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When the plan works too well

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His father had been sticking to his side since they got in. Which- par for the course, really, for these occasions. But, well, he loved his father, but he’d really rather do anything right now as long as that didn’t involve having to explain to his father how those little discs of saturated fat filling with sugary biscuits weren’t healthy, for the second time. He just managed to stop him from the act of clogging his arteries further, all the while just barely listening to him and his umpteenth complaint when his eyes brightened right up: in an open button-up shirt over a white t-shirt and faded jeans, Finn was there as well! Apparently alone! But, wait. Why would Finn be alone at a parent-teacher conference? He usually went to act as a translator between his father and the teachers, but what reason could Finn of all people have to be there? Kurt, with a certain amount of difficulty, averted his eyes from his very fit crush to scan the immediate surroundings and, there it was. He was pretty sure the woman a little further down the loaded table was Finn’s mother. What an unprecedented opportunity. Kurt refrained from smirking only because he knew what it did to his lip contour.

Now, how could he distract his father and make sure Finn’s possible-mom didn’t interrupt them– Of course! Oh, he was such a genius.

“Dad!” He interrupted ruthlessly, taking a hold of his arm and dragging him quickly towards the woman, “Meet Carole Hudson. Ms. Hudson? My father, Burt Hummel. You’ve both got dead spouses, maybe you should talk.” He fled before they could recover from the shock of his bubbly presentation and totally inappropriate comment and went right over to where Finn was cluelessly studying a plate of quinoa-based dressing… so cute.

“Hi, Finn.” He knew he sounded breathless, ok?

“Oh, hey, Kurt.”

“How are you doing on this fine day?”

“Uh, alright I guess.”

“Well, I’ve just managed to get my father interested in something that wasn’t me. To… have a few minutes to myself, you know?” He fluttered his eyelashes, “And you’re here with…?”

“My mom, she’s-“ He looks around and sees her talking with a strange man. Kurt quickly peeps up.

“Apparently busy? Did you plan on doing something in particular right at this moment?”

“Eh, I suppose not. I mean, the teachers aren’t even here yet.”

“Of course. I realize this is not your scene, but I’m sure there are plenty of ways to have fun around here, even if they don’t involve a ball game.” So witty, Kurt, he thought to himself, you know perfectly well Finn’s not giving it to you anytime soon. Poor boy.

“Aah, sure, dude.” Kurt heaved a little sigh. Only a little one, because even so obviously out of his comfort zone and lacking in any social grace (really, calling Kurt ‘dude’ again, it looked like he wasn’t even trying) Finn still managed to look pretty damn cute in his usual ‘lost puppy’ way. And he was so tall. Downright dreamy, one could say. Kurt laid a hand on the quarterback’s muscly arm hoping his eyes didn’t literally resemble hearts.

“No, no, I get it, you are such a sporty guy,” Kurt was very careful to keep their parents in his sight at all times while concealing himself from their view. It wasn’t as hard as it could have been, they were more taken by each other than he could have predicted (which… eww, let’s hope not too taken). “It’s obvious that occasions more suited to the academically-inclined wouldn’t capture your regard as much as physical trials.” His only response was a blank stare for a few long seconds.

“Yeah, dud-“

“Please, Finn Hudson, do not refer to me by that insipid moniker. I am not ‘dude’. You may call me by my given name, I’d think weeks of belonging to the same club would allow us at least that intimacy.” His smile was slow and calculated. Calculated because he didn’t want to look like a sexual predator. Clearly, the friendly approach was the best one with a team-player such as the one that caught his attention. That, and he thought the old adage about getting to a man’s heart through his stomach had definite truth about it. Kurt couldn’t exactly feed the other boy up if he made him run away. So Kurt made sure to slowly and unassumingly lead Finn towards a table with his favorite snacks, piling his hands with chips as they talked, smiling contentedly as the taller boy enjoyed his offerings. He already prepared a soda cup to hand over when he finished and asked his next question just at that moment. No need to let the cute boy regain his wits, was there?

“So, I know why I’m here, but what brings you to such a dull conference?” He worked all the tips he read about reeling in a boy: being a source of food (or having one nearby), speaking softly, looking at him from beneath his long lashes... Pity he hadn’t known about Finn’s presence before, he could have layered just a smidge of mascara there to make the effect more striking.

Finn’s face darkened suddenly, though it was hard to tell he felt actually sad and angry when his pout and frown looked so adorable.

“Usually I play videogames with Puck during these things.” Ah, of course.

“Of course, dear, I understand why that wouldn’t be a viable option for you this year,” Kurt scooped some gravy up on a big chip, prevented messes with one hand under the other to stave off drippings and raised it to Finn’s face. So close it wouldn’t have been out of place to see the taller teen eat from his hand. Of course, that didn’t happen, Finn took his offering with the same begrudging expression. As he munched, this slowly faded from his features and Kurt picked a second one, even more covered in gravy, if possible.

Kurt fantasized about filling him up with comfort food until he could only moan in approval, then about a different kind of filling and moaning and there he went. Suddenly he found himself in need of some private time to regain his composure. He only dithered because he didn’t want his new handful to go to waste. Of course, that was the moment someone overextended uncaringly as they reached for a sandwich, hitting his back and sending him careening right into the quarterback’s nice pectorals. Pity he couldn’t even enjoy the fortuitous landing properly. As it was, he risked going into a panic attack just at the idea of some of that dark gravy getting on his not new but carefully preserved Marc Jacobs’. By virtue of years spent worrying about his clothes more than anything else, he managed not to get a drop on himself – sacrificing Finn’s t-shirt in its stead. He couldn’t muster any true upset for the synthetic fiber, but that was fine because he was plenty upset enough about the possibility of having ruined whatever chance with his crush. So upset, in fact, that he didn’t even turn around to tear into the oaf who knocked into him because of a stupid sandwich too-full of mayo, but started fussing over the big splatter of gravy on Finn’s t-shirt right away instead, grabbing tissues from the table and starting to pat madly in hope of staunching the spread of the sauce. It was a doomed objective.

After Kurt came to the realization he raised his head and looked around, sure that even if the guilty party had fled the scene, the commotion at least would have attracted some attention. Alas, it wasn’t so. Somehow their parents were on the other side of the room completely immersed in a conversation about cow-town things and the improper use of jeans, no doubt.

At least the whole thing distracted Finn from his gloomy thoughts. Now they only have to solve the wardrobe malfunction. Not that they would be able to do much in a random classroom full of bored parents and even more bored teachers. Kurt sighed a little. Time to go then. For fashion’s sake at least.

Finn would have probably stayed there, staring in betrayal at his own t-shirt for a good while if Kurt hadn’t taken things in his hands, literally, by grabbing the football player’s arm and starting to lead him away. Gently. No need to spook him.

Finn raised his head only when he risked tripping on his own feet if he didn’t watch where Kurt was pulling him. Which was right away. So.

“Don’t let your shirt get dirty too on the way.”

“Wha- The way to where?”

“Oh, Finn, I couldn’t in good conscience allow you to walk around in public like this. It would a crime in the eyes of the fashion gods that you, with your frankly a little outdated and… conservative wardrobe, wouldn’t be able to atone for.”

Finn looked at him.

“I’m gonna help you clean your t-shirt because it’s physically painful for me to see you in such a state.”

“Yes, but where are we going right now?”

“The closest place with running water in this under-maintained building.” When they arrived in sight of a bathroom Finn struggled almost perfunctorily.

“Hey, man-“ Kurt threw him a side eye and kept on gently steering and pulling Finn in the right direction, “Kurt. I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“What, Finn? Being in a bathroom with me? I’d like to remind you that it wouldn’t be the first time. Actually, it wouldn’t be the first time that this exact series of events manifested so that we’re in a bathroom to clean you up.” Finn dithered but went through the door willingly enough once in front of it.

“Yeah, but, ‘twas a little different with everyone else there as well.” Kurt, who had already positioned him in front of a sink and turned on the faucet, raised a perfectly cured and thoroughly unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Why? We were the only males in the room there as well.” Still, Finn looked uncomfortable, so Kurt turned off the water. “Finn, I only want to clean your t-shirt in the service of your polyester blend of a garment, but if you’d prefer me to go back inside and ask your mother to help you instead…” Finn blanched at the suggestion like any teenage boy would and shook his head forcefully. “Then, your shirt, please?”

“You mean-?” He made a strange series of gestures that Kurt chose to interpret as a mimic of disrobing. His voice lowered with no conscious thought on his part.

“Unless you have another idea on how we could clean you up…” His eyebrow rose without his permission and he couldn’t help thinking about Finn all wet and dripping like a more masculine version of Charlie’s Angels in that one movie and this is not helping. At all.

Finn, absolutely oblivious of the turn of his thoughts (thank Prada for that), shrugged a little helplessly and removed first the shirt he wore open, then the stained t-shirt, with a little more reluctance but no further comment.

The moment the other boy was out of it, Kurt grabbed the t-shirt and turned towards the sink, hoping to minimize the awkward ogling he knew would have happened if he didn’t distract himself with something that wasn’t Finn’s (naked) chest.

“I’m sure the gravy will come out really easily,” he was taking steps to ensure just that, after all, acting as soon as possible and scraping off what could be removed under lukewarm water, “When you get home you should sprinkle baking soda on this spot, or ask your mother if she has any stain remover… the important part is to treat it before putting it in the washing machine, and whatever you do don’t put it in the dryer if the stain isn’t gone.” There, he had done everything he could for the t-shirt. Finn was right there and he really wanted to prolong this experience. But, how? Obviously, Finn didn’t care one tiny bit about the most effective way of preventing permanent staining, he had just started talking on autopilot, but he knew he should change topic now, talk about something that wouldn’t make Finn nod off in the middle of a school bathroom, at least, maybe even something he cared about… He left the t-shirt on the sink and turned towards Finn. They were really close.

“So, you thought you had gotten Quinn pregnant by releasing in the pool with her.” Aaand… That wasn’t what he had planned to say. Way to go, Kurt, start talking about the only thing sure to get the other boy’s mood down, not like you’re trying to get him in your pants or anything.

Finn’s baffled expression (which was the usual state of his face whenever Kurt talked about clothes) predictably darkened. But well, in for a penny…

“Hey, I only say this because you two clearly didn’t do anything more… intimate. And now she’s with Puck, so…” He shrugged a little, hoping the faux-casual movement helped disguise the shuffling step he took to reduce the already inconsequential distance between them.

At this point, he could honestly admit he had no idea regarding his own intentions and/or actions.

“I mean, it’s not hard to guess you didn’t have… real experience, at that point.” He kept talking. Finn’s eyes were on him, unglazed and almost attentive for once.

The taller boy had no clue what was going on; suddenly, but not really, Kurt’s fingers were on his belt but somehow his words were more distracting. “Then you were with Rachel, but she’s a bit of a prude, and she’s shacking up with Jesse now anyway.” His belt was opened. The button of his jeans too, actually, though he didn’t know how that happened. “And Santana. You scored with her, didn’t you? Went all the way?” Finn’s cheeks pinked. And, that was not the only place his blood gathered, clearly, because the lowering of the zip was a great relief to his prick. “But did you take the time to explore… at all?”

Kurt barely knew where all this was coming from, except porn and Cosmo articles, but he had been dreaming of this since basically August (so long!) and Finn’s adorable flush really did wonders for his complexion. He couldn’t not take advantage of that. Even if the bathroom floor was a dirty, dirty place. Like his mind. More or less. Then a bad idea came to his aforementioned dirty mind. He looked towards the sink. Finn’s shirt was cheap, already dirty and not completely wet. He grabbed it, haphazardly folded it and threw it on the ground before Finn could protest. Then he dropped to his knees on top of it and Finn didn’t want to protest.

Which is how Kurt found himself on his knees, scarce inches between his mouth and his crush’s cock and with his mind suddenly blank. Luckily, lack of thought was hardly an ailment that ever affected him for more than a few seconds at a time (just another way he was superior to the Neanderthals that marred his life).

And, well, clearly one of them, at minimum, had to at least pretend to know what was going on and judging by Finn’s expression just that moment the role of bullshitting his way out of this fell on Kurt. Somehow he didn’t think that’d be too much of a hardship. Surely it couldn’t be harder than the cock he was feeling up through Finn’s underwear.

He was so gone, why else would he think even the deer-in-the-headlights look so dreamy? The boxers had to go. He wasn’t one to dawdle once he knew what he wanted.

So… he lowered Finn’s undergarments. And there it was. Not really thicker than his, but definitely longer. And hard. And right in front of his face. Funny that.

Kurt didn’t really know how to… do anything, really. Luckily, it turned out pretty self-explanatory.

He opened his mouth just enough to let it pass through, careful with his teeth but wanting to give enough friction for it to feel good. It was surprisingly… easy? He almost didn’t have to think about it, his lips closed around it pretty naturally and he felt the rounded tip on his tongue. It was hotter than he expected.

He started swirling his tongue around, which elicited a terribly satisfying whine from… his partner?, but he abandoned that pretty quickly to bob his head instead- great choice, it brought a gasping moan from Finn’s lips and it was easier on his muscles.

As Kurt felt the at-this-point-fully-hard cock slide further in his mouth, he thought it strange that a supposed romantic like him participated in oral sex before getting a proper first kiss. But, well, extreme circumstances required extreme measures and most of all, he didn’t want Finn to freak out on him before he could do anything.

His fingers fluttered on Finn’s naked hips, grasping and caressing the downy skin, his hands moving towards the taller boy’s stomach almost without his notice. There was muscle there, covered in a soft layer of fat for which he was sure Santana had teased him.

No matter. His fingers tightened in the fleshy sides of his crush’s midsection. He took even more of that length into his mouth and swallowed without thought the salty pre-come that erupted at the action. No big deal.

 

Holding himself up was suddenly more than he could manage, his hip connected with the cold sink and it was all he could do to lean his weight on it. He could feel the carefully-manicured nails on the edge of digging into his skin and in the midst of the madness that this blowjob was, just as he felt the other boy (boy!) swallowing around him, it felt natural, almost right, to try and run his fingers through Kurt’s carefully arranged hair. Ha. His mistake.

 

Kurt made sure to make him feel his displeasure, curling his sharp nails in the flesh of his hips, sending him a truly malevolent glance (as malevolent as it could be with his lips still spread over his cock, which was surprisingly a considerable amount) and making him feel the barest hint of teeth on his most delicate place. It caused him to break in cold sweat and curl his fingers in the steel sink, which was way less perilous. It also had the side advantage of distancing him from his climax which he felt coming, as usual, too fast.

But Kurt was a magnanimous overlord, he removed the threat that was his teeth and even welcomed the cock further in, almost to the back in his throat. Though the risk of chocking made that a really brief attempt. He then tried sucking, which ripped a strangled sound from Finn’s throat but no further movement towards his hair (which, hello? Did he train him good or what?) and as he sucked and bobbed and tasted pre-come, Finn came with a groan and Kurt swallowed it all.

 

Finn leaned panting on the sink, seemingly incapable of more complex actions, while Kurt rose to his feet with absolute grace and poise, starting to fix his hair with a calm face that belied his internal screaming and freaking out (and the part of him that was trying to get his swollen cock to calm the fuck down before he embarrassed himself. And it was ruining the line of his jeans, so). Regardless of what was going on inside, Kurt was freshening up in front of the mirror as if he had simply smuggled his chapstick, and not given his first blowjob and risked his perfectly styled hair because of the grabby hands of his crush.

He flicked some strands of hair from his eyes just as Finn took a shallow breath.

“I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe we did that. And you-! In your mouth!”

Kurt tilted his head this way and that to make sure he looked alright.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly let you come on my face, could I? Not before going back there with my dad and your mom.”

Nothing much he could do about his turgid lips without some ice.

“Whu?”

“The parent-teacher conference thing? We have to go back right now if we don’t want them to wonder.”

“Oh god. Oh Jesus, I have to face my mom after that!”

“Like you never saw her right after masturbating? Come on, Finn.”

At this point, he looked as alright as he could and his poor, neglected erection had completely subsided. He flounced out of the school bathroom without any regret.

Finn followed him.

Even the trace of semen at the back of his mouth tasted like the sweetest victory. He couldn’t help a smirk.

 

 

 

Their parents barely noticed it when they arrived. It was kinda strange but whatevs, not like they would exchange numbers or keep in touch, it was just aimless chit chatting to pass the time. Right?