jaley writes

  He grabbed a measuring cup and reached for the bag of flour behind him, grasping around the empty counter for a moment before realizing it wasn’t where he’d left it. He turned around, only to come face-to-face with a grinning Blaine, who was holding the bag up at his chest between his hands.

  Kurt rolled his eyes, unable to stop a smile from forming on his lips. “Blaine, I need that for a hot sec—“

  Before he could finish, Blaine had dipped his hand into the flour, pulled out a pinch, and flung it at Kurt. Kurt’s first instinct was to duck and cry out, before straightening up and aiming his mixing spoon for a swing right at his laughing face. Blaine dodged out of the way, taking the flour with him.

  “Blaine!” Kurt screeched, trying desperately to pat the white powder out of his designer shirt’s padded shoulder, to no avail. “You jackass, we’re baking a cake, not destroying my wardrobe!”

  “You got a little somethin’ in your hair, there,” Blaine pointed, flicking his wrist to brush it out of his boyfriend’s perfectly-styled coif, before ducking away from another batter-lathered blow. He danced around the side of the counter, giggling.

  “Blaine I swear to God if you don’t hand me that flour right now you’re gonna wake up with a plastic bag around your head,” Kurt snarled in one breath. He reached for the baking soda instead, too impatient to wait for Blaine to finish up with his antics.

  Blaine smiled from the other side of the counter. “No.”

  “Your bottle of hair gel will be full of urine.”

  “You like it curly anyway.”

  “Blaine! I’m not playing fetch. Give!”

  Blaine cocked his head. “You gonna come get me?”

  Kurt threw up his hands in exasperation. “You’re insane. You’re completely insane. I’m dating a toddler.”

  “Oh, come on, at least make it a little fun,” Blaine pouted, sliding the flour across the countertop in resignation. Kurt snatched it from his fingertips and spun on his heel, straight back to his mixing bowl.

  “Fuck you,” he replied soundly. “Now get to work on the liquid ingredients.” He pointed at another section on the page.

  “Yes, Chef,” Blaine sighed, sliding the book over to his own empty bowl.

  As he cracked an egg over the edge of it, he could hear Kurt murmuring the instructions under his breath, twice each to ensure accuracy. He side-stepped around him to get to the fridge, accidentally brushing his palms (held together, facing outward, fingers spread) against his ass. He heard an annoyed little huff upon doing it again on the way back, milk and butter clutched to his sides underneath each arm.

  Kurt took to preparing the toppings as Blaine poured the dry ingredients into the wet. He leaned forward over the bowl, trying desperately to make eye contact with Kurt as he stirred in a manner that involved more thrusting motions with the spoon than circular. The look on Kurt’s face when he finally looked up under a furrowed brow to see Blaine moaning with the handle gripped between two fists was worth it.

  Kurt jabbed his finger into Blaine’s chest as he brought a freshly-greased pan over. “I have just about had it with you, Anderson.”

  Blaine raised his hands like he was under arrest, stepping back to let him pour the batter into the baking dish. Then he snaked his arms around Kurt’s waist, laying his head on his upper back. “It won’t taste as great as it could have if you’d let me finish blowing the whisk.”

  “The fact that you can even fit an entire whisk in your mouth is beyond me.” Blaine heard Kurt’s voice louder with his ear pressed against his back, thrumming through his vocal chords. He slid his hands in lazy circles across his apron, shrugging against him.

  “It’s a skill.”

  “Quit rubbing your grimy paws on me.” Kurt stepped back as he set down the bowl. Blaine straightened up, but didn’t let go of his waist. Kurt sighed, turning around in the circle of his arms to face him. “You wanna lick the bowl?”

  “No.” Blaine dipped a finger in the perfectly-leveled batter in the pan, and before Kurt could protest, wiped it on the bridge of his nose. “You.”

  Kurt wriggled out of his grasp as he stood on his toes and licked the dough off his face.  “Oh my God! That’s it. You’re a lunatic. You’re a complete lugnut. There’s something wrong. We need to have you committed. I’m gonna—“

  He broke off with an offended gasp as Blaine dotted the tip of his nose with another cocoa-loaded finger.

  He bit his bottom lip in a big, goofy grin, eyes scrunching up. “Boop!”

  Kurt shoved him backward with an elbow, wiping the batter off with his other hand. He glared. “Blaine! I have had it up to here with your shit! All I wanted was to make a nice delicious mocha cake to share over medium drips with my beautiful boyfriend and I can’t even get to the fucking baking part without him turning it into a circus act!”

  Blaine shook it off and sauntered back forward. He grabbed the messy spatula out of the empty mixing bowl and held it dauntingly in front of his face. “I believe you meant to make a beautiful mocha cake with your delicious boyfriend,” he replied saucily, running his tongue along the side of the rubber, drawing the batter into his mouth and swallowing thickly.

  “You’re filthy,” Kurt shot back as Blaine continued to obscenely expunge the remnants of batter from the spatula right in his face. He held eye contact like he was starring in an amateur porno.

  “You know what I want more than cake?” Blaine rolled the words around on his tongue between long, seductive licks.

  “I could only guess,” Kurt replied sarcastically. He narrowed his eyes, but when Blaine suddenly tossed the utensil aside and dropped to his knees, he knew he couldn’t keep up the annoyed façade for much longer.

  Blaine slid his hands down Kurt’s front as he sank to the floor, grabbing at his hips and pushing him backwards up against the refrigerator. He scooted forward, pinning Kurt to the smooth, chilly surface with the heels of his palms. He groaned as he felt Kurt arch into him, hard.

  “You seem to be pretty good at guessing,” he commented dryly.

  Kurt swatted weakly at the top of his head as he felt his apron being untied. “Just…”

  “Yeah?” Blaine murmured into the tight material of Kurt’s jeans as he pushed the loose folds of the apron to the side. “You want it right here? Right now?”

  Kurt rolled his head back against the fridge, each breath growing slightly heavier than the last. “Just – that’s – fuck, Blaine –“ he cut himself off with a moan as Blaine’s fingers plowed through the button of his pants, tugging at his zipper and peeling them downward.

  Behind them, the oven’s preheat timer cut through the sounds of their rustling clothes and heavy breathing with a shrill beep. Blaine, not about to let anything interrupt the path to his boyfriend’s potential nudity, dragged his fingers up Kurt’s bare thighs and cupped his ass, giving it a momentary squeeze – hard.  He smirked as Kurt gasped, and then, in one smooth motion, hooked his fingers in the elastic of his underwear and jerked them down.

  Kurt whined, his shoulderblades straining against the stainless steel behind him as Blaine brought his mouth down skillfully, quickly, as if he couldn’t have possibly waited a moment longer. Kurt’s jeans were inside-out and tangled around his knees, but there was no way in hell he could bring himself to do anything about it. He held Blaine in place, fingers spread wide in his hair, freeing a few of the curls from their slicked-back position. The apron tugged at the side of his neck as he held it back with his elbow, keeping it out of Blaine’s way.

  “God, I – want,” he faltered, looking down helplessly, “Blaine, can – let me –“

  “Here.” Blaine sank back on his heels abruptly and yanked Kurt’s pants and underwear gracefully down and off his legs. Kurt watched, unblinking, as Blaine licked his lips and raised himself up on his feet, sliding up the front of Kurt’s body.

  He mostly felt, rather than saw, Blaine kiss him, sloppy and fast and deep on his mouth. He pressed himself firmly against Kurt’s tall frame from head to toe, grinding his hips in a circular motion, shamelessly rubbing himself against Kurt’s erection. He felt Blaine’s palms against his ass again and pushed backward into them, moving both of their bodies.

  “Here,” Blaine repeated, low, into his lips. He guided their tangled bodies, stumbling a bit as he tried to side-step them both away from the refrigerator without separating their mouths. Kurt could barely focus on anything other than Blaine’s tongue licking its way into his throat, let alone how to operate his legs properly. He threaded his fingers beneath Blaine’s collar, gripping tightly, pulling the material taut across the muscles of his back. His knuckles dug shallowly into his skin.

  Before Kurt realized what was happening, Blaine was bending his knees slightly and scooping beneath Kurt’s thighs, making an effort to lift him up onto the counter. Kurt immediately obliged him as he yanked an elbow back and pressed down with his palm to carry some of his weight upward, tangling the apron underneath him and partially sitting on it. He exhaled sharply as part of his bare ass made contact with the cold countertop.

  Blaine couldn’t keep the sly smile off his face as Kurt paused to breathe, head hung and shoulders slumped, one hand propping his body up and the other still holding the back of Blaine’s neck. His hair was disheveled, stray strands flopping over his forehead, cheeks stained a shade of pink that perfectly matched his wet lips.

  Still admiring his work, Blaine leaned forward, hovering over Kurt’s thighs. Kurt’s eyes darted down between his parted legs as his cock twitched upon the sudden intrusion. Blaine’s hands settled on his knees as he looked up. “This alright?” he asked, still a little breathless.

  “Yeah, yes, yes, fine, completely fine –”  Kurt sputtered, drumming his fingers against Blaine’s neck, instinctively urging him to travel back south. He almost regretted it at once: he was worried about going off the second Blaine sucked him back into his mouth.

  He shut his eyes and let his mouth drop open, a moan working its way leisurely up his throat as he pulled his chest back and his shoulders forward. The way Blaine’s mouth sank down, lips soft, wet heat enveloping a flattened, skilled tongue against him was almost too much to bear all at once. The worst part was that Blaine knew exactly what Kurt could take. He knew exactly what he liked, just where he liked it, but would only provide enough to drive him absolutely insane.

  Blaine pulled up and worked his way back down, jutting his chin forward, angling the soft curve of his tongue to guide Kurt’s dick to the very back of his mouth. He suppressed the urge to gag and let his tongue slide smoothly, slowly, all the way back to the very tip before repeating the motion, then again, and again, creating a steady rhythm. He could feel his hair brushing against Kurt’s belly each time he went down and brought one of his hands up to Kurt’s, guiding it to the back of his head, urging him to push down and control his actions. He could hear Kurt’s breath hitch in his throat.

  “Shit,” he moaned. His eyes almost crossed underneath his eyelids, doing everything within his ability not to thrust upward into Blaine’s mouth. He tightened his grip in Blaine’s hair and let out his breath in a long, rapid hiss.

  Blaine took this cue to pull his mouth off Kurt, crouching beneath the ledge of the counter and hooking his thumbs under Kurt’s knees, sliding them over his shoulders. He returned to his position, now holding Kurt’s legs in place, feeling his heels bump against his lower back. Given this new and exciting angle, he dove back down, running his tongue along the palm of his hand before grabbing the base of Kurt’s dick and attentively lowering his mouth to his balls.

  Kurt thumped the back of his head against the cabinet and left it there, a stream of curse words rocketing through his brain and leaking weakly out of his mouth in the form of a senseless, faint drivel. Blaine’s lips nipped delicately at the sensitive skin, tongue dragging around every curve and back up and around in a playful swirl. His wrist bumped the top of Kurt’s thigh with each alternating pump of his fist, twisting counter-clockwise on each upward stroke to cover that touchy spot right by the head that always made Kurt’s legs shake.

  Blaine bowed his head, turning it to drag his tongue back up the length of his cock, gently mouthing against the side with his pursed lips as he curled his tongue around it. His shoulders arched, shifting Kurt’s legs even further up, and he pulled his neck back to lick a thin, hard stripe up the underside with just the tip of his tongue.

  “Oh my fucking god!” Kurt cried out, whipping his head forward with such force his entire body jerked. The hand that was free of being twisted in Blaine’s thick hair shot out to the side, making hard contact with the abandoned pan of batter, still waiting on the counter. Its even top was disturbed, spilling slightly over the edge of the metal. Kurt spared a side-eyed, half-lidded glance at it, and wiped up the mess with his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth. It was delicious. He felt dirty.

  Blaine looked up at Kurt just in time to see him licking the batter off his fingers and growled into the inside of his thigh, raising his hips up further into the air. His lips came back harder, firmer. Kurt slumped back against the cupboard, hoping it would hold him up, his hand still in his mouth. He left his fingers hooked in his lip, pressing his tongue up against them, dragging it around, wishing they were Blaine’s so he could reciprocate just a fraction of what he was currently receiving.

  He could start to feel that familiar tingling, burning sensation, despite Blaine’s constant deceptive changing of tactics whenever he felt he was starting to get close. His breathless moans steadily climbed to husky, deep, animal-like sounds. Blaine’s hands gripped the tops of his thighs, elbows bent around his knees, fingers pressed so tightly into his flesh it turned white under his touch. He doubled his efforts, hollowing out his cheeks and circling his tongue wildly, twisting his head in a different direction with each movement. In the back of his mind, Kurt briefly worried his neck would be sore tomorrow.

  “B-Blaine,” he stammered, tugging briefly at his hair, “I-I’m…I – Oh, I…”

  Blaine blatantly ignored Kurt’s warning, as if he hadn’t heard it, and took a deep breath through his nose before forcing his mouth all the way down. He felt Kurt’s hand completely withdraw from his hair as his throat contracted, but still kept his lips sealed to the base of Kurt’s cock, tongue writhing in his mouth.

  Kurt was a lost cause. It was all he could do to try and muffle the noises he made with his fist as the most beautiful, mind-numbing wave of pleasure crashed over him like a crack of thunder. It made him go rigid, hitting him again, and again, and once more before finally beginning to wane. He could feel the soft smoothness of the entrance of Blaine’s throat squeezing around him, uncontrollably, relentlessly, causing the nerves in his brain to short-circuit. It felt like hours before he remembered to inhale.

  Blaine swallowed, swallowed again, pulling up a little to suck every last drop from Kurt’s every last pulse. He worked him through the remainder of his orgasm, growing more and more gentle with each shudder, until he felt the muscles in his legs start to twitch and his abdomen trembling, finally releasing him. He turned his head to the side and grabbed a fold of the apron, using it to wipe his mouth. With a deep sigh, he rested his cheek down against Kurt’s leg and looked up at him. A smile played on his lips as he worked on bringing his breathing back to a normal rate.

  Kurt felt boneless. Dazed, he stared down at his boyfriend, bent beneath his legs, panting slightly and gazing up under his lashes. He slid his fingers out of his mouth and back to his side, leaving a wet trail down his cheek behind them.

  “Well,” he exhaled, lolling his head to one side, “I guess… I guess you should be in charge of cooking.”

  Blaine grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on the counter on either side of Kurt. “We’d starve.”

  Kurt leaned forward with as much strength as he could muster and kissed him, feeling first-hand how warm and swollen his mouth had become. He folded his shaky legs around Blaine’s waist and pressed their foreheads together.

  “C’mon, Chef,” he said, scooting forward, “Let’s go get you taken care of.”

  Blaine smiled again, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s middle and pulling him in to his chest, helping him slide off the countertop. Kurt made to grab his collar and tug him in the direction of his room, but Blaine stopped him.

  “Hold on.” He motioned toward the pan, still sitting next to where Kurt had been. “Shouldn’t we put it in the oven first?”

  “Blaine Anderson, you and I both know full well that that cake will not be taken out in time, it will burn, taste disgusting, and probably bring the entire apartment down in flames.” Kurt pulled harder. “Come on. I wanna lick the spoon this time.”

  Blaine shrugged, pushing the off button on the stove before turning back to Kurt, who had removed his apron and reached out to place it over Blaine’s head instead. Then he pulled on it, leaning forward and flashing him a look from underneath his lowered brow. Blaine followed eagerly as Kurt skillfully sauntered them backwards to the bedroom.

        An hour later, when the apartment door slid open, Santana looked around rather confusedly at the baking ingredients and unwashed dishes littering the counter space, and a mysteriously abandoned pan of cake batter sitting alone atop the stove.

"I-- fuck, I'm sorry, I just," Blaine pulled away from his hug with Sam and sat down gingerly at the edge of the piano bench.

"No, no, I get it. I mean I don't, like, get it, I've never thought about another dude that way. But I'm flattered that you find me attractive enough to... You know, really find me attractive," Sam smiled and tried to catch Blaine's eye. "Really, it's fine."

Blaine smiled back at him, then glanced back down at his own hands. "Thanks for not being weirded out by this. I know you don't feel the same way, but..."

"No, man, seriously, I understand. We don't have control over those feelings sometimes and, well, we definitely don't always have control over our reactions." Blaine chuckles, wringing his hands together, peering back up at Sam through his eyelashes. Sam reaches out his hand and grasps Blaine's to pull him back up. He looks down at Blaine's still obvious arousal in his Cheerio pants. "So you, like, I know you like me, but do you really think of me like that? In the physical way?"

Blaine lets go of Sam's hand, blushing. "I... God, yes, I do. I know this is weird, but just it's so hard to look at you without thinking of doing... Things with you. To you. I-- Shit, I know you don't want to hear this. "

"Wait, no, I'm sort of curious, I guess? I don't know that much about like... This stuff. Maybe if you told me like specifically what you think about when you think of me like that I'd understand better. Just, like, what exactly your guilty pleasures are when you're thinking of me." Sam makes eye contact with Blaine, face open and eager. Blaine is standing there, slightly slack jawed and staring at Sam.

"You... really?" He receives an enthusiastic nod in response to his question. "I mean, if you really want to know I guess I'll just... Tell you what I think of when I think of you? Or us, I guess. Yeah, alright."

Sam smiles encouragingly at him, siting down at the edge of the piano bench and patting the empty space next to him. "Yeah! It'll just be two bros talking. Then maybe I can know exactly what it is about me that you find so irresistible." Blaine raises an eyebrow at him, but sits down on the bench, as far away from Sam as the small space allows. He takes a deep breath before he begins to speak.

"Alright, so, I guess the first thing I started thinking about was your lips. Your mouth. On me," he looks up carefully at Sam.

"Go on... I want to hear this! I promise I can take it, you don't need to, like, censor yourself man."

Blaine swallows, then opens and closes his mouth a few times before he starts to talk again, this time much more rushed. "I want your mouth on my cock. Every time I look at your lips I just can't help but just think about how good they would look stretched around me and how you would moan around me and how hot it would be to fuck your throat." If Blaine had thought he was hard in his uniform pants before, it was nothing compared to the arousal he was feeling now. He shifted a bit, not daring look at Sam right now, and spoke again, scared he would lose his nerve. "I think about you licking your way down to my asshole and, god I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I think about your tongue inside me, working me open."

Blaine decides to chance a look at Sam, who has been silent this whole time. The teasing glint in Sam's eye is completely gone. His gaze is darker, more intense. Sam licks his lips and looks down at Blaine straining in his pants. "You--," Sam clears his throat. "You've really thought this through."

Blaine eyes Sam curiously, then looks down. The space between them has all but disappeared, their thighs now brushing. He doesn't look back up until he feels a warm hand on his cheek. Sam looks into his eyes before surging forward into a hard kiss. Blaine sighs into the feeling, not caring what caused Sam to do this because he is finally getting what he wants. He kisses back hungrily, threading his hands through the hair on the back of Sam's head.

Sam pulls away, just enough to look into Blaine's eyes. "God, what next?" His voice has taken on a lower, darker tone, " what do you want to happen after that?"

It takes Blaine a moment to get back to where his thoughts were going, distracted by the intense look Sam was giving him. "I think about you adding your fingers, opening me even more, god, it would feel so good. And then you would push inside of me and fuck me from behind. I think about you fucking me so hard I feel it for days." He's already been hard since this conversation started, but now he is aching to get some relief. He pressed the heel of his hand into his crotch and moans at the brief contact. He looks up, still rubbing himself through his pants, and sees Sam staring directly down into his lap.

  "Blaine, I-- fuck," Sam murmurs before he slams their lips together again. His hand finds Blaine's and presses both of them harder into Blaine's erection. He gasps at the feeling and Sam takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. "Let's do that. All of that. Right now. Please."

      Blaine stills for a moment. Sam catches him just as he opens his mouth to protest.

  “Blaine.” He gently slid his hand across Blaine’s thigh, down the side of his leg. “Don’t. I want to.”

  Blaine remains motionless. “Sure?” he manages.

  Sam offers a smile, leaning closer. “Positive.”

  Blaine feels their lips touch again. He lets his eyes fall shut, leaning into it, before hesitantly running his fingers down Sam’s collar to the buttons on his shirt. He can feel Sam’s response almost immediately, shifting against his mouth as he scoots back and swings his leg over the side of the bench, straddling it. His knees bump against either side of Blaine as he reaches for his sleeve, trying to help Blaine undress him.

  Blaine pulls at the last button, sliding his hands around Sam’s torso, easing the plaid shirt off his body and onto the bench behind them. Then Sam abruptly grabs at his wrists, causing Blaine to halt in his tracks.

  “Was that too much?” Blaine was already pulling away, hands jolting back to his sides, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t—“

  “No,” Sam replies, almost forcefully, and suddenly both his legs are on the opposite side of the bench. He slides off, falling onto his knees on the dusty stage. Blaine lets his breath out weakly as Sam settles at his feet, looking up at him with earnest.

  “I told you,” he said quietly. “I want to.”

  His hands come up around Blaine’s waist as he raises himself up and starts unbuttoning the fly on his Cheerio uniform. He notes that the bright red material does next to nothing to hide the tight bulge underneath. He lets his palms drop to press gently against it, lips curling up in a smirk as he hears Blaine whimper softly. He digs his thumbs underneath the waistband and then tentatively tugs downward.

  Leaning back on his elbows against the piano for support, Blaine raises his hips up, straightening his legs as much as he can to help Sam get the form-fitting trousers off as soon as possible. He lets his head fall back as he feels them slide down his exposed thighs. But then they stop, Sam’s knuckles still pressed into the tensed muscles in his legs, holding the loosened waistband tightly in place.

  “Dude...” he hears Sam say slowly as he tilts his chin back forward at the unexpected interruption, feeling his heart pounding again. “You… you actually wear that?”

  As soon as he glances down, comprehension hits him. Coach Sylvester’s… mandated undergarments. His cheeks flush an even deeper crimson than they already are.

  “It’s… Cheerio uniform.” he says weakly.  

  Sam can’t help but let out a blatant laugh, struggling to get Blaine’s pants the rest of the way down past his knees. Then he pauses, settling back on his heels to take in the uncharacteristically disheveled appearance of Blaine before him – slack and pantsless against a piano, breathing heavy, eyes dark, bitten lip. In a fucking red cheerleader thong.

  “Never thought about a dude in a thong before,” he comments aloud. Catching Blaine’s stare, he raises his eyebrows coyly. “I have to admit, it’s pretty hot.”

  Blaine lets out a chuckle an octave higher than he’s used to, legs fidgeting slightly against Sam’s heavy forearms. “Are you sure you haven’t? ‘Cause you’re handling it pretty well.”

  Sam smiles. “I like it.” Then he leans forward, hunching over Blaine’s knees. “Now let’s get it off.”

  Blaine half-laughs, half-groans as Sam’s hands find the black elastic lining of his underwear and drag it downward. Breath hitching in his throat, he feels the cool air of the auditorium flood his bared skin. His brow creases with worry as he looks down at Sam, desperate for a reaction. A sudden wave of embarrassment rushes through him, followed by guilt, followed by fear, followed by panic, followed by a twinge of uncontrollable thrill, followed by more guilt –

  “Well, they sure know how to grow ‘em at Dalton,” Sam’s voice interrupts his frenzied thoughts. He’s staring blankly at his erection, lips pursed. 

  Before Blaine can bring himself to formulate a response, Sam brazenly spits into his palm, reaches up, and clasps it around his cock. He pulls his hand up somewhat experimentally, glancing up at Blaine. His questioning look does no good; from Blaine’s expression, it seems he’s short-circuiting. He’s on his own.

  After a few uneasy, ill-timed pumps, Sam begins to work out a somewhat steady rhythm. He figures it just takes some getting used to from another angle, doing it to a different person. Blaine doesn’t seem to mind, though. His torso twitches erratically with each choppy breath he draws from his slackened jaw, eyes squeezed shut, beads of sweat beginning to form on the sides of his face. Sam takes it as a compliment. Honestly, it was hot as hell.

  Still working his fist up and down, less timid now, he moves his other hand up to the edge of Blaine’s shirt, pushing it upward, bunching it up around his middle as he gets it out of the way. His knuckles brush against Blaine’s warm belly with each stroke, sending visible chills across his skin.

  “So… how am I doing so far?” he asks, as if discussing the weather. His hand was warm where it was wrapped around Blaine’s cock, the tips of his fingers now tracing their own patterns smoothly against his skin.

  Blaine lets out a short laugh, which comes out more like a wheeze. “A-plus,” he says feebly.

  “Well, then…” Sam’s pace is slowly increasing with each word. Suddenly, Blaine can feel his warm breath much closer to his thighs than it was a moment ago. “I’m gonna need you to help me out with this next part, okay?”

  Blaine opens his eyes. Sam’s craning his neck down, edging his knees apart as he leans his body in between them. He looks up once more, and to Blaine’s surprise, he sounds somewhat breathless as he repeats, “Okay?”

  “Y-yeah,” Blaine stammers, realizing what Sam means.

  “I won’t be too good at it. Just… tell me what you… like,” he finishes somewhat lamely. Blaine nods once, nearly frozen, and with that, Sam drops his mouth down around him.

  He hears a tiny gasp from above as he takes just the very tip of Blaine’s dick into his mouth. After taking a moment to adjust to the entirely new sensation, he immediately moves to take it down as far as he can, and promptly jerks his head back up, coughing. He replaces his mouth with his hand as he recuperates, giving himself a measure to work with as he steadies his breath. It wasn’t actually as bad as he thought, for the first crack. Definitely odd, and not as easy as it looked, but not bad.

  He lowers his hand, bowing down again, tentatively sticking his tongue out to drag it over the head of Blaine’s cock. “Good?” he asks uncertainly.

  Words were not on Blaine’s side at the moment, so he just nodded, head thrown back against the top of the piano. Tilting his head forward, he watches, and the sight drives him crazy. Sam looking up at him with that timorous, questioning look with his dick in his mouth is just so ridiculously sexy and –

  “Blaine,” Sam says, turning his head to press his lips elsewhere, feeling Blaine quiver and loving all of the different reactions to everything he tries.

  “What?” comes Blaine’s answer, after a moment’s delay.

  “Tell me what to do.” Sam moves back up, bringing his cock back into his mouth and experimentally sucking a little. It feels awkward, but he’s rewarded with another shudder.

  “You’re – oh, God, Sam, you’re doing fine,” Blaine says hoarsely, but that’s not what Sam wants to hear.

  “No, no,” he’s pulling his fist back up over the damp heat his mouth has left behind, his breathing hot and heavy and just inches away, “Say more… dirty stuff.”

  Blaine falls unresponsive. Sam’s looking up at him from under his messy blonde bangs, panting slightly, lips slick and pink. His shoulders are thrown forward as he continues the motion, cheeks heightened with color.

  “Please,” he adds, breathless, and lets his free hand fall to the front of his jeans. “I… liked that.”

  It’s hitting Blaine like a wrecking ball as he stares down at Sam, jerking him off and palming himself through his pants and begging Blaine to talk dirty to him on his knees in front of a piano bench. He doesn’t know if he can take it. He hears himself groan again, loud.

  “C’mon,” Sam murmurs, unfastening the button on his own jeans with just one hand, no doubt a skill learned from his stripping experiences. He slides his fingers around his hardening dick through his briefs, sighing as he lets his eyes fall shut. “Tell me what to do next. I wanna get you off, Blaine, so bad, please.”

  Blaine’s thought process comes to a screeching halt. He fights back against his ragged breathing, balling his fists to keep from bucking up into Sam’s hand and yelling obscenities loud enough for the entire building to hear.

  “Try – use your tongue,” he breathes, his fingernails digging sharply into his palms. A whine escapes from deep within his throat as Sam’s mouth comes back down almost immediately, lips parting as he licks up along the length of his cock. He feels him exhale, tongue pressing solidly against the sensitive skin, warm and smooth and perfect. Blaine sags against the piano. He can’t bring himself to give any more instructions at the moment. Or ever again, for that matter.

  But then Sam’s pulling back hesitantly. Blaine thinks he’s hearing himself again making those low growls, until he looks down to see Sam’s lips parted in a soft O as he rubs against himself beneath the bench, much quicker than before. He shifts his hips back and forth on his haunches, abdomen visibly contracting underneath his shirt with each erratic thrust into his cupped hand. He twists his head to the side, hair falling across his face and over his eyes. “What now?” he asks breathlessly, bumping against the bench with each rock forward.

  Blaine was going to die. His cause of death would be his cock imploding while teaching a southern male stripper how to blow a guy in the middle of his high school auditorium.

  “S-suck,” he stammers weakly.

  Sam leans forward in a rush, taking Blaine into his mouth again, holding him there for a moment before exhaling through his nose and pushing down as far as possible. Blaine can feel him fighting off the choking in his throat, body trembling as he acclimates to the sensation. He sucks, hard, cheeks hollowed, lips sealed around the base of Blaine’s length. Then he releases, easing it out a bit before coming back down. His hand circles around Blaine’s lower back and pushes forward, as if assisting him –

  Blaine let his breath out in a long, wavering hiss. Sam’s trying to get him to thrust into his mouth. He doesn’t think he’ll last much longer if he allows that to happen, but nonetheless he lets his hips jut forward, just a tiny bit, and he can feel Sam pushing him even further. Then he chokes again, the noises vibrating all around his cock, and he’s going to be done for if Sam doesn’t stop the steady rhythm he’s built up of up, tongue, down, up, tongue, down…

  “God, you’re good at this,” Blaine says under his breath, just loud enough for Sam to hear. His body’s tilting forward now, hunching over Sam’s flexed shoulders as he grips the edge of the piano until his knuckles burn white. His hips twitch again, uncontrolled, as he tries desperately not to overwhelm Sam’s already-busy mouth.

  Sam can sense how close Blaine’s gotten from the now animalistic subtleties in his reactions. He pulls off again, working his hand back up over Blaine’s cock, not giving it nearly as much attention as his mouth had been. He can feel Blaine aching at the loss as he looks up at him, breathing heavily.

  “Hold on,” he says, “You said you wanted to try… something else.”

  Blaine tenses beneath his hand. “Sam,” he says from between gritted teeth, shaking his head, “I’m not… You don’t need to…”

  “Blaine,” Sam turns his head to the side, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his t-shirt, returning his gaze to where his hand was still pumping against Blaine – and then to where his other hand was, underneath the fly of his pants. “You have no idea how much I want this right now.”

  Blaine lets himself fall slack against the hard, black surface behind him. “I… think I do.”

  He can feel Sam’s arms snaking up around his torso as he rises to his feet, loosened pants rubbing uncomfortably against his bare skin as he presses their bodies together. Blaine’s drawn to his own feet, pants caught somewhere around mid-calf, making it a struggle to stand on his already shaky legs.

  “What next?” Sam breathes in his ear.

  Blaine pulls back and smirks, before untangling himself from Sam’s arms and bending down. He rummages through his messenger bag for a moment, then pulls out a small bottle. “Just… don’t ask why I have this on me, okay?” He stands again as he uncaps the bottle.

  “Definitely not questioning it, man, I’m just glad you do. I think I might…” he reaches down to the pocket of his pants, still bunched around his knees. He pulls out his wallet, and triumphantly pulls out a small square. “Yes! Okay, okay, god, so can we, how do I…?”

  Blaine pulls the condom from Sam’s grip and places it on the piano behind him. “You,” he says as he grabs Sam’s hand and thrusts the bottle into it, “are going to stretch me open and fuck me over this piano.” Sam nods jerkily and swallows. Blaine smirks at him again and then turns, resting his chest against the piano.

  Sam carefully pours some of the liquid onto his fingers and says, “I… tell me if I do something wrong, okay?” Blaine wiggles his ass back a little in response. Sam slowly reaches his fingers into the crack of Blaine’s ass, shivering as he brushes over Blaine’s hole. Blaine pushes back, forcing Sam to put more pressure against him. He takes the hint and slowly eases his finger in, breath hitching at the feeling of Blaine stretching around him. He presses in and pulls out, getting Blaine used to his finger, then takes Blaine’s steady, soft moaning as invitation to add another finger. “God, Blaine, this is… wow… I never—I didn’t think that I would ever—but oh my god you look so hot like this.” He continues this, eventually adding another finger until Blaine is completely incoherent.

  “Oh my god, Sam, I need you, I need you now,” Blaine reaches up and pulls the condom off the piano, shoving it backwards behind him without glancing at Sam.

  Sam takes it from him, quickly ripping it open and rolling it onto himself. He grabs the bottle of lube again and slicks himself up, before holding his cock right above the crack of Blaine’s ass. “Just… tell me what you want. Talk to me while you do this.” He nudges his dick between the ass cheeks, pushes it lightly against Blaine’s hole. Finally, he slowly sinks in, Blaine moaning loudly in response. Sam’s breathing becomes shallow, overwhelmed by the tightness around his cock. ”Shit, oh my god, this feels, shit Blaine,” he says as he continues to press into Blaine’s body. He bottoms out as Blaine is babbling encouragement at him. Blaine presses himself back again, forcing Sam even farther in and oh god he is inside of Blaine more than he ever thought was even possible.

  “Sam, move,” Blaine gasps out, voice becoming rougher. He needs to come, he has been too worked up for too long now, and now he just needs Sam to slam into him. He takes the hint and pulls back, leaving only the tip of his cock stretching Blaine’s rim, before he pushes back in, causing Sam to moan loudly. He continues thrusting into Blaine at an erratic pace, both of them too aroused to draw this out much longer. Blaine tries to grasp as the piano, but just slides further forward. Sam digs his fingers into Blaine’s hips, using the position to plunge in harder, knowing he did something right when Blaine screams out as Sam’s cock hits his prostate. A few more thrusts at the Sam angle, and Blaine is coming, untouched, onto the edge of the piano. The feeling of Blaine clenching around him is enough to push Sam over the edge. He comes into the condom harder than he ever has before, draping himself over Blaine’s back, exhausted.

“Sam,” Blaine looked up from his textbook as he spoke, “can I ask you a favor?”

“Yeah, bro, of course. What do you need?”

“Uh. Well, I was sorta hoping you’d possibly help me with my… dancing.” Blaine shifted awkwardly and looked back down to avoid Sam’s gaze.

“Sure, man, but you’re already better than most of the glee club, so I don’t see why you’d ask for help from me. I’m more than happy to though.”

“Well, I sort of had something specific in mind… You’d be more helpful than anyone else, and you definitely are better at this than I am.”

“Okay… Uh, I’m confused. Do you mean like… impression dancing? Is that even a thing? ‘Cause if it is, I can totally help you out with that sort of thing. I’m good at impressions and—“

“I want you to teach me how to strip!” Sam looked up in surprise at the outburst. Blaine blushed and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh, wow. Okay. Yeah, sure, Blaine,” Sam said as he reached over and tried to pull Blaine’s hands off his face. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Seriously, man, it’s totally cool.”

“Really?” Blaine peeked through his fingers, still unsure.

“Yeah, why not? We’re friends and this is something I can totally help you out with. Plus, I owe you for helping me study all the time.”

“I… Thanks, Sam, for doing this, and for not making me feel weird about it.”

“No problem. So when are we gonna do this? I think the best way to do this would be by example. I mean, if you’re cool with that. And we could totally start now if you wanted.”

“Uh, now works for me.” He shuffled over to the edge of the bed where he’d been sitting. “Do you want me to just, um, watch you, I guess?”

“Yeah, I’ll run through the basics and then you can try. I can let you know what you need to change.” Sam stood up and walked over to the other side of the room, nearer to where Blaine was sitting. “Okay, first, start off with a body roll. Always your best move, no matter what you’re doing.” Sam demonstrated, and Blaine shifted again. “Actually, dude,” Sam spoke again, “why don’t you get up and try this with me?” He grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him off the bed. “Okay, body roll, like this,” Sam demonstrated again and then gestured at Blaine to try the movement.

“Sam, are you sure this is cool? I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for either of us.”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t okay with it, man. We can stop though if you want…” Sam trailed off.

“No, no! I want to, I swear. I just really don’t want to make things weird between us.”

“Bro, seriously, it’s cool. I’m gonna take my shirt off now, so watch what I do and then try it yourself. As long as you’re still comfortable with this, too,” Sam brought his hand to the edge of his shirt and pulled it off slowly. Blaine swallowed and stared down at Sam’s bare chest. “Okay, your turn, Blaine. Blaine!”

Blaine still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Sam’s naked torso. He knew he should. Sam was his friend, and he was helping him out. He shouldn’t be… objectifying him, even if he may have had some ulterior motives when he’d asked Sam to teach him to strip. He couldn’t help that he was attracted to Sam. He was a teenage boy, after all, and Sam had a nice body. Plus, he’d agreed to this, and he knew Blaine was gay, so he should have been expecting this sort of thing, right? It was totally normal and he shouldn’t be ashamed of any thoughts that might come into his head from seeing Sam taking his clothes off. He shouldn’t feel bad about it—

 “Are you even paying attention to me? Blaine!”

This snapped him out of his thoughts. “Shit! I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, that’s fine,” Sam said, a little softer this time. Blaine looked up at him and noticed Sam gazing at him with an intensity that wasn’t there before. “Here, just let me help you with your shirt…” He reached out and gently touched the edge of Blaine’s polo shirt, before helping him pull it over his head. They were standing closer now, one of Sam’s hands now resting against Blaine’s hip. “Alright, good, that’s a good start, I think next we should—“ Sam stepped a little closer to Blaine and moved his hand down to the zipper of Blaine’s jeans. “—move onto pants. We can both—“

Blaine cut him off by closing the short distance between them and pressing his lips to Sam’s lightly. Sam stilled for a moment, but then relaxed into the kiss. Blaine slowly draped his arms over Sam’s shoulders, while the other boy circled his arms around Blaine’s waist.

After a moment, Blaine pulled back. "Shit."

"Blaine--" Sam started, but Blaine cut him off, retracting his hands.

"I-I'm... I... I'm sorry!" he stammered, panic-stricken, "I... I didn't... I'm not... I--"

"Blaine," Sam repeated louder. Blaine bit his lip, stemming the flow of faltered attempts at reasoning from escaping his mouth. Sam's hands left his waist, wrapping around his wrists and gently placing his hands back where they were. Blaine chanced a look back up from where his eyes were fixated on his shoes, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks as Sam smiled warmly.

"Just shut up,” was all he said, before bringing his mouth back down to Blaine's.

Blaine couldn't help but grin to himself, closing his eyes and bringing his arms fully encircled around Sam's neck. He could feel Sam reciprocate, running his rather large hands experimentally over Blaine's exposed back. He leaned upward, pressing their chests together, hoping Sam didn't feel how rapid his heartbeat was.

It was Sam that broke the kiss this time, drawing a deep breath as Blaine dipped his head slightly, face tinted an embarrassingly vivid pink. He wondered for a brief moment whether Sam had ever given a private dance for—

"Well," Sam interrupted Blaine’s fleeting train of thought, causing him to jerk his gaze back up, "You wanted to learn how to strip, didn't you?"

His voice was suddenly a low, husky tone that Blaine had never heard before. His mouth dropped open slightly, but made no sound. Sam leaned closer, his unruly hair brushing against Blaine’s forehead. "Let's do this."

He let go of Blaine's body, but instead of pulling away, clasped his hands over his shoulders and guided him to the side of the bed where he'd been sitting before. As soon as the edge of the mattress hit the back of Blaine's knees, he forced him downward. Then he stepped back, leaning over and plucking Blaine's polo off the ground beside him.

"I think," he said airily, twisting it around his wrist, "I'm just gonna have to give you a little more in-depth demonstration."

Blaine's face was stone, eyes unblinking. All that made it out of his still-open mouth was dead air.

Sam smirked, flicking his wrist and whipping the shirt at Blaine. It smacked across his knees, and he clamped them together upon contact, drawing in a sharp breath that didn't quite make it all the way to his lungs.

"The key to a successful strip," Sam continued, gazing all around the room, loving that Blaine was attentively following his every move, "is to drive the audience wild."

He turned around slowly, stepping towards the bookshelf across the room, casually shifting the weight in his hips with each movement. He knew exactly where Blaine's eyes were now. He stretched his arms backwards, hooking his thumbs together, flexing his shoulderblades.

"And the only way to do that..." He trailed off, hands slowly returning to his sides. He raised himself up on his toes, rolling his entire body in one smooth motion, letting his breath out in a slow hum. "Mmm, the only way to do that is like this."

His hands disappeared from sight, and Blaine heard the metallic clinking of a belt buckle being quickly undone. Before his ears had even fully comprehended the sound, Sam's left arm shot out to the side, yanking his belt straight out of the loops of his jeans. He spun on his heels, grabbing it on either end with both hands, snapping it tight between them. He tilted his head forward, gazing up from underneath his brow, letting go of one end and running the free hand through his thick, blonde hair. His fingers travelled to the back of his head as he rolled his neck back, chest rising.

"You've got to keep their attention at all times," he instructed, chin jutting up in the air as he jerked his hips forward sharply. He pulled his elbow forward, pushing the side of his head into it, running his cheek down the length of his forearm. He let his jaw hang, lips parting in an oblong O, still slightly swollen and pink from being intertwined with Blaine's. Holding him under a half-lidded gaze, he let out a low, drawn-out moan, bending his knees and pulling his hips back, folding his torso towards the ground. "Don't let it get boring."

Blaine wasn't breathing. All the blood that was once in his face had pooled somewhere else entirely.

Sam whipped the belt to the side, cracking it against the air with a loud snap. He drew it back in, straightening his spine, and turning slightly to the side before proceeding to perform the same maneuver, except against his upper thigh. A shuddering, involuntary whimper escaped Blaine’s throat.

Sam smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing to Blaine. He recognized it from so many of the same faces with the same reactions – from beneath a stage in a nightclub. But for some reason, rather than being under the beating lights with a ton of squealing girls throwing dollar bills at him, this dimly-lit bedroom with one mess of a dude uncontrollably fidgeting in his seat was hotter than hell. And he was digging it.

He brought the belt up around the back of his neck, letting it dangle there like an undone tie as he ran his palms down his abdomen toward his toned waist. He leaned back, bucking his hips forward, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his pants.

"One of my favorite things to do," he carried on, drawling on the vowels in favorite, "is a little... hands-on activity."

Blaine could only concentrate on the dryness of his mouth, unable to do anything about it due to his inability to keep his lips together. His eyes followed Sam's hands as he came closer and closer, leisurely unbuttoning his pants, drawing the zipper down about halfway before letting go and running the palm of his hand directly between his legs. Blaine felt his hips jolt helplessly against the mattress. His shoulders sagged. He felt like a puddle. In a tornado.

"I'm gonna show you what a little audience participation can do," Sam announced, before stepping directly in front of Blaine's legs, touching their shins together. He folded his arms behind his head, leaning back into his hands, gazing down his nose at Blaine's stiffened figure.

"I could, uh, use a little help." His voice was deep, barely hovering over a whisper. "Would you go ahead and just... tug these down for me?"

Blaine wasn’t sure if he was fixated on Sam’s voice or his chest or the look on his face or the lovely view of nothing but undone fly in front of him. His arms were dead. He couldn’t bring them to move, as much as he wanted every bit of denim in this entire room discarded and instantaneously set aflame. He remained motionless.

"C'mon," Sam encouraged, widening his stance and lowering his waist to direct eye level. He unfolded his hands, leaning down and grabbing Blaine's off the comforter on either side of his body. He placed them delicately on his waistband, just above his hipbones.

Blaine twitched. Sam's skin felt white-hot under his touch. He noisily sucked in a breath as Sam pressed his pelvis forward into his palms, simultaneously holding his limp hands in place. He used his thumbs to curl Blaine's fingers into the waist of his undone pants, then let go entirely. "Seriously, dude. I know you want them off.” He bent down, lowering his voice. “So do I.”

Blaine tightened his grip on the waistband of Sam’s pants, carefully pulling them down, eyes glued to his actions. He pulled them down to the knee then looked up at Sam, who was smirking at him.

“There you go,” he said softly, “I think you’re getting it.” He reached down and placed his hands over Blaine’s, helping him pull the pants the rest of the way down and over his feet until they were all the way off, never taking his eyes off Blaine. Sam stood there in just his boxers, staring intently at Blaine before pulling him off the bed. “Your turn,” he said softly, but without breaking the intense eye contact.

Blaine looked back into Sam’s eyes, but slowly undid his belt buckle. He was too far gone to continue with the charade of stripping; he did want Sam to teach him, but he just couldn’t right now, he couldn’t even think. He undid his zipper and pulled off his pants, never breaking eye contact.

They stood like that for a moment before Sam lunged at Blaine, closing the distance between them. They kissed hunrily, hands wandering, backing up until the backs of Blaine’s knees hit the bed again. They toppled down, repositioning themselves so Sam was lying on top of Blaine. Their kissing now was much different than the soft kiss they’d started with; it was dirtier and more frantic. Sam moved his mouth down to the other boy’s neck. Blaine’s breath hitched and he clawed at Sam back, desperately trying to bring them closer together.

“Sam,” Blaine gasped out, voice low, “God, I want you so much. I need you. Can I—please—“ He cut himself off with a moan as Sam suddenly thrust his hips down into Blaine’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Sam’s voice was completely wrecked as he dropped his head onto Blaine’s shoulder and continued to roll his hips, both of them fully hard now.

“Shit, Sam, I need you in me. Please. Oh, fuck,” Blaine said breathlessly. Sam pulled his head up and looked Blaine in the eye for a moment before nodding and pressing his lips back to Blaine’s. He pulled away and moved down the bed, pulling at the waistband of Blaine’s boxers.

“Is this okay?” Sam said quietly, gazing up at Blaine through his lashes.

“God, yes,” Blaine said as Sam slowly pulled down his boxers, freeing his cock. Sam tentatively reached out and stroked him, Blaine writhing on the bed with anticipation. “Shit, I—lube and condom, in the dresser. Hurry, please, need you,” he was babbling now, but he didn’t care, letting his head fall back onto the pillow and closing his eyes. He heard Sam fumbling around in the drawer for a few moments before he heard a cap click open and then suddenly Sam’s slick fingers were circling his hole. Blaine shivered as Sam pressed his finger lightly against him, before pressing harder and pushing his finger into Blaine to the first knuckle. Blaine fidgeted below him a little at the intrusion as Sam slowly eased his finger in farther. After a few minutes of Sam watching his finger go in and out of Blaine, he rasped out a broken, “more, please, more.” Sam retracted his finger, returning a moment later, two fingers held to Blaine’s entrance before pushing in again. They continued like this, Sam stretching Blaine, adding another finger when Blaine whimpered, needing more.

“God, Sam, please, I’m ready. Need you, need you know,” Blaine whined. Sam looked back to the other boys face as he removed his fingers, leaning down for a slow, short kiss, before picking up the condom from the bed. He carefully rolled it on and uncapped the lube. Blaine couldn’t take his eyes off of the boy in front of him. Sam lowered himself back down, nudging his cock between Blaine’s ass cheeks, positioning the head at the slick entrance.

Blaine moaned as Sam started to push in, until he bottomed out and they lay chest to chest. They stayed like that for a few moments, Sam completely sheathed within Blaine, until Blaine hissed out, “move.”

And that’s all it took for the soft tenderness of the moment to be broken. Sam pulled out of Blaine almost entirely before slamming back in. Blaine cried out as Sam started to thrust into him hard and fast. They were both sweaty and moaning as Sam continued at a relentless pace. Blaine reached out for his back, gripping his shoulders, not caring that he was digging his nails into the skin hard enough to leave marks.

“Yes, god, like that, don’t stop, I—fuck!” Blaine cried out as Sam brushed against his prostate. “I’m not gonna last much longer, shit, I am so close.”

“Me too, oh god, Blaine, you feel so good, so fucking tight,” Sam grunted, his thrusts becoming slightly more erratic. He slammed roughly back into Blaine before he was coming into the condom, moaning loudly. Hearing Sam pushed Blaine over the edge and a moment later he was coming between their stomachs.

They lay there, Sam collapsed on top of Blaine, boneless, until he started shifting uncomfortably from the weight. Sam quickly eased out of Blaine and tied the condom off before tossing it in the direction of the trashcan.

“I—you’re a good teacher, Sam,” Blaine said, a hint of joking in his voice.