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Watching Me

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We don’t do this, Blaine thought as he grinds up against Kurt’s ass. The music was loud, obnoxious, suiting neither of their tastes. But Kurt was pliant in his arms, his head lolling back and exposing the thin long line of his neck. It was intoxicating seeing him like this; he was gorgeous, bright and attention-grabbing, his shirt fitted tightly across his chest and Blaine could see other guys watching him. Watching them, he thought, as he sneaked his arm around to trace over Kurt’s chest, his hips bucking a little when Kurt moaned.


It’s their anniversary. Their five year anniversary and Kurt had wanted to try something different. He’d been drunk when they discussed it – well, tipsy on champagne, enough to make him giggle through it. But that didn’t stop Blaine growing hard in his jeans when Kurt straddled him on the couch and whispered into his ear that he wanted to go to a gay club. And if he were very good, maybe Blaine would blow him in a bathroom stall? The sex that night had been phenomenal.

Blaine wasn’t, despite what Santana thought, a complete exhibitionist. But he had to admit, being with Kurt like this and feeling men’s eyes on his boyfriend who was shamelessly rubbing himself up against him… well, perhaps he could get into it. Just a bit.

Kurt spun around then and slid his leg in between Blaine’s thighs, the position forcing him to bend his knees so that Blaine was almost in his lap. Kurt’s hands gripped his ass tightly, fondling really, and just the thought of someone watching was enough to have him shivering. It was hot inside, a summer night combined with the throng of too many people, and Blaine knew there was sweat dripping down his back. Kurt had insisted he wear his hair loose, thank god, but he felt damp and messy regardless. He snuck a hand up to undo another one on Kurt’s buttons, leaving him bare nearly to his stomach, and kissed his clavicle sloppily.

“Oh Blaine,” he moaned, and Blaine bit into the skin lightly in reward. “So good.”

Blaine could feel the pressure now distinctly in his groin, the rubbing of denim on denim not doing enough to dull the sensation of Kurt’s erection so close to his. He turned his head to the side, resting it against Kurt’s chest, and panted. It was overwhelming being with him like this. Across from them, a couple were grinding chest to back, the guy behind with his hand in his partner’s pants. Blaine sucked in a deep breath and blinked when he realized the guy in front was watching them. It was like a circle of wanting and watching. Blaine let himself look, let his eyes linger over the bulge in the man’s jeans, biting his lip when his other hand came around to undo the top button.

Jesus. He could feel himself responding, both to the pressure of Kurt’s legs and the visual image, and he bucked almost involuntarily.

“Kurt,” he whimpered, and pulled his head to kiss Kurt’s mouth, sliding his tongue in hot and wet, licking messily around his lips, tasting the awful cranberry cocktail he’d watched Kurt sip teasingly through his straw. It was phenomenal. It was everything. He wanted Kurt to open his jeans right here, sink to his knees and blow him where everyone could see. Wanted to do the same in return, let all these men wish they were him.

Kurt’s groan brought him out of his reverie and as he watched his eyes open slowly, pupils blown, he realized he absolutely didn’t want anyone to see Kurt’s face when he came. But he was pretty close to coming in his jeans, so something had to give.

“I need you,” he whispered, purposefully breathy in Kurt’s ear. “I want you to fuck me.”

Kurt shuddered noticeably, let his hands slip into Blaine’s jeans and over the heated flesh of his ass. One finger slid between his cheeks, tantalizing, and Blaine let his eyes slam closed.

Now,” he said, desperate and uncaring of the logistics.

“Come on,” Kurt said, obviously taking pity on him, and pulled him off the dance floor. As they walked past the couple from before, Blaine couldn’t help but watch as they both turned to look at them, a slow smile spreading on their faces.

“Have fun boys,” the one behind called, and did something unseen with his hand that made the other cry out, the sound making Blaine bit the inside of his cheek.

He barely noticed where they were going until Kurt pushed aside a black curtain and led him inside a small, dark room. There was the faint noise of slurping and when his eyes adjusted, Blaine realized he could vaguely make out the shape of someone getting head over in the other corner. He tried to look closer but Kurt stopped him, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hard, all tongue.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, voice low and rough. He was tense, muscles taut, and easily the hottest thing Blaine had ever seen.

“Yeah,” Blaine panted. “Yeah.”

“Turn around then, and drop your pants,” Kurt said, voice low enough to stay between them. Blaine moaned, his mind flashing ahead to the image of being fucked like this in a club. Fucking hell.

He did what he was told, loosening his fly enough to slide his jeans and briefs over his ass, before putting his hands on the wall. Cool air bit at his warm skin, and he was so exposed like this, even with Kurt right behind him. He heard Kurt fumbling with his belt and tried to look over his shoulder but it was too dark to really make anything out. Then, his attention was caught by Kurt’s slicked fingers sliding into him, two at once. His head dropped immediately, his neck no longer strong enough to hold himself up. Kurt’s fingers were sure, firm, pressing immediately the way Blaine liked it. He huffed out a sound, something like a moan. He tried to widen his legs but his pants were too constricting, stuck across his thighs. He panted loudly, the firm pressure of Kurt’s fingers combined with the tension in his legs was making his head spin.

Kurt slipped his fingers out and then moved his arm around to take Blaine’s cock in hand. He leaned forward, his chest spread across Blaine’s back and whispered in his ear, “You’re so good like this, baby.”

Blaine bucked into his fist awkwardly, and Kurt laughed.

Then Kurt’s hands were suddenly gone and Blaine missed the heat of him immediately, desperately turning his head to see him, to know that he wasn’t left here on his own, exposed for anyone to see. His cock twitched helplessly, and wow this wasn’t where he expected their night to go, but he wasn’t complaining.

Then Kurt slid into him carefully, but not too slow, knowing Blaine’s body almost better than he did himself. He felt stretched, open, and the soft slap of their skin when Kurt bottomed out was as intoxicating as the shots they’d done at the bar earlier.

Fuck,” he groaned, and he could hear Kurt breathing harshly behind him. Kurt’s hands were on his hips, strong and steady, gripping tightly enough that Blaine knew he’d be able to feel it tomorrow. Kurt built a rhythm, pushing into him hard, while Blaine’s hands worked to hold him steady against the wall.

Just then, a streak of light meant someone must have opened the curtain at the front of the room. They were still mostly hidden, back in the corner, but the sounds were obvious. Kurt thrust harder, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Blaine to realize that this was turning him on too. The thought made Blaine groan unsteadily, and then he heard someone – not Kurt – whisper, “fucking hell.”

It was as if Blaine’s hearing was suddenly tuned in; now he could hear the slurping from before, someone’s low moan as they received what sounded like an enthusiastic blowjob; the slapping sound that Blaine thought was someone jerking off. He knew he should feel dirty, should feel ashamed to be seen like this, but all he could think of was Kurt, and how they must look, Blaine spread open while Kurt fucked in between his legs. The image in his mind was so hot and he could feel Kurt in him, in a club for god’s sake, where people were watching

And then Blaine was coming, his hand barely reaching his cock in time to stroke himself through the last of it, come covering his wrist and dripping down onto the (undoubtedly filthy) carpet below. Behind him Kurt gripped his hips hard and thrust once, twice more before letting out a simply pornographic groan as he came. The stayed there, frozen for a moment, before Kurt leant forward and kissed his shoulder.


“Take me home?” Blaine whispered, unable to stop the smile on his face. His legs felt like noodles. Kurt may have to carry him up their staircase (why would they live on the third floor?) but he knew this was a night they wouldn’t forget. Kurt grinned against his back.

“Always,” he said. “But I forget tissues.”

Blaine groaned, thinking of the mess on his hand. Then he squeezed his ass experimentally around Kurt, thinking of how the leftover lube would feel while he walked home.

“Ughh—“ he managed, a strange hybrid of desperation and discomfort.

Kurt chuckled. “It’ll make round two easier though, won’t it?”

Blaine laughed, even as Kurt’s cock slipped out of him. “Best anniversary ever,” he said as Kurt spun him around, did up his pants, and then licked his hand clean with a filthy smile.