well I—“
“You have to go.”
Kurt frowned. “I know that. I was just going to say I should get going, then.”
Blaine nodded and sucked his lower lip into his mouth. He ran a palm over his
face.
“What if he hadn’t called? Jesus Christ.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, feeling suddenly irritated, and he didn’t want to explore
the origin of that emotion at the moment. He traipsed into the living room and
put his shoes and jacket on, pussy still aching, bitter at having been
interrupted. It had been such a pleasant evening. Why did Blaine’s boyfriend
have to go and ruin it?
And wow, maybe that was worth considering.
But no. Not now. Not while his emotions were running high. He didn’t want to
think about it. There was too much room for guilt there, and Kurt didn’t do
well with guilt.
“Well, he did call,” Kurt snapped. He looked at Blaine apologetically and
relaxed his shoulders. “Sorry. I just…”
“Yeah,” Blaine said. He nodded. “I know.”
And there was something there in Blaine’s face, something Kurt didn’t like.
Something hazardous to this thingthey’d been doing. It had barely been a week;
he wasn’t giving this up yet. The sex was too good, and he liked being around
Blaine too much. It seemed incredible to him they’d only known each other,
what, two weeks? Hardly had any conversations beyond discussing the sex. And
yet, it felt so easy. So simple being around Blaine, like he’d known him so
much longer.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kurt said as he slipped his shoes on and laced them
up. Blaine helped him into his jacket, and it looked like he was going to kiss
him, but at the last minute changed his mind. Kurt nearly pulled him into one
anyway but thought better of it.

“Yeah,” Blaine said softly. “Tomorrow. Kurt, I’m—“
“It’s okay,” Kurt lied. “It’s fine. G’night, Blaine.”
He’d walked all the way down the hall to the elevator when he heard Blaine’s
door finally shut.
He was suddenly glad he’d followed Blaine to his apartment in his own car. He
didn’t know if he could bear a drive back to the school in such close quarters.
His stomach was alive with nerves, anxiety, rumbling with guilt and bitterness.
He pushed it all aside. It wasn’t worth examining right now. He was too
emotionally exhausted.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Their close call with Will had scared Blaine just about shitless. When he
thought about how near they’d come to getting caught—Jesus, what if he hadn’t
called? This thought plagued Blaine the rest of the night and followed him into
bed. He dreamed of being caught in a thousand different ways, each one more
horrific and nauseating than the last. These dreams happened one after the
other all night long, and when Blaine woke the next morning he felt like he’d
spent the night jogging rather than sleeping. There was cold sweat beaded on
his forehead and his lower back, his heart drummed where it felt like it had
relocated to outside his rib cage, just beneath the skin of his chest, so close
it might simply explode out of him if it didn’t chill the hell out. Beside him,
Will slept soundly, his breathing light, even. He had to have been exhausted,
working so many long days back-to-back. And Blaine felt like a real jerk,
sneaking around behind his hard-working boyfriend’s back, sleeping with his
student. God, could he be more of an asshole?
It was these thoughts as he made his coffee before he had to leave for school
that convinced him of the necessity of breaking this thing with Kurt off. It
had been fun while it lasted (more than fun—it had been positively thrilling,
dirty, astoundingly good), but last night had been too close for comfort. If
Will caught them, who was to say he wouldn’t be so angry he’d let something
slip to someone who would rat him out? Right now, Blaine’s life was a nickel
circling a deep sink. If they were caught, down the drain he’d go. Everything
he’d worked for. For fuck’s sake, he’d be throwing away the opportunity of a
lifetime, having landed an incredible teaching job at an incredible institution
when teaching jobs were difficult enough to land, people being let go up, down,
and sideways.
It was plain irresponsible, and it was unfair to Will for any number of
reasons. So he had to stop. Kurt would be devastated, but he was seventeen.
He’d get over it in a couple weeks, move on to someone else. Will, on the other
hand. He was twenty-two and at least under the impression that he was in a
committed relationship. It was interesting, he thought, how the older you got,
the more break-ups you endured, the more they seemed to hurt. Maybe because
they meant more now. Maybe because, outside of school, the idea of marriage
began to loom and cast shadows. Was it supposed to feel like that? A dark
cloud?
Blaine pushed the thought to the back of his mind where he stored everything
else he didn’t want to acknowledge. This one he slotted in a little cubby just
beside the one labeled “Feelings for Kurt.”
* * *
When Kurt walked into his classroom ten minutes after the last bell had rung
the next day, Blaine wasn’t surprised. But that didn’t stop him from being
upset about it. Didn’t stop his stomach from twisting into a billion little
impossible knots he’d never be able to unravel.
“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” Kurt asked quietly, his voice
uncharacteristically shy.
Blaine, without looking up from the book he was annotating, said, “I told you
not to text me during school.”
He heard Kurt’s footsteps as he closed in on Blaine’s desk, but he kept his
gaze resolutely on the book. He stared so intently at the word “is” that the
surrounding words on the page became blurry and distorted.
“I texted you when I got home last night.”
Blaine ran the tip of his tongue across his teeth, sighed, and finally looked
up, his eyes pained. “Look, Kurt,” he said, setting his pen down in the crease
of the book, dropping his act because he just couldn’t bear it, “we can’t do
this anymore. You know that. I know you do. What happened last night…” He shook
his head and ran his palm over his eyes. “It’s too risky. And besides that, I
have a boyfriend, Kurt. I can’t do this to him. I’m sorry I…. I shouldn’t have
started this whole thing in the first place. It isn’t your fault. You’re
seventeen, you don’t understand.”
Kurt scoffed and a look crossed his face that made the knots in Blaine stomach
twist even tighter.
“What, pray tell, don’t I understand?” He jutted his chin out, raised an
eyebrow, daring Blaine to answer that question. He didn’t. His face colored and
he looked back down. “You mean responsibility? I don’t understand commitment?
The concept of cheating? Come on, Mr. Anderson, enlighten me. At the tender age
of seventeen, what is it I don’t understand about this situation?”
“Kurt,” Blaine said roughly. He looked up through his eyelashes, head still
tilted down. “Stop it.”
He saw Kurt begin to fume. His face turned red with indignation. “You know
what? You’re right. It’s obviously me that needs to get a clue. I am clearly
the delusional one in this relationship.”
“There is no relationship,” Blaine said through clenched teeth. He heard the
small click Kurt made with his tongue, saw the irritation and disappointment in
his eyes, and put everything he had in him towards ignoring it.
Kurt pursed his lips and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Whatever, Blaine.”
“Mr. Anderson.”
Kurt’s mouth fell partly open in shock. He spun angrily on his heel, and as he
stalked away (hips swaying maddeningly), he heard the muttered “asshole” that
Kurt left him to dwell on for the rest of the day.
* * *
It wasn’t just the rest of the day, though. That comment didn’t leave him
alone, and Blaine couldn’t decide whether he’d done the right thing. Which was
ridiculous, because of course he had. He’d cut off an illicit affair before it
could get out of hand. Before Kurt could develop feelings (conveniently
neglecting to acknowledge his own feelings, or the fact that somewhere in the
past week, having fucked him three times, feelings may have already developed
for Kurt).
It didn’t matter. Will had feelings too, and those were Blaine’s priority.
He supposed he deserved the relentless teasing Kurt punished him with over the
next few days and all the way through the following week. He wore skirts,
shorts, tight jeans, and shirts with low necklines that showed off his
collarbones. Blaine thought he’d even worn something that shimmered on his lips
a few times, making them that much more enticing.
On Monday, he wore the same skirt he’d had on the day Blaine had fucked him in
his car. He spent the period tracing his glistening lips with the back of his
pen; his legs crossed tightly enough so Blaine could see all the way up his
thigh and the panties under his skirt. Light blue.
Tuesday he wore another skirt. He spread his legs just enough that Blaine could
see the way he’d tugged his panties up through his folds, giving Blaine a
decent view of his flushed pussy lips. He could just imagine his swollen little
clit under there, the friction his underwear created over it.
And so the week went. Slutty little outfits, rubbing himself off in class,
doing everything in his power to punish Blaine for what he’d done. And god, was
it working.
Then everything stopped.
* * *
Kurt woke up Saturday morning feeling like his stomach was trying to crawl out
of his throat. There was that bubble he always felt when he was getting ready
to puke.
He went downstairs in his pajamas and drank a glass of water, which helped a
little bit, but his stomach still felt unsettled. Roiling and bubbling. There
was a niggling little thingin the back of his head, like he’d forgotten
something, but it was so small and unattainable that he put it easily out of
his mind.
He had plans with Rachel that day. They were going clothes-shopping. The nausea
came and went. He was mostly able to ignore it. The niggling thing in his head
asserted itself when, at H&M, the insatiable craving for a hot dog barreled
into his head and made his mouth water.
He ate it ravenously, and found himself nauseous again afterward. A large glass
of water dulled the sensation enough to keep any vomit at bay.
This went on for another week. It had been two since he and Blaine had spoken
beyond school-related topics, and that included only the time after class Kurt
had stayed to ask about a question regarding a particular format Blaine wanted
used on their current essay.
The proximity had engulfed Kurt’s body in heat and tingles that made it almost
unbearable.
* * *
Wednesday.
Kurt threw up that morning. It was the first time and it reached its sharp
claws into the back of his mind and sunk them deep into that niggling thingand
held it up in front of his nose. A series of snapshots presently flashed
through his mind like some kind of movie character’s revelational montage at
the climax of the film.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, and in an instant his vision was blurry.
His finger hovered over Rachel’s name on his contact list, but something
stopped him. Not Rachel. She would panic, and that would feed his panic. And
that wasn’t good. Rachel was the match to his gasoline.
He paced his room for an hour, panicking, flapping his hands. He lay on his bed
and he cried, and then he’d get up and pace again. He pressed into his belly, a
lump forming in his throat when he thought about the implications of his
suspicions.
A human body. Inside. Of him.
His dad was at work, and Kurt wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell Burt even if he was here.
He needed an adult. He wasn’t about to get a pregnancy test by himself. He
wouldn’t know what to do if…
He couldn’t even think about it.
An adult.
Right.
***** Chapter 8 *****
He waited another few days. In those days, he didn’t flirt with Blaine. He
hardly acknowledged him, so preoccupied with his dilemma. Which, of course,
were it true, involved Blaine; but Kurt just couldn’t do it yet.
The next time he had to jump out of bed in the morning to make it to the toilet
in time to puke, he decided it couldn’t wait any longer. All day his stomach
was in knots, he felt on the verge of tears. Evan kept trying to ask what was
wrong, but Kurt could barely hear him. Blood rushed in his ears and made
everything else sound muffled.
Blaine’s class was just about unbearable. He couldn’t look at him, could hardly
breathe, let alone pay attention to the lesson. If he had looked, he would have
seen the concern on Blaine’s face. Concern whose roots were so very, very
inaccurate.
After the last bell rang, before even going to his locker, Kurt headed to
Blaine’s classroom. The corridors seemed to pulse in time with his head and his
heart. He felt like his eyes were pushing their way out of his skull. His
tongue was dry and his lips, too. Yet beyond the twisting and turning knots of
anxiety, Kurt swore he could feel something else in there. Even if that wasn’t
possible this early (given he was right, and he had a bun in the oven), he felt
it. He felt it like it was a whole goddamn baby in there punching his guts and
shoving them up his throat.
When he walked into the classroom and closed the door, Blaine immediately
sighed.
“Kurt—”
Kurt shook his head, and the extreme paleness of his face must have been enough
to stop Blaine short. His thick eyebrows drew together and he looked worried,
but it hadn’t clicked yet. Kurt knew that. He had no idea.
Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and with it came tears. Small
ones that leaked down his cheeks and made Blaine stand up and pull Kurt into a
hug. His strong arms felt safe and Kurt buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder
and let the tears come, let all the stress and anguish and anxiety of the last
few days, and the weeks before that of not being allowed to talk to Blaine,
drain out of him.
“Kurt,” Blaine said softly. His hand rubbed up and down Kurt’s back, his
fingers pressing gently into the tense muscles. “Baby, what is it?”
And that word again, like it had slipped out, it made Kurt choke on a sob and
he dug his nails into Blaine’s shoulders, pressed his face into Blaine’s neck.
The smell of Blaine’s sweat and cologne was so soothing.
Into his neck, his words muffled on purpose, Kurt said, “I think I’m pregnant,
Blaine.”
Blaine’s whole body froze; his fingers and hands dug into Kurt’s body. He stood
there holding Kurt another thirty seconds before gently prying him off, and
Kurt looked up at him with puffy red eyes. Blaine was as white as he must have
been. He looked panicked.
He shook his head. His chest had begun heaving.
“No,” he said. More tears from Kurt.
“I’ve been throwing up,” Kurt told him in a quavery, wet voice. “Every morning
I’m nauseous. And I…” Another breath and Kurt rubbed his hands over his face,
keeping it obscured there. “My period’s a week late.”
Blaine flopped down into his desk chair and pushed a hand through his hair,
looking dazed. Kurt walked hesitantly over and stood there with his hands
clasped in front of him.
“Have you taken a test?” Blaine finally asked.
Kurt shook his head. “I’m…I don’t know…” He trailed off helplessly, but Blaine
seemed to understand. Kurt was seventeen. He didn’t have a boyfriend to help
him with this, even a teenage one. He was on his own. On his own and with an
anatomy that science hadn’t entirely figured out yet.
They’d told him he probably couldn’t get pregnant.
And Rachel had said he should have used condoms anyway.
He’d been so stupid.
Blaine sat at his desk and stared at a piece of paper blankly for a few more
minutes. He kept running his hands through his hair and rubbing his neck. Tears
continued to leak and Kurt made little sniffling noises, completely out of his
element and terrified.
“I’ll come with you,” said Blaine. He looked up at Kurt and Blaine shook his
head . “Of course I’ll come with you.” He stood and wrapped a hand around the
back of Kurt’s neck, pulling him in to his chest. His hand slid down to Kurt’s
arm and he rubbed up and down, down and up, squeezing gently. “It’s gonna be
okay, Kurt.” He kissed the top of his forehead and Kurt buried his face again
in Blaine’s chest to muffle his crying. “I promise. You’re not doing this
alone. But first let’s go get the pregnancy test.”
* * *
It was a huge debacle. They couldn’t go into the store together on the off
chance someone who knew one or both of them saw them buying a pregnancy test,
let alone hanging around each other outside of school.
Blaine went in. Kurt sat in Blaine’s car and let the sound of the radio wash
over him without hearing it. Tears dripped steadily down his cheeks and clung
to his chin. When Blaine got back into the car and looked at Kurt, he moved
forward for a second, either to hug Kurt or to kiss him, but he stopped himself
halfway and instead put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.
“Okay?” he said, his voice hushed. Kurt kept his gaze forward and said nothing.
He heard Blaine sigh, felt another squeeze on his nape, and then the hand was
gone. They pulled out of the Walgreens parking lot and headed toward Blaine’s
apartment. As long as Will didn’t surprise him again, they’d have until at
least nine o’clock, Blaine told him.
Unless he doesn’t call, Kurt thought, and for the first time the horrifying
gravity of that potential situation hit him as it must have hit Blaine the
first time it happened.
That thought drilled further into Kurt’s brain the difference not just in their
ages, but in their maturity levels. Sure, Blaine was only twenty-three. But
that was six years and a whole lot of puberty ahead of Kurt, who wouldn’t be
eighteen for another six months. And for all he knew, Blaine would be twenty-
four next week.
But as he watched Blaine drop the plastic bag onto the coffee table and take
the test out to study the box’s instructions, Kurt felt a rush of gratitude.
Teen pregnancies happened all the time, but at least this one didn’t involve
twoteenagers. Blaine was an adult, even if a young one, and Kurt felt a little
bit less crazed with Blaine privy to the situation now.
Blaine handed the test to Kurt, eyes wide and earnest. “All you have to do is
pee on it,” he said. The apples of Kurt’s cheeks turned pink. “After you do,
leave it on a piece of toilet paper, ‘cause we’ll have to wait a few minutes.”
Kurt’s heart was hammering through the whole process, and it was difficult to
get himself to pee when he was so nervous, so tense. He managed, though, and as
Blaine had asked set the test on a piece of toilet paper and went back out to
the bedroom. Blaine was sitting with his head in his hands on the mattress.
Kurt sat down beside him.
A minute passed in silence.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt said softly.
Blaine’s head snapped up to look at him, eyebrows drawn together. “Kurt,” he
said emphatically, “this is not your fault. This is…” He laughed sadly and
shook his head, put his hand to his chest. “This is myfault. I made the
decision to initiate it, and I did it without even…god, without even
thinkingabout condoms.” Once more he shook his head at himself and dropped his
head back into his hands. “I was fucking a pussy,” he said, more to himself
than to Kurt, it seemed. “How did this not occur to me?”
“I’m a boy,” Kurt said quietly and shrugged. “Besides, we were both kind
of…caught up in it…” His face flamed and Blaine looked at him, cracking a small
smirk.
“Yeah, all three times, huh?”
Kurt smiled demurely and shrugged again, catching his lower lip with his teeth.
Neither was aware of the way they continued to smile at one another, their eyes
sharing things their words wouldn’t say out loud, and maybe in some cases
couldn’t.
The way they moved toward each other was natural; Blaine’s hand found the back
of Kurt’s neck and Kurt’s hands came up flat against Blaine’s chest. They
kissed ravenously, pouring into it all the anger and resentment, the lust, and
something else, something softer just beneath, in the way Blaine kissed Kurt’s
lower lip when they broke for air.
“We should check,” Blaine said into his mouth. Kurt nodded, but stayed put.
After a pause, “Want me to get it?”
A fresh tear rolled down Kurt’s cheek when he nodded.
“Yes, please,” he said wetly.
Blaine retrieved the test from the bathroom and returned to his spot next to
Kurt, where he let an arm fall over Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt put his face in
Blaine’s shoulder.
“Just tell me,” was muffled in Blaine’s shirt.
It took a minute, and he knew Blaine was staring at the back, waiting,
stalling. Then there was movement, and Kurt braced himself.
The longer the silence held, the tighter Kurt’s stomach twisted, until finally
he squeezed his eyes shut and cried. Blaine pulled him closer, fingers digging
into Kurt’s arm, and he put his lips to the top of Kurt’s head. Kurt clutched
at Blaine’s chest and cried silently into his shirt, soaking it through. Blaine
just held him and rocked him and said nothing, let him cry.
When the crying slowed, Blaine finally spoke. “I’m gonna make you an
appointment with a doctor,” he said gently. “And I’m gonna go with you. Until
then, can we agree not to worry about any decisions?”
The knots didn’t loosen, but they didn’t tighten, either. He nodded.
Blaine’s hand was suddenly pushing through Kurt’s hair, lifting it off his
sweaty forehead, and Kurt rested his cheek on Blaine’s chest, his body relaxing
with one slow breath.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, Kurt,” said Blaine. And with one arm around his
shoulders and the hand of the other playing with his hair, Kurt believed him.
* * *
Blaine made them mac n’ cheese and they sat on the couch in the living room to
eat, Kurt curled up with his legs beneath him on one side and Blaine sitting
crossed-legged a few feet away. It was nice; relaxed, somehow, given the events
that had taken place an hour before and the ensuing emotions. Mostly, Kurt had
just been quiet while Blaine made dinner. Both had needed time to think and
absorb.
This was real. Kurt was pregnant. During one of those three times they’d
fucked, one of Blaine’s sperm had fertilized an egg and defied a majority of
the research which had been done on boypussies. Rachel’s words echoed in Kurt’s
head as he stirred his macaroni with a spoon.
You don’t wanna find out the hard way, she’d said.
Well, now he had. And something he’d said in Blaine’s class once popped into
his head: no use crying over spilled milk. Like Meursalt in The Stranger, Kurt
and Blaine had chosen a course of action, and an inevitable consequence had
ensued. That was it. What was done was done. More decisions would have to be
made, and some of them would be good ones, while others would be bad ones. But
no matter what, consequences would follow. It was the way of the world.
Kurt’s philosophical musings were interrupted by Blaine, “It’s not pasta prima-
whatever,” he said, smiling lightly, “but is it okay? You’re not really
eating.”
Kurt shook his head and lifted the spoon to take a bite, then lowered it back
to the full bowl.
“It’s not that,” he assured Blaine with a small grin. “I’m just—”
“Not so hungry, yeah,” Blaine finished for him. He nodded his understanding.
“That’s alright.”
Kurt said, “I was thinking about The Stranger.”
Blaine chuckled and set his bowl down on the coffee table half-full, which for
him was like not eating. “Interesting,” he nodded. “We did what we did, now we
deal with it.” Blaine reached over and took Kurt’s bowl to set it on the table
beside his own then moved in toward him, pulling him against his side with an
arm over his shoulders. “And you know I’m gonna help you, right? No matter what
follows, you aren’t doing this alone.”
Kurt’s smile was tired but grateful and he cuddled into Blaine, closing his
eyes. Blaine rubbed his arm and Kurt felt the way his chest moved with his
breathing, could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. It occurred to him that
somewhere inside his body, maybe not yet, but soon, would be a second heartbeat
alongside his own. The thought was at once terrifying and intriguing.
“You know I’m not going to break up with Will,” Blaine said suddenly. It wasn’t
as though Kurt had been expecting anything else, he hadn’t had much time to
think about it anyway, but Blaine’s words still made him feel uncomfortable.
Still, he nodded.
“I know. Decisions and discussions later, right?”
“Right.”
Blaine pulled away from him with an impish little grin and pressed their lips
together. Kurt let Blaine maneuver him so his back was on the couch cushions
with Blaine hovering over him, kissing along his jaw and his neck, his warm
hands slipping beneath Kurt’s shirt and rubbing over his stomach. They left
goosebumps in their wake and Kurt shivered.
“I love how responsive you are,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s
giggle was breathless and of their own accord his hips swiveled up, rubbing
against Blaine and the semi-hardness of the beginning of an erection in his
jeans.
Blaine’s hands stayed on Kurt’s belly. He pressed and prodded and rubbed his
thumbs in circles, all the time grinding in time with the little pumps of
Kurt’s hips. He kissed him, hard, stuttered kisses that left them both
breathless. The way Blaine seemed so fascinated with his stomach only served to
further rob Kurt of the ability to draw in a decent amount of oxygen.
Blaine moved down Kurt’s body. He lifted his shirt and started kissing his
belly, sometimes higher up, sometimes near his navel, sometimes even lower,
just above the line of Kurt’s pants. Kurt watched this thoughtfully even as it
made his pussy pulse with arousal.
“Can’t believe there’s a baby in there,” Blaine mumbled against Kurt’s skin.
Kurt pressed his lips together, then responded, “Yourbaby.”
Blaine looked up at him. As Kurt watched, Blaine’s eyes became darker. He
crawled up Kurt’s body, looking like some sort of predatory animal, and latched
his mouth onto Kurt’s neck. His hand snaked its way between Kurt’s thighs and
he cupped his pussy, pressing gently, evoking a small moan.
“That’s fucking right,” he whispered. Kurt shuddered at the tone of his voice,
the roughness, the possessiveness. His breath was hot on Kurt’s ear. There was
so much more unsaid, so much filth on the tip of Blaine’s tongue that Kurt
could feelhim holding back. It was too soon, too fresh. They’d only found out
(Kurt for sure) less than two hours ago.
Beside that, it was nearly eight, and Will would be home soon. Blaine still had
to take Kurt back to the school.
“I’ll make the appointment tomorrow and text you,” Blaine said as they pulled
up next to Kurt’s Navigator in the school lot.
“I thought we couldn’t text during school,” Kurt teased, and in a childish act,
stuck his tongue out. Blaine smothered it with a kiss.
“We can if it’s on myterms,” he said with dark, mirthful eyes. Kurt’s grin was
dopey and the heat between his legs was tremendous.
“Got it.” Kurt laughed to himself, shook his head, and then said, “’Night,
Blaine.”
Blaine caught him in another kiss. “G’night, baby. Sleep well.”
***** Chapter 9 *****
Blaine made the appointment the following morning before class started. Never
having had a girlfriend, his only knowledge when it came to gynecologists and
obstetricians was from the girl friends he’d had in his life, and that wasn’t
typically a subject they shared with him.
 
Assuming Kurt’s physician (if he had a physician—Jesus, he was still young
enough to see a pediatrician, though Blaine doubted it, given the special
treatment he would have received as a child due to his rare anatomy) was at
Lima General (where Kurt had said he lived, though he went to school in
Westerville), Blaine called there and made an appointment with an OB/GYN. The
problem was that, while insurance covered that kind of visit entirely, Kurt
would be on his dad’s insurance. That meant his dad would find out Kurt had
been to the gynecologist.
But that didn’t have to be a huge problem. They could figure that out. Maybe
he’d get lucky and Kurt’s last appointment had been a year ago and they could
pass it off as a yearly checkup. Would he be allowed to do that at seventeen?
Of course, right? Why not?
Blaine pushed a hand through his hair and wiped the sweat from the screen of
his phone which had accumulated there as he’d made the appointment. It was this
coming Saturday afternoon; he hoped Kurt didn’t have plans.
And if he did, well. They could reschedule.
Class with Kurt was difficult, but not for the same reason it once had been.
Now it was difficult because he couldn’t stop looking at Kurt, dropping his
eyes even though he couldn’t see his stomach through the desk (though he could
certainly see underneath, where Kurt’s legs, wrapped in skin-tight jeans, were
crossed one over the other, showing off his shapely thigh and a teasing side-
view of his ass) and thinking, Baby, there’s a baby in there, my baby is
growing in there.
And following that thought: Is it a girl? Is it a boy? Has it even grown enough
to be one of the two yet? What will it be?
That was where he stopped himself—the unintentional implication that Kurt would
be giving birth to this baby.
Decisions later.
Today was later. Maybe last night they’d both meant later, later, as in, I
don’t know, maybe a week or a month or just how about never, how about we
pretend this didn’t happen? But today Blaine had woken up with a resolution to
get this done. Making the doctor appointment had fueled that determination and
he had a plan for tonight. It was something he knew was inappropriate, but
didn’t allow that to dwell too long at the forefront of his mind.
He’d gotten Kurt pregnant. That was inappropriate enough to cover all their
bases.
When he texted Kurt the time and date of the appointment, he also told him to
come to his classroom after school, though he had his suspicions that Kurt
would have anyway.
A very warm feeling filled Blaine’s chest and he smiled without noticing he was
doing so.
When Kurt walked into the classroom Blaine’s eyes were drawn magnetically,
again, to his stomach. Kurt must have noticed, because his cheeks pinked and a
hand lifted to his belly. Maybe it was bad Blaine found this so unimaginably
attractive, but it didn’t feel bad. What it felt like was all the blood and
warmth in his body draining south, and perhaps a little tingle of emotion, too,
stored in that little cubbyhole at the back of his mind.
The one labeled “Feelings for Kurt.”
“How’re you feeling?” Blaine asked. He shuffled his papers and sorted them into
a few different folders, then slid the folders into a briefcase and put the
strap over his shoulder.
Kurt shrugged one shoulder up indifferently. “I’m alright,” he said. “Queasy
this morning, but it’s passed. I ate lunch.”
Of course it would have passed, Blaine thought,because it was morning sickness.
He motioned with his head for Kurt to close the door. Kurt did so and went over
to Blaine’s desk, leaning against it with a demure little smirk.
“You wanted to see me?” he teased. Blaine’s smile was huge. He was helpless
against it and the way he lifted his hands to Kurt’s hips, looking up at him
with what he could never know for himself were adoring eyes.
“I did,” he said. “First I wanted to confirm Saturday afternoon.”
“I told you,” Kurt said with a nod, “I texted you that it was fine. I can
postpone my plans with Rachel for later that night.”
Blaine gave him a toothy grin. “I know. I was just making sure.” He looked
around, contemplated the open windows which led only to the courtyard, which
was deserted at the end of the school day. He then hauled Kurt closer, so he
was standing between his legs.
“And was that all?”
“Not all,” Blaine laughed. He put on a charming smile which had gotten him laid
more than his fair share of times in college, looked up at Kurt, and said, “How
would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”
Kurt’s reaction was gorgeous. His face turned bright red and his usually
haughty demeanor turned into something softer, something shy and beautiful that
warmed Blaine’s heart.
“We did have dinner together—”
“Not at my apartment,” Blaine said, smile transforming into a smirk meant to
tease, make Kurt redder if he could. “Out, I mean. How would you like to
go out with me?”
Kurt pressed his lips together. He looked surprised, but not in a bad way. Not
in a bad way at all.
“You mean, like…”
“Yeah,” Blaine breathed into the air between them.
The word “date” hung unspoken in the air, tangible and exciting and terrifying.
Terrifying mostly for Blaine, who was so conscious of the things the word
“date” entailed. The things it implied even more so.
But more terrifying even than that was the enormous lack of guilt he felt.
There was a little bit there, of course there was, but not enough. Not by far
or wide or large, and did he care?
 Just not enough, it seemed.
“Yeah,” Kurt said. His little grin had Blaine’s stomach conjuring up a storm of
butterflies, a sensation he hadn’t been familiar with since maybe junior year
of high school.
Since Will, he corrected himself. He must have felt that same sensation when
he’d first started dating Will.
He didn’t let it bother him, too absorbed in Kurt’s presence.
“Alright,” Blaine said with an uncontainable smile. He laughed, brought on by
some unnamed emotion between disbelief and excitement. Pleasant surprise came
close, but was not ardent enough by miles. “Excellent. Anywhere you’d like to
go?”
* * *
Kurt tried to be humble, but Blaine didn’t feel like letting him. After
suggesting a local restaurant which was not only inadequate, in Blaine’s
opinion, but would be teeming with people who knew their faces, he tried a
modestly-priced steakhouse, but Blaine shook his head. They were in the car,
and he’d just merged onto the highway.
“Fleming’s,” he said, and Kurt’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.
“Blaine, are you serious? Absolutely not, do you know how expensive that is?”
The same domesticity that had pervaded the kitchen when Kurt had been making
dinner filled the car now and Blaine let himself drown in it, everything about
it. It even had a smell, made up of a combination of their colognes, the air
freshener, and the wind blowing through the half-open window on Blaine’s side.
It was definitely autumn now, but Blaine loved the feel of the rushing air on
his face.
Past boyfriends and friends alike had likened him to a dog. He didn’t
necessarily disagree with that observation. One friend from high school, Paul,
had once said to him, “Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna find a tail wagging
behind you.”
Also, a boyfriend or two had once or twice mentioned that his possessiveness
and temperament (both in and out if bed) could rival a bloodhound’s.
“Uh, yes, I know how expensive it is,” Blaine intoned, but his voice was
teasing. Kurt tried again to argue but Blaine held a hand up to hush him which,
he was quite pleased to find, worked effectively. Kurt’s arms folded over his
chest and he slumped in his seat, but there was a pleased smile fighting
against his lips.
When they arrived, they had to wait only ten minutes to be seated (having made
it just before the dinner-rush would arrive, frantic for their seventy-dollar
Prime New York Ribs and North Atlantic Lobster Tails and sixty-dollar wine-
bottles, followed of course by crème brûlée and carrot cake, twenty-to-thirty
dollars apiece).
Okay, so Blaine had a trust fund. But he was also making good (great) money
teaching at a private school, and he and Will had gotten lucky with their
apartment, which was a gorgeous and modestly-priced one-bedroom a few suburbs
down from Westerville right on the main strip above a bakery and a locally-
owned coffee shop.
He could see Kurt settle in as though he did this all the time, but he doubted
it very much. From what he’d heard of the rumors that circulated incessantly
about Kurt around Dalton, his dad owned a garage. He had yet to hear about
Kurt’s mom. Maybe she was a housewife. Certainly that didn’t afford them to
frequent fancy places like this one. Blaine never made a habit of it and he was
looking at the multi-millions when his parents died.
He watched Kurt spread the napkin over his lap and take the menus they were
given, which included a separate one for wine. The waiter looked a bit
suspicious of Kurt, but handed him one anyway. Blaine had a feeling that, were
they to order wine, they’d both be carded.
But Kurt wasn’t having wine anyway.
Baby.
This thought made Blaine smirk to himself.
“What are you smiling about?” Kurt asked, voice full of good humor and
excitement.
“I’m just glad you let me take you out,” he told Kurt, who blushed and shook
his head in response.
“Well I’m very glad you asked me.”
Kurt took a sip of the water they’d been given upon being seated, but Blaine
could see the pink cheeks he was trying to cover up behind it.
“Do you go out a lot?” Blaine asked, eyes dipping to the napkin Kurt had put on
his lap and the manners inherent in that gesture.
“Oh,” Kurt laughed. He shook his head before continuing. “No, I just…” He
shrugged a shoulder and cocked his head, one side of his mouth pulling up into
a small but lovely smile. “My mom, she used to love this stuff.” He gestured to
the table, all the silverware (real silver). “Dining etiquette,” he clarified.
“And she was big on manners. My friends’ parents used to always tell me I was
so polite.” He chuckled at a memory and then added, “I loved having tea
parties, too, when I was little. We’d have them together.”
It came to Blaine slowly, bit by bit, the realization that Kurt was using the
past tense when he was talking not just about his childhood, but about his
mother as well. Past Kurt’s smile, he could see the sadness beneath. It was
almost a nostalgic smile, but in a much sadder way that Blaine felt lucky until
now never to have seen before. But then, he’d never known anybody with a dead
parent. He hoped his friends’ parents wouldn’t start dying for another few
decades.
Of course, this case obviously wasn’t old age. Something had happened to Kurt’s
mom. Some time when he’d been very young, his mom had died.
The waiter came back to take their drink orders and when he left, Blaine
scooted closer in the little corner booth they’d gotten for coming early.
“What happened to her?” he said quietly. Kurt sipped his water again and then
turned to look at Blaine.
“She died when I was eight,” said Kurt. “It was stupid, really.” His laugh was
humorless and filled with deep regret. “We were going to my birthday party, I
was having it at a nice restaurant—” Kurt grinned sadly and looked around at
the irony, “—and my mom, she went separately from my dad and me because she
still had to wrap my gift, but I wanted to get going. So my dad took me and my
mom was gonna meet us.”
Blaine’s stomach dropped with the halt in Kurt’s speech.
“She never got there,” he guessed, his voice hardly above a whisper. Kurt
nodded.
“For a long time, I felt like it was my fault. I couldn’t have just waited.”
Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt cut him off with a hand. “I don’t
think that anymore,” he said. He squirmed a bit in his seat, then seemed to
settle. “It’s been hard, but I’ve had nine—almost ten years to cope, and beyond
that, my dad is the greatest dad in the world.” He smiled, and Blaine smiled
unconsciously in response. “There’s no need to talk about my mom. Not now, at
least. My dad has been everything I’ve ever needed and so much more.”
Blaine couldn’t help himself when he took Kurt’s hand and kissed the back of
it, earning a blush in return. A blush he liked quite a lot. “I hope I’ll be
just as awesome of a dad.”
It hit both of them at once. In unison, they looked down at Kurt’s belly, not
yet showing even the slightest tell-tale bump. When they looked up at each
other, something was there that hadn’t been before. An energy Blaine felt as
clearly as he felt the warm skin of Kurt’s hand.
The waiter came with their drinks (Blaine’s, because Kurt had elected for just
water) and Blaine dropped Kurt’s hand, although he did so slowly, almost
reluctantly, and Kurt kept his gaze down as a Diet Coke was set down in front
of Blaine.
“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked, looking at them in turn. They
glanced at one another, realizing simultaneously that they’d been too busy
talking to even peek at the menu. Kurt looked a little startled, like he’d
forgotten they were in public, and Blaine took pity on him.
He caught Kurt’s eye in a questioning glance before telling the waiter they
were ready. He ordered two entrees, looking at Kurt for a nod of approval
before settling on them. Dinner had, it seemed, turned less into dinner and
more into a date.
Childishly, the only thing Blaine thought in response to this realization
was, Whoops.
He liked learning about Kurt. It wasn’t just the connection of the pregnancy
(which, of course, was a deeply contributing factor), but he found him
interesting. He was funny, and cute, and his laugh was adorable. Plus, he knew
from class that Kurt was also intellectually stimulating.
He watched Kurt play idly with the napkin in his lap for a few moments, taking
in his profile, the point of his nose and his pretty, high cheekbones. Blaine’s
gaze continued south, past his collarbones (covered up beneath a shirt now) to
his stomach, inside of which a baby was growing.
His baby. Blaine’s baby.
Beneath that—the most delicious pussy Blaine had ever had the pleasure of
becoming acquainted with so intimately.
And that fast, his cock was stiff and pressing against the zipper of his pants.
He scooted closer to Kurt, so their thighs were touching. Near Kurt he could
smell a hint of some androgynous cologne that did nothing to quell his suddenly
raging libido. Blaine wasn’t a teenager anymore, but damn, when he saw
something he liked.
And fucking Christ, did he like.
When his hand landed on Kurt’s thigh, Kurt looked up at him with wide eyes,
both shocked and—yes, definitely turned on. The kid was a fucking minx.
“Blaine,” he said in a low voice, in some odd way both warning and encouraging.
Perhaps both.
Do it. But for crying out loud, be careful.
Blaine’s fingers were deft as he unbuttoned Kurt’s pants and pulled the zipper
down, slipping smoothly inside. His hand cupped Kurt’s pussy, hot and already
throbbing. With his longest finger he could feel the slightest hint of a
forming wet spot in front of Kurt’s hole. He pressed up with his finger and
Kurt let out a breath that made Blaine chuckle under his breath. This was going
to be fun. He leaned into Kurt’s ear as his fingers began to rub up and down
his pussy, alternating between teasing, soft strokes and pressing hard enough
to part his lips, getting the material of his underwear soaked.
“Shh,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s breath hitched and he swallowed,
but nodded. One of his hands was gripping Blaine’s bicep so hard the nails
pinched through the skin. The other was gripping the napkin, now bunched up at
his side with his legs spread open for Blaine’s hand. “You want me to make you
come, baby?” Blaine said in a low whisper.
A barely-audible moan in Kurt’s throat and he bucked his hips.
Blaine, semi-conscious of their surroundings, nipped at Kurt’s earlobe as he
slid his fingers beneath Kurt’s panties, letting his middle finger rest against
Kurt’s parted slit. His clit was so swollen he could feel it against the bottom
of his finger where it met his palm. The tip of that same finger teased at
Kurt’s hole, slipping in and out, but never enough. Kurt began squirming and
Blaine could tell how much effort he was putting into keeping still. God, he
was so fucking hot, his cheeks flushed just as red as his pussy probably was,
too.
Blaine had to stifle a whimper of his own at the image that thought produced.
“You’re a needy little slut, you know that?” he murmured against Kurt’s neck.
His finger pushed further in and he could see Kurt clenching his jaw, trying
not to make a sound. “You want my cock so bad your pussy’s always nice and
dripping wet for me.”
“Blaine,” Kurt rasped. Blaine hushed him again.
“I’ve got you,” he cooed. “I’m gonna take care of that needy cunt for you,
baby, don’t worry. Stay quiet.”
He sat straight again and kept his finger going beneath the table, pushing all
the way in now. It was an awkward angle and it made his wrist sore quickly, but
he wasn’t about to stop. He shoved another finger in and a squeak escaped
Kurt’s lips.
Kurt was so wet his fingers were starting to make squelching noises every time
Blaine fucked into him. Luckily they were the only ones that could hear, but
fuck, it was hot. He used his palm to grind against Kurt’s clit and Kurt’s hips
started to pump with Blaine’s hand; tiny, jerking thrusts that hardly moved his
torso.
He was gonna come, Blaine could feel him on the edge when the waiter came back.
Blaine stopped with his fingers buried deep inside Kurt’s pussy. Because he was
apparently feeling audacious tonight, he continued rubbing his palm over Kurt’s
clit.
The entrees came with salads, so the waiter had brought them out first. He
settled the bowls down in front of them, totally ignorant to what was happening
five feet in front of him. Blaine loved the way Kurt couldn’t stop fidgeting,
loved the way he could feel his pussy clenching and twitching.
“Thank you,” Blaine said with his biggest smile once the waiter had set down
oil and vinegar for their dressings. All the while, his hand never stopped
moving. As soon as the waiter walked away, Blaine pushed a third finger into
Kurt’s cunt and fucked him with them hard enough that Kurt shoved his face into
Blaine’s neck to muffle his moan when he came. It gushed out all over Blaine’s
fingers, soaking Kurt’s pants and probably getting on the booth beneath them
wet as well.
Kurt’s teeth could possibly leave bruises on Blaine’s neck, but he wasn’t
worried about that now. Kurt’s jaw finally relaxed and he panted against
Blaine’s shoulder, swallowing again and again, trying to get his breathing back
to normal. Blaine slowly, carefully, removed his hand from Kurt’s panties and
delicately wiped them on his napkin. Kurt let out a breathless laugh of
disbelief, looked down at his crotch, and then seemed to decide to use his own
napkin the same way. He cleaned himself up as best he could and then, after
looking at the piece of cloth doubtfully, laid it on the seat.
“We just can’t ever come back here,” he told Blaine. Blaine swooped in and
kissed Kurt’s cheek.
“Was it worth it?” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. He felt Kurt shudder.
Instead of responding verbally, he did something that touched Blaine in a
strange way. He took Blaine’s hand, placed it over his stomach and then looked
up at him. Their eyes locked. He had a sense, suddenly, that his question had
become a double-entendre.
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “It was.”
***** Chapter 10 *****
It was seven o’clock when they left Fleming’s. Kurt’s face was bright red as
they left. Passing the staff with a straight face and knowing whoever cleaned
up their table would surely find a wet spot, and almost certainly share the
information with the rest of the staff, was not an easy feat.
 
“Yeah, definitely not coming back here,” Kurt said once they’d gone outside and
were headed toward Blaine’s car. Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt’s and
whatever color had drained from Kurt’s cheeks came rushing back. Unconsciously
but rather fondly, Kurt placed a hand on his belly.
Blaine held the passenger door open and Kurt laughed. “What a gentleman.”
Blaine gave him a devilish smirk in response.
They held hands the entire ride back to the school and Kurt’s car. Even though
his palms were sweaty, Kurt wouldn’t have pulled away for the world. He was
very aware of the feelings he was beginning to develop, but he was telling
himself adamantly that it didn’t matter. First, there were the hormones to
consider; of course he was feeling affectionate toward the father of his baby.
His baby. It was still so foreign, such a crazy concept: a baby inside of him.
When they parked beside Kurt’s car, Blaine turned the engine off. Kurt tensed,
shoulders drawing up. He found himself picking at his cuticles, a terrible
habit he’d been trying to break since he’d realized he wanted his hands to look
nice (which was around the time he’d asked for sensible heels for Christmas).
Kurt had had a feeling this “date” had been more than just that, more than just
dinner for the hell of it, even though he’d hoped, begun to let himself warm up
to that conclusion when Blaine hadn’t brought up the subject at all while
they’d been at the restaurant.
For fuck’s sake, he’d fucked him with his fingers under the table. That was
about as far away from a serious discussion as you could get.
“You wanna talk,” Kurt said before Blaine could even open his mouth. Blaine
looked down at his lap and back up at Kurt, gazing intently at him. The moon
was shining in through the window on Kurt’s side and it made Blaine’s eyes
sparkle. Kurt’s stomach did an involuntary swoop.
“We have to,” Blaine said dejectedly. “This isn’t just, you know…something that
can be put off. I mean, we’ve gotta deal with this, Kurt.” He sighed and slid a
hand through his hair, a gesture Kurt had noticed meant Blaine was nervous,
something he found entirely endearing, especially when it messed his hair up,
leaving it pushed back from his forehead. “The appointment’s on Saturday, but I
think leaving decisions until then is a bad idea.”
Kurt let out a slow breath and slumped a bit in his seat, his expression one of
reluctant acceptance.
“Maybe we should stop saying ‘decisions,’ then, and just put the question on
the table.”
He looked at Blaine, who was chewing on his bottom lip. Kurt knew he’d put the
weight of posing the question on Blaine’s shoulders, but he just couldn’t do it
himself. Blaine was the “adult” here, after all, and Kurt was going to take
advantage of that. Besides, he was the one carrying the baby. That was enough
responsibility in itself.
Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stared forward, out the
windshield, and seemed to contemplate something for a minute. Finally, he
turned back to Kurt.
“Are you keeping the baby?” he said softly. Kurt’s stomach twisted and tied
itself up into a thousand impossible knots.
“What are your thoughts?” he answered, shifting the weight back onto Blaine
again. He’d known this would be a difficult discussion—just how difficult,
though, he hadn’t anticipated.
Blaine pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.
“Shit, Kurt, I dunno.” He sounded exasperated, and when he pulled his hands
away, there were red marks around his eyes, making him look tired and older
than he was. “Are you…I mean…Jesus. There’s so many factors here, Kurt. There’s
a million of them. I can’t even…” Blaine trailed off and laughed mirthlessly,
shaking his head at the roof of the car. He put the index finger of one hand
out and touched it with the other, “One, you’re a minor. And I mean…that’s just
the tip of the iceberg.” He held out a second finger: “Two, I have a boyfriend.
Which…” Again, he shook his head. “I’m not even going to start on that right
now. Three, your future; a baby will impede your plans, whatever they are.
Four…it comes back to Will, the fact that I have a boyfriend, I can’t…I can’t
publicly help you take care of a kid, and not just because of Will, either.
Then there’s your dad.” Blaine trailed off after his small rant and Kurt’s
whole stomach sank at the mention of his father. He’d thought about his dad, of
course he had, but every time he did he felt like throwing up. His dad would
be so disappointed. Not just pregnant, not just with a guy in his mid-twenties,
my teacher, dad, my teacher got me pregnant.
“I get it,” Kurt said softly. “It’s a really, really big deal.” His hand went
to his stomach again and he looked down, imagining the baby growing in there.
His stomach turned again.
A couple minutes passed in silence. Blaine kept looking back and forth between
the steering wheel, Kurt’s face, and Kurt’s stomach. Kurt couldn’t discern his
expression. Blaine looked troubled, that was all he could say with certainty.
“Do you wanna keep it?” Blaine asked finally, and his voice was just above a
whisper. “What do you want, Kurt? It’s your body.” He paused and then added,
“Whatever you wanna do, I’ll help you out however I can and however I have to.
Okay?”
The moon was making his green eyes sparkle again and Kurt felt something
unrelated to anxiety or his pregnant condition bubble in his chest. Emotion he
wasn’t willing to analyze or identify.
“Yeah,” Kurt croaked. He cleared his throat, nodded, and repeated, “Yeah. Thank
you.”
Blaine leaned over and turned Kurt’s head with a gentle hand on his chin. They
looked into one another’s eyes for several seconds, sharing things that
couldn’t (and in some cases wouldn’t) be vocalized. Then Blaine was kissing
him, soft and sweet and with his heightened hormones and emotions, Kurt
couldn’t help the small sob that wracked his body, nor the tear that leaked
from the corner of one eye. Blaine must have felt it on his own cheek, because
he pulled away half an inch and used a thumb to wipe it away.
Did he want to keep it? Sort of. Maybe. The idea had grown on him in the past
few days while he’d been thinking about it. A baby. Like Blaine had said, there
was so much that went into it, so many factors. He wouldn’t be able to go
straight to design school, that much was guaranteed. And Blaine—god, it could
ruin Blaine’s life. His boyfriend would find out he’d been cheating. He’d have
to pay child support. And if anyone put it together and figured out the child
had been conceived before Kurt was of age, Blaine could go to jail. He’d have
to register as a sex offender.
Was there a selfish part of Kurt that wanted to keep the baby, and keep Blaine,
too?

Yes. Absolutely. But as the euphemism went, you can’t have your cake and eat
it, too. If Kurt was to have the baby, he’d be setting himself back—but it was
nothing to the way it would affect Blaine.
Blaine’s hand was rubbing over Kurt’s thigh in soothing back and forth motions.
Another tear tracked down Kurt’s cheek.
“No,” he said eventually. He swallowed, found it difficult, then said it again,
louder and clearer. “No. I’m not gonna keep it.”
Blaine stared at him for seconds that seemed like hours. Kurt couldn’t say
whether there was disappointment or relief on Blaine’s face. Maybe both.
His hand moved to Kurt’s cheek, cupping it and forcing their eyes to meet
again.
“Is that what you really want?”
Kurt said yes, but his hesitation, and probably his expression, was more than
enough to tell Blaine he was lying, at least partially. He didn’t say anything,
though. It was the responsible decision. He wanted desperately to know Blaine’s
opinion, but fought against asking. Blaine looked conflicted and guilty enough
as it was. If any part of him wanted Kurt to keep the baby, Kurt wouldn’t make
him say it out loud.
Blaine nodded, and then breathed out hard through his nose. He put his hands on
the steering wheel, letting them hang by his fingertips, and stared forward,
through the windshield.
“We’ll talk to the doctor on Saturday,” he said. His voice was hoarse. Kurt
didn’t let himself dwell on it. “See what our options are at this stage. It’s
early, you may be able to just take that new pill.”
Kurt, stomach rolling, raised an eyebrow. “It’s too late for Plan B.”
Blaine shook his head. “No, there’s this new thing. One of my friends just had
to have an abortion and her doctor had her take these pills. You take one at
the office, and then take another, like, seventy-two hours later or something.
I dunno. But it…it gets rid of the baby. She said it was easy, but the cramps
were…” Trailing off, Blaine grimaced. He looked at Kurt sadly. “She said they
were, uh…pretty damn bad.”
Kurt swallowed. Shrugged. “That’s okay,” he said, and the resolution he’d
attempted to put in his answer didn’t sound convincing even to himself. “Easier
than a hanger, right?”
Neither even cracked a smile.
Several more silent seconds passed.
Blaine broke it: “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He leaned forward,
hesitated, then closed the distance and kissed Kurt’s cheek. “Drive safe,
okay?”
Kurt nodded but said nothing. Blaine squeezed his hand before Kurt gathered the
strength to hop out of the car and climb into his own. The conversation had
left him with weak limbs and a heavy feeling in his stomach. Even after Blaine
pulled out of the parking lot, Kurt sat there for fifteen minutes, thinking and
dwelling and waiting for his hands to stop shaking so much.
* * *
Saturday came much too quickly.
“I’m going out with Rachel,” Kurt told his dad, putting his coat on and
swinging his bag over his shoulder. His stomach was twisting and turning and
climbing into his throat then dropping like he was on a roller coaster. All
morning he’d been unsettled, unable to even eat breakfast, which he’d just made
for his dad. He’d woken up at seven, two hours earlier than he normally did on
weekends, and had not been capable of falling back asleep.
The appointment wasn’t until the afternoon, but he didn’t want to hang around
the house. Being around Burt only made him more nervous, and beyond that, the
guilt felt like bile in his throat.
Or maybe that was actual bile.
He’d puked already, about an hour after he’d woken up. Even though he was still
nauseous, his stomach was finally settling. It was hard to separate the nausea
of morning sickness from the nausea of fear and nerves, though, and his hand
was pressing into his stomach as he walked out the door around nine, his dad
sitting at the kitchen table eating a bagel thin and scrambled egg whites with
a newspaper spread open in front of him, totally oblivious to the situation
which felt to Kurt like a hurricane that had swept up his whole life into it.
“Be home for dinner,” his dad said. Kurt nodded, not trusting himself to open
his mouth, and slipped out the front door. He took a deep, calming breath once
he’d closed it behind him and sat down on the steps. He needed a moment before
driving. The plan had been for Blaine to pick him up after Burt had left for
the day to go to the garage, but Kurt was restless. He knew from Blaine that
his boyfriend—Will, he reminded himself, he’s a real person, he’s Blaine’s
boyfriend—went to work at nine in the morning on Saturdays and stayed until
six, when the dealership closed. That meant Will would already be gone.
He finally got in the car and paused a moment when he put his seatbelt on,
looking at the strap over his belly, thinking about the baby. Every day it (he,
she) felt more real. When would he start showing?
No, he reminded himself suddenly, forcefully. No, I won’t show. I’m getting rid
of it.
It. That was the best way to think of it. No need to use pronouns and get
attached.
Following that thought was one he hadn’t had previously: did this mean he could
get pregnant again? Was he fertile, capable of conceiving a child? Had it been
a fluke? The notion made him nervous in a way he couldn’t explain and didn’t
want to examine right now.
Blaine and Will’s apartment had parking behind the building for residents, and
since Will was gone, Kurt parked beside Blaine’s Jetta. He wondered vaguely
about Blaine’s background, where his money came from (because he obviously had
money—he’d only been teaching about a month now, and private school or not, a
month’s worth of paychecks didn’t pay for an apartment like this one or what
Kurt knew to be a 2014 Volkswagen Jetta, probably new when he’d gotten it).
Kurt would have bet his right hand there wasn’t more than five thousand miles
on that car, all from Blaine. He wondered, too, about Blaine’s past. He
realized for the first time they hadn’t spoken about Blaine at all. It had just
been question after question about Kurt’s life that night at dinner, and if
they weren’t talking about him, they were talking about other things…or doing
other things, for that matter.
Everything but talk about Blaine and his life and his past.
He went up to the apartment and Blaine opened the door with a confused look on
his face, probably thinking it was Will, perhaps having forgotten something. It
took him a moment or two, but finally a stern look crossed his face. That look
reminded Kurt of when Blaine was in teaching mode. However, there was a grin
fighting through, and it made Kurt feel warm all over.
“Hi,” he said sheepishly. “I, uh…didn’t wanna be at home anymore. I hope it’s
okay I came over.”
Blaine let out a sigh and finally allowed his smile to show, ushering Kurt
inside and closing the door behind him. He put a hand on Kurt’s cheek and
planted a soft kiss on his mouth.
“Of course it’s okay, baby,” he murmured against Kurt’s lips. “We just have to
be careful.” His thumb swept over Kurt’s cheek, back and forth, their lips
brushing, noses touching. Kurt thought if it was possible for a heart to melt,
his would be in that process this very moment. He led Kurt into the kitchen,
where a bowl sat on the table with a few soggy Cheerios floating in an inch of
sugary milk. Blaine, always the gentleman, held a chair out for Kurt, “Have you
eaten? Are you hungry?”
Kurt’s stomach rumbled unpleasantly and he felt the bile rise in his throat
again. He held a hand up.
“I’m okay,” he said, sounding quite nauseous. Blaine looked at him
sympathetically and sat down. His hand landed on Kurt’s back and he rubbed
soothing circles.
“Feeling okay? Just morning sickness, or are you nervous?”
Kurt sighed and, in what was becoming a habitual gesture, put a hand on his
stomach. “Little of both.”
Blaine nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m just gonna eat something ‘cause I’m starving
and we’ve got—” he looked at his watch, “—I dunno, it’s just about ten, like an
hour before we should leave. It’ll take us about forty-five minutes to get to
there. I mapped it, it’s at the further end of Lima—” Kurt nodded, hand still
on his belly, “—and the appointment’s at noon. Doctors always take forever, of
course, but you’ll probably have to fill stuff out, so we may as well get there
a little early.”
Kurt smiled. Of course Blaine was meticulous. “You want me to make you
something to eat?”
Blaine paused in the act of taking a red box out of the freezer, one of those
frozen breakfast sandwiches, Kurt saw. He looked over his shoulder at Kurt with
his head cocked and his eyebrows furrowed.
“But aren’t you…?” He gestured vaguely at Kurt, probably meaning a whole slew
of things in that sweep of his hand. Aren’t you feeling sick? Nauseous?
Tired?Kurt chuckled and shook his head.
“It’s alright.” He stood and went to Blaine, taking the box from him and
setting it back inside the freezer. “Go ahead, sit down. I’m gonna make you
breakfast.”
“Kurt—”
Kurt raised a hand to silence him and heard the sound of Blaine’s teeth
clacking together as he shut his mouth.
“I want to. Really.” Blaine still looked uncertain; Kurt sighed theatrically
and pushed him into a chair, forcing him to sit.
“Okay, but if you get nauseous, or light-headed, or—”
Kurt spun around from the open refrigerator with a wide grin on his face.
“Blaine,” he laughed. “I’m fine. Lemme make you breakfast, honey.”
Kurt’s face filled immediately with brilliant color and he swallowed hard,
looking away from Blaine and down at the floor, his eyes wide. Thathad slipped
out. Blaine called him baby all the time, but…it felt different, somehow. He
didn’t dare look to see what Blaine’s expression was; instead, he swallowed
again and went back to what he was doing, moving past it, refusing to dwell. It
didn’t have to mean anything. Couldn’tmean anything, he reminded himself.
Because Kurt was going to have an abortion and Blaine had a boyfriend and a
life and for god’s sake, he was Kurt’s teacher. There was no room for honey or
the feelings and emotions inherent in the word.
He made scrambled eggs (using the whole egg instead of just the egg whites like
he did for his dad), toasted a bagel, smearing it with cream cheese, and found
some bacon to fry in a pan with vegetable oil. When he set it down on the table
with a glass of orange juice, he finally found the nerve to catch Blaine’s eye,
and he found that Blaine was smiling at him gently, almost adoringly. His eyes
(which had looked green in the moonlight) were now hazel, and Kurt could see
the flecks of brown and gold in them.
“Thank you,” Blaine said, his voice soft and breathy. Kurt gave him a cheeky
grin and went to wash his hands in the sink before joining Blaine at the table
with just a glass of milk (almond milk, and he wondered whether that was
Blaine’s or Will’s choice).
“My pleasure.”
* * *
Kurt’s dad’s insurance was on file, so all Kurt had to fill out was paperwork
concerning the appointment and its purpose. He felt like he was in a dream as
the pencil moved across the paper, answering questions about his family medical
history, but when he came to the bit where he had to check off the things he
wanted from the appointment today, the mark he made in the box labeled
“ultrasound” was shaky and skewed. Blaine must have noticed, because his hand
slipped around Kurt’s waist where they sat on a small couch in the waiting
room.
“Am I getting blood done?” he whispered to Blaine, feeling at once like a child
and much older than his actual age.
Blaine shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you probably should. We’re gonna tell your dad
this was an annual checkup, right?” He paused and his eyebrows threaded. “Or…I
dunno, do they usually do blood work at a gynecologist visit?”
Without another word, Kurt finished the form and slipped the pencil inside the
metal attachment on the clipboard with a heavy sigh.
“My annual doctor’s visit usually encompasses everything,” he told Blaine.
“It’s been that way forever, you know, ‘cause of my…” He looked down at his lap
and then back up, shrugging one shoulder and looking for the right words. He
settled on, “Unusual anatomy,” with a roll of his eyes.
Blaine leaned close, his breath hot on Kurt’s neck, and whispered, “Watch it,
I’m pretty fond of that anatomy.”
Kurt blushed furiously. He swatted Blaine’s knee, who laughed, then stood to
bring the paperwork back to the woman behind the desk. She was a rather grumpy
older lady with a haircut Kurt guessed she hadn’t changed since the early
fifties.
They sat another fifteen or twenty minutes, Blaine rubbing Kurt’s back while
Kurt played around idly with his phone. It was only ten minutes past noon when
Kurt’s doctor—Doctor Hayner—came into the waiting room and found Kurt almost
immediately.
“Hey, Kurt,” he said, his smile wide and warm. Some of the tension in Kurt’s
body eased. Thank god he had a good doctor. He’d always liked Doctor Hayner. He
was just a plain old good guy. Down to earth and sympathetic toward his
patients, easy to talk to. Safeto talk to. Kurt had always felt comfortable
discussing his vagina and the anatomy that went along with it with Doctor
Hayner. And even though he was a minor, which technically meant the doctor
could share anything with a parent or legal guardian, Kurt didn’t think he
would, not if he didn’t want him to.
And boy was there a lot to share if he did. Not just pregnant, not just with an
older guy, but his teacher. He tried to imagine his dad getting that phone call
and quickly dismissed it. Thinking about that would only frazzle him. Besides,
he’d never have to find out.
Abortion.
He told Doctor Hayner it was okay for Blaine to come in, and though Blaine got
an odd, slightly mistrustful look, he was allowed with Kurt’s consent.
They were taken into a room that looked like every other Kurt had ever been in.
There was the chair with the stirrups for gynecological visits (and a screen
beside it, one which Kurt had never had to use before), the doctor’s desk,
cluttered with unnamable tools and gadgets. There was the chair where he’d sat
a million times before to get his blood drawn. The paper-covered bed, where
Kurt had always gotten his blood pressure taken, had his heart listened to, his
ears and eyes examined. There was the scale.
That’s where they started.
“Well, you’ve gained weight,” Doctor Hayner said, marking it on his clipboard.
“Last time I saw you was—” he lifted the top piece of paper, glanced at the one
beneath, then let it drop back down, “—about five months ago.” He stuck his pen
behind his ear and looked straight at Kurt. “So unless you’ve changed your
diet, I’d say the pregnancy test you said you took was accurate.”
Kurt and Blaine glanced at one another without a word. Doctor Hayner watched
this, then said, “Let’s do the ultrasound.”
He asked Kurt a lot of questions as he was setting it up. Questions about his
sexual activity outside of Blaine, to which he was relieved to be able to
respond that there wasno outside sexual activity with the exception of some
kissing and touching and feeling. There were questions about his period, when
his last one occurred, when he realized he’d missed a period, when he’d taken
the test. Embarrassing questions about his and Blaine’s sex life, how often,
how recently, how many times without a condom.
Doctor Hayner dug further, too. He wasn’t vocal about his disappointment in the
both of them for the situation they’d gotten themselves into, but his face said
enough. His doctor never asked if Blaine had a significant other, and Kurt
wondered whether it was because he assumed they were together, as immoral (and
illegal) as that might be.
The jelly Doctor Hayner put on his stomach was as cold as the movies always
made it out to be and the machine roving over the surface of his skin felt
strange. Blaine was beside him, holding his hand, when they found the baby.
Just an embryo, the sex not even distinguishable yet, but there it was. Kurt
could see the shape of the head, the curved back, the teeny, barely-formed legs
and arms.
The doctor was smiling at the picture in spite of himself, but when he looked
around at Kurt and Blaine, it slipped off his face. Both were staring at the
picture on the screen like they’d never seen anything like it before.
And they hadn’t. Nothing even comparable. That was their baby. A baby they’d
made together, growing inside Kurt’s body, just a few weeks into its
developmental stages. Kurt couldn’t swallow. His mouth had gone completely dry.
Alternately, his palms were sweating like he’d dipped them in water. Blaine,
too. Or maybe that was just his own sweat rubbing off. It was impossible to
tell.
Doctor Hayner did a few familiar things after the ultrasound. There was the pap
smear, and he felt around inside Kurt’s vagina, pressing on his walls. Kurt
held Blaine’s hand the whole time, though he’d done this a million times.
He’d never been pregnant while it was being done before.
Kurt had a few routine things done, blood pressure, heart rate, etc. He got his
blood drawn. It was then that Doctor Hayner told Kurt and Blaine to sit in the
office and wait. As Kurt knew, his case was a special one. They’d told Doctor
Hayner their decision—to get rid of the baby—but Kurt hadn’t liked the look on
his face when they’d told him this.
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Blaine told him, his thumb rubbing circles into
Kurt’s hand. “Like he said, it’s just different in your case.”
The doctor came back a full twenty minutes later. He looked extremely
uncomfortable.
“Well,” Doctor Hayner began, and Blaine gripped Kurt’s hand more tightly, “good
news is the baby looks healthy as far as we can tell at this point, and you’re
healthy as well. It’ll take about a week for the blood results to come back and
we’ll give you a call about that.” He stopped, and here he drew in a breath,
then let it out slowly through his nose. “Listen, Kurt. It’s a…scientific
anomaly that you got pregnant in the first place. You know how little is
documented about cases like yours, and by that I mean men with female
genitalia. The percentage of that population that has actually gotten pregnant
is point-oh-five percent.”
Kurt and Blaine gaped at Doctor Hayner, whose cheeks adopted a very faint pink
flush.
“You said you wanted to have an abortion.”
Both hesitated before looking at each other and then nodding slowly in unison.
Doctor Hayner looked at them [with his], eyebrows drawn for a moment before
continuing. He sat forward in his chair, clipboard in his lap, sympathy written
in every wrinkle on his face in spite of his feelings toward their situation.
“I’m afraid it would be extremely dangerous, Kurt,” he said finally. Blaine
squeezed Kurt’s hand. Kurt said nothing. His chest heaved with his heavy
breathing and he began to feel light-headed. He wasn’t sure he could speak.
Thankfully, Blaine did it for him.
“Dangerous how?” he said in a croaky voice that wasn’t his own.
Doctor Hayner sat back in his swivel chair and sighed. He seemed to finally
have accepted Blaine’s presence and looked at him when he spoke.
“We don’t know enough about Kurt’s anatomy. There are a total of ten documented
cases in the last fifty years of male pregnancies.” He paused. His adam’s apple
bobbed. “Not one of them had an abortion.” He let this sink in, then went on,
“We have no idea how Kurt’s body would react to an abortion, whether it was the
pill, like you’d mentioned, or any other method. It could cause irreparable
harm to him.” Again, he paused. It was a grave silence, and Kurt wasn’t
surprised at what came out of the doctor’s mouth next, though it still shook
him. “Kurt, it could feasibly kill you.”
* * *
“You’re not taking that fucking chance, Kurt!” Blaine shouted, tossing one of
the couch cushions across the room, causing it to hit a lamp, which fell and
shattered on the floor. Kurt, who had been standing with his feet planted,
yelling right back, crossed his arms over his chest and folded in on himself.
Tears had been steadily sliding down his cheeks since they left the hospital an
hour an half ago. Now they came faster. Kurt slid into the armchair beside the
couch and buried his face in his hands, finally letting himself sob. He heard
Blaine sigh, and then felt his presence beside him, sitting on the arm of the
chair. A hand slid through Kurt’s hair as another sob wracked his body.
“Kurt,” Blaine said softly. A few moments of silence passed and then he
maneuvered Kurt so he was sitting on Blaine’s lap, Blaine in the chair, arms
folded tightly around Kurt’s middle. Kurt put his face in Blaine’s chest and
continued to cry. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise, it’s okay. Everything’s
gonna be alright.” That same hand that had been in his hair made circles on
Kurt’s back, letting him soak his shirt, rocking him in soothing motions.
When Kurt eventually lifted his head, his eyes were puffy and his face was red.
“I have to tr-try,” he said, shaking his head, more silent tears leaking down
his cheeks. “I h-haveto, Blaine. I c-can’t just—” he hiccupped, continued,
“—havethe baby. I…” But he broke down again, obscuring his face in Blaine’s
shoulder.
“You’re not doing it, Kurt,” Blaine said. His voice was resolute, begged no
arguments. It was his teacher voice. His adultvoice. Kurt found himself once
more thankful to havean adult. Especially now, with this news. He couldn’t have
an abortion.
Well, he could. But it might kill him. Or cause “irreparable harm,” as Doctor
Hayner had put it.
“What are you we gonna do?” Kurt said, and it was muffled in the material of
Blaine’s shirt. He felt Blaine’s chest move as he breathed in and out deeply.
“We’re gonna figure it out,” said Blaine. His hand moved from Kurt’s back to
his hair, and he ran his fingers through it. Blaine’s mouth was next to Kurt’s
ear when he whispered, “We’re gonna figure this out, baby. I swear.”
***** Chapter 11 *****
Blaine sat with Kurt in his lap for half an hour, rubbing his back, letting his
frazzled nerves simmer. Both had been running at high gears the whole day, from
the anticipation of the visit to the visit’s unexpected conclusion and finally
the information they’d had dumped on their heads like a bucket of ice cold
water. Alone together in Blaine’s living room, they could finally begin to
unwind. As they sat in the chair, Blaine felt his muscles physically relaxing,
loosening, and Kurt’s body gradually drooped against him as well.

It was nearing four when Kurt lifted his head from where he’d rested it against
Blaine’s shoulder, nose buried in Blaine’s neck. He looked totally wiped out,
and it made him appear even younger than seventeen. Kurt was just a kid, after
all. A pregnant kid, sure, and a kid that Blaine was developing feelings for at
a frighteningly rapid pace…but a kid nonetheless.

He seemed on the verge of saying something, but a yawn cut him off and he
brought a hand to his mouth to cover it. Blaine smiled to himself and pushed a
hand through Kurt’s hair, eyes roaming over his flushed face. He kissed Kurt’s
cheek. It was warm and there was the slightest hint of a salty taste from his
earlier tears.

“I wish I could have you stay for dinner,” he said softly. His hand moved to
cup Kurt’s neck and his thumb moved back and forth across Kurt’s cheek. “Will
gets home around five, though.”

Kurt wiped delicately at his eyes and shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said,
his voice scratchy. Blaine, unable to help himself, kissed Kurt’s cheek again.
“My dad told me to be home for dinner anyway.” His smile was sweet and made
Blaine’s heart clench. He kissed Blaine gently. “Thanks for taking me today.
Even if it wasn’t quite what we expected.”

Blaine took Kurt’s hand and raised it to his lips, brushing them over Kurt’s
knuckles. “I’m gonna be with you the whole way, sweetheart.”

Their eyes met and Blaine felt his stomach do a complicated flip-flop. He
recalled earlier that morning, when Kurt had called him honey. It had made him
positively jubilant.

There was something there. He could no longer hide from or deny it; the
feelings were too plain, too obvious to be ignored. He’d fallen for Kurt, and
hard. It wasn’t a good thing, but it couldn’t be helped any more than Kurt’s
pregnant condition could be helped at this point. Possibly both situations
could have been avoided had they never fucked, but. Well. What was done was
done.

No use crying over spilled milk.

Blaine grinned to himself and let out a short gust of laughter. Kurt grinned at
him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Blaine shook his head, let his eyes roam greedily over Kurt’s young
face, and then kissed him again. This one was both longer and deeper. It
translated feelings Blaine couldn’t quite put into words right now. Kurt seemed
happy to accept this medium of expression over talking. It was ten minutes
later that Kurt pulled away from Blaine’s mouth with a wet sound that made him
laugh.
“Jeez, I have to go.” He pecked Blaine’s lips and hopped off his lap, then took
his hands and tugged. “C’mon, walk me outside!”
Blaine groaned loudly, putting all his weight down on the chair like a little
kid throwing a tantrum.
“How are you a teacher?”
Blaine quit his theatrics and peered at Kurt through slitted eyes.
“I resent that.”
Kurt merely gave him a coy smile and spun around. Blaine watched him grab his
coat and slip it gracefully over his arms and onto his shoulders. His shirt was
low enough to grant Blaine clear visibility of the hollows of Kurt’s
collarbones. He was visited by a strong, almost overwhelming urge to grab Kurt
and drag him back to his and Will’s bedroom to fuck him until he screamed. Were
it not for the time crunch, he thoughthe would have done it, too. Later, he
would have reason to feel like a real jackass for even entertaining the idea.
For now, though, it brought a wicked smirk onto his face as he followed Kurt
out of the apartment. He locked the door behind them and as they stepped into
the elevator, he took Kurt’s hand. Kurt’s smile this time was soft and sweet
and once again made him look even younger than he was. Blaine’s thumb made
circles over Kurt’s knuckles. His heart felt strangely too big for his chest
and his stomach was in knots, only not in an entirely bad way. Just…a new way.
They were standing outside Kurt’s car when Blaine slipped his arms around
Kurt’s waist and pulled him close, until their noses were nearly touching. He
raised one hand, slowly at first, hesitant, and then landed it on Kurt’s
stomach. His own flipped and flopped and somersaulted. At first Kurt didn’t say
or do anything, but then his own hand covered Blaine’s.
My baby’s in there, he thought. And then following that: our baby.Our baby is
in there.
“What now?” Kurt whispered. Blaine swallowed and shook his head.
“I have no idea, Kurt.” But when he saw the look of fear cross Kurt’s face, he
found himself opening his mouth and continuing, “It’s okay, baby. I told you,
everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out together as we go along.”
The hand still on Kurt’s waist transferred to his face and he locked eyes with
Kurt. “Do you believe me?”
Without even a moment’s hesitation, Kurt nodded. This brought a satisfied smile
to Blaine’s lips.
“Good. Do you have plans Monday after school?”
Kurt shook his head. A small grin was growing on his face. “Nope.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
Blaine only smiled.
* * *
Will came home at half past five. He looked worn out but happy, and it tugged
on Blaine’s heartstrings.
“Hi, hon,” Will said, dropping down onto the couch beside Blaine, who was
watching football. “Have you been in this spot allday?” he teased. Blaine poked
his tongue out at him and received an eye roll for it.
“So what if I have?”
Will chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me, that’s for certain.” He kissed Blaine’s
cheek, and when Blaine didn’t turn to him in order to make it a real kiss, he
frowned. Blaine could feelthat frown. “Hey, what’s up? You okay?”
“Fine,” Blaine said, but the word was cut off by a yawn that contradicted it.
“Just tired.” He looked at Will and smiled, but Will had an eyebrow raised.

“Watching football all day is tiring work, huh?”
No, but taking my student I knocked up to the doctor isemotionally tiring work.
And how about finding out an abortion could kill him? That’s fuckingexhausting.
“It’s taxing, okay?”
Will hummed and ran his nose along Blaine’s stubbly cheek, across his jaw. He
kissed Blaine’s neck when he reached it and Blaine was mostly fascinated by the
lack of response he had to this. It was becoming almost…routine, not being
turned on by Will; something that was expected.
When had that happened?
Does it matter?
No, he supposed it didn’t. Whenever it had happened, that was where he found
himself. And it was a sticky situation, indeed. Maybe theworst part, though,
was the lack of guilt he was feeling. It seemed as though his decreasing
feelings for Will correlated perfectly with his increasing feelings for Kurt.
And the longer it went on, the firmer his feelings became,the less his
conscience bothered him about it. It made no sense and the thought itself—that
he was cheating on his boyfriend with less and less recriminations from his own
heart—gave Blaine a bit of an anxious bubble in his stomach.
Was he an asshole?
Well. Maybe he was. But did that change the fact that when he was with Kurt, he
felt happier than he could remember being in years? Not a bit. Like he hadn’t
knownhe wasn’t as happy as he could be until now.
What it also didn’t change, however, was the fact that Kurt was both underage
and his student.
No, that would be the case on one hand until Kurt’s birthday (which, he
realized, he still didn’t know), and on the other until the end of the school
year, which was a semester and a half away.
“Are you wearing perfume…?”
Blaine shook his head as if to rid himself of his circling thoughts and looked
at Will with his eyebrows drawn.
“Perfume? Why would I be wearing perfu—” Blaine cut off when he realized
exactlywhy he’d smell like perfume. Kurt must have been wearing something
feminine today, and of course it would have rubbed off on Blaine when they’d
been sitting in that chair together for god only knew how long. And now he
looked suspicious as could be, having broken off like that with a startled
expression. “Oh, I went to Macy’s today,” he lied, rather smoothly, too, if he
did say so himself. “I needed more clothes for work.”
And so he found himself thanking any attendant deities that he hadn’t fucked
Kurt in their bed and spread his scent around like he was beggingto be caught.
God, he’d have to be more careful.
“Ah,” Will laughed. “So you weren’t on the couch allday.”
Blaine grinned and kissed Will’s nose before turning back to the game on the
television. How many more convoluted lies could he feed Will before he figured
out something was wrong? How many more would he be forced to tell?
Perhaps forced, he admitted to himself, was a bad word. No one was forcing him
to lie.
But how much longer could he go on this way, regardless? And beyond that…what
was the end result going to be? For the very first time since this whole
debacle had begun, the thought crossed Blaine’s mind that he and Will wouldn’t
end up together.
He shook his head again. It was too early (in the pregnancy, in his and Kurt’s
relationship) to worry about such things, or at least…still early enough that
he could get away with putting off a decision.
He had a sinking feeling that, from this point on, time would pick up speed
like a boulder rolling down a steep incline. They had maybe two and a half,
three months before Kurt would start showing,and what then?
Well. He would burn that bridge when he came to it.
* * *
The rumor mill was cycling along at its usual rapid pace and Blaine was
beginning to think that, when Kurt’s pregnancy began to show, he might actually
tear his hair out. People were stilltalking about him and Kurt, and if they
were talking so enthusiastically about it now? Well, damn. They were going to
have a fucking field day speculating whether or not it was Blaine who’d knocked
him up.
And if that didn’t push him to rip his hair out, Kurt would most assuredly get
him to that point all on his own.
He came during fifth period, one of Blaine’s two freebies. Blaine was bent over
his desk grading an essay and at first didn’t even hear the sound of the door
opening and snicking shut behind Kurt. It was only when Kurt approached his
desk that he looked up. His first, automatic response was to smile. Then he
realized where they were, and the smile fell.
“Kurt,” he said softly, eyes flicking to the door—closed, at least. “What are
you doing? Don’t you have class?”
Kurt shrugged and adopted an impish smile. He went around Blaine’s desk and
hopped up onto the wooden surface, legs dangling.
“Yeah. But I wanted to see you, and I knew you had a free period.”
Blaine sighed, caught between delight and the knowledge that he shouldreprimand
Kurt.
“How do you know I’m not meeting with someone?”
Kurt rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. “Are you?”
“That’s not the point,” Blaine sighed. He lifted a hand and pushed it through
his hair, resigning himself to this turn of events. It wasn’t as though seeing
Kurt was a hardship, after all. “How’re you feeling today?”
Kurt’s grin widened, knowing he’d won, and a hand lifted to his stomach.
“Pretty good, actually. Aside from the nausea this morning, of course. It was
bad.”
Blaine mocked Kurt’s pout before standing up so he could press their mouths
together. The shades in his classroom were drawn, and that was good, because
the courtyard on which the windows looked was most definitely not deserted at
this time of day. It was probably teeming with half the student body.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you better now?”
Kurt nodded with a satisfied little grin on his face.
“Good. Oh, that reminds me; I have some stuff for you. Vitamins and whatnot. I
did a little bit of research and went shopping yesterday.”
Kurt cooed and leaned forward to kiss Blaine again.
“Aww, you’re the best baby daddy ever.”
Blaine groaned, letting out a short laugh and dropping his head.
“God, don’tcall me that.”
Kurt chuckled. “Oh, of course. It’s Mr. Anderson when we’re in school, right?”
Blaine looked up and cocked his head, wearing a slightly bemused expression.
“Are you sassing me?”
Kurt merely grinned. He shrugged, as if to say,Maybe I am.
Suddenly hornier than he could remember being since finding out Kurt was
pregnant, Blaine crowded against Kurt, moving between his legs and spreading
them further apart. He heard Kurt suck in an audible breath. His hands landed
on Kurt’s thighs, squeezing lightly, and he brought his mouth to Kurt’s ear.
“And what do you think happens to slutty little boys like you who disrespect
their teacher?” he breathed. Kurt pulled back just enough so he could look up
into Blaine’s face.
“I don’t know,” he said softly. His blue eyes were big and so deceivingly
innocent. “But I’d love to find out.”
Blaine dropped his head to Kurt’s shoulder and let out a breath of laughter.
His hands moved from Kurt’s thighs to his waist, one of them continuing up to
his stomach and resting there. The laughter left as suddenly as it had come.
Blaine swallowed, hard.
“You’re gonna look so fucking good when you get big, Kurt.” He hadn’t known he
was going to say it until the words were out of his mouth, but he had no desire
at all to take them back. Kurt was looking at him in what appeared to be
astonishment. The desire beneath it, however, was undeniable. He began kissing
beneath Kurt’s ear, streaming kisses from one side of his neck to the other.
“So good, all big and pregnant with my baby. Fuck.”
“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, and it was just shy of being a whine.
“You like that?” There was a hint of awe in Blaine’s voice. He couldn’t image
where this had come from; never would he have expected himself to be so turned
on by the idea of someone carrying his baby. But he was. God, he was throbbing
with want. “You like that idea, baby?”
There was less than a moment’s hesitation before Kurt nodded. His little “yeah”
was breathless and his eyes were wide, cheeks flushed. Blaine kissed his jaw
and let the hand that had been on his stomach dip down to his pussy, where he
cupped Kurt through his jeans. Kurt moaned softly.
“I know why you came to see me,” Blaine said against Kurt’s neck. He began
pressing up with his hand, rubbing hard over Kurt’s pussy. Kurt’s hips pressed
down into the touch, his hands coming up to grip Blaine’s shoulders. “With all
those hormones going wild right now, your greedy little cunt must be aching,
huh, baby?”
Kurt let out a small cry. “Yes, yes, please, Blaine, please.”
Blaine hushed him and pressed one last sucking kiss to Kurt’s shoulder. He rid
Kurt first of his jeans and then of his panties, wasting no time teasing.
Kurt’s pussy was flushed and soaking wet when Blaine parted his lips with the
thumb and middle finger of his right hand. He could see Kurt’s hole clenching.
“Look at you,” he breathed. “Look at that pretty, messy pussy of yours. Always
so hungry for my cock, aren’t you? Such a slut for me.” He found Kurt’s clit,
already stiff and swollen. He circled it slowly with his thumb.
There was something beyond his raging libido, though. Something that made his
chest feel warm and tight in the best possible way. He caught Kurt’s mouth in a
deep kiss; all those feelings from Saturday came whirling back, knocking Blaine
metaphorically on his ass.
When he leaned in to catch Kurt’s mouth in another kiss, Blaine felt him
shudder.The accompanying gush of fluid let him know that yes, Kurt’s hormones
had him worked up, because he’d just come in a matter of minutes.
“Jesus,” Blaine whispered against Kurt’s lips. Kurt let out a breathless laugh.
He pulled away and looked at Kurt’s flushed face. For the first time, he
allowed himself to ruminate on his emotions. This boy sitting on his desk meant
something more to him that just sex. It hadn’t started that way, he knew that
with one hundred percent surety, but…it had developed. Somehow. And it wasn’t
just the pregnancy, either. It was something Blaine had never felt before,
something deep and strong and lovely.
He was pulled from his moment of reverie by Kurt, who put a hand on Blaine’s
cheek.
“Hey,” Kurt said softly. Blaine focused back on his face and smiled.
“Hey.”
He chuckled and shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed, Blaine was
interested to see. Kurt wasn’t usually embarrassed about anything sexual. At
least…not out loud, he supposed.
“How much time do we have before sixth?”
Blaine brought his wrist up and glanced at his watch. “’Bout twenty, twenty-
five minutes.”
Kurt’s smile turned devilish. Again, Blaine marveled at the swell of affection
he felt in reaction. God, Kurt was…he was something else. Something else
entirely.
“You should fuck me.”
Blaine was startled into a laugh. When he sobered, he shook his head. Kurt’s
smile dropped and for a moment he looked put out. Blaine kissed Kurt’s pouting
lower lip, then pulled away just an inch, so their noses were still touching.
“You’re too beautiful to fuck,” he whispered.
The pout left Kurt’s face in a hurry. In its place came something that
tightened Blaine’s chest yet again. He looked back and forth between Blaine’s
eyes, seemingly contemplating his next words. Finally he said:
“Then make love to me.”
Blaine felt quite as though his heart had leapt into his throat, while his
stomach dropped promptly out his butt. He brought both hands up to Kurt’s
cheeks, framing his pretty pale face, and planted a hard kiss on his mouth.
Then, with one hand, he reached down to unzip and unbutton his pants. Blaine
pulled his cock out, throbbing and painfully hard already.
He pressed the tip between Kurt’s folds, letting out a whooshing breath at the
feeling.
“It seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” he said, voice breathy and strained, as he
started to push in. Kurt opened up around him, his arms coming up to circle
Blaine’s neck, pull himself closer. Blaine thought he might burst from emotion.
Kurt’s nails were digging into the nape of Blaine’s neck when he finally looked
up and asked, “What does?”
Blaine buried his face against Kurt’s neck, groaning when he bottomed out,
enveloped entirely in Kurt’s wet, warm heat. And it was so much different than
any other time they’d done this. Maybe one or both of them had felt something
before, but they’d never acknowledged it. Blaine knew that Kurt felt the same
way without having to ask; it was that special kind of intuition that only
people in love can understand. A kind of kinship born out of deep affection.
“That I’d…” Blaine broke off, feeling himself about to trip over the words
before they’d even come out. He tried again: “That I’d make love to you here,
in the classroom, on my desk.”
Kurt pulled Blaine’s face gently away from his neck so their eyes could meet.
Blaine was still buried inside him, not moving, just enjoying the connection.
Enjoying the freedom he was giving himself to explore his feelings. Will didn’t
even cross his mind; right now, his whole world was centered around Kurt. One
hand came up to settle over Kurt’s stomach, and he saw emotion flash across
Kurt’s face.
“Is that what this is?” Kurt asked, his voice hushed, hardly more than a
whisper.
Do you love me?
Blaine swallowed. He kissed Kurt again.
“Yes,” he said. Kurt’s hand tightened on Blaine’s neck.
As he pulled out and pushed leisurely back in, he realized how true that was.
He couldn’t say it yet—saying it right out loud was a huge leap. It had always
been that way for Blaine in every relationship he’d ever had. He didn’t take
the sentiment lightly. When he loved someone, he loved them with everything he
had.
This situation was different from any relationship he’d ever been in before.
And this wasa relationship. Maybe it hadn’t started that way; certainly neither
had intended for it to end up like this, but here they were, for better or for
worse.
And did he love Kurt?
He was beginning to think love just might have something to do with it.
He fucked Kurt slowly, with careful, measures strokes, enjoying everything from
the way it felt to press in to the way Kurt squeezed around him, the way his
walls felt. Blaine paid attention to every face Kurt made, committed every
sound to memory. His hand stayed planted firmly on Kurt’s stomach, inside of
which their baby was growing. Theirbaby.
Kurt’s hand came up to cover his and Blaine felt so overwhelmed by emotion he
had to bury his face in Kurt’s neck again. The other hand moved up from
Blaine’s neck to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Blaine bit down on
Kurt’s neck and the moan he evoked from Kurt made him pick up the pace of his
hips, his belly suddenly flaring with heat.
“Blaine, I’m…I’m close…”
And so Blaine pumped his hips faster, feeling the sweat that had beaded on his
forehead, his temples, his back, begin to drip down his skin in lazy streams.
He sucked on the damp skin of Kurt’s neck without caring whether he’d leave a
mark—it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered at this moment was making
Kurt feel as exquisite as he possibly could, make him come on Blaine’s cock,
hard.
When he finally pulled away from Kurt’s neck it was so he could kiss him again.
“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice audibly strained. The hand not on Kurt’s
stomach found his clit. “Can you come for me again? Let go, Kurt. Come on,
sweetheart.”
Kurt let out a short, broken moan and his whole body shuddered violently. He
came so hard he squirted, fluid gushing out around Blaine’s cock and getting
both their shirts wet. Kurt kept moving against Blaine in an effort to prolong
the orgasm, and somewhere in there, Blaine snapped. He ground into Kurt’s pussy
as he came, dropping his head onto Kurt’s shoulder and groaning. Blaine lost
himself for a moment, so overcome with pleasure and emotion (love, so overcome
with love) he nearly forgot where they were. When he came back around, Kurt was
petting through his sweaty hair and pressing kisses to his cheeks.
“Good?” Kurt laughed softly. A smile grew on Blaine’s face. He looked up at
Kurt and let himself drink in the sight of him for a moment.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Great, in fact.”
Kurt chuckled and kissed Blaine with an open mouth. They drowned in each
other’s lips for another few minutes before the bell interrupted them. Blaine
pulled away with large, glassy eyes. Kurt seemed amused by this. After one last
peck he hopped down from Blaine’s desk and gathered up his underwear and pants.
When he’d buttoned himself up, Blaine slipped his arms around Kurt from behind.
“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” he breathed. Kurt folded his arms
over Blaine’s and turned his head just enough so they could meet in another
kiss. Before he could answer, the sound of the door handle being jiggled
interrupted them. Kurt shot out of Blaine’s arms so fast the naked eye might
not have been able to follow his movement. Blaine couldn’t help laughing, for
which he earned himself a glare. It was as Kurt went to his seat (for it was
sixth period, and his next class was, conveniently, Blaine’s) that Blaine
noticed the hickey he’d left on Kurt’s neck.
Damn, if that wasn’t the biggest bruise he’d ever left on someone’s neck.
But before he could alert Kurt to its presence, the door opened and Trent, the
chubby kid who’d argued with Kurt about the meaning behind The Stranger, came
waltzing into the room. Blaine looked at Kurt and they shared a single glance
that left both of them trying to hide smiles the remainder of the period.
***** Chapter 12 *****
After school on Monday Blaine took Kurt out to dinner again. They didn’t go
anywhere nearly as expensive; Blaine chose a cute little cafe near Columbus he
remembered frequenting in high school with his senior year boyfriend, the one
he’d been head over heels for. It was a fond memory, any lingering bitterness
washed away over the many years in between, and he was smiling about it when he
and Kurt sat down at their table.
“I used to take my boyfriend in high school here all the time,” Blaine told
him. Kurt looked highly amused. He quirked an eyebrow and the corners of his
lips lifted.
“Did you have a lot of boyfriends in high school?”
Blaine shook his head, rolled his eyes. “Hardly,” he said. The waiter came by
and they ordered their drinks—iced tea for Kurt, Diet Coke for Blaine. He had a
weakness. “In fact, I only had two. The second, during my senior year, was my
first love.” He laughed and Kurt appeared interested. His head tipped to the
side and he studied Blaine carefully.
“I’ve never been in love,” he said in a dreamy voice. “I mean…well…” And now
his cheeks turned a rosy color that was entirely endearing. Blaine’s stomach
swooped pleasantly. He was brought back to earlier in the day, when they’d made
love for the first time. Feeling particularly fond of Kurt right now, he
reached over the table and took Kurt’s hand.
As wonderful as it was to hear Kurt beginning to express his mutual feelings of
affection, Blaine changed the subject. He’d taken Kurt here for a reason, and
that reason was making some decisions.
“Listen,” he began, “I wanted to talk a little bit about how we’re gonna
proceed.” Kurt looked about as excited as he felt, but nodded anyway. “We’ve
still got probably two months before you’ll start showing, but that two months
is gonna go quickly. We need to come up with some sort of…game plan, or
something.”
“You mean figure out what we’re gonna tell people.”
Blaine nodded. “That’s right. I know you know how imperative it is—how critical
that no one finds out it’s my baby.” He paused, and then added, “Yet, at
least.” A smile twitched on Kurt’s lips and then disappeared. “Not only will I
go to jail, but I won’t be able to help you.”
“So do I make someone up?”
“Uh-uh,” Blaine said, shaking his head. The waiter brought their drinks and
left again to give them more time to look at the menus, which they hadn’t yet
opened. Blaine sipped his drink and ran the tip of his finger along the
circumference of the rim thoughtfully. He looked up, a smirk having appeared,
and said, “Do they still teach you K.I.S.S. in school? Probably not.” Kurt
raised an eyebrow, and that was answer enough. “It means ‘keep it simple,
stupid.’ I learned that in middle school, in math, I think—fuck if I can
remember why. Anyway, it’s a good thing to keep in mind. I guess they didn’t
mean for it to be applied when you’re lying, but the principle still applies.”
“So, what then?” Kurt said. “How do you make a lie like this simple?”
“Well, for starters, don’t bring elements into the story. Just leave them out.”
Kurt looked unsure still and Blaine elaborated: “Instead of making up some
idiot boyfriend who knocked you up that everyone—especially your dad—will want
to meet, just eliminate that part of the story.”
“Uh, Blaine?” Kurt said dully, “I’m not the virgin Mary. Someonehad to stick
his—”
Blaine put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Okay, okay, I get the
point. What I meantwas that instead of making someone up, say he’s out of the
picture. It was a one night thing and by the time you realized you were
pregnant he was long gone.”
Kurt appeared to find this idea less than favorable.
“So I have to look like some idiot who let myself get knocked up by a guy I
didn’t even know?”
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Does the real story make either of us look any
better?”
Kurt opened his mouth, seemed to think it over, and then snapped it shut. He
looked solemn.
“Right,” he muttered dejectedly.
“Besides” Blaine continued, “it’s just until you graduate. Maybe a little bit
longer, but not by much. You’ll still be pregnant. Huge and fit to burst, but
still rollin’ along. We’ll haveto tell people by the time you have the baby
‘cause there isn’t a chance in hell I’m missing the birth.”
In spite of the situation, Kurt smiled adoringly at Blaine. Blaine squeezed his
hand and Kurt squeezed back.
Kurt said shyly, “Do you…know what you want it to be yet?”
Blaine felt fluttery excitement in his belly and had to quell it. “I…” He
swallowed and there was an audible click. “Kurt,” he sighed, “we can’t…” Again
he trailed off and he licked his lips. “This brings us to the next thing we
need to talk about, although I was hoping we could keep putting it off. I
just…”
Kurt’s face fell into a study of solemnity. “You mean…us. You and…and Will.”
Blaine’s elbow clunked to the tabletop and he rested his forehead in his hand.
“No, actually,” he said, his voice bitter. “That’s a third issue.”
“What’s the other?”
Blaine looked at Kurt and let out a whooshing breath. “Well, the decision of
whether or not you were going to have an abortion was made for us. But we still
have to consider…once you have the baby.”
Kurt’s eyes widened. “You mean adoption?”
Blaine shrugged and nodded. “Well, yeah. Kurt, do you realize what it means to
raise a kid? I mean,” he waved his hand, “forget Will, forget the illegality of
a relationship between us for more than one reason…neither of us are readyto
raise a baby, Kurt. Jesus, I can hardly take care of myself. I may seem like an
adult to you because you met me as your teacher, but I’m only twenty-three.” He
laughed and there was a note of hysteria in it that chilled Kurt’s bones. “I
finished my undergrad this past May.” He hesitated, and then voiced aloud the
thought that had been circling in his head since he first started this thing
with Kurt: “It was six years ago that I was your age. It may seem like a lot to
you right now, but to me it feels like no time at all. That’s less than ten
years. By almost half. And you.” Blaine shook his head. “You’re not even
eighteen, Kurt. You’ve got no cluewhere you’re headed, what you wanna do, do
you really want a baby putting all of that on hold? Maybe forever?”
Kurt looked at Blaine coldly and Blaine flinched.
“As you said, I don’t knowwhat I want.” He looked down, but his grip tightened
on Blaine’s hand. When he looked back up, his expression had softened. “Maybe
what I want is to have a family.”
Despite the way those words made Blaine feel impossibly warm, he shook his
head. “Maybe one day,” he said softly. “But not when you’re barely eighteen. I
won’t let you do that. You’re too talented, you have too much to offer the
world.”
“Who says having a baby would ruin my dreams? It might defer them a few years,
but why should it make them impossible? And anyway, if I’m happy, what does it
matter?”
Blaine wouldn’t allow himself to be provoked by Kurt’s words. Kurt was
seventeen, he reminded himself. Still in that phase where he knew everything
there was to know about the world.
That made Blaine think of a conversation he’d had with his mom not three weeks
ago. He’d been complaining about that very tendency in teenagers, and he’d
asked her:
“Did I go through a phase like that? I must have.”
His mom had looked at him, lips quirking into an amused smile.
“Blaine,” she’d said, and raised a sharp eyebrow, “I got news for you,
babycakes. You’re still goin’ through it.”
“…Oh.”
Blaine sighed and tried to think how to phrase his answer to Kurt in a way that
wouldn’t make him angry. You had to tread water so carefully around teenagers
lest they turn their angst unto you.
“Look.” He reached behind his head and scratched absently at his neck. “I just
mean…a baby doesn’t just go away. That’s a lifetime commitment. If you went
away to college, you’d have to bring the baby. And, Kurt, that doesn’t just go
for the first couple of years. A kid isn’t independent until they’re olderthan
you are now. And you can’t just think about yourself. Think about the child.”
He lowered his voice, “Would you be able to provide a baby with everything it
needs right now?
And, Kurt, I mean, I’m not saying…” Blaine released a sigh that came from deep
within his chest cavity. “I’m not saying you shouldn’tkeep the baby.” The
silence that followed this declaration was full of half-formed images of the
two of them living a normal, family life; filled with heavy things unspoken.
“I’m just making sure you’re aware of the serious and very real consequences.”
Kurt had looked down again and Blaine squeezed his hand to get his attention.
“You know I would help you. I would…” He brought his other hand up and held
Kurt’s in both of his own. “Kurt, I feel…so strongly about you. You must know
that. And if you keep the baby, I’ll be there every single day.” He looked deep
into Kurt’s eyes, saying, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since fifth period
today, and I do love you, Kurt.”
Kurt’s blush was beautiful, and it filled Blaine with an utter certainly about
the confession he’d made.
“It came out of nowhere and it hit me like a goddamn brick. I am crazy about
you.” And now he’d said it, he couldn’t stopsaying it. The way Kurt smiled so
shyly, it made Blaine feel giddy. How strange it was, he thought, that one
could find love in the most peculiar places. And sure, it put him in the middle
of a sticky situation, but that somehow couldn’t dull the incredible thrill of
having met somebody he felt such a strong kinship with.
“I love you too, Blaine,” came Kurt’s quiet reply, soft but resolute. This made
Blaine feel so effortlessly a way Will had never been able to. The turmoil
which had been raging inside him for weeks now flared up unpleasantly and
turned the warm feelings Kurt had evoked into something nauseating. He took one
hand back and pushed it through his hair.
“Issue number three,” he said dully. Kurt looked down and fidgeted in his seat.
“This will decide number two.”
The waiter came back to take their orders and both chose something at random;
it was a classic menu fit for a classic little diner, and choosing something in
a pinch was simple. When he’d left with their orders Blaine reached for his
glass of Coke and took a long sip through his straw, then proceeded to chew on
the end.
“You have an oral fixation,” Kurt said in a casual did-you-know voice. Blaine,
straw still between his teeth, looked to Kurt with a raised eyebrow.
“What?”
“Have you never noticed? I think you do. You’re always chewing on things,
biting your nails…” He blushed fiercely and cleared his throat. “And we both
know what your favorite past time is.”
It took him a moment, but when it clicked, a devilish smile rose on lips.
“You’re lucky we’re sitting opposite,” he whispered, and under the table he
could hear Kurt cross his legs.
“Anyway,” Kurt said loudly, and he widened his eyes in silent communication to
tell Blaine to shut up.
“Anyway.”
“Anyway.You were saying before?”
As though in those few moments he’d forgotten, Blaine’s face fell when the
dreaded topic was brought back onto the table.
“I was saying,” Blaine resumed, but he didn’t continue, finding himself short
of words. Finally, he decided to wing it: “I…I don’t know whether I love Will.
That makes me think I don’t. I knowI love you.”
Kurt grinned hugely and looked down to cover it.
“But.”
Kurt looked up. “But,” he repeated sullenly.
Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. “But I
want…I’ve always imagined just a…a normal life, I guess…Something I could never
have with you. Something Will could give me…”
He wasn’t looking up, so he didn’t see the flame steal over Kurt’s face,
turning it almost ugly in its rage.
“I’m sorry. What?”
And now Blaine did look up, and he was suddenly afraid of the look on Kurt’s
face. The fear—never a fun emotion, and one humans have learned to mask with a
secondary one—turned into anger and his body tensed, as if readying itself as
if for a physical fight. His irrational mind told him  Kurt was completely out
of line being angry, completely unfair, thinking only of himself. And the whole
thing had started because of him.
“A normallife, Kurt. With a boyfriend myage and a house and kids and a teaching
job where slutty little seventeen-year-olds don’t seduce me into cheating on my
boyfriend, neglect to tell me both about their virginity and the very relevant
fact thatthey can get pregnant, and then piss and moan about giving it up for
adoption! This is my life you’re fucking up, too!”
Kurt stood so fast his chair nearly toppled. He whipped his napkin down on the
table and unsettled Blaine’s Diet Coke, tipping it sideways onto the wooden
tabletop so the hissing, brown, syrupy liquid could pool its way to edge of the
table and then spill over onto Blaine’s lap in a sugary waterfall.
“Kurt—” Blaine began, his voice downcast and already ashamed. He stood but Kurt
was too fast. He stormed out of the restaurant and because Blaine had driven,
he started walking. When he was far enough away that he didn’t think Blaine
would find him (aided by the cover of night), he called Rachel.
She answered on the second ring.
Kurt’s voice was quavery with accumulating tears. “I need you to pick me up in
the city.”
***** Chapter 13 *****
As if there wasa god and he’d decided it might be fun to insult Kurt after
kicking him in the mud, it began to rain. Kurt ducked inside the entrance to
Henry’s Lobster House and watched through the glass for Rachel’s car with his
arms folded over his midsection to preserve warmth. The weather had turned
chilly with November and the rain was freezing; the drops seemed never to dry
on Kurt’s skin and kept him from recovering any semblance of warmth—or maybe
that cold was coming from inside and radiating out. Hard to tell.
His sigh of relief was deep and long when he saw Rachel’s familiar red Forester
pull up beside the curb. Her hand hovered above the steering wheel like she was
about to honk but Kurt was already out the door of the Lobster House, head bent
against the downpour, and into her car before Rachel had a chance. She took one
look at him and her face transformed into an expression of such pity that the
flow of tears Kurt had only just managed to quell and keep precariously
balanced on the edge of resurgence tipped too far in that direction and started
anew.
“Oh, Kurt,” she said softly, and she reached out with a tentative hand to touch
his arm. When he didn’t flinch away from her she gripped his forearm and
squeezed gently. “What is it? What happened?” A pause, and she added, almost
hesitantly, “What did he do?”
Kurt could only shake his head, speech temporarily impossible through the
heaviness of his tears. He pressed his palms into his eyes and cried harder and
Rachel rubbed his back, mindless to the honking of irritated drivers who had to
swerve out of their way to go around her car. Well, they could just gey kakken
af en yom, as her grandmother might have so eloquently said. Her best friend
was hurting, and it was the worst kind of hurting: it was heart-hurting. Rachel
knew all about that—it had been only two months since she’d found out Finn had
liedto her and lost his virginity a whole year ago, and to Santana, no less.
But she shook her head of that thought; right now was about Kurt.
Kurt, and this reckless, completely absurd game he’d been playing an entire
month now. It had been scandalous but in a fun sort of way before. It certainly
wasn’t the norm, but sleeping with teachers wasn’t unheard of. This, though.
This was not a silly (but totally irresponsible) one- or two-time hook-up. Kurt
had told her they’d been seeing each other more often, that they’d slept
together a few times, but she could see now this was not the case at all, and
she had been lied to. She would be angry later, after she’d taken care of her
best friend and helped him pick himself off the floor.
Deciding it might be good to give him a minute to calm down, Rachel drove to
her house. He did indeed reduce his tears to little sniffles and quiet whimpers
by the time they pulled into the driveway, and when Kurt made no protest about
having been brought here, Rachel turned the car off.
“D’you wanna go inside?” she said. Her voice was soft, careful, and it made
Kurt sigh and brought forth a few more fat tears. He nodded. “You wanna go to
my room?”
A moment’s pause, and then he nodded again.
They trudged upstairs and made themselves comfortable on the bed. Rachel
waited, and when nothing was forthcoming, she pushed a bit to get the ball
rolling: “It was Blaine, wasn’t it?”
Kurt swallowed down the excess saliva that had begun to accumulate in his
mouth.
“Yeah,” he told her. Rachel nodded encouragingly, tight-lipped in an effort not
to interrupt. “Rachel, I have to tell you something.”
Tears sprang to Rachel’s eyes so quickly her vision went blurry and she had to
wipe them away.
“Kurt,” she whispered. Her hand gripped onto his arm and squeezed. “Tell me
you’re not sick. Tell me he didn’t get you sick. Oh, I toldyou to use condoms!
Kurt, I toldyou!” In her own grief she didn’t consider the possibility that
this wasn’t the case, and as was quite natural in her case, her emotions spun
rapidly out of control until she’d worked herself up into hysterics in the
space of a few seconds. “What is it, what did he give you?” Her hands flew to
cover her mouth and she peered at Kurt above her fingers, crying freely now.
She knew only two things right now, and they were these facts: Blaine was much
older than them, and had probably had numerous sexual partners, especially
taking into account his apparent willingness to extend his partnership to his
own students—and in lieu of that, it was safe to assume his recklessness, his
irresponsibility…it was just about guaranteed he didn’t usually use condoms.
Rachel’s tendency to catastrophize added these factors together and landed
resolutely upon one conclusion:
“Tell me he didn’t give you AIDS, Kurt,” she whispered. She hiccuped and an
agonized whimper came out with a new flood of tears. “Oh my god, Kurt, how—”
“Rachel,” he said suddenly; and, Rachel saw, miraculously, histears had
stopped. He looked not amused, not by miles, but somehow calmer. She responded
to his more relaxed state by calming herself. Her shoulders dropped, as did her
hands. A few more tears still dripped down her cheeks, but that was all that
remained of her theatrics. Kurt let out a whoosh of breath and swallowed
audibly. “Rachel,” he said again, “I don’t have AIDS.”
Rachel looked at him with big doe eyes that still swam with tears. “You…you
don’t?”
“No,” Kurt shook his head. He chewed on the inside of his lip and contemplated
Rachel a moment before saying, “I’m pregnant.”
* * *


When he finished telling Rachel his tale, beginning with his first missed
period and ending with his and Blaine’s disastrous dinner date, she let out a
long sigh that caused her whole torso to deflate and her cheeks to puff out
comically. She tucked her lips into her mouth for a moment, seeming to
contemplate everything she’d just heard, and finally said, “Wow.”

Kurt huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that all you have to say?”
he asked irritably. “‘Wow’?”

Rachel didn’t even look affronted by his harsh tone; the shocked expression
that had started on her face at his initial declaration and only grown through
the course of his story appeared stuck there.

"I just…" She shook her head and blinked twice. "I mean…I have to say, I never
expected this. Not even…" Again, she seemed to lose track of her words and
trailed off.

"Not even what?" Kurt snapped. Rachel took a breath and finally appeared to
gain some semblance of control over herself.

"Not even with…with what I told you, to be careful and…and that, you know,
there wasn’t enough conclusive evidence to suggest you couldn’t get pregnant, I
just never thought…”

A sigh was forced from Kurt’s body and the anger seeped away in its entirety.

"Yeah," he said softly, dejectedly. "Yeah, I know, right? I didn’t either. Not
ever. Ever. I think maybe that’s…” He stopped, swallowed, and twisted his hands
in his lap. “That’s part of it. You know what I mean? Part of the…the shock,
and the scariness…it’s ‘cause I just never in a hundred million years expected
to get pregnant.” He laughed bitterly. “They say the same thing about anyone
who does stupid things, though, don’t they? You think you’re invincible until
you find out you aren’t.”

Rachel shrugged and after a beat nodded. “Well. It sure did happen, huh?” The
statement was succeeded by a small, teasing smile that somehow pulled a
grudging one from Kurt as well. He put a hand on his belly—not yet showing
visibly, but he could feel something going on in there—and gave Rachel a
genuine smile.

"Yeah, it did. And, Rachel, it’s nothing like I could’ve imagined. Nothing at
all."

Despite the situation, she also grinned, and it was hugely excited. She opened
her mouth, then closed it, and her face sobered a bit. Just a bit. “Okay,” she
said. “I have so many questions and…and oh my god, just so much to ask you, but
first…first we should discuss. Right? I mean, what happened tonight. That’s
most important right this second.”

Kurt’s face fell back into the downcast expression he’d been wearing the whole
car ride to Rachel’s house. She tipped her head and looked at Kurt
sympathetically. He could practically feel her holding back the “I told you
this would happen.”

"He’s a jackass," Kurt mumbled, rubbing at his belly absently. Rachel’s eyes
flickered down for a moment and then back up.

"Yeah," she said on a breath. "He does sort of sound like it. Only, the way
you’ve been telling it the past couple weeks, he’s positively charming." It
wasn’t a question, rather a statement meant to provoke some sort of explanation
out of Kurt. Kurt sighed.

"It’s so complicated," he said, and just barely managed to keep a whine out of
his voice. "Blaine, he’s…" Kurt’s eyes became unfocused and dreamy, "he’s so
wonderful sometimes. He is charming. Terribly so. And he’s kind, and
thoughtful, and handsome, and, oh, Rachel, he’s so smart, but he’s such a…a
boy!” he finally settled on, chest heaving with emotion. “He’s such a boy, he
just doesn’t get it, do you know what I mean?”

Rachel laughed without humor. “You should meet Finn,” she said dully. “I know
exactly what you mean. Boys are so—and this is no offense to you, of course—so
dumb. They don’t think before they say anything.” Rachel ran her tongue across
her bottom lip and thought for a moment. She resettled herself on her bed and
looked unflinchingly at Kurt, and he shuffled a bit under that gaze. “Look. I
don’t like Blaine, but I’ve also never met him. Honestly? He sounds like a
sleeze bag.” Kurt opened his mouth to protest and she held a hand up to stop
him. “That doesn’t mean that he is, he just sounds like it. I will admit that
some of the stuff you’ve told me makes him also sound a little like Prince
Charming, but Kurt.” And here she paused for dramatic effect, eying him hard.
“Look what he just said to you. I mean…” Rachel fluttered her hand, as though
words weren’t enough. An incredulous laugh came out. “God, that he could say
what he said to you tonight without—”

"He was about to apologize when I stood up—"

"Oh my god, Kurt," Rachel said, laughing again, looking stunned, "does it
really matter? If he hadn’t been about to apologize I’d tell you never to speak
to him again.”

There was a pause, and finally Kurt said with threaded eyebrows, “…you mean you
aren’t going to tell me that?”

She patted her dress down over her lap and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m
not going to tell you that. I will say that it was horrendous, not to mention
stupid, but it’s very clear to me that you have strong feelings for him and
anyway, you need an adult to help you out.” She hesitated, then added, “Even a
poor excuse for one.”

"So…what? You’re honestly going to tell me I should continue seeing him?" He
nearly laughed, but all that came out was a scoff of disbelief. It wasn’t that
Kurt didn’t want to continue seeing Blaine…or whatever it was they were doing.
He did. He fully intended to, in fact. He just hadn’t expected to be supported
in that decision, and for some obscure reason he couldn’t put a finger on, that
made him question it.

"Why don’t you stop assuming what I’m going to say and let me say it?" Rachel’s
lips quirked and Kurt frowned at her. He waved a hand, as if to say, go ahead,
if you must. “You have to give Blaine an ultimatum, Kurt.” In response to his
widened eyes, she continued, “You have to! You have no choice. If you don’t,
he’ll just keep playing pong with you and his boyfriend, bouncing back and
forth between you guys, and one of these days, Kurt, he’s not just gonna say
something stupid, he’s gonna do something stupid, and what if that something is
accidentally letting this spill to someone who could get you guys in trouble?
What if his boyfriend’s a psychopath who comes to kill you?”

"Rachel—"

"Kurt, that’s exactly how you said my name when I told you to be careful about
getting pregnant and look what happened!” She gestured to his belly and Kurt
turned red. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Okay," he conceded. "Fine. I will allow for that possibility, even if I think
it’s far-fetched. However, I…I guess you’re right about him doing something
stupid sooner or later." Kurt paused and put a hand over his face. "And I can’t
afford that. I just can’t."

"No," Rachel agreed. "You can’t. You also can’t afford to share his attention
with a boyfriend he’s trying to…what? Create a normal life with? What does that
even mean? He told you he loves you, but he wants to try and have a life with
this other guy?" Rachel rolled her eyes all the way to the ceiling and the
judgment in that action was so heavy that Kurt was startled into a laugh. "That
doesn’t sound normal, Kurt, that sounds ridiculous and completely irrational.
He’s holding onto some fantasy that is never going to pan out, especially with
a baby in the picture now, one that apparently you can’t have aborted without
seriously risking your life.

So? What’re you gonna do?”

The question was so abrupt that Kurt faltered.

"I—I don’t know, I guess I—"

His phone, vibrating in his pocket, stopped him mid-sentence, although he
hadn’t had anything planned out to say anyway. More in an effort to give
himself more time to think than because he cared who it was, he took his phone
out of his pants and looked at the screen.

He was struck dumb when he saw Blaine’s name and beside it his picture. Beneath
both “slide to answer.”

"He’s calling me," he said into the air, and Rachel shifted on her bed, getting
closer so she could see the screen.

"Are you gonna answer it?"

Kurt waved the phone uselessly in the air. “I don’t know! Should I?”

Rachel pursed her lips and took the phone out of Kurt’s hands, and with it the
decision of whether or not to answer.

"Hello?"

Kurt didn’t see it coming and so had no time to stop her. His eyes went wide as
saucers and he slapped his hands to his mouth, watching in horror as his two
lives merged together in the most horrific way he could imagine.

"No, this is Rachel, his best friend. I would just like to say that—”

Coming to his senses just in time, Kurt swiped the phone out of Rachel’s hand
and pressed it to his ear. “Blaine? It’s me.”

"Kurt." Blaine sounded so forlorn Kurt almost didn’t recognize his voice. It
startled him so badly that he couldn’t find his own. "I’m so sorry, Kurt. I
can’t say it enough. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever said in my life and
I’m just so, so sorry—”

"Blaine?" There was silence, Blaine waiting for Kurt to either forgive him or
drop a bomb on his life. "Just shut up for a second." He could just imagine
Blaine’s face, looking strikingly like a kicked puppy, his big doe eyes wide
and round and sad, maybe even swimming with tears. Kurt felt a headache coming
on and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished more than anything he’d been
able to finish his conversation with Rachel before talking to Blaine, wished
she hadn’t answeredfor him, but it was no good wishing for what hadn’t
happened.
Bitterly, he thought, No use crying over spilled milk.
Had that become the idiom to define him? Was that what his life had turned
into, just a series of random, uncontrollable events he had no choice but to
accept?
Did it matter?
Heaving a sigh, he brought his phone away from his ear and muted it so Blaine
couldn’t hear anything.
“Why the hell did you answer?” he demanded of Rachel. Rachel had the grace, at
least, to look ashamed.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I just thought—”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “You just thought. Well that was quick thinking, Rachel,
thank you. Now what?”
Rachel shrugged. She bit her lower lip and looked around the room, as though
the answer might appear right out of thin air and save them both a migraine. “I
dunno. I guess…talk to him, right? What else?”
“This isn’t a conversation to have over the phone!”
Rachel looked harried and she wrung her hands, thinking fast in an effort to
save a situation she’d helped create. Kurt, seeing there was no help coming
from her corner, unmuted the phone and pressed it back against the side of his
face.
“Blaine?”
“I’m here.”
“Blaine, I think—”
“Kurt!” Rachel hissed. Kurt stared at her disbelievingly, dropping the phone
half an inch from his ear.
“What, Rachel?”
She suddenly looked excited. “Have him come here!”
Kurt continued to stare, thinking that maybe he’d heard wrong. She couldn’t
have said what he thought she’d said because that would be—
“Seriously, Kurt! I can…I’d like to meet him, and that way you don’t have to be
alone with him, right? You guys can talk, I’ll leave you alone, of course, but
I’ll, you know…be there, in case you need me.”
Kurt’s eyes turned to slits. He forgot about Blaine being able to hear
everything and said, “We’re not dealing with a murderer, Rachel, we’re dealing
with an asshole.”
She shrugged one shoulder up. “Even so,” she said. “Moral support.” Her face
turned pink and she added, “Plus, I really would like to meet him.”
“Rachel,” Kurt sighed, “this is so not the time.” But it was beginning to feel
like maybe it wasthe time. He and Blaine had just had a blow-out fight, but
he’d had time to cool off, and what Rachel had said was entirely true: Kurt did
have strong feelings for Blaine. And regardless of when they ended up talking
about what Blaine had said, Kurt knew in his heart they’d kiss and make up. Not
just because that was what had to happen in the baby’s best interest, but
because it was what they both wanted, and Kurt knew that. Besides, Blaine had
flat out told him he loved him.
This whole situation was soap-opera worthy, Kurt thought, and finally pressed
the phone back to his ear, making a split-second decision.
“You wanna talk about this?” he asked Blaine.
“Please, Kurt.”
Kurt wiped a hand over his mouth and then pressed his knuckles into one eye.
The headache was growing and he could feel it throbbing behind his left
eyebrow.
“Okay. Fine. I will give you an opportunity to explain yourself, although
there’s no excuse in the world good enough to excuse what you said to me—”
“I’m not explaining myself,” Blaine said, his voice low and gravelly through
the phone. “As you said, there’s no explanation in the world. I can only
apologize and try to make you believe I’m being sincere. And if you feel up to
it, we can go back to discussing what we originally planned to discuss.”
Kurt was quiet a moment. He looked at Rachel, who was looking back curiously,
waiting to see what was going to happen, whether she’d get to meet the man
who’d completely dazzled Kurt and robbed him of his sense the past month or so.
“Okay,” he told Blaine. With the word came a wave of relief that made his body
sag. He realized then it had been only a matter of time until he acquiesced,
and he was relieved to have done so without having forced himself to suffer for
days before talking it out. This was best. He knew in his heart of hearts that
Blaine hadn’t meant what he’d said, and honestly, it just wasn’t worth the
drama of making him pay for it. This past hour had likely been payment enough;
the poor guy had probably been eating his heart out before giving up and
calling Kurt.
“Okay?” Blaine’s voice was both surprised and hopeful, and it was the surprise
that made Kurt certain he was doing the right thing. Blaine truly hadn’t
expected a reprieve so soon, and that meant, at least, that he understood how
horrible his words had been.
“Yes. Listen, I’m at Rachel’s house. Can you come here? You can pick me up
and…” Kurt looked at Rachel, who nodded enthusiastically. “Rachel wants to meet
you. She knows the situation. She’s known I’ve been sleeping with you, so you
don’t have worry about her telling anyone. And her dads aren’t home, so—”
“Dads?” Blaine interrupted. His voice had lost its somber quality in favor of
total confusion and morbid curiosity. “Did you say dads? Plural?”
“Oh, yeah,” Kurt chuckled. “She has two dads. They’re gay.”
There was a pause. Then, “I’d love to meet her. When should I come?”
* * *
They were sitting in the foyer when Blaine’s car pulled into the driveway.
Rachel got up immediately and Kurt pulled her back down by the arm.
“Wait,” he said softly. “Let me go out and talk to him first. After we talk,
I’ll bring him in and introduce you guys.”
Rachel nodded. “Okay,” she said, sitting obediently back down. “Yeah, that’s
probably a good idea. I’ll go…” she waved absently at nothing in particular,
“do something,” she settled on. “Just text me when you guys are coming in.
Or…you know…if you need anything…”
Kurt sighed. “For the last time, Rachel, he’s not—”
“A murderer, I know.” Rachel pursed her lips and stood up. “I’m just saying,
alright?”
Kurt watched her wander off in the direction of the kitchen with a faint smile
on his lips. He took a moment to steady himself then went outside. It had
stopped raining, at least. As soon as he shut the door behind him, the engine
of Blaine’s car died and the headlights shut off. There was a muffled sound
that told Kurt the door had been unlocked and he slipped into the passenger
seat. He looked at Blaine timidly.
“Hey.”
Blaine watched him silently for a moment and then hung his head.
“You think I’m an asshole.”
“What?”
Blaine heaved a deep sigh. “On the phone,” he said in a low voice. “You were
talking to Rachel. You said you were dealing with an asshole, not a murderer.
Or…something like that.”
A flare of anger made Kurt clench his teeth. “Well you certainly sounded like
one back at the restaurant, Blaine. You called me a slut. And you know, it’s
one thing when we’re…fooling around, or whatever, but—”
Blaine held a hand up. He swallowed several times in a row. When he spoke, his
voice was thick with emotion. “I should never, everhave said that, Kurt, and I
could spend the rest of my life apologizing. Even when we aremessing around and
I say things like that, you have to know I don’t mean a word of it. It’s just
talk. It’s sex. It’s amazing sex, but it’s just sex. You know that, right? You
know I don’t think you’re a slut, or anything even close to it.”
Kurt eyed Blaine and decided he was being honest. He decided to do him the same
courtesy. “I wasn’t sure,” he said. “After what you said tonight. But I believe
you. And I appreciate and accept your apology.”
Blaine’s smile warmed Kurt’s whole body.
“Can I kiss you?”
Kurt tried to keep a straight face but it lasted no longer than two seconds. He
giggled. “Oh, I suppose.”
Blaine swooped in, cradling Kurt’s neck with his big, warm hand and pulling him
into a heart-stopping kiss that made Kurt’s toes curl inside his shoes.
Blaine’s tongue slipped between his lips and coaxed his own out, and it was
like coming home. They kissed for several long moments before Kurt pulled away
and rested their foreheads together, breathing heavily. There was a persistent
heat in his belly he was trying adamantly to ignore.
“When I said before that I love you,” Blaine breathed, “I meant it. I just want
you to know that, Kurt.”
Kurt pressed his lips together and pulled further away, keeping a hand on
Blaine’s arm in an unconscious effort to comfort him. He just looked so sad. So
abashed. It helped to assure Kurt he was doing the right thing by forgiving him
so quickly.
“I believe you,” he told Blaine. “And I have really strong feelings for you,
too. There’s just one thing.”
Blaine’s big eyes became even bigger. “Anything, Kurt. What is it?”
Kurt looked at Blaine sadly, as if willing him to quit the bullshit and admit
to what he knewthe issue was. Indeed, he hung his head again and squeezed his
eyes shut a moment.
“Will,” he said dejectedly. Kurt didn’t have to say anything. Blaine knew he’d
hit the mark. He looked back up at Kurt and there was a resolution in his eyes
Kurt hadn’t expected to see. “I know.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “It just doesn’t make sense, Blaine. What you said.
About, you know, a normal life. If you love me and you don’t think you love
Will, how can anything with him be normal? I just don’t understand. I don’t
get—”
“I’m gonna leave him,” Blaine said abruptly. Kurt stopped short and stared at
Blaine, processing the words.
“You’re…?”
“Leaving him,” Blaine said again with a nod. He breathed in deeply and back
out. “Since you left the restaurant I’ve been thinking about it really hard,
and I realized I was being an idiot. And an asshole.”
Kurt stroked a hand over Blaine’s cheek. “You’re not an asshole,” he said
quietly. “Sometimes you just…do things that are kind of asshole-ish.”
“That makes me an asshole,” Blaine said stiffly. “And I’m notan asshole. I’m
not. I’ve been acting like one and it’s not who I am. I’m leaving Will, Kurt.
For you. I’ve made up my mind. All I ask is that you give me some time.”
Kurt, who felt speechless, could only nod. “Of course,” he said, voice hoarse
with emotion. “Blaine, I…you’re sure? I mean…I don’t…” He swallowed thickly. “I
don’t know what to say, I didn’t expect…” He didn’t expect to feel so guilty,
but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. It had taken him by surprise
and he didn’t know how to deal with it, this pity he was feeling for Blaine’s
boyfriend. As though Kurt had intentionally stepped in and stolen Blaine away.
Blaine took Kurt’s hand and kissed his knuckles, looking up at him, into his
eyes.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Kurt. Like I said, all I
need is some time. Just to…to work up to it. I’ve put myself in a position
where I have to hurt someone, and I realized I couldn’t bear for it to be you.
I don’t wantit to be you. I want to be with you, Kurt.” He wrapped Kurt’s hand
in both of his and held his stare heavily. “I wanna be there when you get big
with the baby, and I wanna be there when he or she is born, and I wanna…I wanna
be there to make whatever decision we make at that point. Together.”
Tears had accumulated in Kurt’s eyes and he laughed wetly.
“This is crazy,” he chuckled. Blaine nodded.
“It is. But it’s so fucking right, isn’t it?”
Kurt fell forward into Blaine’s arms, across the console, and buried his face
in Blaine’s neck. He smelled of the cologne he’d put on for their date and it
was wonderfully familiar.
“I’m glad we got this over with,” he said against the material of Blaine’s
jacket, pressing into his shoulder. “Being mad at you sucks.”
Blaine laughed. “You can say that again.”
They stayed huddled together another few minutes, enjoying the warmth and glow
of their relationship, which felt stronger to both of them in the wake of the
argument and consequential enormous decision.


“So, is this okay, then?” Blaine said finally, pulling Kurt gently away so they
could lock eyes. “Will you give me some time?”
“Of course,” Kurt said. He smiled and kissed Blaine’s lips. “It’s not as though
we’re waiting to announce anything to the world. Do what you need to do. I’m
aware that it’s not just my life, you know.” He gave Blaine a pointed look.
“It’s your life this is…is fucking with, too, and I—”
“Don’t,” Blaine said sharply. “Don’t even think that. What I said in the
restaurant was completely out of line and completely untrue. You’re doing
anything but fucking my life up, Kurt. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever
been, okay? I can’t believe I said that and if I could take it back I’d do it
in a heartbeat. Please don’t think that had any truth to it.”
Kurt looked at Blaine timidly. “You wouldn’t have said it if it hadn’t felt
somewhat true.”
Blaine groaned and his head tilted back against the seat. “It was a bad choice
of words,” he said, looking back at Kurt. “Everything’s just moving really fast
and I wasn’t ready for it. That doesn’t make it a bad thing. I’m scared of
change, Kurt. That’s all it is. You’re not fucking my life up, you’re changing
it. I can’t take back what I said; all I can tell you is that it’s the furthest
thing from the truth and hope you’ll believe me.”
Kurt let those wonderful words sink in before saying, “I do. I believe you.”
Blaine leaned over and brushed their lips together. “Good,” he whispered.
“Because I’ve never been so scared of having fucked up for good as I was when
you ran out of the restaurant tonight. You’re the best thing that’s ever
happened to me. Even if you’re a little unconventional.”
Kurt laughed and kissed Blaine’s stubbly cheek. “We’re both a little
unconventional.” He squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Now, do you think we can leave the
big decisions behind us for tonight? You made one big enough for the both of
us, I think.”
Blaine whistled low and nodded. “I think the biggest decision has been made for
now, yes. We’ve still got plenty of time to talk about the baby. There’s just
one more thing, though.”
Kurt’s stomach dropped. “What?” he asked cautiously, but Blaine’s easy chuckle
loosened the knot in his stomach.
“Well, it’ll take some time before any big changes are made concerning Will,
but I’d still like to formally ask you, between us, to be my boyfriend.”
Kurt made an undignified noise somewhere between a shriek and a squeal and
threw his arms around Blaine’s neck, accidentally pressing against the horn
with his elbow and blaring it into the still night. He didn’t care. He hugged
Blaine until his arms were sore and then, for good measure, planted a wet kiss
on his lips.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes, yes. Of course, you big lug.”
Blaine pulled Kurt in for one more kiss before letting him move back into his
seat and open the door.
“Thank god. And now that I’m officially dating one of my students, let’s go
meet your friend.”
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings for homophobic slurs.
     Q/C/C hit me up on Tumblr: captainblanderson.tumblr.com
“Okay, now, wait.” Blaine tugged on Kurt’s arm, pulling him to a halt before
they reached the wide double-doors of the Berry household. He tried to tell
himself he taughtteenagers every day, but it did next to nothing in the way of
calming his racing heart. He was nervous! Right hand to god, he was scared out
of his mind. He’d neverbeen this anxious meeting Will’s friends. But then,
Will’s friends weren’t teenagers. Which, logically, should have made meeting
Rachel a breeze. But it didn’t. It effectively made Blaine feel, for the first
time in years, like he was back in high school. Maybe going to meet his
boyfriend’s group of friends from another school.
Kurt looked at Blaine, amusement shining through on his face.
“Yes?” he said deliberately—as though he could tell exactly what was going on
in Blaine’s head, and was enjoying it quite thoroughly.
Probably is, Blaine thought. He’s probably loving this.
And on the heels of that: If this is my punishment for what I said to him
earlier, I got off easy. More than easy. Scot-free.
“Is she…what’s she like?” he asked uncertainly, causing Kurt’s grin to widen.
Blaine sighed heavily. “Is she gonna chew my head off? I mean, do I have to
walk on egg shells around her? Am I gonna be strip-searched and interrogated?”
Kurt looked at Blaine with a quirked eyebrow. “I can’t say for sure she won’t
grill you a little bit, but I don’t think you need to work yourself into a
tizzy over it, either. She’s my best friend, she’s just looking out for me.”
Kurt’s hand moved to his belly and Blaine felt a burst of warm affection fill
his chest. He slung an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulled him close enough that
he could plant a kiss on his cheek.
“I would brave hell or high water for you,” he said into Kurt’s ear. “And I
can’t swim, so that’s saying something.”
“Hell would be smooth sailing compared to high water, would it?” Kurt quipped.
Blaine grinned fiendishly and kissed his mouth. He squeezed Kurt’s hip where
his hand rested.
“I’m hot-blooded.”
Kurt snorted. “You’re an idiot.”
Blaine pouted and received another kiss for his efforts.
Kurt let them both inside and when he saw the light in the kitchen, led Blaine
that way. They found Rachel heating water in a butterfly-patterned teapot over
the stove, three mugs (all baring the same horrendous gingham pattern in
different shades of pastels) sitting on the counter to the side. She heard
their footsteps and spun around fast enough that her long hair flew over her
shoulder. Even Blaine, who was meeting Rachel for the first time, could see the
effort she was putting into wrangling back any errant emotions. He wondered
what those emotions might be, but thanked his lucky stars anyway because at
least she hadn’t pounced—physically orwith her words.
"Hi," she said before Kurt could do the introductions himself. "I’m Rachel."
She left the stove and went to them, holding a hand out to Blaine. He took it
and shook.
"Nice to meet you, Rachel," Blaine said. He smiled—because it was natural,
maybe habit, because he’d been raised that way. Manners and charm, they could
get you through any situation unscathed, or at least minimally so. He saw the
way her eyes got a little bigger, the way a lot of girls’ eyes had back in
college, when he’d been at parties and he’d thought it the height of amusement
to tease these girls who didn’t know him, didn’t know he was gay. Of course,
he’d seen plenty of boys react the same way, and with these ones he’d gone
farther, making their knees weak enough that they practically fell open for him
without much insistence on his part. He had a wild, half-formed thought, then,
comparing himself at that age to Kurt now. His own promiscuity in relation to
Kurt’s, how different they were, how Kurt managed to somehow be more mature.
How Kurt had never actually had sexbefore Blaine, and what did that say about
him? What did it say about both of them that they’d allowed themselves to end
up in this situation they were in?
But the thought was too huge, too complicated, to dissect right now, and so he
let it go with a small shake of his head and continued to Rachel, “My name’s
Blaine.” He nodded at Kurt. “I’ve heard a lot of good things.” He saw Rachel
shoot Kurt a sidelong glance that Blaine couldn’t even begin to understand, and
his inability to do so drove another nail home into the already substantial and
glaring idea that there was not only a large age gap between them, but a
significant one. When it was the difference between twenty-four and thirty, it
meant so much less. Even lessso when it was thirties, forties, fifties. But
Kurt was seventeen, and Blaine couldn’t even say he was twenty-three anymore
with any heart, because in another two weeks he wouldn’t be.
He hadn’t told Kurt that yet. Maybe because he was still trying to accept it
himself. Not only the yawning age gap, but the fact of his own aging. Twenty-
four, he thought suddenly, eyes glazing over as his hand slipped from Rachel’s.
Mid-twenties. Officially. Twenty-five next year. What thefuck?
And with another small shake of his head and a long breath he put another smile
on. His own personal anxieties that had nothing to do with the immediate
situation effectively shoved into a cubby in the back of his mind (perhaps a
few rows down from “Feelings for Kurt,” except this one had been ransacked and
brought further into the light just recently), he focused his attention back on
his surroundings.
There was a shove in his left arm and he looked at Kurt, who had an eyebrow
raised.
"Okay?" he said softly.
Blaine blinked a few times and then grinned at the two teenagers before him.
“I’m good. Sorry. My mind started…jumping around a little.” He gestured to the
teapot, whistling but attracting no one’s attention. “I think the water’s
ready.”
Rachel raced to the stove to turn it off and poured three steaming mugs of
water. She set the pot itself on the island counter in the center of the
kitchen and invited them to sit down, passing the mugs out. Blaine got the
pastel yellow one—it was decorated also, he saw, with small purple flowers.
Something that might have belonged to a very old woman. He was handed an Earl
Grey tea bag and a spoon and he steeped it immediately, realizing he could use
something strong at the moment.
When they’d all settled into their seats Rachel once again took the initiative:
"So you teach English at Kurt’s school."
Blaine told Rachel his side of the story. He left out more personal, explicit
details, but in all other ways forced himself to be completely honest. Back at
the restaurant, when Kurt had run out, the realization that this was real had
hit him so hard he’d not been able to stand from the booth for several minutes,
sitting there like an idiot while other diners snuck curious glances. This
wasn’t a fling, something fun to look back on (but never, ever tell Will
about). It was a relationship—quite an extraordinary one, at that, and sort of
beautiful, somehow, in some way Blaine couldn’t yet put his finger on—that had
formed from lust, from a sexual chemistry neither had known what to do with,
but a relationship nevertheless, and one he found himself taking more and more
seriously as the days progressed.
And of course, Kurt was carrying his baby.
He couldn’t discern the expressions on Rachel’s face any better when he
finished his story than he’d been able to at the beginning, so her next
question, pertaining not at all to the situation, came especially as a shock:
"What about you?" she said.
Blaine blinked a few times and even looked to Kurt as though for help, but Kurt
only looked back just as curiously.
"Me?" he said finally. "What do you…I told you my feelings." Feeling a little
cynical while doing so, he didn’t mind adding privately. Explaining himself to
a teenager—really! Was this where his life had taken him? But then he looked to
Kurt again and it seemed less provincial. Besides, it was a teenager he’d
gotten himself involved with, which meant his friends—other teenagers—were
going to be involved at least somewhat. It was just difficult for him, he
realized, because in the grand scheme of things he himself had only just broken
the yolk of childhood, just begun to feel like he was truly part of the adult
world, and now he’d somehow been thrust back into the land of teenagers and he
was discussing this odd relationship with two of them. One part of him demanded
hewas the adult, the teacher, the one who was more mature, wiser, had more
world experience. This, ironically, was his childish side still clinging on.
But it was another part of him—the one which had grown up dealing with
emotional issues, family issues, a part of him which had had to grow up much
more quickly than his peers—which balanced this out and allowed him to talk to
Rachel without feeling like his age made him superior.
And anyway, hadn’t he learned in Health class that women matured more quickly?
For all he knew, Rachel was technically on the same page as he was. He glanced
at Kurt and wondered whether any of that extra estrogen in his body hadn’t
spurred his maturity along, and thought it probably had. Almost definitely, in
fact.
"I don’t mean you concerning this,” Rachel said. She gestured between them. “I
mean you. What’s your story? Before Kurt, I mean. High school, college, growing
up; Kurt’s never said anything about that.” She looked at him and he looked, in
turn, at Blaine. His expression was strange…stuck somewhere between burning
curiosity and ambivalence.
"You’ve always seemed sort of…standoffish about that," Kurt told him softly,
meeting his eyes. "I never wanted to push. You’ve told me a little about high
school, a couple boyfriends you had, but…not much else." He shrugged. Blaine
realized in a wave of clarity how meaningful that shrug was. Kurt, his student,
six-going-on-seven years his junior, had been able to shrug this off the past
month. Even when Blaine had wanted to know Kurt’s story, had made him promise
to be exclusive, had led his own, separate life, Kurt had waited to know about
Blaine. He remembered thinking how their age gap meant a gap in the maturity
and for the first time wondered if that were true, and to what extent.
"Damn," he whispered. "I guess I really haven’t…talked to you about me, like…at
all. Jeez."
A small, warm hand landed on his thigh and Blaine turned to find a sweet little
smile on Kurt’s face.
"It’s okay. We didn’t really know what we were doing anyway, and something told
me there was a reason and I knew—I hoped—you’d tell me in time." He bit his
lip, put a hand on his stomach, and continued, "I guess this has sort of sped
time up."
Blaine let out a long breath. “Yeah. Guess it has.” He glanced between Kurt and
Rachel and made another monumental decision this night.
* * *
Twelve years ago, when Blaine was just about that age, he developed a crush on
a boy in his seventh grade Social Studies class. His family had lived in Ohio
his whole life, and he went to a private Catholic school from the time he was
in Kindergarten until high school. In his studies he’d learned that
homosexuality was a sin, but had never put much thought into it until those
weeks leading up to his realization: he liked a boy. Another boy. Not just in a
friendly way, either. He’d been trying to understand it for about a month, had
slowly come to understand why he was so nervous around this boy, why he wanted
to be his friend so much more urgently than anyone else’s. Also, why he hadn’t
been able to participate in any of the discussions his friends were beginning
to have about girls in their grade.
When it hit him, when he finally allowed himself to make the connection, he was
terrified. Like a man or woman who has been raped and is afraid to tell anyone
for the misguided fear that he or she is to blame, Blaine was scared for the
same reason. He didn’t mean to, though, he told himself, it wasn’t as though
he’d chosen to pay any special attention to Caleb…it had just happened. He
wasn’t a sinner, he was a good boy. He’d always been a good boy. How could this
have happened?
So he tried to ignore it. At first. But it seemed the more he did that, the
worse it became. His first wet dream did not involve Caleb, but a nameless,
faceless boy, and that was the point. A boy. He hadn’t learned in school what
nocturnal emissions were, didn’t know much about masturbating except that it
too was supposed to be a sin, and it took him weeks to figure out why he’d wet
his bed (he’d even washed his own sheets out of pure embarrassment, and fumbled
through that procedure, just barely scraping by without having to break down
and ask his mom for help because he couldn’t figure out how to work the washing
machine), and why he’d woken with heat in his belly and the fuzzy stills of a
half-remembered dream involving another person. Another boy.
He had muddled through the rest of his time in religious school carrying this
secret with him like a weight that constantly made his body feel physically
heavy. He became exhausted easily, lost motivation and energy, stopped seeing
his friends. His parents openly favored their oldest son, Cooper, and paid
little attention to their youngest’s withdrawal. His mom was only marginally
less inattentive than his father.
The very pinnacle of all this came when his mother forced him to attend a dance
in eighth grade. He’d not wanted to go, hadn’t any friends to go with anymore.
He’d curled in on himself emotionally and even lost weight, physical
manifestations of the torment going on in his head. His mother took him to the
dance and he decided he would wait outside until it was over and tell her he’d
had a good time. It would be a sufficient answer. She’d be able to tell herself
she’d done the right thing as his mom, getting him out of the house.
An hour into the dance a couple other eight-graders—big kids for their age, and
twice Blaine’s size with the weight he’d lost—came outside to smoke cigarettes.
It started with poking, making fun of his bow-tie and calling him names. It
escalated to pushing and talking loudly at him, wondering why he didn’t talk to
nobody, did he think he was better’n them?One of the guys was a freckly redhead
named George with his gut distending his white dress shirt to the buttons’ very
bursting point. Just before the redhead threw the first punch, Blaine thought
wildly that if he were just a bit fatter, those buttons would burst.
Once the first punch was thrown things went quickly. They took turns holding
his arms behind his back and jamming their fists into his stomach. The redhead
socked him in the jaw. They threw him down, finally, and kicked him until he
was moaning in pain, then left him on the cement outside the school and went
back inside. Blaine had had two broken ribs, a broken jaw, and bruises that had
taken weeks to heal. This incident had been the tipping point in swaying his
mom to convince his father to let him go to public school instead of continuing
with his same peers.
It was the freedom of public high school that gave Blaine the courage to do
some research. Without a class dedicated to religion, he was able to for the
first time form the idea that perhaps the bible wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t
the final answer, and maybe that meant he wasn’t so abnormal after all. Maybe
he wasn’t the freak or the monster or the abomination he’d been telling himself
he was.
It took all of his freshman and a good portion of his sophomore years to settle
firmly in his own beliefs, and confidently, proudly, come out to himself as
gay. He felt happy and relieved for the first time in years and he reveled in
that for a week before he decided to tell his parents.
That changed everything.
His mother wasn’t happy—she thought it was a sin, thought he was going through
a phase, being rebellious. Being strange, as usual. But his father. Oh, how his
father raged. He called him a faggot, a filthy homo, he called him any number
of other names Blaine had never even heard and that drove like knives into his
heart. He felt physically wounded and couldn’t recall whether he could ever
remember being in such pain before in his life.
And the worst of it was when they teamed up for their final attack, the thing
that made him so utterly useless now: “A faggot can’t give us grandchildren,”
his father told him. “A faggot can’t give us family, and it can’t have a normal
life.”
It.
That stuck with Blaine a long, long time. Even when he’d moved on past his
parents, allowed himself to blossom anyway. Ask a boy out his junior year and
learn what it was like to begay, to experience kissing another man, touching
another man’s body. To show affection for another man, and to have it shown
back. It was almost as if the hatred from his family (and it came from his
brother too—not in the direct form his father took, but by eliminating him from
his life, particularly when he moved out to Hollywood). Even through his senior
year, and falling in love for the first time.
It.
As he got older, went to college, took classes in psychology, he wondered
sometimes if his aggression had any roots in his family life, the way his dad
had treated him; the way his parents had reacted to his coming out as gay, as
himself. And beyond the aggression, the lack of respect he had for himself. He
slept around, finding cute boys at college parties and fucking them in
bedrooms, and basements, and bathrooms, and on, and on. Always in the back of
his mind was the need to prove himself in some way. As a person, not an it. He
could make these boys swoon, make them suck his cock and then let him fuck
them.
His junior year of college that haunting word—it—did not go away, but the
physical manifestations of Blaine’s emotional trauma changed.
He met Will. And suddenly, in his mind, the way was clear. Will was cute, and
funny, and clean, and Blaine became obsessed with the idea that he could change
his parents’ mind. With Will, normal was suddenly possible, and with normalcy
had to come the graduation in his father’s eyes from itto son.
Deeper than that, in his own eyes, from itto human being. From faggot,and homo,
and every other nasty, dehumanizing word his father had ever drilled into his
brain to person.
He could show his dad. He could show his whole family. He and Will, they could
get married someday, that’s where the country was headed, they could adopt. His
parents, they could have everything they wanted. And they had to like Will. Who
couldn’t like Will? He was a likable guy.
If he could do that, if he could marry Will and adopt kids and have a normal
life, nothing in his past would matter anymore. He wouldn’t be an it, he’d be a
husband and a dad and he’d be a son again. And he wouldn’t be that scared
little boy who’d gotten beaten up outside his school dance, either. He’d be
strong, and he’d show his family—himself—that he could be successful. Gay, and
strong, and successful.
* * *
“I’m not an…aggressive guy. Usually. You know?” Blaine swallowed. “I’m not.
Kurt, c’mon, other than when we’re…I’m not aggressive, okay?” He folded his
arms over his chest, noticing but not caring much about the blush on Rachel’s
cheeks. The one on Kurt’s, on the other hand…
“You’re not,” Kurt said. He put a hand on Blaine’s cheek and leaned in to kiss
him. This small action had the reaction of relaxing Blaine’s body so completely
he actually drooped in his chair. “You’re just sort of…bull-headed, I guess.”
He was trying to cover a smirk. Blaine rolled his eyes affectionately. “But,
Blaine, I…” He stopped and sighed and looked into Blaine’s eyes. Kurt’s blue
ones were swimming with emotion. “You’ve been through…well, you’ve been through
a lot. I kind of…I don’t know, I…”
It was always interesting, Blaine thought, to see Kurt grasping for words, and
he watched with his head cocked.
“A lot makes sense. Just a lot of…thingsabout you, little bits of your
personality and things you do and…it all just sort of…I get it.” He nodded to
himself and looked into Blaine’s eyes again. “I get it. We have to…you know,
talk by ourselves.” His glance flickered to Rachel and she looked down. Blaine
got the feeling this was a rare moment of silence for her.
And then Kurt was hugging him. Blaine stilted only a second before wrapping his
arms around Kurt’s waist and pulling him flush against him. Blaine’s heightened
emotions caused a flare of heat in his belly when he felt the warmth between
Kurt’s legs pressing on his thigh.


They left Rachel’s house shortly thereafter. Blaine was waiting at the front
door and Kurt told him to hang on just a second. He thought Blaine couldn’t
hear them in the kitchen, but he made out enough of what was said to feel
badly.


“Thanks,” Kurt was saying to Rachel. “For…for getting him to talk. I was too
nervous to ask him about his past, so…thank you.”


“He’s a good guy, Kurt. Just be careful. He seems like sort of a loose cannon.
Emotionally. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially…” There was a pause, and
Blaine knew intuitively the two teenagers were looking at Kurt’s stomach. “Be
careful, alright?”


“I will. Thanks, Rach.”


Kurt’s footsteps echoed on the tile leading into the foyer and when he saw
Blaine his eyes lit up and didn’t hesitate when he kissed Blaine on the lips,
warm and soft and comforting. Kurt grabbed his hand and went for the door, but
Blaine stopped him.


“Kurt,” he said in a low voice, one that wouldn’t echo and Rachel wouldn’t be
able to hear. “I don’t want you to be scared to ask me anything.” Kurt’s blush
told him he’d realized Blaine had heard his and Rachel’s secret conversation,
but he said nothing. “We’re in this together now. I told you, I’m breaking it
off with Will. Not…right away, not tomorrow, or this week, or…” He paused and
swallowed. “But I will. I love you. Telling you all of that—” he gestured with
his thumb back to the Berry kitchen “—wasn’t easy by a long shot. But if this
is gonna work, we have to be honest, right? About everything. So if you have
questions, ask them. If you’re worried or anxious or scared about something,
tell me.” He put his hands on Kurt’s cheeks and saw that Kurt was on the edge
of tears. “I’ve been a dipshit and that ends now. Right now. Okay?” Kurt, with
his big, watery blue eyes, nodded. “Good.” He kissed Kurt and lingered a few
moments. “Now, let’s—”


In his pocket, Blaine’s phone buzzed. They looked at each other with matching
expressions of confusion, as though they’d heard a foreign noise, before Blaine
reached into his pocket and pulled it out. When he saw Will had texted him, his
stomach dropped. But when he opened the text, a smile formed slowly on his
face.


“What?” Kurt demanded, trying to get a look at the screen. Blaine pulled it
away, his smile having transformed into something devilish, and said, “C’mon,”
grabbing Kurt’s hand and pulling him out the door.


* * *


“My car’s at the school still,” Kurt said when they pulled into Blaine’s spot
in front of his apartment building. He said nothing in response, only went
around to Kurt’s side and opened the door for him, enjoying the blush this
produced. He led him inside and just before he opened the door, Kurt put a hand
on Blaine’s arm. His fingers dug into his skin.


“Blaine,” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”


“Will’s not home tonight,” Blaine said with a smile that split his face. The
anger dropped from Kurt’s expression to be replaced by incomprehension.


“He’s… What do you mean, he’s not home tonight? What are you talking about?”


Blaine unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing inside. “That text he
sent me at Rachel’s house,” he explained as Kurt cautiously stepped inside. “He
told me he’s staying at his friend’s house tonight. She had a bad breakup with
a boyfriend and she asked him to hang around.”


The irony of Will consoling his girl friend on a bad breakup tasted coppery and
metallic in Blaine’s mouth but he ignored it. Was ableto ignore it in favor of
the night ahead.


“Will you stay over?”


He closed and locked the door behind him and watched Kurt stray further into
the apartment, looking around, as though Will might pop out from behind a
couch. Finally, he looked back at Blaine, and Blaine saw with immense relief
that that a wicked smirk had taken the place of Kurt’s anxiety.


“Yeah?” he said, face hopeful. “You want me to sleep here?”


Blaine went to Kurt and wrapped his arms around him from behind. He pressed on
his belly and imagined he could already feel the bump, even if it was
impossible just yet. He leaned into Kurt’s ear.


“Considering your car’s at the school,” he whispered against the skin of Kurt’s
neck, “and it’s on the verge of thunder-storming again, I’d say you’ve got
little other choice.” He felt Kurt shiver in his arms and his belly exploded
with heat. Kurt turned to face him and pressed their bodies together, looking
into Blaine’s eyes. He studied Blaine a moment, and Blaine used those seconds
to appreciate Kurt’s lovely face. It seemed impossible that only a couple hours
ago he’d been contemplating a life withoutthis beautiful, wonderful boy in it.


Finally, Kurt kissed Blaine’s cheek and stepped out of his embrace with a coy
smile. He wandered into the kitchen, calling behind him, “We never got to eat
dinner, you know.”


* * *


Kurt made pasta (since that was all Blaine seemed to have in his house aside
from frozen foods), but he added herbs and spices and cheese and it was nothing
like anything Will had ever made. They ate curled up together on the couch
watching old episodes of One Tree Hill. Blaine couldn’t pay attention to the
show, though. He was too focused on watching Kurt eat, watching Kurt watch the
show, watching Kurt lick his lips and delicately wipe away a bit of sauce from
his chin. Several times they shared pasta-flavored kisses and Kurt, giggling,
had to stop them before they upended their bowls.


Kurt washed the dishes when they finished and Blaine dried, and it wasn’t the
first time Blaine had felt domesticity between them, but it was the first time
it felt real. Like something that could last. He had a wild, half-formed image
of them in twenty years doing the exact same thing with a son or a daughter
doing homework at the table. It brought a burst of such overwhelming affection
that later on, when they had put the dishes away, he grabbed Kurt’s hand and
led him back to the bedroom.


Kurt stopped them at the door.


“Blaine, I…”


Blaine looked back at him, head cocked. “What?” He tried to tug Kurt in again
to no avail. He looked heavily uncomfortable.


“I don’t know, is this…” He bit his lip and Blaine followed his sight-line to
the bed, and then it clicked.


“Oh,” he breathed. He hadn’t even thought about it. Was that horrible? How bad
was it to have Kurt sleep in his and Will’s bed? For a few moments, his stomach
twisted and his mind turned and he went back and forth between trying to
justify it and to talk himself out of doing something he knew was downright
piggish. He was only marginally surprised when he came to his final conclusion.
“C’mon,” he said, tugging Kurt into the room and closing the door behind them.
Kurt went, but haltingly, almost as though he were trying to stay quiet, like
Will might hear him Kurt in his room from however many miles away he was right
now, consoling a friend on a breakup.


“You’re sure this is…?”


Blaine didn’t answer verbally; he sat Kurt down on the bed and then took his
own shirt and pants off, leaving him in boxers. Then he helped Kurt do the
same, until he was covered by nothing but his purple cotton panties.


“Those are cute,” Blaine commented with a raised eyebrow, trying to diffuse
some of the tension. It seemed to work, too, because he saw Kurt’s shoulders
relax and he climbed further into the bed, leaning against the pillows. Blaine
crawled in next to him, lifting the covers over their bodies. The house was
dark and the sun had finally set, and they lay beside one another in nothing
but their underwear, Blaine’s arm draped heavily across Kurt’s waist. They
stared into each other’s eyes and it was Blaine’s turn to fully relax when Kurt
kissed him, then lifted a leg over Blaine’s waist, curling into him.


They stayed that way a few minutes in silence, Blaine breathing in Kurt’s
scent, rubbing his hand alternately over Kurt’s arm and his leg, hitching it up
higher and dragging the tips of his fingers along the underside of Kurt’s
thigh. He felt Kurt press further into him and he could feel a damp heat on his
hip where Kurt’s pussy was pressed up against him. He entertained the idea of
slipping his hand just a bit further and then decided against it. The mood was
too intimate, too wonderful, too serene and perfectto change anything.


Kurt nuzzled into Blaine’s neck and breathed deeply, and Blaine felt his
stomach swoop pleasantly.


“I love you, Kurt,” he said quietly. He felt Kurt smile against his skin and
then yawn. It had been an emotionally exhausting day. Blaine yawned in
reaction.


“I love you too, B.” His voice was low and scratchy and on the precipice of
sleep.


The nickname made Blaine’s heart flutter. He kissed the top of Kurt’s head and
reinforced his grip on Kurt’s thigh. “G’night, baby.” Kurt’s heavy breathing
told him Kurt had already fallen asleep.
***** Chapter 15 *****
It had become something of a routine, visiting Blaine in the morning before
class. It made the rest of the day a little bit brighter. Made the swelling
rumors easier to tolerate. Kurt thought this might be the case for Blaine, as
well. And the rumors were swelling, alright. He couldn’t go a day anymore
without hearing whispers about himself and the new English teacher.
It was a chilly day in late November and Kurt was just beginning to show. He
wasn’t sure it was noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but he certainly
was, and he certainlynoticed. He was sitting on Blaine’s desk, kicking his
feet, making thudding noises against the hollow metal (something which he knew
bugged Blaine), focused entirely on his stomach. He rubbed over it obsessively,
feeling its strangeness, knowing and in awe of the knowledge that it was a baby
bump. He was nearly two months along now and Dr. Hayner (whom they’d had
another appointment with last week) told him he was going to grow more quickly
from here on out. He’d have to have check-ups much more often than a typical
pregnancy, but Kurt didn’t mind. If it meant a healthy baby, he didn’t think
there was anything he wouldn’t do.
“Kurt.”
Kurt heard Blaine’s voice distantly but it didn’t register. He continued to
massage his belly.
“Kurt.”
The index finger of Kurt’s right hand dipped inside his belly button through
his shirt, head tilting in concentration.
“Kurt!”
Kurt’s head snapped up and he looked at Blaine with eyes the size of quarters.
Blaine held a straight face for all of three seconds before giving into a
laugh. He took Kurt’s hands off his belly and moved in close, planting a small,
warm kiss on Kurt’s forehead. Kurt grinned dopily to himself.
“So I was thinking,” Blaine said, moving back but keeping Kurt’s hands folded
in his own. “Do you wanna go shopping after school?” He looked a bit sheepish,
and this caused suspicion. Kurt’s eyebrows dipped.
“Why are you saying that like you’re afraid I’ll bite your head off for the
suggestion? Shopping where?”
“Baby shopping,” Blaine clarified, and the little nervous half-smile he wore
was absolutely charming for reasons Kurt couldn’t for the life of him decipher.
“You know…little onesies and those ridiculous little miniature fucking socks
and tiny, baby-sized Converse.”
An undignified snort escaped before Kurt knew it was going to happen and the
sound of it sent him into a fit of giggles. The pout Blaine adopted did nothing
to quell his laughter and it went on for another minute before he regained
control of himself. Despite his reaction, Blaine’s suggestion had warmed his
heart. He pulled Blaine in by the nape and kissed his temple, letting his lips
linger for a moment.
“That sounds like a plan to me.”
Neither acknowledged the conversation as being the very first in which their
deep, as yet still-hidden desire to keep the baby surfaced.
***
“Why do we have to go to the city, though?” Kurt whined, watching the landscape
zip by outside the window. Blaine was singing along with the radio, using his
steering wheel as a drum, and Kurt huffed, tilting his head against the cold
glass. “We could have just gone to Marshall’s, there’s one in the mall. Anda
Lord & Taylor. Anda Macy’s.”
“Ah, but the chances of being spotted by someone we know are astronomically
higher,” said Blaine in a horrible cockney accent. Kurt tried not to laugh,
failed, and gave up, letting his hands fall to his stomach where he began
massaging. “Hey, are you feeling alright? Are you nauseous? You’ve been rubbing
your stomach all day.”
Kurt looked down at his belly and smiled softly. “Oh, no, I just…I don’t know,
I can’t stop touching. It’s so weird, you know? I can feel it.”
“You can feel it?” Blaine looked sideways at him with his eyebrows raised.
“Not the baby,” Kurt laughed. “It’s still too small for that. I mean, I can
feel myself getting bigger. Haven’t you noticed?”
Blaine shrugged. “Yeah, a little bit. A very little bit, mind you.” He winked
and it was one of the cheesiest things Kurt thought he’d ever seen.
“Smooth,” he chuckled. “Will you still tell me I’m beautiful even when I can
barely walk? When I can use my stomach like a table?”
Blaine burst out laughing and nearly drove them off the road. Thankfully, the
traffic wasn’t too bad, and there weren’t many other cars. Kurt had insisted on
waiting a while after school so they wouldn’t run into rush-hour traffic.
“Not only will I tell you you’re beautiful,” said Blaine, voice suddenly much
lower, raising goose bumps on Kurt’s arms and neck, “I’ll meanit. I can’t
waitfor you to get big, Kurt. I’ve always thought there was something amazing
about pregnant women. They glow. I mean, I know people say that, but they
really do!”
There was a spot on the street just down the block from Macy’s and Blaine
parallel parked rather adeptly, getting it perfect on his first try.
“Maybe you should teach Driver’s Ed.,” Kurt said, eying the perfect distance
Blaine had managed to put between his car and the ones in front and back of
him. It was exactly even. “That’s a hell of a parking job.”
“Driver’s Ed.,” Blaine grumbled. “Sure, why not? More prestigious than English,
anyway.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, laughed, and slipped his hand through the crook of
Blaine’s arm. Blaine’s subsequent smile lit up his whole face. He used his free
hand to cover Kurt’s, and as they walked down the street toward the department
store, butterflies filled Kurt’s stomach. This was what he’d been missing, he
realized suddenly. All the hook-ups and skin-deep relationships, they didn’t
mean anything. This thing with Blaine, it meant something. And not just because
of the pregnancy, either. There was something there between them, something
that had started as lust and grown into a different four-letter L-word. They’d
said it to each other a couple times now, but it was still mind-blowing for
Kurt.
On the way to the baby department Kurt made Blaine stop in the men’s clothing,
the women’s clothing, at a perfume counter, and a makeup counter. At this last
Kurt bought an expensive foundation that Blaine didn’t shut up about until they
reached the baby clothing.
“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Blaine ranted, pointing accusingly at
Kurt’s little bag. “Your skin is perfect, first off, and even if it wasn’t…I
mean, come on! Thirty bucks to put skin-coloredcream on your face?!”
Kurt shrugged. “Makeup sticks better when you put foundation on first.”
“You don’t wear makeup!”
Kurt laughed. “You only think that because I do a good job. Sometimes I use
just a hint of eyeliner to make my eyes pop, or a little bit of blush to
accentuate my rosy glow.”
“Your rosy glow?”
Kurt shoved Blaine’s arm and he stumbled, laughing, into a rack of onesies.
“Hey!” He ripped a dark blue one off the rack and held it up for Kurt to see.
“’Daddy’s Girl’! Kurt, that works for both of us!”
“You know, that’s very true.” Kurt went to Blaine and took the onesie from him,
holding it up to scrutinize. “Think of the money we’ll save on ‘Mommy’
clothes!”
“Should we get one in every color?”
Kurt looked to Blaine, an eyebrow raised. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding. I
dearly hope you are.” He put the pajamas back on the rack and swapped it for a
pair of pink ones. “I was thinking on the way here that it’s too bad we don’t
know the gender yet, so we don’t know what colors to get, but then I was like,
what am I talking about? The kid’s wearing blue either way. See? Like this!” He
put the pink back and took out another blue one, this one a bright, pale blue.
“God, I love this color. I don’t care if it’s a girl, a boy, or what. That
child is wearing this color day in and day out. Oh, I hope it has my eyes!” He
turned back to Blaine and looked hard at his face. “Your hair, of course. Oh,
and your nose. Let’s pray for that. Not your ears.”
Blaine clapped his hands to the sides of his head, looking scandalized. “What’s
wrong with my ears!”
Kurt scoffed and put the pale blue onesie back on the rack. “Blaine. You have
attached earlobes, sweetheart. No child of mine will have attached earlobes.”
Blaine ran to the nearest mirror and looked closely at his ears. Kurt walked up
beside him, a smile tugging at his lips.
“You didn’t know?”
“Oh my god,” Blaine whispered, turning his head from side to side, then looking
at Kurt’s ears. “Oh my god! You’re right! I didn’t even know there was a
difference! Why are mine attached!”
“Well, you couldn’t be perfect, could you?” Kurt teased. He kissed Blaine’s
cheek, and when Blaine continued to stare at his ears worriedly, he added, “Oh,
Blaine, I was kidding. Half the population have attached earlobes. Why do you
think you never noticed? Nobody cares.”
“Really?” Blaine looked at him hopefully, like a child asking his parents for
confirmation that Santa isreal.
“Sure,” Kurt said, turning away with a devilish smile. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt
for the baby’s earlobes to be unattached.”
“Kurt!”
Laughing, Kurt sauntered away to look at another rack, this one full of bright
sundresses. He picked one up and held it out.
“This is precious. I swear, if we have a boy, I’ll put him in dresses. Just
watch me do it. You can’t stop me.”
Blaine waved as if to say, Do I look like I care?
“Blaine?”
“Mm?”
Nibbling on his lower lip, heart starting to beat a little more quickly, Kurt
went to where Blaine was flipping through another set of sundresses.
“Have you…thought about that at all?”
Blaine looked up, probably hearing the nervous quality to Kurt’s voice, and his
thick eyebrows came together. With one hand still on a hanger, he said,
“Thought about what?”
Kurt shrugged, played with the hem of the skirt. “You know. Whether you want a
girl or boy? Do you have a preference?”
Blaine finally released the dress and appeared to think about the question. He
stared hard at Kurt, like he was trying to read something on his face. He was
silent for almost a minute, and Kurt thought he would have killed a person just
to know what was going on in Blaine’s head.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “I have thought about it.”
Kurt didn’t know he’d been afraid of a different answer until relief washed
over him at Blaine’s words.
“You have?” he said hopefully.
“Jeez, Kurt, of course I have. Look, I…” His sentence trailed off and he
contemplated Kurt, chewing on his lower lip. He turned more fully toward him
and said, “Do you wanna go somewhere else? It’s time we finally talked about
this. It’s just gonna keep cropping up like this more and more frequently until
we do it.”
“Do what?” Kurt demanded, heart picking up tempo again. “What’s going to keep
cropping up? What do we need to talk about?”
“The baby,” Blaine said bluntly. Kurt felt like the wind had been knocked out
of him.
“The…baby? What…what about the baby?”
Blaine was quiet another moment, eyes roving over every inch of Kurt’s face. He
must have found something there, because his shoulders relaxed minimally. He
shrugged, licked his lips, shrugged again.
“I wanna keep it, Kurt.”
***
Not much was said as they made their way back to the car. Kurt thought Blaine
was probably mulling over the same problem he was: where did they go? Kurt’s
house was out of the question, his dad would be home from the shop for the
night. .He’d be going to DC in a couple weeks, and that would be a blessing
when it came but they needed somewhere now. Blaine told him if Will wasn’t
already home he’d be there in an hour at the most.
Instead of getting on the highway to go back to Lima, Blaine drove the other
way.
“Hotel,” he said before Kurt could ask. “We have to go somewhere, we can stay
at that Hilton in the city, it’s just for the night.”
“Just for the night?” Kurt repeated, eyes bugging. “Blaine, it’s Thursday! We
both have school tomorrow! What am I gonna tell my dad! Aren’t you supposed to
be the adult here?”
“Yes I am,” Blaine said. His hands tightened on the wheel. “And as the adult, I
say we need to talk. I mean, come on, Kurt, we’ve avoided it for two months.
Every time we get near it we find a reason to shy away. We don’t have to
makeany decisions, I just want to get our feelings on the table. For god’s
sake, I don’t even know which way you’re leaning.”
Kurt was quiet a few minutes, digesting everything Blaine had said. He was
right, of course. It was still early in the pregnancy, the decisions didn’t
need to be made yet, but when the time came, it would be better if they’d been
talking about it the whole time instead of avoiding the conversation until the
last possible minute.
“Okay,” he said finally, letting out a deep breath. “Fine. But what am I
telling my dad? He’ll never let me stay out on a school night, the idea’s
ridiculous, I’ve never even considered it.”
“Rachel,” Blaine said, glancing sideways at Kurt. “Tell him you’re staying at
Rachel’s. Make something up, say she had a fight with a boyfriend, I dunno. We
haveto talk, Kurt. I’m going crazy.”
“I know,” Kurt sighed. “I know, me too. Fine. I’ll figure something out.” He
bit the inside of his lip and his fingers fidgeted in his lap. “So you…you
wanna keep it, though? You really do?”
Blaine didn’t answer right away. When he did, he sounded reluctant. “Yes,” he
said. “I do.” He looked at Kurt again, and his eyes were bright and earnest,
but they were fearful too. Kurt could see it clear as day, and it made him
anxious.
“Then why do you sound so hesitant about it?”
“Look, let’s talk in the hotel room, okay? There’s a lot to be said.”
Five minutes later they pulled into the Marriot’s parking lot, and twenty
minutes after that Blaine slid the keycard through the slot in the door to the
fourth-floor hotel room he’d gotten. It was a single, and the decorations
weren’t what Kurt would have chosen, but it was somewhere to talk, and it
wasn’t a motel. There were perks to dating a well-off adult, it seemed.
Blaine loosened the tie he’d been wearing all day and sat down on the edge of
the bed. Kurt pulled out his phone and called his dad. It was a lengthy
conversation, because his dad didn’t like the idea. The only thing that finally
convinced him was knowing Kurt would at least be in Lima (as far as he knew),
and the fact that Kurt told him Rachel was completely distraught. He felt
horrible about lying, but even worse was knowing this lie was nothing in
comparison to the one it was covering up.
“Alright,” he said after fifteen minutes. He sat beside Blaine and put his
phone down on the night stand. “I’m at Rachel’s tonight. He’s not happy about
it. I told Rachel, in case she needs to cover for me.”
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Blaine said in a low, croaky voice. “We just…we needto talk.
You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”
Kurt sighed. “No, I do. Of course I do.” He shrugged helplessly. “Doesn’t mean
I have to like it.
“So. You were saying before?”
Blaine shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, twisting his fingers together in a
gesture of nervousness Kurt didn’t often see on him.
“I’ve been trying to decide whether or not to tell you the past few weeks. It
didn’t seem fair, telling you that, when I’m sure you’re having an even more
difficult time than me. I mean, it’s yourbody. You have the right to make
whatever decision you’re comfortable with. I didn’t want you to feel like I
was…pressuring you, or something. I hope you don’t think I am.”
Kurt shook his head. “I don’t. I’m glad you told me.”
“Good. Good. I just…” He bit his lip, seemingly searching for the right words.
He opened his mouth, closed it again. He let out a small, sharp breath. Then he
looked at Kurt. “I’ve always wanted a family,” he said. His voice sounded
strained. Something tugged in Kurt’s stomach. “Beyond thinking it would make my
parents like me, which, I have to admit, ever since I told you and Rachel all
that, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I…I realize how stupid it sounds.
It isstupid—”
“It’s not,” Kurt said softly. Blaine held a hand up.
“Of course it is. I can’t help how I feel, but it’s a dumb notion nevertheless.
Trying to getmy parents to like me.” He laughed, and it was without humor. Cold
and angry, and it made Kurt shiver to hear Blaine sound that way. “But anyway.
Beyond that, I’ve still always dreamed of having a family. And being gay, it…I
mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to adopt. I think it’s a wonderful thing.
It’s just that there’s not…this.” He reached over and put a hand on Kurt’s
stomach. Kurt covered it with his own and Blaine gave him a wavery smile.
“Until I met you, Kurt, I didn’t know what it meant to really want to be with
someone forever. To have babies with them, and grow old together. With Will, it
was just me wanting to prove something. To my parents, to myself, to the world.
But with you, none of that seems to matter. I love you because I can’t help
loving you. And this baby…” He smiled softly down at the small bump of Kurt’s
stomach, and Kurt thought, even in the dim light cast by the single lit lamp in
the room, that he could see tears in Blaine’s eyes.
“Blaine,” Kurt said gently. “I’m glad you told me. I don’t want you to hide
anything because of some misplaced sense of…of chivalry.” Blaine laughed wetly
and Kurt grinned at him. “To be honest, I’m not really sure how I feel. I keep
going back and forth. But knowing now that you do want to keep it…it helps. It
makes me feel less…I don’t know…immature for wanting the same thing.”
He heard Blaine swallow, and his hazel eyes dilated, became wide with hope.
“You…?”
Kurt shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know. But most of the time, I get the most
anxious when I think about giving it up.” He paused and considered Blaine. “Do
you think it’s stupid? Is it completely ridiculous of us to want this? Doesit
make us immature? I’ll only be seventeen in April, Blaine. April. You’re
twenty-three—”
“Twenty-four.”
Kurt, mouth hanging open, stared. “You said you were twenty-three.”
“I’ll be twenty-four on Sunday. May as well stop pretending.”
“ThisSunday?” Kurt gasped, eyebrows raised, a smile pulling his lips upward in
spite of himself. “Your birthday is the thirtieth?”
“I’m trying not to think about it,” Blaine grumbled. “Mid-twenties, I ask you.
I may as well be thirty.”
And despite the tense atmosphere, Kurt’s shoulders relaxed minimally.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Yeah, wait until it’s you. Youhave six and a half yearsto go before you’ll be
in my shoes. By that time I willbe thirty!”
“And we’ll have a six-year-old son or daughter.”
Blaine’s head whipped around and he stared at Kurt with round, shocked eyes.
“You’re being serious?” Blaine whispered, jumping headfirst back into the
original conversation. “You’re thinking about keeping it?”
“Were you notbeing serious?”
“Of course I was!” Blaine said loudly, and it was with a visible effort that he
reigned himself back in. “I am. I’m just a little surprised, is all. I thought
for sure you’d be more inclined to want to get out of Lima the second you get
your diploma and start building your career. You’ve mentioned a few times that
you’d like to go into fashion. You seem like the career sort of person, I
guess.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Remember what happened last time you made assumptions
about me?” Blaine looked appropriately abashed. “Can we promise not to hide
things anymore? No assumptions. We have to talk, Blaine. We’ve seen what
happens when we don’t communicate.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. No more assumptions.”
Kurt nodded. “And thank you for telling me this. About wanting to keep it.”
Blaine still looked uncomfortable, and finally the words tumbled out: “You
really don’t think I’m being selfish? Telling you this, putting it on your
conscience? Knowing that I do want to keep it?”
“No, I think you’re being honest. And if this is going to work, honesty is the
most important thing. We can’t hide big things like this from each other. It’ll
just cause resentment. And in that spirit, I’m not saying I for sure dowant to
keep it. All I’m saying is that I’ve been warming up to the idea.” He
hesitated. “A lot.”
They fell into a heavy silence and Kurt cuddled up to Blaine’s side, who
wrapped an arm around his waist. After several minutes, Kurt spoke again:
“I’m glad we talked. You were right. We needed to do this. Can we agree to be
open from now on? We’re in a weird enough situation as it is. If we don’t have
each other’s backs, who will?”
Blaine kissed the corner of Kurt’s jaw.
“Agreed,” he said, his voice lower than before, and Kurt thought he knew what
they’d be doing tonight. He wondered whether there would be any sleeping at
all. “We’re in this together.” His hand slid beneath Kurt’s shirt and up over
his belly, making Kurt’s breathing shallower. Blaine kissed over his jaw,
across his neck, and all the while continued rubbing. “And as long as we’re
being honest, I’m honestly not sure how much sleep you’re going to get
tonight.”
Kurt burst out laughing.
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm going to ask you guys to stretch reality to its breaking point
     from here on out (thankfully this is a theme on Glee, so we're all
     very good at it) and accept the fact that neither the headmaster, nor
     any parents, teachers, faculty members, staff, governors of the
     school board, or anybody of any real importance or authority have
     heard anything regarding any scandalous goings-on at the school
     between a teacher and a student, and if they have, they've found it
     in their hearts to let the story unfold without their interference. A
     big thank-you to them for their generosity.
The first snowfall came on the second day of December. Kurt walked into
Blaine's classroom and began stripping off his outer layers as he approached
Blaine's desk. Blaine watched this with an amused smile on his face. Kurt
untwisted the scarf from his neck, then shed his heavy winter coat, followed
closely by a lighter sweater beneath that as well as his mittens. He dropped
all of this on Blaine's desk and then started in on his boots, which laced all
the way up his shins like ice-skates. Blaine remained silent, one eyebrow
raised as Kurt's mittens dripped onto the floor. He switched out his snow boots
for another pair that looked expensive (although Blaine was willing to bet Kurt
had found them for a price well below its original) and finally stood and let
out a breath, looking rather flustered.
“I hate the snow,” he said, and flopped down onto a desk chair. His cheeks and
nose were pink from the cold and Blaine's chest fluttered at the sight.
“I kinda like it,” he teased, going to the desk where Kurt had sat down and
bending to kiss him. “You look awfully cute like this.”
Kurt, attempting and mostly failing to hide a smile, swatted at Blaine's arm.
“So,” Blaine said, voice so falsely casual that Kurt stiffened, “I've been
thinking about it a lot lately, and I...I don't think we should find out the
gender at your appointment next Saturday.” The words came out in a rush; he was
nervous, he knew Kurt was leaning in the other direction. He had been, too,
until just recently.
“What?” Kurt said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I thought you wanted
to!”
“I did!” Blaine squatted down beside Kurt's chair, so he was looking up at him,
and took one of Kurt's hands in his own. “No, I really did, I was totally with
you on it, I just...maybe it'll be fun to wait, y'know?” Kurt opened his mouth,
but Blaine was determined to have his full say first. “Wait, just...think about
it. Even you said you don't care what the gender is, you're still going to
dress him or her in whatever you want, right? And...well...I don't know
what...we haven't really discussed—” Blaine stopped, cleared his throat, and
continued, cheeks redder than before, “—what the living arrangements will be,
but...I mean, we can just buy whatever colors we like for the...the furniture
and all of that, right? Who cares if it's a girl or boy? And then it'll be so
much fun when you havethe baby, finding out then. Don't you think?”
Kurt looked down at him for several moments, face contemplative. Blaine was
dying to know what he was thinking but kept his mouth resolutely clamped shut,
waiting patiently for Kurt to say something.
Finally: “You know, you're entirely right.”
Blaine blinked owlishly, taken by surprise at Kurt's calm acquiescence. He
wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it clearly hadn't been that. He grinned
carefully.
“...Really? I mean...yeah?”
Kurt laughed, looking down at Blaine with soft eyes and an even softer smile.
Blaine kissed his knuckles.
“Sometimes you're too charming for your own good,” Kurt said. Blaine gave him a
wide, toothy smile in response. “But, yes, I really do think you're right. Like
I said, it doesn't matter what the gender is, it doesn't change anything. It'll
be fun to wait. I completely agree.”
Blaine pulled Kurt out of his chair by the hand and grabbed him around the
waist, so thrilled, so jubilant, that he lifted Kurt right off his feet and
swung him around in a circle, Kurt laughing in his ear the whole time, gripping
tightly around Blaine's neck.
In the past couple weeks since they'd finally shared their feelings about
keeping the baby, they'd become much more comfortable with the subject. Neither
was one hundred percent certain at this point how things would pan out or where
they'd end up in the next seven months, but they'd settled mutually into a sort
of silent agreement that, until decided upon otherwise, they would go ahead as
though they were keeping it.
Kurt had grown to a size that had the school whispering about him. He heard
them wonder whether he'd gotten fat, or if he'd finally gotten himself knocked
up. He tilted his chin and ignored these comments, holding his head high,
pretending they didn't light an anxious flame in the pit of his stomach.
The gossip about him and Blaine, however, seemed, miraculously, to have died
down. His classmates had been actively wondering for about a week now which
student had gotten Kurt pregnant. Evidently the prospect of the new English
teacher having been the culprit was so ludicrous as to not even be considered a
real theory.
This second morning of December began a chain reaction which would change this.
Blaine had just planted Kurt back on the floor when his classroom door swung
open. Both boys whipped their heads around so fast their necks nearly strained.
“Evan!” Kurt gasped. Evan, Kurt's best friend at Dalton, his kind face and
sweet smile temporarily gone missing, stared in open shock at the spectacle
he'd inadvertently intruded upon. His mouth hung wide, jaw looking somehow,
disturbingly, unhinged, as though his shock had caused his joints to fall limp.
The three stood looking at each other for several very long moments that
stretched into as many eternities. Kurt's heart was thudding so frantically he
thought it a distinct and terrifying possibility that it would hammer itself
right out of his chest.
Looking unequivocally uncomfortable, almost disoriented, Evan murmured, “I...”
His mouth finally closed and he swallowed audibly, the small clicking sound in
his throat as loud as a gunshot in the thick silence of the room. Then his
chest began rising and falling more quickly, his face exploded in color, and as
quickly as he'd come barging in, he was backing out again, eyes stuck on his
best friend and his English teacher, before turning and high-tailing it down
the corridor.
“Kurt,” Blaine said sharply, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing so tightly it
stung, “Kurt, go! GO! NOW!”
Without thinking, without a further moment's hesitation, Kurt sprinted out of
the classroom and followed the sound of Evan's heavy footfalls, already in the
adjacent hallway, fading fast. He could hardly think, couldn't even begin to
process what had just happened. His heart felt like it was choking him and his
panic made him dizzy and disoriented, so that the halls he knew so well became
confusing, looked foreign, and he found himself stopping in the middle of an
intersection connecting two corridors, spinning on the spot, trying to orient
himself. He blinked rapidly and was finally able to pinpoint the sound of
footsteps again in the otherwise quiet school, the rest of the boys all
shuffling into their first classes of the day.
When Kurt caught up to him, Evan was running toward the Senior Commons. He must
have heard Kurt coming after him, because he stopped, turned around, and Kurt
took advantage of Evan's shock, pushing him against a wall of lockers, hands
flat on his chest. Kurt was breathing raggedly, but so was Evan, and they
looked at each other with wide, frightened eyes.
“Evan,” Kurt choked out. His fingers dug into the front of Evan's cardigan. He
tried to form words in his head, tried to sort his thoughts out, but it was
impossible, everything bleeding together in a panicked haze. “Evan, listen...”
“The hell was that, Kurt!” Evan shouted. His eyes blazed and he seemed to at
long last be gaining his composure. His face was the color of a ripe tomato,
eyes shining with confusion, uncertainty, disbelief, a whole myriad of things;
possibly even, and Kurt hoped he was wrong (but knew he was not), betrayal.
“You told me I was being stupid!” He pushed Kurt's shoulders, dislodging his
hands and causing him to trip backwards, just barely managing to regain his
balance before falling on his ass. “You toldme everyone had it wrong, Kurt!
Were you lying?!”
“Evan, I—”
“WERE YOU?!”
Kurt sucked his lip into his mouth and nibbled on it while his eyes filled with
tears of shame. He'd never, ever, in the three and a half years he'd known
Evan, seen him this upset. Evan was such a mild-tempered guy usually.
“You are pregnant, aren't you?” he said coldly. Kurt felt like he'd been dunked
in cold water. The look Evan gave him was full of contempt. “You said you'd
gained weight. You told me I was being stupid. You told me I should stop
believing everything I hear.” He stepped closer to Kurt, and while Kurt's
instinct told him to take a compensatory step backward, he couldn't move his
legs. They felt rubbery and glued to the marble floor. “You lied to me about
that, and you lied to me about him? Our teacher? Really, Kurt? Have you really
been sleeping with everyone in the school all these years, too? Has all that
been a lie?” He laughed without humor and his gaze became even chillier. “Tell
me the truth. Just this one time, Kurt, be straight with me. You owe me that
much.”
“Evan, I never—”
“Don't tellme you never lied to me!” Evan shouted, startling Kurt back a step.
“Look me in the eye right now and tell me you're not pregnant!”
Kurt didn't ordinarily have a problem with lying to people's faces...but Evan
looked so thoroughly, disastrously serious, so devastatingly disappointed and
hurt, that Kurt couldn't make the lie come out. Instead, in a soft, defeated
voice, he breathed, “I am,” looking down at his feet (which he could now see
just the tips of). When he glanced up, Evan was nodding, his jaw tight, the
muscles protruding from the sides.
“And tell me it isn't him. Tell me it's not Mr. Anderson.”
Kurt held his eyes as long as he dared, until it felt like the guilt would
solidify in his throat and choke him, and, with tears building once more in his
eyes, looked to the side and said, “It is.” There was an oppressive,
suffocating silence, and he added, just barely above a whisper, “P-please don't
tell anyone.”
The next thing he heard was the sound of Evan striding past him in the opposite
direction. Kurt held himself together for a count of ten more seconds, until
Evan's footsteps began to fade. And then Kurt let his body sag against the
lockers, let his legs give in and slumped to the floor, silent tears streaming
in thick rivulets down his cheeks. They made his neck sticky and wet and he
couldn't staunch the flow, instead gave into it, let them wrack his body. It
wasn't just the shock and pain and humiliation of losing his only friend in
this godforsaken place, but the crushing weight of the certaintythat by
tomorrow the whole school would be talking about it. They'd gotten so lucky
with everyone temporarily forgetting the rumors about him and Blaine in favor
of speculating which of their peersmight have knocked him up, and now they'd
taken that one blessing and flushed it down the metaphorical toilet.
Instead of going to Calculus, his first class of the day, Kurt wandered back in
the direction of Blaine's classroom, intending to wait the remainder of the
class out in the nearby bathroom, until he could go in and talk to Blaine
during the passing period. His insides felt twisted up and swollen, never a
good combination, and halfway to Blaine's room he changed course and headed
instead for the courtyard. He didn't go outside—his stuff was still in Blaine's
classroom (and god, he hoped Blaine had had the presence of mind to shove it
all out of sight before his first class had begun)—but sat down instead on a
little stone outcrop protruding from the wall that sat flush against a large
window, so he could rest his head on the glass and watch the snow fall. On the
other side of the courtyard was the window he knew looked in on Blaine's
classroom. The shades were drawn, but he found his eyes stuck anyway, imagining
he could see Blaine in there, trying to teach his class while keeping his
composure, almost certainly as terrified as Kurt, maybe more so.
Kurt let out a deep sigh that fogged up the window beside his mouth, and when a
stray tear slipped free, he didn't bother wiping it away.
He sat there throughout the entirety of the period, and five minutes before the
bell was due to ring, he used all the considerable willpower inside him to
heave himself off the small stone platform and trudge through the corridors to
Blaine's room. He stayed out of sight until the throng of students leaving
first period English had thinned, then slipped inside, shutting the door behind
him. Blaine was gathering papers on his desk and when he looked up, his face
drained of color. “Kurt! What are you doing!” Blaine whispered. He looked, at
first glance, pretty much okay. It wasn't until Kurt stepped closer that he
noticed a few strands of hair had broken free from the gel and his eyes held a
frantic quality. “Kurt,” he said again, and this time his voice was low and
dangerous, not to be argued with. “You need to leave. We'll talk after school.”
When Kurt hesitated, biting his lip, everything inside of him straining to be
near Blaine, to absorb some of that comfort he afforded, Blaine snapped, “Kurt,
go! I'm serious! I'll see you in a few hours!” Fresh tears pooled as Kurt
forced himself to turn away, a hand coming up to his belly to rest there. He
was a little more than a foot from the door when a warm hand curled around his
elbow and pulled him back. The swooping sensation of relief almost made him
queasy. “Hey, I'm sorry,” Blaine breathed into his ear. “That just...really
freaked me out. We shouldn't be in here alone today—probably longer. It's not
safe. I'll see you sixth period, and we'll talk after school, I promise. I love
you. Okay?”

Despite the situation, Kurt shivered. It was still singularly unique to hear
those words—so raw, so earnest—out of Blaine's mouth unprovoked.

Kurt nodded, muttered, “Okay,” and spun to kiss Blaine's cheek and whisper in
his ear that he loved him too before leaving the classroom, making sure no one
saw where he was coming from, and with his shoulders fractionally less tense,
went to his AP French class.
***
Kurt could have fainted with relief when sixth period came and went without a
hitch. Nobody so much as looked in his direction (any more than usual, of
course). Not for the first time today, he wondered whether Evan might have
heeded his request not to say anything. Evan was such a good guy...but he'd
been so angry. So obviously hurt by Kurt's betrayal. Kurt, of course, had
Rachel—Evan didn't have any best friends besides Kurt. He had friends, but Kurt
had always been his confidant. He'd never seemed to mind Rachel, either, never
one to get jealous.
The more he thought about it, the more he slumped in his chair, the harder his
stomach churned with guilt. Why hadn't he confided in his best friend at the
school? Why hadn't he trusted him? Kurt knew with utter certainty that, while
Evan would not have been impressed, he'd never have judged Kurt. He'd never
have given them away, never spilled their secret. It could even have been
helpful, he realized too late, to have someone on their side at the school.
Someone who might have been able to aid them in staunching rumors.
Even Blaine couldn't hold Kurt's attention as these miserable thoughts chased
each other around his head during the whole of English class and throughout the
remainder of the day. When the last bell rang, Kurt headed automatically to
Blaine's classroom, stopping only when he was a few doors away. He remembered
what Blaine had said that morning and, with what felt like the greatest effort
he'd ever made, he continued past the door and out the front of the school into
the parking lot. Blaine was parked where he was usually parked, with the rest
of the teachers' cars in a sectioned-off part of the lot. Eyes hot, bottom lip
trembling, Kurt went to the car and tried the driver's side door. It was
unlocked, and with a huff of relief that brought with it more tears, Kurt
slipped inside and turned so he could press his face into the leather of the
seat, breathing in Blaine's smell, so wonderfully, mercifully familiar and
reassuring. It was freezing cold, but Kurt just pulled his scarf (which, along
with his other outerwear, he'd sneaked from under Blaine's desk after sixth
period) more tightly around himself, huddled down into his coat, and closed his
eyes.
Maybe when I open them , he thought, it'll all have been a dream. I won't be
pregnant, I'll be sitting in Blaine's car, but he'll be my age, and go to my
school, and there won't be any Will, and he'll just be my regular, handsome,
wonderful, teenage boyf—
The passenger-side door opened and a freezing gust of air made Kurt's eyes snap
open. He saw Blaine's form huddling inside, and when the door shut behind him,
it muffled the sounds of the after-school parking lot once more. Blaine reached
over and ran a gentle hand through Kurt's hair.
“Baby, what are you doing? Are you okay? I've been trying to call you the last
ten minutes. Why are you in here?”
Kurt caught Blaine's hand and brought it down to his heart, clutching it like a
lifeline. He squeezed his eyes shut and hot tears spilled down his already-wet
cheeks.
“I c-can't do this, Blaine,” he sobbed. “I'm n-not cut out for th-this....”
“Hey,” Blaine said softly. He waited until Kurt was looking up at him to say,
“How about you take a few minutes to calm down, alright, and then we'll...go
somewhere.”
“Where?” Kurt asked wetly. Blaine's soft smile made his breath catch. He
shrugged.
“Somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever you wanna go. Just us. We can talk later. I
think you could use—”
Kurt cut in, the words coming out like vomit, “Could we get a hotel room
again?”
Blaine stopped, blinked, and stared at Kurt for so long that Kurt felt his
cheeks heat up. On the verge of retracting the request, he forced himself to
stop. He would never exploit Blaine's devotion to him, willingness to do just
about anything to make him happy, but right now a place where he and Blaine
could just be together, like a sanctuary away from the real world...it sounded
like heaven. He needed it. And not only that—
“Please, Blaine,” he breathed, and keeping Blaine's eyes glued to his own, he
took the hand he was holding and brought it down into his lap, pressing the
flat of Blaine's palm between his legs, against his pussy, suddenly throbbing
with want. It might have been a product of his hormones, or his wild emotions,
maybe both, he didn't know, but whatever it was, he needed Blaine. Needed all
of him, his body and his full, devoted attention.
“Kurt,” Blaine growled, low in his throat, eyes flashing. Kurt whimpered
quietly and squeezed his thighs. “Kurt, stop—”
“Then take me to a hotel!” Kurt gasped out. “Please, Blaine, please, you don't
understand, I need you so much right now—”
“You're scared, Kurt,” Blaine bit out, but in spite of his words, miraculously,
his fingers were moving, just barely rubbing up against Kurt's pussy. “What we
need to do is talk, you're deflecting, and I get it, I do, this is terrifying,
but—”
Kurt leaned across the console and kissed Blaine hard on the mouth, swallowing
his grunt of surprise. Blaine tensed, he tried to pull away, but Kurt got a
hand around his head and held him in place, pushing his tongue into Blaine's
mouth.
“Kurt—” he tried, but again Kurt stopped him, pressing their mouths together,
and finally Blaine seemed to give in. His free hand came up to cup Kurt's cheek
and he tilted his head, pushing back against Kurt's lips, sucking at his tongue
until a deep moan was wrenched from what felt like Kurt's gut. “Climb in back,”
Blaine breathed, tearing away, eyes wild.
“What—?”
“In back, Kurt, climb in back! I don't want you to get out of the car, we can't
risk you being seen with me!”
Kurt nodded so hard it felt like his brain was being tossed around his head,
but he made himself move, scrambling over the console into the back seat of the
car. Blaine jumped out of the passenger side and relocated behind the steering
wheel, wasting no time letting the car warm up before he backed out of his
space and turned left out of the lot toward the highway.
When several minutes had passed and Kurt's heart, while still pumping
frenetically, had calmed at least to a manageable pulse, he leaned over through
the two front seats and put his face in Blaine's neck, sucking kisses into the
skin where his neck and shoulder met.
“Which hotel are we going to?” he mumbled. He felt Blaine shiver and it made
him smile to himself.
“Hilton,” Blaine said. “There's one twenty minutes from here, I think I
remember how to get there.”
***
Blaine was sure that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the mature
thing to do would have been to make Kurt stop so they could talk. When they got
inside the room, however, and Kurt dropping on his knees in front of Blaine
came second only to shutting the door behind himself, Blaine forgot why talking
was so important. He could only stare, open-mouthed, as Kurt unfastened his
belt and all but tore Blaine's pants open, gaze fixed unwaveringly on his cock,
swelling under Kurt's hungry eyes. He pulled Blaine's pants and boxers down
and, without giving him a chance to step out of them, grabbed his cock and
began to stroke slowly, pulling a long, agonized groan from deep in Blaine's
chest. He had to reach out and steady himself with a hand on Kurt's head,
twisting his fingers into his soft hair.
“Are you gonna suck my cock?” said Blaine, his voice low but soft, almost
crooning. Kurt looked up at him, his blue eyes so deceptively innocent, lips
pouted and pink and so perfect. “Come on, baby,” Blaine cooed. “Put that pretty
mouth to good use.”
Kurt looked reverent as he lifted Blaine's cock and drew a wet line up the
underside with his tongue, sucking the head into his mouth when he reached the
tip. His small wet mouth sunk down over Blaine's cock, and Blaine watched with
wide eyes as Kurt took most of him in without any visible effort, his hand
taking care of the last inch. When his legs started to wobble and it became
only a matter of time before they gave out, he pulled Kurt back up and kissed
him.
“Get on the bed for me,” he whispered. But Kurt hesitated, and in those few
moments Blaine saw something that looked like uncertainty. His eyebrows came
together and he put a hand under Kurt's chin.
“What's wrong?”
First Kurt shook his head, but he stopped halfway through and looked up at
Blaine through his long eyelashes. When he bit his lip, Blaine knew Kurt was
about to voice something interesting.
“Blaine?” he said in a shaky voice unlike his own. “Do you think, just...right
now, tonight, we could...forget everything?
“What—?”
But in his nervousness, Kurt cut Blaine off and continued on his train of
thought “The baby, the...illegality of everything we're doing, just...life, I
guess. Can we just put life aside for a minute?”
Blaine watched Kurt carefully, head tilting halfway through Kurt's fumbling
request. He ran his tongue over his lower lip in consideration. Blaine's plan
from the beginning had been to spend tonight not worrying about their
situation. Enjoying each other, watching movies, having sex, maybe talking
about other things, but not life. Conversations about life had never been his
plan, and he knew Kurt knew that, so that led Blaine to believe there was
something more to this request than he was understanding.
Finally, he said, “Yeah, I think we could do that." Kurt's shoulders relaxed
and a smile touched the corners of his lips. “Did you have something specific
in mind, Kurt?"
Incredibly, Kurt blushed. It was still strange for Blaine to see this shy,
timid Kurt, when the mask he wore every day was one exuding confidence and sex
appeal. Maybe it wasn't even a mask. Maybe, like everyone else in the world, he
had more than one side to his personality, and Kurt was just a little bit more
protective and insecure about this one. Blaine felt a swell of gratitude at
being trusted enough to see a side of Kurt he guarded so closely.
Kurt put his palms flat against Blaine's chest and looked into his eyes with
the hint of a coy smile.
"I want to pretend we're back in that first day you started teaching." Blaine
felt his eyes grow and his heart begin to thump but he kept silent. "I want to
pretend there are no risks, no consequences, just you, the hot new English
teacher, and me, the slutty, virginal schoolboy with a crush and an unfortunate
tendency to not pay attention in class because I just can't help staring at
your arms, and your beard, and your cock, thinking about what it would be like
if I could get—" here Kurt stood on his toes to breathe into Blaine's ear "—Mr.
Anderson to fuck me over his desk."
Blaine felt his blood boil. A tight, coiling heat made his stomach clench and
his cock stiffened. He swallowed, closed his eyes and slipped into a different
head space, and when he opened his eyes again he really felt like it was that
first day again. He remembered seeing Kurt, his tiny shorts, his laughing blue
eyes, the swing of his hips. Now he was being given a chance to recreate that
experience without the setbacks of actually being at school, the initial
hesitation due to their student-teacher relationship, Blaine having a
boyfriend...none of it mattered here. They could take that intense sexual
chemistry and run.
There was a small desk in front of the window with a chair and Blaine went over
to it, leaning back against the desk and surveying Kurt with a teacher's
disapproving gaze. Kurt played his part flawlessly, cheeks adopting a pink hue
as he shuffled forward with his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Yes, Mr. Anderson?" he said quietly. Blaine’s blood roared. He stepped away
from his desk and gestured to it with one hand.
"Why don't you sit down?"
Kurt went to the desk and propped himself up on it. Blaine stepped forward,
pulling Kurt's legs apart and standing between them. Kurt's cheeks had darkened
and his lips were parted, emitting small puffs of air. He was good at this,
Blaine noted, and filed it away for future reference.
"Not only," Blaine began, resting his hands on Kurt's thighs, "have you been
missing assignments, but you fail to pay attention in every single lesson."
Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but Blaine talked over him, "Are you bored by
my classes, Kurt? Are they not interesting enough to hold your attention?" With
his mouth next to Kurt's ear, he said, "Or are you just too busy playing with
your pussy the whole time?"
The whimper that came out of Kurt's mouth couldn't have been faked.
"M-Mr. Anderson," Kurt stammered, but Blaine hushed him, moving his hands
further up Kurt's thighs and squeezing.
"Is your pussy so needy you can't wait until after class?
Kurt opened his mouth to speak but Blaine quelled him with a look. His gaze was
dangerous—nothing like it had been only half an hour ago, when he'd been
determined to do anything in his power to make Kurt stop hurting so much.

"I want you to take your pants off and get back on the desk," Blaine said. Kurt
complied after a moment, hands shaky as he undid the button and fly and
shimmied out of them. As he was about to hop back onto the desk, Blaine spoke
again, "Panties too, slut. Show me how dripping wet you are for me."

Kurt's cheeks were flaming red. Blaine wasn't sure he'd ever been so turned on.
Kurt removed his panties and finally sat back on the edge of the desk,
spreading his legs just like he had the first time they'd done this is Blaine's
classroom. Only this time, there would be no distractions, and no risk of being
caught. No hesitations or reservations. Just them, and this; it was filthy, and
it was beautiful.

"What do you think, Kurt?" Blaine hummed, hand going straight between Kurt's
legs where he began to rub over his hot, wet pussy with slow strokes, making
Kurt whimper and squirm. "Would a spanking teach you to behave in my class? Is
that what it'll take to get you to pay attention?"

The way Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers told Blaine that whatever
he'd expected from this, it hadn't been that. The shock of it left him
genuinely breathless and Blaine felt his cock swell at this reaction. He
laughed condescendingly and put his mouth next to Kurt's ear, palm still
slipping up and down over Kurt's puffy pussy lips, and whispered, "Does that
sound good, baby? Should I give that greedy pussy of yours a spanking?"

He heard Kurt's breath hitch.

"My...?"

"That's right, baby, your pussy. Why would I spank your ass when it's your cunt
that's the problem?"

Kurt seemed at a temporary loss for words, so Blaine, smirking, maneuvered him
onto his back, spread out over the desk with his ass at the very edge. Blaine
held Kurt's right leg up and used his other hand to continue rubbing at Kurt's
pussy, swollen, puffy, and glistening, lips parted to show his stiff, throbbing
clit. Before doing anything else, Blaine ran his thumb over the hard little
bump and Kurt bucked his hips, whimpering.

"So sensitive," Blaine cooed. And without any further warning he delivered a
quick, smart slap to Kurt's cunt and Kurt cried out. His hole clenched and his
legs made automatically to close, but Blaine held them open, spanking him
again, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room. "God, look at this," he
whispered, and slapped him again. Kurt let out a sob. "You're dripping all over
my hand, you dirty slut. How many do you think you deserve?" He spanked him
three more times in quick succession. Kurt positively keened, hips arching.
"That was six. Count out four more for me, baby."

"One!" Kurt cried, toes curling. "T-two!" After the second he reached out and
grabbed Blaine's bicep, digging his nails on. "Mr. Anderson, please, wait,
I—oh! Th-three! Four!"

Blaine stared greedily at Kurt's abused pussy, red and raw and soaking wet.
When he pinched his clit, he could feel it throbbing, and knew Kurt had enjoyed
that, just as he'd thought he would. Now he went back to rubbing, playing
gently with Kurt's sore folds while his breathing evened out.

When his chest wasn't heaving as rapidly, Blaine took his hands back and ripped
his shirt off, then worked on his own pants, pulling them and his briefs down
enough that he could pull his cock out. He remembered he'd been entirely naked
the first time he'd fucked Kurt, but since they didn't have the reality of the
classroom and the school building, keeping some clothes on added authenticity.
Like they were rushing.

He positioned himself between Kurt's legs and rested his hard, thick cock on
Kurt's swollen cunt, rubbing back and forth through the lips, bumping against
his clit with the fat head. Kurt squirmed beneath him but Blaine held him down
by his hips, pushing his cock through his wet folds until Kurt was moaning and
writhing on the desk.

"Mr. Anderson, please!" he cried, pumping his hips, trying to impale himself on
his teacher's cock. 

"Not yet, baby," he said softly. "Tell me how many times you fucked yourself in
my class. How many times did you leave pussy juice all over the chair?"

"I—I don't know!" Kurt gasped. And Blaine saw he was getting desperate. Really
desperate, not just acting. "Every—everyday! All the time! My pussy's always so
needy, you make me so wet, I couldn't help it, sir, I'm sorry! Please fuck me!
Please, please, I need your cock so badly!"

"Shh, I know, baby," Blaine cooed, and as he said it he began pushing inside,
Kurt's long, lithe body arching immediately into it, a filthy, high moan coming
out of his mouth as Blaine sank all the way inside. "That's it," he breathed,
watching Kurt reverently as he took his cock, as his face screwed up in
ecstasy. "Fuck, just like that. Make that little pussy open up for my big cock,
baby."

He fucked Kurt slowly at first, loving the little desperate noises he pulled
out of him every time he rocked into his body, letting them stoke the fire in
his belly. At some point during this Kurt's legs clenched around Blaine and his
whole body seized up. His head flew back against the desk and fluid squirted
out of his pussy, getting on Blaine's bared midriff as well as the bottom of
his shirt. He groaned and started going at Kurt harder, who had now reached
down to rub at his clit with three fingers.

"Fuck, Kurt—" Blaine started, but whatever else he meant to say died in his
throat when Kurt threw his head back once more, let out a painful moan, and
squirted again. His hand didn't stop on his clit. He kept rubbing, fucking his
hips onto Blaine's cock, and the whole time little spurts of liquid squirted
from him around Blaine where he was hammering into him. "You filthy slut," he
managed through gritted teeth, even as Kurt howled and came again, hips bucking
erratically. "So desperate for my cock you can't stop squirting all over me.
C'mon, slut, make that pussy squirt all over my cock."

Somehow, Kurt managed to lift himself onto his shaky elbows and his head hung
back, letting Blaine use and abuse his body, jerking him with every harsh
thrust. His groans were constant now, and Blaine could tell when he was about
to come again by the frantic degree of moaning. It got louder, sounded more
like Kurt was in pain, tears began leaking down his cheeks, and then he was
squirting again, mouth open in silent ecstasy, body shaking and completely at
Blaine's mercy as he finally, finally approached the edge himself and ground
his cock deep into Kurt's wrecked cunt as he came. Kurt clenched down around
him again at some point during, but there was so much come, and everything was
already so wet, it was impossible to tell.

Slowly, carefully, when his vision was no longer swimming, Blaine slid out and
tucked himself clumsily back into his pants. Kurt was an incoherent mess on the
table, lying in a puddle of his own juices, and with a satisfied smirk Blaine
lifted him up and brought him to the bed. He used a warm, damp towel from the
bathroom to mop up Kurt's pussy until it was as clean as it was going to be for
now. A smile had blossomed on Kurt's lips and he turned to face Blaine as he
finally lay down beside him.

"That was...something," he laughed softly. Blaine raised an eyebrow, licked his
lips.

"You could definitely say that." He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on Kurt's
lips. "I've never seen you like that before."

Kurt looked smug. "Pregnancy hormones, I guess."

"I don't care what it is, as long as it wasn't a one-time deal."

Blaine heard Kurt laughing as he rolled over and grabbed a room service menu
off the bedside table.

"Hey, look," he said, scooting over to Kurt and pointing to menu, "they just
started dinner, we can order it to the room!"

"Ooh, good." Kurt sat up and leaned over Blaine, scanning the menu for anything
not soaked in fat, Blaine guessed. Taking into consideration their intense
workout just now, Blaine thought they were probably allowed to splurge. Kurt
seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he said, "Tell you what,
just order a bunch of stuff and I'm gonna shower real quick." He stood from the
bed as Blaine went to grab the phone, eyes on Kurt's bare, wiggling behind.
Just before he went inside, however, he turned back and said, "Make sure to get
that barbecued chicken. I'm craving chicken."

For some reason that comment, paired with the afterglow of amazing sex with his
hormonal boyfriend, made Blaine feel happier, more excited about this baby than
ever before.

Consequently, it was this comfortable, safe, almost domestic environment, with
the sound of Kurt showering in the next room, that gave him the feeling for the
first time that, despite what had happened today at school, despite everything
that was yet to come, they really might be okay.
***
On Monday, Kurt kept his head down at school. When he'd left on Friday, it had
seemed as though Evan had kept his mouth shut. Kurt had no way of knowing
whether that was because of shock or a lingering sense of loyalty, but he was
grateful all the same, and hoped word hadn't spread over the weekend. There
were mutterings in the hallway, but there were usually mutterings, and he made
a point of blocking them out. If they were whispering about him and Blaine, he
didn't want to know.
The first six hours of the day continued in this pattern. Mutterings, whispers,
pointing, everything Kurt was used to, nothing to make him believe Evan had
told anyone what he'd seen. What he'd forced out of Kurt with his betrayed
expression. Even Blaine's class sixth period went by just about flawlessly. The
only difficulty was managing to keep his eyes to himself and try to avoid
thinking about their weekend at the hotel lest his face burst into flames. By
the time he was on his way to seventh period Kurt was feeling hopeful. Evan had
always been a decent guy, who was to say he'd ruin Kurt's life just because he
felt betrayed? With this thought in mind, Kurt was nearly skipping when someone
shoved him sideways against a wall of lockers.
Rubbing his shoulder, heart pounding, eyes slitted murderously, Kurt whipped
around only to find Hunter Clarington smirking at him with every single one of
those straight white teeth.
"Hey, Kurt,” he said in an overly casual way that only accentuated the mocking
tone beneath. “I heard some very interesting things this weekend from my good
friend Jerry.”
Kurt's heart plummeted. Jerry Frederickson was another Rugby player and a
Warbler, good friends with Hunter and all the rest of the popular boys at the
school. He was also very close friends with Evan's older brother Thomas, who'd
graduated the year before last and went to Ohio State. He didn't tell anyone
from school, Kurt thought hysterically, and his veins seemed to throb with the
frantic pumping of his heart. His fingers had developed a heartbeat. He told
his brother. Thomas told Jerry, and Jerry told Hunter. And once Hunter had
known.... Kurt's carefully-crafted illusion of safety—maintained by adamantly
blocking out any whispering today—shattered and left him feeling strangely
winded. He couldn't find his voice, whether to confirm or deny Hunter's
forthcoming accusations.

”Yeah?” Kurt said, forcing a calm demeanor despite the panic building in his
head. It would be worse to show Hunter his panic. Egg him on.

This thought brought on another: why was Hunter doing this?

”Yeah,” Hunter said, voice even and pleasant. He looked like an animal backing
his prey into a corner, eyes dancing with the prospect of playing with his food
first. “In fact, I heard a couple things. Where shall we begin in this tangled
heap of juicy secrets? Let's see.” He raised a finger to his chin, miming deep
thought. “Well, we learned that you're not the nasty little slut you had
everyone believing. You're actually a nasty little tease who uses a false
reputation to make yourself feel above everyone else. Is that what you think,
Kurt? That you're better than all the boys you dangle off your finger?”

Kurt couldn't find his voice. He hadn't imagined Hunter would know this much.
That Evan would spill everything, even to his brother. It left Kurt feeling
numb, and as much as he'd have liked to defend himself, he couldn't make his
throat work.

”So,” Hunter continued, “after parading around your status as the village
bicycle because it made you feel good about yourself to know that all these
guys thought there was something wrong with thembecause you wouldn't let them
fuck you, when really you're just psychotic and have low self-esteem, after
that you thought it would be really fun to see if your slutty act would work on
the new English teacher, because what Kurt wants, Kurt gets, right? If it ruins
someone else's life—or even loses them their job—that's inconsequential, isn't
it? So then you went ahead and really did fuck him! And how do I know that for
absolutely certain?”

Kurt's breathing was labored at this point, tears welling in his eyes, on the
very brink of spilling over. He might normally have pushed Hunter away and made
a run for it, but he couldn't work his legs. Hunter stepped forward and his
eyes dropped to Kurt's stomach. They were alight with mirth and bad humor.

”I know because you're not getting fat, are you, Kurt?” His voice had dropped
to a low, dangerous purr that made Kurt's hair stand up. “Oh, no. An illegal
affair wasn't enough for you. So you went ahead and got pregnant with the
teacher's kid.”

At that moment he reached his hand out toward Kurt's stomach. Kurt didn't know
if he actually planned to touch him, but some sort of protective, maternal
instinct snapped into gear and Kurt found himself taking off in the opposite
direction, tears streaming down his cheeks, and when he made it to the front of
the school he pushed through the doors and into the parking lot.

He didn't stop until he reached Blaine's car. Thanking his lucky stars that he
had a boyfriend who was very intelligent but not always on top of his common
sense, he pulled the unlocked driver's-side door open and climbed inside. It
was the second time he found himself in this position in less than a week, and
the sense of his life spiraling completely out of control was suddenly so
strong he became nauseous. He only just managed to throw the door open again in
time to empty his stomach onto the pavement. When he thought it was over, he
swung the door closed and leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed and
his hands resting over his stomach, letting his breathing even out.
This was it. The secret was out. It was still only a rumor until he confirmed
it, but nobody would doubt Hunter's word.
Six months, Kurt reminded himself. He skated his fingers over his stomach,
letting the feeling soothe him, and maybe the baby growing inside of him, too.
Six months and nobody at this school will matter anymore.
It was a nice thought, but it came with a catch:
That still left six more months of this.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
