klaine fic: too sore enpierced
title: too sore enpierced
word count: 4,017
summary: pierced, tattooed bad boy kurt hummel and student body president good kid blaine anderson are assigned to do an english project together.
author’s note: WELL THIS WENT OUT OF CONTROL. it was supposed to be a pwp based on this manip and a conversation with bleerios. somehow it evolved into something with feelings. sorry not sorry about the shakespeare bastardization (mercutio is my baby).
the link within the fic is NSFW and is unfortunately not a picture of kurt or chris.
Blaine waves goodbye to Tina as he heads toward the student parking lot behind McKinley. Looking straight ahead, he vows to himself not to look over at the corner by the cafeteria loading dock, but of course he does anyway. The huddle of smokers barely give him a second glance, and Blaine lets go of the breath he’d been holding.
“Hey! Anderson!” A moment too soon, Blaine thinks. He doesn’t turn toward the voice, instead making a beeline for his car.
“I know you hear me,” says the voice, getting closer. Blaine weighs his options and slows down (but doesn’t stop). Kurt Hummel jogs up next to him, wearing only a wifebeater with a logo of a band Blaine’s never heard of and dirty (and tight, Blaine thinks) jeans. Blaine tries not to pay attention to the tattoos up and down Kurt’s arms and instead looks at his face, which…is not much better. Blaine stares at the snakebite piercings on Kurt’s lower lip as Kurt tongues one of them, making it spin. Kurt begins to grin, and Blaine forces himself to look up at Kurt’s eyes.
“Yes, Hummel?” Blaine asks, hoping he sounds as terse as he intends. Kurt smirks and shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets.
“Didn’t see you in English today, that’s all,” Kurt says. “Thought maybe I had been a good influence on you and you skipped.” Blaine narrows his eyes, but mostly only for show. It’s actually kind of sweet that Kurt noticed.
“I had Student Council stuff to do to get ready for prom.” Not that he owes Kurt an explanation. They walk in silence until they reach Blaine’s Range Rover; Kurt leans against Blaine’s door to rummage through his bag. Blaine notices the pink streaks in Kurt’s coif and Blaine wonders how permanent they are. His parents would never let him dye his hair. He pulls out an only slightly bent piece of paper and hands it over. Blaine takes it and scans it - something about a partner project for the Shakespeare unit.
“Well, we’re partners now, Anderson. You and me, Romeo and Juliet.” Kurt doesn’t look amused, and Blaine’s stomach drops.
“Supposed to act a scene from the play in front of class. You weren’t there when everyone else picked partners, so you’re stuck with me.” Blaine nods, trying to keep his emotions off his face.
“Our scenes are due next week, and I’m gone all weekend, so we should probably get started,” Kurt continues. “Tonight?” Blaine’s mind races, trying to come up with something he could use as a reasonable excuse to get out of these plans, this conversation, this project, but Kurt won’t stop looking at him and have Kurt’s eyes always been that blue? So Blaine swallows and nods again.
“You can come over to my house,” Blaine says. “If we work hard enough, we should be able to finish it all tonight.”
“Whatever you say, man,” Kurt says, stepping away from the car and back toward his group of friends. “See you later.”
“Seven,” Blaine shouts after him, but Kurt’s already gone.
Blaine double checks the fridge - water, orange juice, milk, and some V8 - and looks at the clock hanging from the wall. 7:12. He straightens the chairs at the kitchen table, for what must be the eighth time in the past hour, and tries not to wonder if Kurt’s coming over at all. Blaine doesn’t really care, he tries to convince himself, but the project seemed pretty important, once he read over the description, and Blaine can’t afford to let his grades fall so close to graduation.
The doorbell rings, and Blaine jumps. He rushes to the door - it’s Kurt of course - this time in a black t-shirt and a different pair of (equally tight) jeans. His wet hair dangles down over his forehead, and he looks younger, Blaine notices, without all the product.
“Sorry I’m late,” Kurt says, standing on the doorstep. “I lost track of time working on this car we just got in, and then I had to shower. I had grease everywhere.” Blaine nods, as if he knows what Kurt is talking about.
“Hummel & Sons?” Kurt says, noticing Blaine’s blank look. “My dad runs it; I work there after school most days.” That is…new information, Blaine processes. He’d always thought Kurt just spent his time tagging things or smoking pot or listening to metal or whatever it is those kinds of kids do. But apparently Kurt has a job fixing cars. Blaine looks down at Kurt’s hands, and sure enough, they’re strong and calloused despite being thin. Kurt coughs and Blaine moves aside, wordlessly inviting him in. They head toward the living room, where Blaine has already got his copy of Romeo and Juliet, as well as all his notes he’s taken so far.
“So we just have to pick a scene and perform it, right?” Blaine asks. “That’s what I gathered from what you gave me.” Kurt nods, unsure where to sit. Blaine settles on one side of the couch, picking up his book, and it takes a second before Kurt sits on the other end, pulling a old beat-up copy of the play from his bag. He plays with one of his piercings again, flipping through the pages, and Blaine realizes it’s a nervous habit of Kurt’s. Kurt’s tongue darts out, pushing the stud back toward his mouth, before pressing against it from the inside. Blaine wonders what the metal feels like in his mouth - not that metal in his own mouth, he quickly amends, even in his own head, just in general. It’s probably weird, he thinks, at first, but then you get used it.
“What?” Kurt asks, shaking Blaine out of his reverie. When Blaine doesn’t reply, Kurt continues. “You were staring.” Kurt’s mouth is pursed, his glare sharp. “I know it’s tradition to stare at the freakshow, especially here in Ohio, but if we actually want to work on this project, you’re going to have to stop.”
Blaine looks away, ashamed he was caught (but not for the reasons Kurt thinks). He mumbles and apology before scanning his notes, wondering which scene would be the least painful.
“How about we try 1.4?” Blaine offers, as a token of apology. “We probably can’t do the whole thing for class, but we could cut out Benvolio’s lines, and it should work.” Kurt flips to the scene and scans it over before nodding.
“Do you want to be Mercutio or…?” Kurt trails off, looking up at Blaine. For once, Blaine notices, Kurt’s not looking at Blaine abrasively; instead, he’s just waiting for Blaine’s response, almost hopeful.
“No, you go ahead. I’m shit at acting anyway,” Blaine says, smiling. Kurt smiles, his eyes lighting up, and Blaine stomach flips. Fuck, he thinks. He looks down at the book to steady himself. “I’ll just-?”
Blaine stands up, book out in front of him; Kurt follows suit.
“Give me a torch,” Blaine starts. “I am not for this ambling; being but heavy, I will bear the light.” He’s not sure exactly what that means, but before Blaine has a chance to work through the words, Kurt starts.
“Nay, gentle Romeo,” Kurt teases, his voice a little higher, almost sing-song, swaying closer to Blaine. “We must have you dance.”
Blaine stares for a second before finding his place on the page and stuttering out his next line, something about dancing and lead shoes. Kurt rolls with it, his tone joking, a little too casual. Mercutio’s teasing Romeo about loving Rosaline, Blaine remembers from class, but Kurt’s Mercutio is brash, almost too much so. Kurt makes the jokes sound cruel and pre-mediated, not at all like close friends teasing one another. They continue reading through the scene, and Blaine tries to make his Romeo sound in love with this mystery girl, but it’s hard to pay attention to what he’s doing when Kurt’s gliding in front of him, mannerisms sweeping, glaring into Blaine’s eyes when he’s not looking at the words on the page.
Kurt’s saying something about daylight (Blaine’s surprised he’s even keeping track of his lines at this point, to be honest) when he grabs Blaine’s hand and drags him halfway across the room. It takes Blaine a second to find his place, but he’s only got a few small lines before Mercutio’s monologue.
“Oh, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you,” Kurt starts, peering into Blaine’s eyes. Blaine doesn’t even pretend to follow along as Kurt goes on, mimicking the metaphors as he describes them. At one point, Kurt drags Blaine’s lower lip down with his thumb, over enunciating ‘kisses’, but as soon as he does, Kurt’s gone again, sweeping around the room. Blaine closes his eyes for a second and tries to regain control of his breathing, but before he opens them again, Kurt’s standing behind him, pressed close.
“And then anon drums at his ear,” Kurt whispers in Blaine’s ear, slow. Kurt pauses there, for just a moment, hands on Blaine’s shoulders, before shaking him and continuing, “at which he starts and wakes, and being thus frighted swears a prayer or two and sleeps again.”
Blaine’s eyes are locked on Kurt as moves back in front of Blaine, finishing the last few lines. Kurt’s smirking and licking his lips, talking about maidens bearing, his voice growling. Blaine’s having trouble breathing; he can’t look at anything but Kurt, and- damnit, Blaine thinks, doesn’t Romeo interrupt Mercutio at the end of this? Kurt’s standing there, clearly waiting for Blaine to jump in with his line, but the words on the page are swimming before Blaine’s eyes, so he does the only thing he can think to do.
Blaine kisses him.
Kurt squeaks in surprise into Blaine’s mouth, but after a second, he’s kissing back, tongue sliding against Blaine’s. Blaine traces the metal of the studs with his tongue, sucking on Kurt’s lower lip, as his hands rest on Kurt’s waist, pulling him in closer. Blaine never really noticed a height different before, but now it feels like Kurt towers over him, and Blaine has to tilt his head up as Kurt gets closer. Kurt’s hands come up to frame Blaine’s jaw, holding him still; Kurt licks into his mouth, his heavy Doc Martens pressing against Blaine’s Sperrys. Blaine pulls at Kurt’s t-shirt, sliding his hands underneath, Kurt’s skin hot against his palms. Blaine can feel himself pressing into Kurt’s thigh, and though he really, really doesn’t want to stop, he knows they should, if only for a moment.
Blaine pulls back, fingers playing with the studs on Kurt’s belt. He looks at Kurt, unsure what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because Kurt’s smiling at him again, that small hopeful smile that Blaine saw when he let Kurt be Mercutio.
Blaine clears his throat. “You know, we’re the only ones here. My parents won’t be back until late.” He’s not sure why he’s volunteering this information - sure, Blaine’s done Things, but not with someone he hadn’t even had a real conversation with until that day. Kurt looks down at their feet, playing with his stud again. Blaine rushes to get the next words out. “I mean, we don’t- you can go, if you want. I’m sorry, that was stupid, I just thought maybe you’d want-”
“No,” Kurt cuts him off. “I’d like to, but only if you do. This isn’t a thing I do, Blaine, hooking up with people. I’m not going to be the guy you fuck just so you can call all your friends and feel like a rebel for once.” Blaine’s heart sinks; he didn’t mean that at all, he didn’t even think Kurt would think- He grabs Kurt’s hand and puts it to his heart.
“Kurt. You have no idea what watching you act does to me. You’re amazing, the way you fall into a character without a second thought. It’s easy to pretend to be someone else when no one knows- I mean, I do that all the time at school, you know? Student council president, proud SGA member; you know that the first time I went to an SGA meeting, I was terrified?” Kurt shakes his head; good, he’s listening.
“But you, you can fall into a role that’s not something you’ve been carefully cultivating for years, and it’s-” Blaine pauses, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “You move me, Kurt. You’re funny and talented and smart; you try to hide it, and so I didn’t notice right away, and I’m an idiot for that. But I look at you now, and Christ, Kurt-” Kurt cuts him off with another kiss, this one hard and insistent.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
They’ve been making out on Blaine’s bed for a while, Blaine laying on Kurt, their hands clasped together, when Kurt whines into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine pulls back, but as he does, his thigh slips between Kurt’s legs, and- oh. Kurt’s hard underneath him. Blaine sits up, straddling Kurt’s hips, fingers toying with the hem of Kurt’s black t-shirt.
“D’you want-” he starts, but Kurt nods and raises his arms above his head. Blaine pulls off the shirt and he doesn’t know what he was expecting, but Kurt’s stomach is littered with tattoos, swirls of color flowing with the lines of his hips. The only place that appears unblemished is his chest, except for a single string of numbers on his left below the collarbone. Blaine leans down to lick them when something glints just beneath the tattoo.
“Fuck,” Blaine whispers. So his lips are not the only place Kurt has pierced. Blaine’s eyes flick up, asking for permission, and when Kurt nods, his mouth slightly open, Blaine laps out, tasting Kurt’s skin and the smooth metal bar, warm from Kurt’s body heat. He latches his lips around Kurt’s nipple and sucks experimentally, and when Kurt’s breathing speeds up, Blaine tries biting down, just hard enough to sting. Kurt moans, deep in his throat, and his hands come up to rest on the back of Blaine’s head, not pushing, just a calm presence. Blaine smiles up at Kurt and nips again before lapping at the spot; he tries pressing down on the metal with his tongue, and apparently it was the right thing to do, because Kurt’s hips buck up slightly.
Blaine moves over to the other nipple, pierced as well, and kisses it wetly, softly, teasingly. Kurt whimpers softly, but Blaine doesn’t let that distract him this time, and he hovers over Kurt’s skin, breathing slowly on his nipple, still wet. Kurt’s chest rises and falls as he breathes in and out, and Blaine licks his lips before sucking hard, pulling on the barbell. Kurt moans again, this time loud and harsh.
“Blaine, Blaine, c’mon-” he rambles, pulling lightly on Blaine’s hair. “You gotta stop.” Blaine looks up, afraid he went too far and hurt Kurt, but Kurt’s pupils are wide and his breathing shallow. “I can’t- not yet-” Kurt stutters before pulling Blaine down into a hard kiss, their teeth clacking. Blaine slides his hands down Kurt’s stomach, reaching his belt buckle.
“Can I?” Blaine whispers, and Kurt nods, licking his lips. Blaine quickly undoes Kurt’s belt and tosses it aside before attacking the button on his jeans. He pulls them down and, of course, he thinks, of course Kurt doesn’t wear underwear. Kurt’s cock is hard, dripping wet onto his stomach, and Blaine’s mouth goes dry when he sees that (now familiar) shine of steel. Kurt’s got a bar across the underside of his cock, small and unobtrusive, but big enough that Blaine wonders if he would be able to feel it inside of him if Kurt fucks him.
“Christ, Kurt,” Blaine says, wrapping his hand around Kurt’s cock. He strokes up and down a couple times, thumbing over the piercing. “Does that hurt?”
Kurt shakes his head, biting his lower lip. “No, it’s- good, Blaine, it’s really good.” Blaine smiles up at him before looking back down. He thinks for a moment before moving down and licking at the barbell. Kurt tastes sharp and salty, and it isn’t long until Blaine wraps his mouth around the head of Kurt’s cock, tonguing the piercing underneath. Kurt rambles under him, incomprehensible words that might just be moans. Blaine’s hand begins stroking up and down, reaching where his mouth can’t; Blaine sucks more of Kurt into his mouth, trying to get as much as he can. Blaine’s only done this once before to a kid he met at a nerd camp, and that was alright, but Blaine can already tell that’s he’s going to love blowing Kurt, with the way Kurt writhes under him, moaning and gasping for air, his hands scrambling for purchase.
Kurt pulls on Blaine’s hair, and Blaine pops off, cocking an eyebrow in question. “Close-” is all Kurt can say, so Blaine dives back down, swallowing Kurt down as best he can. It’s only a few seconds more before Kurt comes down Blaine’s throat. Blaine can’t swallow it all, but he does his best, the rest dripping down his chin. He strokes Kurt through the rest of it before pulling off and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Kurt’s breathing heavily, smiling at Blaine; Blaine grins back, hovering above him, waiting for some sort of sign.
Kurt rolls his eyes and pulls Blaine down into a slow kiss, Kurt licking his own taste out of Blaine’s mouth. Blaine palms at his cock, and that spurs Kurt into action. He fumbles with Blaine’s fly, but finally gets it undone and pulls off his capris, throws them somewhere across the room. Using his height advantage, Kurt maneuvers Blaine around so that Kurt is spooning behind him, both arms wrapped around Blaine’s waist, Blaine’s striped polo shirt up around his chest.
“You’re really fucking hot,” Kurt says in his ear, as he wraps a hand around Blaine’s cock. “I watch you all the time in class.” Blaine cries out, trying to buck his hips, but Kurt’s other hand, hard against his lower stomach, holds him in place, and somehow, that’s even better. “You always have the answer; you’ve always done the homework. I never thought a good kid like you would ever look my way.” Blaine interlaces his fingers with Kurt’s and fucks into his other hand, looking back at Kurt’s face. Kurt kisses him sweetly, his thumb spreading pre-come up and down his cock.
“Did too-” Blaine manages, already so close. Kurt cocks his head to the side and really looks at Blaine for a moment before speeding up his rhythm.
“Come on,” Kurt whispers, and that’s all it takes to push Blaine over the edge. He cries out, pushing back into Kurt’s body, squeezing his hand as tight as he can, coming all over his polo shirt. Kurt holds him in place as they both catch their breaths before pulling Blaine’s shirt off of him and wiping up the rest. He drops the shirt over the side of the bed before stretching out on his back and pulling Blaine on top of him.
“That was fun,” Kurt says, smirking. Blaine laughs a little and hums, presses a small kiss to his lips, kissing down his throat to that lone tattoo.
“That was my first one,” Kurt says, a little too casual. Blaine props himself up on his elbows.
“What’s it mean?” Blaine asks, before he thinks better of it. “I mean- I would like to know if you would like to tell me.” Kurt rubs up and down Blaine’s back, hand finally resting on his ass.
“It’s the dates of my mother’s birth and death,” Kurt finally replies, voice soft.
“I didn’t know.” Great, now Blaine feels like a total shithead. Kurt brings a hand up to gently pull Blaine down into a kiss.
“I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t want you to know,” Kurt says, when they finally break apart. “I got it when I was sixteen. My dad had to go with me and sign all the release forms. He even held my hand as I got it done.”
Blaine thinks about his own father: the dad who tried to butch him up when Blaine came out, the dad who didn’t understand why he had to join the SGA, why he couldn’t just be ‘under the radar.’
“Sounds like a pretty great dad,” Blaine says quietly.
“Yeah, he is. He’s not a huge fan of the rest, but I waited until I turned eighteen, so he can’t do anything about it. And he knows it’s my choice. He might not get it but he supports me.” Blaine buries his face in Kurt’s neck.
“My dad’s-” Blaine begins to explain, but before he can continue, he hears the front door downstairs open and close, his mom calling out his name. “Fuck,” Blaine says, scrambling up. He throws Kurt’s clothes at him while he puts on his jeans and digs a new shirt out of his dresser. Kurt seems taken aback by this, but he dresses in silence.
“I’m up here, working on a school project!” Blaine calls back, pulling a few books off his bookshelf, throwing one to Kurt. Kurt plays along, and when the Andersons get upstairs and peer in the room, everything is put together; they really do look like they’re studying.
“Mom, Dad, this is Kurt,” he nods toward Kurt. “Mrs. Canterbury assigned up to be partners.”
His father coughs.
“I think it’s about time for Kurt to be getting home. It’s late,” Mr. Anderson says, nodding. Kurt climbs off the bed and grabs his things, nodding to Blaine’s parents. They head into the bedroom as Blaine follows Kurt downstairs to the front door. They stand awkwardly in the threshold for a moment.
“That was-” says Blaine.
“So, Mercutio-” says Kurt.
They pause, waiting for the other one to finish. Finally, after enough silence, Kurt speaks up.
“We should be able to finish the project next week,” he says, playing with the strap on his bookbag. Blaine nods, not sure what Kurt’s expecting. Kurt nods, his face steeled, and heads out the door toward his old truck. Blaine turns to shut the door before- fuck it, he thinks, and chases after Kurt.
“Kurt, hey,” he calls out, running to where Kurt’s stopped in the driveway. “You take the bus, right?” Kurt pauses, looking into Blaine’s eyes.
“Yeah. The truck’s my dad’s,” Kurt says finally.
“How about I pick you up tomorrow morning?” Blaine asks, smiling. “And maybe we could go for coffee after classes?” Kurt grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing Blaine’s ever seen.
“To work on the project?” Kurt asks, even though his smile betrays his thoughts.
“No.” Blaine puts his hands in his pocket, grinning up at Kurt.
“So, like a date, then?”
“Like a date.” Kurt leans in and kisses Blaine, Kurt’s thumb tracing his cheekbone.
“I suppose this means I have to be on time to school tomorrow,” Kurt whispers, lips brushing against Blaine’s.
“Thought maybe I could have a good influence on you, Hummel,” Blaine smirks.
Kurt raises one eyebrow, and looks up and down Blaine’s body. “We’ll see about that,” Kurt says, climbing into his truck.
Blaine’s smiling twenty minutes later as he gets ready for bed, setting his alarm in the morning. A text comes through his phone, an unknown number.
so what time should i expect you?
Blaine smiles, adding the number to his phone.
Seven am sharp.
youll be the death of me anderson
Blaine’s still trying to figure out a reply as another text comes in.
ill be ready at 645 you better bring breakfast
Blaine lies down and climbs under the covers before typing out a response.
Shh, some of us are trying to sleep, Hummel. Some of us have to go buy donuts at 6:30 tomorrow morning.
Blaine puts the phone under his pillow, yawning. He’s almost completely asleep, fifteen minutes later when another text comes through.
til it be morrow xx
Never let it be said, Blaine realizes as he falls asleep, that Kurt Hummel isn’t a romantic.