Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/192586.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
  Character:
      Blaine_Anderson, Kurt_Hummel
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-04-30 Words: 3515
****** Tequila Makes His Clothes Fall Off ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Eventually, Kurt just tries liquid courage. Originally posted
     December 5th, 2010
“Isn’t this hazing?” Kurt whispers frantically. Even though he’s delightfully
tipsy and can’t hold a single thought in his head, he knows that shouting at
his fellow Warblers would be a bad idea.
“It isn’t hazing,” David reassures him, making Kurt focus on the fact that
they’re tugging his tie from off of his neck. “We’re not forcing you, Kurt.
It’s just tradition. Our newest member always takes a dare after a win.”
“I doubt a tie counts as a win,” Kurt hisses. He flaps his hands at Wes, who is
fumbling with the buttons of his uniform shirt. “My God, the first time a guy
tries to takes my clothes off and it has to be a drunk straight guy. Stop it
before you pop a button.”
“So you’re gonna do it?”
Kurt peers around the corner. Through a huddle of old ladies who are nursing
wine coolers and complimenting Puck’s arms (Puck invited them, but no one can
figure out why), he can see Blaine. Blaine, his friend who’s helped him through
the shitstorm of harassment and fear; who sometimes comes into his dorm room to
cuddle and sometimes kiss but never breaks that friendship barrier; who gives
him all these fucking mixed signals which are giving Kurt a constant migraine
of frustration and doubt.
Well, it’s time for Kurt to send Blaine his own signal, loud and clear.
“Give me two more shots of tequila and then sure, yeah,” Kurt mumbles through
the fabric of his under shirt as he pulls it over his head.
Wes fetches him the entire bottle.
---
Blaine likes to play bartender at these parties. He can spin bottles and mix
fabulous cocktails, so it gets him a lot of the attention he loves so much.
Brittany is giggling into her drink as he tells her a joke that she so
obviously doesn’t get but Blaine’s fine with that. From all of the stories Kurt
has told him about the girl, she doesn’t get most things. He finds her strange
naivety charming.
Santana pulls her away from the kitchen counter around the fifth dirty joke and
onto the dance floor. His fellow Warblers attempt to dance with them but the
girls only grind with each other which seems to surprise none of the McKinley
students. Blaine will never understand the double standards that public school
allows.
There’s a sudden commotion from the front of the house and sudden cat calls; he
can hear an indignant shriek from whom Blaine assumes is Finn. He moves around
the center counter to see what is going on in the hall when suddenly Kurt is
weaving between people, running as fast as his drunk legs can carry him into
the living room. Blaine’s heart catches in his throat when he realizes that
Kurt is nude but for a pair of running shoes and a pair of deliciously tight
boxer briefs.
Kurt makes a lap around Santana and Brittany on the dance floor in the living
room, teetering when his turn is too sharp for the alcohol in his head. The
girls squeal and reach out to pull at the waistband of his underwear but Kurt
dances away from their grasp. Santana does manage to get a quick pat on the ass
in before Kurt streaks out the door and into the back yard. His departure is
followed by laughs and applause.
“No one told me it was Sunday already!” the mohawked kid from McKinley says
from the kitchen doorway. He passes off his beer to one of the cheerleaders
Blaine hasn’t met and begins to pull his shirt off.
“Puckerman!” Rachel hisses. “I’ve already told you, Pantless Sundays are not
Jewish holidays!”
Puckerman drops his t-shirt on Rachel’s head. “Like anyone here is really going
to complain about Puckzilla joining the party? I ain’t being upstaged by
Hummel!”
Blaine decides he really doesn’t need to know who Puckzilla so he searches for
Wes and David. He knows they orchestrated the entire thing; their loopy,
drunken signature is written all over it and Blaine will happily dispose of the
bodies when Kurt kills them in the morning. He finds them in the front hall,
laughing and clutching at Kurt’s uniform in ways that make Blaine wince - if
Kurt forgives them for the streaking, he’ll never forgive them for the wrinkles
in his pristine uniform.
“You guys are assholes,” Blaine says and punctuates his words with cuffs to the
sides of their heads. “Did you even tell Kurt that he had a choice between
streaking and singing I Honestly Love You to the dean?”
“Where would the fun in that be? You know he’d pick singing,” Wes says as he
rubs his head where Blaine hit him. “Think of this as an early birthday gift.
You were able to ogle your boyfriend without totally freaking him out.”
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Blaine mumbles as he pulls Kurt’s clothing from their
hands. It’s an argument he’s made a thousand times since Kurt transferred to
the point where the words have lost their meaning.
David snorts and walks past him toward the kitchen. “Not with that attitude he
isn’t.”
Wes claps him on the shoulder before moving away as well. “You might want to
check on Kurt. He was supposed to make a lap around the house and then come
back.”
Blaine grabs a blanket from the hall closet where he knows Wes’s mom keeps them
and goes outside.
-
It’s kinda cold outside but Kurt can’t feel it. Well, he can feel it where his
ass is planted in the snow but otherwise Kurt doesn’t feel very cold. He
wonders why that is.
“You’re going to catch frostbite,” says a voice in front of him. Through the
darkness Kurt can see the the shape of a monster coming toward him with wings
stretched out. “Or pneumonia. Come on, let’s go inside. Aren’t you cold?”
Oh, there’s the cold. Kurt realizes then that his teeth are chattering and his
goose bumps have goose bumps. Maybe he’s colder than he thought and he was just
too drunk to realize. Isn’t that nifty?
“You must be a good monster if you don’t want me to get sick,” he babbles. When
the figure gets close enough to see, he realizes his mistake. Blaine might be
blurry right then but Kurt can recognize the worried furrowing of Blaine’s
eyebrows from a mile away. He giggles even as his teeth threaten to crack from
the force of his shivering. “Or you’re Blaine. Blaine the appliance. Blaine my
friend. Blaine who makes that uniform really, really hot.”
“Yup, I am,” Blaine says. “Come on, Kurt. Up.”
Kurt reaches out and lets Blaine haul him to his feet. The Earth sways
dangerously as if it’s about to break away from its course around the sun and
dance about the moon instead. He stumbles into Blaine and is pleased when
Blaine corrects the axis of the Earth and they’re still standing.
“Thanks!” Kurt chirps and lets Blaine wrap him tightly in the blanket he’s
carrying (not wings, apparently). “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Blaine. You’re
so awesome, Blaine. Really, really awesome.”
“Totally awesome?”
“Totally.” Kurt giggles and leans against Blaine’s shoulder, face pressed to
his neck. “You’re so nice and charming and hot and stuff. Terrible at advice,
though. Courage? Overrated.”
Blaine wraps his arms around his waist and begins to lead him to the front of
the house. “Oh, is it?”
“Mm-hmm. Courage is going to make me regret this night for the rest of my life.
That is a ridiculously long time to regret something.”
“Then don’t regret it,” Blaine tells him. “If you don’t regret it then no one
can hold it over you.” He carefully helps him up the front steps and holds the
door open. “Plus, I think that people are going to talk more about Puckerman’s
fight with Rachel over Pantless Sundays. Apparently he goes commando.”
When they walk into the front hall, they can hear arguing coming from the
kitchen. Blaine leads him away from the commotion and Kurt feels like his
dreams have all be crushed. “And I missed it?”
“I think Mercedes took video of it on her phone.”
Kurt bounces on his toes and knocks into Blaine once more as the ground slips
under him. “Let’s go see Mercedes! I want to see if Puckzilla is as big as Puck
says it is.”
Blaine pulls him close and leads him to the staircase with a light chuckle in
his ear. “No, you need to sober up, Kurt. I’m putting you to bed. You’ll thank
me in the morning.”
-
They somehow make it to the second floor with little incident. Blaine leads him
into one of the guest bedrooms and makes Kurt sit on the bed to stop himself
from falling over while Blaine fetches his bag of clean clothes from the foyer.
The Warblers were going to crash at Wes’s for the night and return to their
homes in the morning, so letting Kurt sleep till he’s sober isn’t at all
inconvenient. Blaine just wishes he’d been able to dance with Kurt before the
night was through.
Blaine turns his back when Kurt untangles himself from the blanket and pulls
dry briefs and an undershirt on. The temptation to turn around and stare is
heavy in his gut. He wants to see Kurt, discover every freckle and body hair
from a gaze. He doesn’t, though. Blaine’s a gentleman and his very own fucking
cockblock.
When Kurt giggles and says okay, Blaine turns around and passes him a large cup
of water. “Drink all of that and get some sleep.”
When he finishes his water, Kurt looks up at him with big, innocent eyes. “Stay
with me?”
Blaine bites his lip as unbidden images of just what those three words could
mean flit through his head. Those are the words starlets in movies use to tell
the hero that they want to have sex, and hell, Blaine would be okay with that.
Kurt, though, is innocent and drunk and has no idea the double entendre of his
words, Blaine’s sure of it.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a wonderful idea,” Kurt argues. “Body heat is
the best way to warm someone up, you know, and I was out in the snow and I’m
still very, very cold. It’s your duty as a gentleman to warm me up.”
“Is it?” Blaine crosses the room and puts his fingers to Kurt’s cheek. He
smiles fondly when Kurt reaches and holds the fingers against his skin. “You
feel warm enough to me. I think you’ll be fine.”
Kurt huffs in indignation and pulls at Blaine’s arm. Like a flash, Blaine is
standing between Kurt’s open legs, precariously close to falling onto Kurt from
the sudden loss of balance. Now it’s Kurt’s turn to hold him steady as if
Blaine is drunk. Being so near a half-naked Kurt, he thinks that maybe he is.
“Drunk people shouldn’t be left alone. I could die.”
“Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Blaine asks softly. Throwing caution to the
wind, he ducks his head and presses his lips to Kurt’s. The kiss is so much
different from the other ones they’d shared, the quick little pecks that they
never talked about and never let change their friendship like it’s perfectly
normal to kiss your best (gay) friend. This one, though, is passion and heat.
Blaine can practically feel the slip of their dynamic as Kurt lays back on the
bed and takes him down on top of him.
Blaine can feel Kurt’s cock twitch in interest where it presses against his
stomach and this is such a bad idea, such a terrible idea. Kurt crawls
backwards, slipping on the soft cloth of the comforter. Soon they’re vying for
control, twisting up the sheets beneath them. Kurt finally manages to pin him
to the bed with a surprising amount of strength and giggles at his victory.
“Learned that from cheerleading,” he slurs against Blaine’s neck. “Had to take
a self-defence class. You should see what I can do with a sword.”
“A sword?”
“The sword is my dick,” Kurt replies solemnly. Then, like all the great drunks
before him, he bursts into a fit of hysterical laughter and rolls off Blaine’s
waist.
Blaine chuckles. “You are so drunk.”
With that statement hanging in the air around his head, Blaine makes a decision
his dick will regret. He leans on one arm and stills Kurt’s laughing with a
hand on his stomach. “We can’t do this, Kurt.”
Kurt’s mood shifts instantly. “Why not?”
“You’re wasted and I really can’t say no to you.”
“You’re saying no now,” Kurt points out.
“Kurt, if this happens at all, I don’t want it to be a drunken mistake,” he
explains. Blaine bites his lip and wonders how willing he is to show Kurt his
cards. “I really like you and I don’t want you to regret ever knowing me.”
“I’d never regret you,” Kurt says after a moment’s pause. He rolls over and
places a soft kiss on Blaine’s cheek. “You’ll stay, right?”
“Of course.”
-
Kurt wakes up feeling pretty good, actually. A bit thirsty and a little fuzzy
around the edges but a lot better than he thought he’d feel. He’s comfortably
warm with the blanket tucked up around his chin and when he turns his head,
Blaine is fast asleep next to him with his face pressed into the pillow.
Sometime during the night, presumably when Kurt was sleeping off his drinks,
Blaine washed the gel out of his hair and his natural curls are pressed against
his forehead where they dried. Buckling under temptation, Kurt reaches out and
pushes his fingers through the curls, amused at how soft they feel without
product keeping them down. As he repeats his fingers path over Blaine’s scalp,
Kurt lets himself think.
He remembers most of the previous night, thankfully. He remembers streaking
through the party in his boxers and teasing Blaine into a quick, hot make-out
session. Kurt decides he’ll feign ignorance about the former and make it a
point to repeat the latter. He knows there’s stuff missing from his memory and
it almost feels like there’s fluff that makes up the lack of details in his
mind. However, he’s sure all of the important points are there.
The thing is, Kurt knows that they could have fooled around the previous night
and he wouldn’t have been too upset (barring any unforeseen lapses in memory
because that is just something he should remember). Blaine was sweet for not
wanting Kurt to regret it but they have been dancing around each other for over
a month. Kurt’s tired of it and he’s definitely ready for more with Blaine.
Blaine shifts eventually, raises his head, and peers sleepily at Kurt’s face.
“Morning?”
Kurt hums and moves closer to press a kiss against Blaine’s brow. His hand
moves from its place in Blaine’s hair to just along his neck, facial hair
scratching over the pad of Kurt’s thumb as he runs it along Blaine’s jaw.
“Good morning,” Kurt all but purrs against Blaine’s lips. He presses forward
and is rewarded with Blaine’s sleepy reciprocation.
“Kurt,” Blaine says when they part. Kurt isn’t sure if it’s said in warning or
relief but he shuts Blaine up with a kiss either way.
“I’m definitely sober now,” he says. “I could recite the alphabet backwards if
you’d like.”
“We should still talk about this.”
Kurt pushes Blaine onto his back and splays himself against the warm body
beneath him. “Why? We’ve never been that great at actually saying what we
feel.”
“This is true,” Blaine replies. Kurt can see the want so plainly present in his
eyes that any insecurities he had crumble away. “Are you sure about this? I’m
not perfect.”
“If I wanted perfect, I’d date myself,” Kurt teases as he kisses his way from
the tight corner of Blaine’s smile to the spot of skin between his neck and
collar. “You’re pretty close, though.”
Blaine responds with a chuckle that instantly turns into a groan when Kurt
sucks lightly on the salty skin. His fingers scrabble for purchase on Kurt’s
shirt, pulls the fabric up and over Kurt’s shoulders til Kurt’s hovering over
him in nothing but his briefs. Blaine leans forward on his hands and nips at
Kurt’s shoulder, grazes his teeth across the expanse of skin toward his neck.
Kurt opens his mouth to warn Blaine away from anywhere that will show above a
collared shirt but the words stick in his throat. Instead, a string of vowels
slip out carelessly as Blaine returns the favor of sucking a red mark into his
skin. Kurt doesn’t even try to stop the way his eyes cross at the new pleasure
Blaine is providing him.
When he’s apparently satisfied with his work, Blaine pulls away from Kurt’s
neck and removes his shirt so that they are pressed chest-to-chest with no
clothing between them. It takes a bit of shuffling, but soon Kurt is laying
directly on top of Blaine, locked into place by strong legs around his thighs
that tense whenever Kurt pushes his hips up.
He’s shaking all over as they move together, sweat making their skin stick
together. Kurt’s arms eventually buckle from the effort of holding himself up
and he can’t find the energy to do much more than hump erratically against
Blaine’s body. The sensations are so sharp and electric that Kurt can’t catch
his breath between moans.
Blaine rolls them over after a few minutes and sits between Kurt’s spread legs.
He feels exposed, the cold air in the room chilling his skin to goose bumps.
His boxer briefs no longer provide him a bit of modesty as the fabric stretches
and pulls across his cock. Blaine looks at him hungrily, a wolf-like smile
gracing his normally composed features.
“Oh Kurt, I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Blaine says
absently as he rubs his hands up Kurt’s thighs and plays with the waistband of
Kurt’s underwear.
“Enlighten me.”
With those words hanging between them like an invitation, Blaine tugs Kurt’s
briefs off so that he’s fully exposed. When Blaine leans back to remove his own
underwear, Kurt lets himself take in every inch of Blaine that is normally
hidden beneath a uniform. Lithe muscles stretch and contract as Blaine sits
back and tugs fabric from his body. Blaine has a smattering of body hair over
his chest and abdomen where it leads past the wasitband of his underwear. It’s
not something that Kurt ever thought he’d like, but now that it’s presented to
him, his craving to reach out and touch is unmistakable. Then, when the
underwear is pulled away finally and Blaine pauses so that Kurt can take in the
sight, he lays his eyes on Blaine’s cock, reddened from arousal and jumping
ever so slightly from the scrutiny.
“Enjoying the view?”
Kurt locks eyes with Blaine and smirks. “Not sure - I’m more of a hands-on
learner.”
Blaine practically dives on him then, swallows Kurt’s sarcasm with a deep,
fire-fueled kiss. They move together, skin against bare skin, like they’re what
makes the Earth spin on its axis. The faster they move, the more their cocks
rub together in a way that Kurt had once only dreamed about, the quicker time
slips by.
Soon - too fucking soon if you ask Kurt - they careen over the edge in a mess
of quivering limbs and choked moans.
-
Blaine doesn’t often white-out when he comes but his body makes an exception
with Kurt. Moments after his mind shuts down, his body reboots and he’s vaguely
aware of waking to Kurt’s fingers in his hair once again.
“This feels like deja vu,” he mumbles against Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s chest rumbles
with silent laughter beneath him and he can’t help but smile.
After a moment of just enjoying the hard press of a body against his, Blaine
peels himself off of Kurt and stretches out all of the soreness in his
shoulders. Kurt leans over the bed for his t-shirt where it was dropped to the
floor and wipes his stomach clean.
“Are there skincare benefits in cum?”
Kurt snorts and wipes Blaine’s abdomen with the clean side of the shirt. “Only
if you’re a porn star.”
They lay back down and curl up together under the comforter (Blaine makes a
mental note to hint at Wes to change the linens), limbs tangled together as
they fill the room with the sound of gentle kissing and happy sighs of
disbelief. Blaine nearly falls asleep like that, with Kurt’s arms wrapped
protectively around his shoulders and his nose pressed against Kurt’s neck.
With an amused hum, Kurt says, “As much as I appreciate the unpredictable side-
effects, I don’t think I’ll be drinking tequila again any time soon. Apparently
it does make you do things you wouldn’t do normally.”
Blaine chuckles. “Tequila really does make his clothes fall off.”
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