Three Tequila, Floor
Warnings: illegal alcohol consumption, sex between two characters under the age of 18 but at the age of consent (blowjobs, sex); Tequila makes me a very moody drunk, so why not Kurt?, Also, drunk!Kurt has no filter.
“No, Kurt,” Blaine said, stopping him from taking another one of Puck’s margaritas. Blaine had smelled them, and if there was even a splash of margarita mix in the tequila, he’d have been surprised.
“Oh, Blaine, you’re such a party pooper,” Kurt giggled as he sucked down the end of his first margarita. “Ooh, come on. Brittany and Santana are doing tequila shots. I want to do one!” Kurt’s smile and eyelash batting had Blaine sighing and taking the boy’s hand and going over to the table, where the salt and lime had been laid out already.
“Okay, but only one.” Kurt just rolled his eyes.
For the first shot, Kurt had refused to lick salt off of Santana’s chest, so he’d had to drink straight from the shot glass without the offer of the salt or the lime. Kurt looked at Blaine and smiled.
“No, Kurt. I’m not about to take off my shirt so you can take a shot.”
“Come on, Warbler. Get with the program,” Santana offered as Kurt’s defense. It’s not the end of the world. Have you even had anything to drink?”
“Please, Blaine?” This came from Kurt, who pressed a soft kiss to the other’s lips. Blaine smiled and kissed Kurt back, purposefully ignoring the taste of alcohol on his lips and taking hold of Kurt’s jaw to pull him in closer.
“Dude, stop making out with each other and do this damned shot!” came the voice of one Noah Puckerman. Kurt looked up and glared at him.
“As it is my boyfriend, Noah,” he began, slurring his words only just a little. “I will make out with him for however long I want.” He paused to prove his point, dipping his head to kiss Blaine again. He was dizzy with lust when he pulled away. “Give me the tequila,” he commanded, taking the shot glass in his hand. Blaine started to take off his shirt, thought better of the action, and pulled his shirt up, revealing a tightness of his stomach and the definition in his abs. Kurt licked his lips as Santana handed the Warbler a lime wedge and sprinkled salt across the top of his chest. Kurt could hear Blaine’s soft moan and felt his body shuddering underneath him as he lifted up to toss back the shot. After swallowing, Kurt made a face at the taste and exhaled, then bent his head down, parted his lips, and let the flat of his tongue touch Blaine’s skin.
The first thing that he tasted was the pure bitterness of the salt, and then he felt the heat of Blaine’s chest on his mouth. His cock jumped to life, and Kurt whimpered softly. His brain shut off, and once the salt was gone, Blaine tried to sit up. He was pushed back with an insistent hand, and then Kurt was licking over each of his nipples, making Blaine grip his boyfriend’s hips as he tried to control himself. Kurt looked up, his eyes glazed over, and remembered that he was in the presence of the rest of New Directions. They were all staring at him, jaws wide, except for Santana, who looked utterly pleased with herself.
“Blaine, it’s time to go.”
“No, Kurt.” Blaine had to assert himself for the umteenth time that night as he carried a drunken Kurt home from another night of debauchery at Rachel’s house. This time, he’d been the sober one, especially after realizing that Kurt had been watching him all night the first time they’d partied together, and while Blaine had a tendency to get physical while drunk, he wasn’t exactly horny. Kurt, however, was a sexual firecracker, especially after three tequila shots and a Noah Puckerman mixed margarita.
“But Blaine,” Kurt protested, stopping and putting a hand solidly between the boy’s legs. “Don’t you feel it for me?”
“Kurt! We have to get you home. To bed.”
“Only if you’ll come with me.”
“To .” Kurt blinked and pressed himself against Blaine before pushing their lips together.
“I don’t want to sleep. I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming and begging for you to make me come, and—”
“Okay!” Blaine’s face was beet red. Apparently, along with Kurt’s sense of propriety went his language filter. He had to admit, though, when Kurt spoke like he knew exactly what he wanted, Blaine could feel his cock jump through his jeans. Kurt’s hand grabbed at it again, this time noticing that he was hard. With a chuckle, Kurt pressed his own hips against Blaine’s, pushing them down a side street and against a wall.
“You see? You want me too,” He cooed, and reached one hand to stroke the soft skin of Blaine’s cheek. “Please, please.”
“Kurt, you’re drunk.”
“I don’t care. I want you to make me feel good. I want you to blow me, here and now. And then take me home and fuck me.” Kurt’s voice was slowly edging toward hysterical as he tried to throw himself at Blaine, who seemed to only want to take him home. “If this is because of what happened last time at Rachel’s party, it’s fine. We’re here now, and that’s what’s important, right?”
“Kurt, you’re drunk and I’m not about to have sex with you. I care about you too much to take advantage of you drunk.”
“Damn it, Blaine! Santana sleeps with Brittany, and they care about it each other. They’re probably together now. And I can’t even get my boyfriend to touch me, and here we are in a damn alley.” Kurt whacked the wall with an open palm to make his point. Blaine shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and Kurt frustrated, put both hands softly against Blaine’s chest.
“I just…you feel so good all the time, and when you’re on your knees, the way you move your tongue, Blaine.” Blaine’s breath hitched, and he tried to remember exactly why he wasn’t doing this. He was trying to take care of Kurt, and sure, he wanted to drop his pants and take his boyfriend here and now, but it was dangerous. “I just want you to touch me.”
The dam broke. Blaine took a deep breath and took hold of Kurt’s arms before turning him so his back was against the wall and kissed him hard, hands scrambling down to take hold of the top button of the jeans Kurt had on. When he couldn’t find the right angle to unbutton the damn tight pants Kurt insisted were fashionable, Blaine pulled away from the kiss and dropped to his knees.
His fingers went to work immediately, undoing the button-fly of Kurt’s jeans. He was pleased and a little bit shocked to find that Kurt hadn’t been wearing underwear. He swore and looked upward at Kurt, who was staring at him with an unapologetic smile. “They’re tight pants, Blaine,” he breathed, because it wasn’t really speaking, not the way that Blaine had him falling apart, and was barely even touching him. Blaine shook his head and swore again.
“Gonna blow you now,” he said with a nod, and before Kurt could even nod his assent, Blaine’s mouth was on him, hot and fast. Kurt opened his mouth and his head fell backward, rendered incapable of making a sound. Blaine’s tongue worked the underside of Kurt’s cock, tracing obscene shapes and working its way up to the juncture between the shaft and the head. When Blaine’s tongue went flat and licked across the head of his dick, Kurt’s knees gave out. His head fell forward, and it was only Blaine’s hand on his hip keeping him steady.
“Blaine, Blaine,,” Kurt moaned softly, his head forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to be making noise. He inhaled sharply as his hips bucked forward of their own accord. Blaine had just done something with just a hint of tooth that undid him. Blaine pulled off of Kurt long enough to look up and give brief instructions. Blaine’s eyes were blown wide, and his lips were swollen.
“Do that again.” Kurt was confused, and opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but Blaine was already on top of it. “Fuck my mouth,” he growled, voice low and sex-filled and desperate. Kurt’s fingers threaded through Blaine’s curls and he nodded, incapable of denying him anything when he spoke like . Blaine opened his mouth and Kurt was there instantly, his hips snapping forward in quick, needy thrusts. Blaine knew he was close, and he grabbed Kurt’s hips with his hands and pushed him in further, relaxing his throat and taking Kurt until his nose was pressed against the small patch of pubic hair.
“Kurt…fuck.” In an instant, Blaine was up turning Kurt against the wall. It only took a moment before his pants were undone and around his waist. There was something about it when Kurt played dirty that made Blaine incapable of rational thought. He was undoing his pants, then, and then spitting on his palm. After a few thrusts through his hand, Blaine lined himself up and was pushing himself into Kurt in hard, quick thrusts. Kurt cried out, whimpering by the time Blaine was buried inside of him, babbling for him to just keep moving.
“Blaine please. Blaine . I just…fuck me. Fuck me hard. I want you to make me…oh my God. Yes, please, just like that.” Kurt’s voice was the only one other than Blaine’s harsh pants and the occasional moan as he fucked his boyfriend quick and dirty in the alley. “Blaine, I can’t…I’m—”
And then he was coming, hitting brick wall as Kurt cried out and pushed himself hard against Blaine, who was grabbing Kurt’s hips and coming too. Blaine pulled out and fixed Kurt with a look of disbelief. Kurt was simply smiling as he adjusted his pants, the gleam of alcohol still glazing over his eyes.
“What now?” Blaine asked as he licked his lips. Kurt leaned over and kissed him soundly on the mouth before answering.
“Sleepover at your house?”
It was two in the morning when Blaine woke up to Kurt retching in his bathroom. Shaking his head, he got out of bed and padded across the room until he could see his boyfriend hunched over the toilet. Blaine got on his knees and sighed as he started rubbing slow circles on his back.
“It hurts, Blaine.”
“I kept telling you not to,” he whispered, to which he was earned another round of retching from Kurt, and then a punch on the arm. “What have we learned?”
“Two things. One, I’m going to kill Noah Puckerman.” Kurt spit and flushed the toilet, but didn’t move from his perch.
“And the second?”
“I’m never drinking tequila again.”
- Current Mood: exhausted
Word Count: 4,030
Pairing/Spoiler Alert: Klaine; Future AU (Kurt and Blaine have graduated from college and are living together in an apartment in Manhattan)
Warnings: mentions of illegal drug use, frottage, anal sex
Summary: Kurt never knew that Blaine liked dubstep. He also didn’t know that Blaine didn’t always turn to him when times were tough. (Note: Title is from the song Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites by Skrillex. They’re the last words of the song [and almost the only words].)
Kurt never knew that Blaine liked dubstep. Blaine’s musical tendencies were very deeply rooted in top forties, and when they strayed, they didn’t venture far from the alternative or acoustic styles.
So when Kurt walked in on Blaine cleaning their apartment to Skrillex, he didn’t exactly know what to think. He’d gotten in just before the beat drop, so Kurt was clueless as to what the wordless chanting was until a girl yelled “Yes, oh my god!” and the music turned into something dirty. He watched with amusement and shock as Blaine’s entire body fell into the beat, using the vacuum in a way that was far more obscene than it needed to be. Kurt felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end and a familiar heat start to pool in his belly.
Blaine was literally becoming the music that he was dancing to, and when there was a small pause, a silence, Blaine threw his head back and swallowed. Kurt saw sweat drip slowly down Blaine’s Adam’s apple and felt his own throat go entirely dry. The only thought on his mind after a long day at work was how he couldn’t wait to go lick the trail that the sweat had just created.
Kurt didn’t have very long to think about what he wanted, because then the song was changing, and Blaine literally gasped and shuddered as the music started. His entire body vibrated, and he froze for a moment before seeming to remind himself that he was cleaning, and continued to push the vacuum through the carpeting of their living room. Kurt shut the door quietly, though there was no way Blaine could hear him over the bass in the speakers, and shifted to get a better view of Blaine’s body.
What he was rewarded with, however, was something that Kurt would consider nothing less than pornographic. Sweat had practically soaked through the front of the white shirt Blaine was wearing, so Kurt could easily see the definition that meant years of soccer and track practice had definitely paid off. He felt his jaw drop, but couldn’t exactly bring himself to care, not when the song had changed from something hard and jarring to something smoother and Blaine was swaying to the beat, his hips rotating in time to the way the bass rumbled. He watched intently as Blaine’s hand ran through his hair, and Kurt was glad that it was cleaning day. Otherwise, the curls would have been hidden under product. Granted, he’d been able to convince Blaine that less was more, it was nice to see the curls untamed and wild and sexy, especially when they were matted with sweat.
Blaine made a noise that was audible over the vacuum, and Kurt snapped back to reality, realizing that Blaine was simply staring at him, watching the other man watch him. The vacuum turned off in an instant, and Blaine went to grab the remote for the speakers, but Kurt held up a hand, the only sound coming from his lips a strangled cry of ‘nglh,’ which Blaine assumed meant some form of the word no. Kurt swallowed and closed his eyes, finally managing to think semi-clearly when he wasn’t staring at the way that Blaine moved, and how that was so similar to the way he moved inside of him.
There was silence between the two for a long moment, with Kurt just breathing deeply as bass rocked their apartment, and Blaine broke it first. “Kurt.” It was just his name, but Blaine said it like the word in and of itself was the only thing he needed, more than he needed to breathe or to sing. He needed “Kurt.” There it was again, the sound of brokenness, almost need, and Kurt nodded slowly before he came over to where Blaine was standing.
“Hey,” he whispered into Blaine’s ear, licking the shell of it in a way that he wouldn’t have imagined when they’d first started dating. Blaine’s answering noise of aroused contentment made Kurt’s stomach flutter. It had been five years, and Blaine still found ways to make Kurt’s insides twist up. “I didn’t know you liked…this.” Kurt waved his hand in the air, and Blaine nodded.
“I didn’t, either. But Wes showed it to me senior year. I usually only listen to it when I’m cleaning—or when I’m high—but other than that, I kind of never listen to it anymore.” Kurt blinked, clearly taken aback. This was not how that sentence was supposed to end.
“What do you mean high? Blaine Anderson, tell me you do not smoke weed.” Blaine flushed and went to pause the music. Kurt didn’t stop him, instead choosing to take a step backward to sit on the couch. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Kurt had envisioned himself stripping Blaine of his shirt and riding him on the now-clean carpet and making them need an excuse to clean it again. Instead, they were probably going to have what was shaping up to be one of their long and involved relationship talks, which usually ended up with Blaine being right and Kurt being upset. Though the possibility of makeup sex didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Dubstep was, to its credit, music that was very easy to imagine having sex to.
Right. It was difficult to be mad at Blaine when all he could think about was coming hard as Blaine thrust into him as the stereo system screamed back at them the ‘yes, oh my god’ in agreement, that yes, this was so the right thing to be doing. And then it was that much easier to be upset, then, because they were talking instead of fucking, and Kurt’s frown became genuine.
“Kurt,” Blaine started, sitting down next to his boyfriend on the couch. Kurt didn’t move away, but he wasn’t encouraging any physical touching. Not yet. He sat, arms folded over his chest, and waited for Blaine’s explanation, which, for the sake of their sex life, had better have been the best damn explanation he’d ever sat through. “I went through a lot in high school before I transferred to Dalton, Kurt, and I need you to know that.”
“I know, Blaine. But what does this have to do with you smoking now?” The whine that was in his voice annoyed Kurt, but only because it let Blaine know that he didn’t want to be upset.
“I’m getting there, I promise.” Blaine leaned over to press a kiss to Kurt’s lips, smiling softly when Kurt whimpered and loosened his arms just a little bit, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be angry and kissing his boyfriend hello. When Blaine pulled back, Kurt’s frown was just a little less pronounced, and he was just a little more willing to hear the other out. But only a little. “In my freshman year, it was just after I’d come out, I was tired of getting pushed around and it hurt, and I realized that the only way that I was going to get over it was to ignore it, to figure out a way to not care about it.
“This guy, Adam, he introduced it to me first. At first, I did it in the morning before class so that I could get through the day without having to care about that fact that I would get shoved into shit every day, but I would start to sober up before Gym, and it would hurt again.” Kurt could see the tears forming in Blaine’s eyes, but the boy was so wrapped up in his own world that Kurt wasn’t sure that Blaine would even be able to tell once he’d started crying. Kurt hated and loved hearing about Blaine’s past. Sure, he had the pleasure of knowing, of getting on a more personal level with the man that he’d opened up to within hours of meeting, and that was great. But there was also the fact that Blaine had been messed with, worse than Kurt had been. He shuddered to think of how much worse it could have possibly been. “So I started to skip classes to go smoke, and that way when I got pushed into things, or when someone would ‘accidentally’ trip me or punch me in the chest, I could pretend like nothing could stop me because I was above it all.
“By the time I reached winter break, I was never sober anymore. My parents didn’t care, as long as I didn’t fuck up athletics or academics. They pretended they didn’t see the bruises. And then that night at the Sadie Hawkins Dance came, and I wanted to be sober for that.” He paused, then, jaw working but no words coming. “So I couldn’t pretend not to feel it. And…and…”
“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, tucking a sweaty lock behind his ear. Blaine started as he came back to the present. He looked at Kurt with wide, scared eyes, and Kurt felt his heart breaking for ever being upset. “You don’t have to finish your story. It’s okay.” The first tear slipped down Blaine’s cheek. “Oh, Blaine. Come here.” He opened his arms and Blaine was in them in an instant, curled up in Kurt’s lap and crying hard. The past was years behind them. Kurt felt his anger surge as he realized that yes, it had been years, but that the pain was still so clearly there.
After a few sniffles, Blaine was sitting up again, refusing to let himself fall into the breakdown he knew would happen if he let it. “I only do it when I have nightmares.” Kurt stiffened underneath Blaine, and he shifted so that he was looking Blaine in the eye. “It hasn’t happened recently, but when it does…it helps.”
“When was the last time?”
“Two months ago?” Blaine shifted in Kurt’s lap, feeling uncomfortable, and Kurt knew that this was a conversation best left for another time. Now was the time to bring back the mood Kurt had killed. He pressed a kiss to the underside of Blaine’s jaw and sighed. He remembered the day. Blaine had woken up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, and had pulled away from Kurt so violently that Kurt wasn’t sure if Blaine was still sleeping or not. Blaine had refused to talk to Kurt, simply telling him that he was going out for a walk. Alone. By the time Blaine had gotten back, it was nearly five in the morning, and Kurt was asleep on the couch, having tried to wait up for his boyfriend.
“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice was quiet and unsure, but he was looking at Blaine with eyes that held nothing but love and trust.
“I love you.” Blaine’s entire body relaxed and he kissed Kurt hard on the lips, shifting so that he was straddling his boyfriend. Calloused hands slipped into perfectly coiffed hair, pulling softly, and Kurt whimpered underneath him, opening his mouth to moan softly.
Blaine pulled away for only a moment, whispering “Thank you, thank you,” on top of Kurt’s lips before diving back in and pressing himself bodily against the other. Kurt shivered when Blaine’s nails dragged a little deeper against his scalp. While Kurt chastised Blaine about mussing his hair, there was something about it that unraveled him from his very center and frayed every single one of his nerve endings. Kurt gasped as Blaine began to pull, just hard enough to hurt in the best way, and he felt Blaine’s tongue in his mouth and responded eagerly.
They kissed hard for a moment, and then Kurt pulled back to drag his teeth across Blaine’s lower lip, then back to suck on it. Blaine’s eyelashes fluttered across his upper cheek, then his eyes closed completely, squeezed shut and simply feeling. Kurt took advantage of this to release Blaine’s lip and kiss up behind his ear. There was the semi-salty tang of sweat that went straight to Kurt’s groin, and Blaine made a devastatingly beautiful noise that could only be described as needy.
Blaine’s hips drove downward into Kurt’s, seeking friction between them, needing it. “Oh my God, Kurt. Please, please, oh my God.” Blaine’s lip was trembling, and he could hardly grip Kurt’s hair anymore. Instead, his hands were splayed out on Kurt’s chest, twitching whenever Kurt’s teeth dragged across that spot behind his ear. A smile curled onto Kurt’s features, and he stuck out his tongue to lick a flat stripe downward, pausing over Blaine’s Adam’s apple to suck up another mark there. Blaine pushed his hips down again and his jaw dropped as he swallowed, words leaving him. Kurt took pity on him this time, though, and lifted his hips to roll them in time with Blaine’s.
“I saw you dancing, Blaine. It was something else,” Kurt whispered, his hands slipping down the white t-shirt that Blaine had on and pulling it upward in a swift motion. His lips broke contact with dark skin for only a moment as the fabric came up and over Blaine’s head, and then they were back, latching onto his neck where Kurt had watched the sweat slide down earlier.
“D-dancing?” Blaine stuttered, his hips jerking as Kurt tongued a spot just to the left of his Adam’s apple.
“Oh, right,” Kurt corrected, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as a low chuckle combined with his words. “You call it cleaning. The way you were moving, though…” He trailed off into a moan, and Blaine had to move. He pulled away and stood, dropping to his knees in front of the couch before Kurt could object. Blaine’s hands pulled hard on the fly of Kurt’s pants, got flustered when his fingers couldn’t get the button, and settled instead for lording his height advantage (for once) over Kurt by standing and bending over to kiss him. Hard.
“I can dance for you, if you want,” he suggested breathlessly, his cheeks not even bothering to color. Blaine had long since learned that being shy when it came to Kurt was absolutely pointless. Kurt was a lot kinkier than he let on. Kurt’s eyes flickered to meet Blaine’s, and he nodded, reaching for the remote to un-pause the music. Just as his hand reached the plastic of the control, it was snatched from his hands. “I’m dancing; I get to pick the music.” Kurt simply rose an eyebrow. “Trust me.” Kurt nodded mutely, eyes unable to decide whether they wanted to stare at Blaine’s chest or his legs or his arms, or the way that his eyes looked like every emotion that—
And then the music was playing. It was the same song that Kurt had walked in on. The music seemed to start innocently enough, and so did Blaine’s dancing. At first it was just a gentle hip swaying with the beat, and Kurt watched with his mouth hanging open as Blaine ran his hands along his own body, appreciating it. And then the beat dropped. The guttural yell happened and Blaine was moving. Blaine hadn’t started out touching Kurt, but then he was dancing on top of him, using the couch to support his movements.
Kurt reached out to touch him, but Blaine took his hands and pinned them above his head. He leaned in just far enough for Kurt to feel the stubble on Blaine’s chin on his neck, but his lips refused to touch Kurt. Their only points of contact were Kurt’s wrists in Blaine’s hand and the harsh sometimes contact of their hips against each other. When the song started to slow down near its end, Blaine made to get off of Kurt’s lap and change the song, but Kurt was having none of that. In one swift motion, Kurt locked his leg behind Blaine’s knee and brought him falling back against Kurt.
The second their chests were together, Kurt’s lips were everywhere on Blaine that they could touch. First it was his lips, and Blaine kissed back with just as much enthusiasm, tongues colliding as the sound of panting came from underneath the bass of the next song. When Kurt tried to pull away, Blaine nipped at his lower lip and Kurt’s whole body shuddered. The whole time, Blaine’s hands were moving, searching for purchase until they could thread into Kurt’s hair again, holding the other man there and quickly taking control of the kiss.
When Kurt moaned Blaine’s name into his mouth, Blaine gasped and had to pull away. “God, Kurt. Please.”
“Please what?” Kurt’s voice was raspy and deep as he tilted Blaine’s head to the side to kiss and suck at the juncture between his neck and jaw, which never failed to leave Blaine a puddle, scrambling for purchase but arching forward for more, always more. Blaine opened his mouth to speak, to try to get something out, but shivered instead as Kurt’s tongue traced the mark that he’d made with a feather-light touch. “I can’t hear you, Blaine,” he teased, finally tracing the trail of sweat with his tongue and being rewarded with the still there taste of salt and Blaine.
“Fuck me. Kurt, fuck me, please. I need to feel you inside of me. I just want you to fuck me.” Blaine’s voice was trembling and low and absolutely wrecked in a way that Kurt was sure shouldn’t have been so attractive. With a smile, he rolled them once to the left, effectively switching their positions on the couch. With Blaine underneath him, Kurt took his time pulling the t-shirt off of him, then turned to his own clothing, first unbuttoning the three buttons of his collar, then pulling the shirt over his head.
“All you had to do was ask.” Kurt was sure that he’d never watched Blaine attempt to shimmy out of his pants faster in his entire life. But he was trying, and Kurt had to give him credit that he only bumped into Kurt’s arm once in the process, leaving himself bare, cock straining upward as he waited impatiently for his boyfriend to hurry up and get naked.
“I asked, Kurt. Hurry. Please.” God, and how could Kurt say no to something like that, something so needy and wonderful? He dove back down for another kiss, shoving his own pants down around his ankles and stroking his cock, once, twice, before he threw his hand out to the side table drawer and retrieving a small bottle of lube. After they’d started having sex in different parts of their apartment, Kurt and Blaine had learned that only keeping lube in the bedroom wasn’t a very good idea.
“Shh, shh,” Kurt cooed between kisses, pausing to kiss down his chest.
“Don’t tease,” Blaine warned, his voice tight and high. Kurt just smiled and opened the cap to the lube, pouring and warming it before he pushed two fingers against Blaine’s ass. Blaine reached out a hand to try to steady himself against Kurt's arm, his middle three fingers curling around to hold Kurt's bicep as he pushed down onto him. "God, Kurt. Yes.”
"Yes, right there? Do you like it like that?" Blaine just nodded and closed his eyes, letting himself be awash in the sensation. He inhaled, and there was a moment of silence where the music could be heard over the sound of the moans and sharp intake of breaths. The CD had restarted itself, and there was a softer sound playing, the bass still there but without as much presence as the other songs he'd been paying attention to. Kurt took a deep, steadying breath and rocked his fingers in and out of Blaine in time with the music, pausing only when he would rub against Blaine's prostate and he would make a keening sound that Kurt had come to describe as a mix between a grunt and a whine.
"Kurt, I want you in me. Fuck me." God, Kurt loved when Blaine was like this, when he was so compliant and so willing to beg underneath him. It made Kurt's head spin, especially when he got to top at the end of the day. Slowly, Kurt pulled his fingers from Blaine and poured more lube onto his hand before stroking it onto himself, taking the time to relish in the feeling of his hand on his cock. "Kurt," came the impatient whine, and Blaine ground his hips down into his boyfriend's thigh.
"Yes, Blaine," Kurt promised, lowering himself to position himself in front of Blaine again. As he pushed in slowly, the song changed, and the bass picked up to a level that was almost frantic. It almost startled Kurt, but he took the initiative and made slow, shallow thrusts until he was buried deep inside of the other man. "God, Blaine, you feel so good. Always so good."
"Yes, yes, Kurt. God, need you to move." Blaine panted as he tried to regain his composure, fingers scrambling for purchase now and rising to Kurt's back to pull him down closer. Kurt didn't move, though, always teasing, and Blaine made a huffing sound before he started to shift his hips, working them slowly in a circle, then faster. It took Kurt a moment to realize that Blaine was dancing again, dancing to the rhythm of the bass and the heavy beat with Kurt inside of him. Kurt inhaled and let out a staggering breath before he lost his willpower and he was moving, thrusting into Blaine with hard, deep strokes.
"Oh, God, Blaine."
"Harder. Harder, Kurt." Blaine was always vocal when he was bottoming, and it was something that Kurt wasn't sure that he'd ever get used to, per se, but there was no way that he was going to be complaining about it. He obliged happily, hardly hearing the sound of the bass in the speaker system over the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of skin coming together, over Blaine's sounds. "Yes, Wait. Right there, do that again."
"Do...what?" Kurt asked between thrusts, leaning down to plant a sloppy kiss against Blaine's neck. He stayed there a moment, enjoying the salty taste of sweat and sucking up one, two, and then three marks without shame before starting on the other side of his neck. "Can't hear you, Blaine," he reminded when the man was silenced, left to nothing but jerky motions and half sounds.
"Just. Don't stop. Please. Fuck me, Kurt."
"Right here, Blaine. I'm right here." The song changed, and Kurt picked up the pace of his thrusts, aiming for the hard and fast tempo that he knew Blaine appreciated. With one hand, he reached between the two of them and started to slowly stroke at Blaine's cock. Blaine gasped and inhaled, then inhaled again, and the music behind them rose until the beat dropped, and Blaine shuddered.
“Close, Kurt. Fuck…close.” Kurt nodded and picked up the speed of his thrusts and his strokes around the length of Blaine’s cock got shorter.
“Me too. God, Blaine. I—” Before he could finish his sentence, Blaine was coming over his hand, body tensing and blenching tight around him. His breath came sporadically and in harsh pants, and he continued to roll his hips through his orgasm, pushing Kurt closer and closer to the edge.
The music dropped again, the same track Kurt had walked in on. The voice screamed yes, and Kurt came, thrusts losing any direction but forward into Blaine’s heat, and he shuddered before unceremoniously wrapping himself around Blaine and kissing him hard. When they broke apart, Kurt pulled out of him, and Blaine sighed softly at the loss. “I love you,” Blaine whispered, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s jaw. The song had softened again, ending, and Kurt nodded, turning his head to capture Blaine’s lips in another kiss.
“I love you, too.” He was quiet for a moment, then started to chuckle. “You know we have to clean the couch again, right?”
“Just shut up and cuddle me for a while, okay?” Kurt shook his head and smiled, then rested his head on Blaine’s chest.
- Current Location:bed.
- Current Mood:indescribable
- Current Music:Skrillex
Rating: R, for language, sexual themes, illegal alcohol consumption
Spoilers: BIOTA (Blame it on the Alcohol) AU
Warnings: underage drinking, drinking games, boy kisses, light frottage, mild voyeurism
Summary: Kurt and Blaine are at Rachel’s party, when Rachel decides to show Finn what’s what with a game of Spin the Bottle. It’s Blaine’s turn to spin, and Kurt watches as the wine cooler bottle slowly stops rotations. Based on prompt here: Abbykadabbra's Tumblr
Author’s Note (s): You can listen to this in silence, or you can listen to it to one of the following songs: a) the song that I played on repeat while writing this – Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, or b) the song that came on shuffle (in my head canon) when the bottle stopped – Toot it and Boot It by YG featuring Ty$E. The choice is yours. Title is from Sixpence’s Kiss Me.
Kurt was a little tipsy, but he was by no means drunk, not like the rest of the people in the room, Finn aside. Blaine, even so drunk that he had trouble standing up, could tell that Kurt was faking the buzz that the party emanated. He’d been about to wander over to Kurt to offer him some of the rum and coke he was drinking when Rachel interrupted everyone by turning on that damned bedazzled microphone. What she’d announced made Kurt blush, Santana grin, and there were a few whoops and cheers scattered from the rest of the party crew. Blaine, however, simply inhaled slowly and held his breath, praying that things would work out for him the way he needed.
“Who wants to play Spin the Bottle!?”
When they were all seated, the wine cooler bottle started spinning. Everyone was kissing, laughing, and having a fun time of it. Blaine kept his eyes on Kurt. Partially because he couldn’t bring himself to look at the bottle while it was in rotation, and partially because Kurt looked positively queasy every time the bottle passed him. Blaine didn’t even notice that it was his turn until Puck said “Dude,” and he was torn from watching the boy. Blaine’s hand trembled as he set the bottle down and twisted his wrist, and then held his breath.
The first thought to cross his mind was that the bottle shouldn’t land on Kurt. That would be too much, too soon. He liked Kurt, but Kurt needed a mentor, not someone fawning over him. Kurt needed someone to be there for him, not someone who wanted to be all over him. Up until recently, Blaine had been okay with containing himself, refusing to allow himself to be interested in Kurt to protect him, but apparently the alcohol in his system had evaporated any such morals.
The second thought was that it couldn’t be anyone else but Kurt. Because Blaine wanted Kurt with something so big inside of his chest that he was frightened by it. Blaine looked up, but all eyes were on the bottle. His eyes flickered over to where Kurt was perched, and when the bottle passed him, instead of nausea, there was almost a certain sadness that the cooler hadn’t stopped.
Okay, that was definitely the alcohol talking. Right? Blaine heard a squeal as the bottle slowed to an excruciatingly glacial pace, which came from Rachel. Blaine bit back a grimace and willed the bottle to move just a little bit more until—
“Kurt!” Rachel’s voice reverberated in the small circle, and Kurt very nearly jumped out of his skin. Blaine simply smiled and tried not to look too smug. He quickly downed the rest of his rum and coke, chuckling to himself as he thought about his booze as “courage.”
Blaine could feel himself roll up onto his knees so he could reach across the circle to where Kurt was sitting, but all he could see was the trepidation in the other’s eyes, telling him how terrified he was of a real kiss, one that mattered. One that he wanted. Blaine’s face contorted into a watery half-smile as Kurt maneuvered himself into a half-sitting position, his hands coming to rest on either side of Blaine’s knees for balance.
His entire face was beet red.
Blaine leaned up, his lips a hair’s breadth away from Kurt’s, and he could see all of the muscles in Kurt’s face tensing up. “Relax,” he whispered, and then their lips were touching. It was barely more than a peck among close friends before Blaine was pulling away and running a hand through his hair. It took all of his self-control to pull away, to stop before he got carried away and lost in the way that Kurt melted underneath him. His hands searched for his cup, looking for something to fidget with, when Santana spoke up.
“Whoa. That is not how the game works. Did you see me and Britt getting’ our mack on? That’s how it’s gotta go. You can’t just pansy out now, white boy. Unless you wants to have an argument. And I will win.” Blaine looked up at her, eyes wide in confusion and glazed with inebriation. He wanted her to understand. He wanted nothing more than to sit and kiss Kurt until he was breathless and whining underneath him, but he couldn’t. He knew the way Kurt reacted to sexual situations, and Blaine couldn’t handle being rejected like that. Not by this boy.
There was a murmur of assent, and then Rachel was pulling at Blaine’s neck, bringing him in close. He was off balance and stumbled forward, practically in her lap. “Blaine. Blaine Warbler. You can’t do that. You have to kiss him. Like. Kiss him. Do you want me to show you?”
“No!” Kurt’s voice was immediate, and everyone turned to look at him. He backtracked quickly, stammering. “Well, I mean. Blaine, they’re right. We are playing this game, aren’t we?” Blaine looked up from Rachel’s lap, and whoa, Kurt’s face was upside down. With some difficulty, he righted himself, and was again inches from Kurt’s mouth. “Please kiss me,” he whispered, meant for only Blaine’s ears, and even drunk, the boy knew when he was supposed to take advantage of the situation.
This time, when Blaine and Kurt’s lips met, Blaine refused to pull away. Instead, he raised his hand and tucked it against the contours of the countertenor’s face, his thumb coming to rest right in front of his ear and the rest of his fingers threading into Kurt’s hair. There was a small whimper into the kiss, and Blaine recognized it as a sign to go further, so he parted his lips. Kurt’s mouth opened almost instantly. When Blaine gripped Kurt’s face just a little harder, pulled them a little closer and snaked his tongue just so into the boy’s mouth, Kurt gasped and used his hands to tug on the red cardigan, smashing their chests together.
Unfortunately, Blaine was drunk and Kurt had never been very stable, so the duo toppled backward. Blaine pulled away from the kiss, startled as they shifted from vertical to horizontal, but Kurt would have none of that. He lifted one hand from the cardigan and stuck it into Blaine’s hair before pushing them back together. Kurt made a noise in the back of his throat that could have been need or confusion, but to Blaine, it was the single most sensual noise that he’d ever heard, and it drove him wild.
From their position, Blaine could feel the heat radiating from Kurt’s chest and stomach, and he dropped a hand to slide up Kurt’s shirt and rest on his ribcage. Feeling Kurt’s stomach quiver as they kissed made Blaine realize that Kurt wanted this just as much as he did, and Blaine groaned before pressing his hips down into the other boy’s, and reveling in the fact that Kurt’s hips trembled and bucked forward to meet him.
Neither boy heard Santana say “So fucking wanky,” in her drunken drawl, and neither heard when Rachel and Quinn started catcalling, focused simply on each other. What Blaine did feel, though, was the way that Kurt’s hand gripped his cardigan just a little bit tighter on ever forward thrust, and Blaine heard every near-silent plea for more that Kurt whimpered. What Blaine heard was that Kurt wanted him, too. It triggered something in his brain. Blaine started to shift against Kurt’s pelvis with a sense of urgency, every other thrust punctuated with a low, burning moan from the back of Blaine’s throat that Kurt swallowed and replied with one of his own. Kurt’s hips moved a little more slowly, providing just enough friction that the both of them forgot where they were, but not so much o that Kurt was going to do something he regretted.
Or so he hoped.
Blaine pulled his lips away a minute later, and Kurt tried valiantly to chase them with his own kiss-bruised pair, but before he could move his neck very far, Blaine was back and nuzzling at Kurt’s neck; porcelain, perfect. Kurt gasped, a small groan slipping from dark red lips, and his eyelids fluttered, but from a very heated kissing experience at his friend’s house, Blaine knew that Kurt wasn’t seeing very much of anything.
First there was one small red mark, and in the process of creating it, the speed at which Kurt’s hips moved just about doubled until Blaine couldn’t do anything but rut helplessly against him, intentions of leaving hickeys and being tender forgotten. Kurt was making small noises against Blaine’s ear and Blaine was mimicking them at a lower pitch into Kurt’s neck, coherent sentences and words forgotten. Blaine’s hands slipped down, pushing Kurt’s hips down and grinding into them. He could feel the heat that had pooled in his stomach starting to spread throughout his body, leaving him feeling numb and almost weightless. He lifted his head and crushed his lips against Kurt’s again, not taking the same care he had with the first and second kiss, but Kurt didn’t seem to mind.
Nobody seemed to mind, in fact, aside from Finn, who had been uncomfortable since Rachel suggested that they play the damn game in the first place, but he’d endured it in quiet silence. That was, until he heard his brother whine into the mouth of another boy loudly enough to shock him to the core.
Blaine had just gotten Kurt to let go, to make noise, and then he was gasping as he was pulled off of the boy and sat upright. His head was spinning, mostly from kissing but still a little bit from the alcohol. Okay, maybe a lot from the alcohol, but either way, his chest was cold because Kurt wasn’t pressed against it, and Blaine turned to see who had been so cruel as to pull them away. He was faced by none other than Finn. He opened his mouth to ask why, but the taller boy beat him to it.
“Dude. That’s my fucking brother.”
“Yes. I was kissing him.” Blaine was confused. He looked at Kurt, who had managed to sit up, compose himself, and blush like he’d never pale again.
“No,” Santana interjected. “You were well on your way to something else. What I don’t know is why Hudson here stopped you. That was hot.” She winked at Blaine, and he scowled. He held out his hand to Kurt, who, after some internal struggling, took it. Blaine’ shoulders relaxed, and he felt himself calm down knowing that Kurt wasn’t pulling away from him. He didn’t respond, though, choosing instead to sulk in silence.
“Well, I think they killed the game. Who wants to sing a duet with me!?” Rachel was quick to recover from the moment, yelling into that damned microphone again. Mercedes agreed, if for no other reason than to shut her up for a little while, and the party went back to normal. With the exception of Kurt and Blaine, who continued to sit on the floor in the same spot, holding hands. Blaine did nuzzle closer, though, resting on Kurt’s shoulder.
Three songs and a lot of laughter later, Kurt was shaking Blaine awake. The party was over, and he’d fallen asleep. “Blaine, Blaine come on, wake up.”
“No, Kurt. You’re so cozy. Just sleeping, okay?”
“Come on, Blaine. You have to get home.”
“’S too far away from you. I don’t want to sleep alone. Don’t make me sleep alone.” Blaine put on his best puppy dog pout, which Kurt thought looked entirely ridiculous, but he caved.
“You can stay at my house.” Blaine was trying to get to his feet immediately, but he was still uncoordinated and tired, so it took a little bit of help. He caught Finn’s attention, and they were in the car on the way home in under twenty minutes.
Blaine watched Kurt for the car ride home, watching the way he breathed, the way he tried to pretend that he wasn’t really looking at Blaine even though the boy had caught him twice. “Kurt,” he whispered, leaning close.
“That wasn’t just booze, okay? That kiss. I wanted to kiss you. A lot, actually. You know that, don’t you?”
Kurt smiled, and he thought that he could feel his heart skip a beat. “Yes, Blaine.”
- Current Mood:awake
- Current Music:Kiss Me
“I don’t know, Darren. You did call me a bastard in front of an entire audience.”
Darren’s hip rose to try to get attention, to get anything. He was so hard it ached, and his body trembled with excitement. Every time Chris’ hand would get close, Darren would try to move and Chris would jerk his hand away. Darren tried to follow, but he was tied spread-eagle to the bed, muscle and hours at the gym rendered useless by a few simple knots.
The next time, Darren could feel the body heat emanating from Chris’ hand as it ghosted over Darren’s cock, not quite touching but oh-so-close. “Oh, God, Chris please. I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” His hips stuttered upward as best they could, and when Chris moved his hand away, Darren sobbed.
Author's Note: God, I really do not need to start any more works in progress. I have like...8, but I couldn't help myself. So, I'll put this one on the list. I swear I'm almost done with like...3.
- Current Location:under the covers
- Current Mood: exhausted
- Current Location:family room
- Current Mood: I hate livejournal sometimes
- Current Music:Wicked Soundtrack
Part Two: A Shower
Exactly forty two minutes and eleven seconds later, there was a knock on the door. And twenty three seconds later, when Abby pulled her headphones out of her ears to make sure that she'd actually heard the door, the doorbell rang. She squeaked, then smoothed down the front of her shirt as she rushed to the front door. She paused by the mirror, making sure that her hair wasn't entirely screwed up from a rushed cleaning job. "Coming," she called, and then put on her best "guest welcoming" smile before she opened the door.
When she did, however, the fake smile faltered and turned into something softer, something that was real, but that didn't need a name. "Darren," she whispered, and then she was hugging him. It caught the man by surprise, the cannon of blonde hair headed straight for his chest, but after stabilizing himself, he hugged her back, his arms coming up to stroke her back. "I missed you." She could feel Darren's smile without having to look at him, and it was clear that he'd missed her too.
"I haven't hung out with you in like…two months."
"You think I don't know that?" she teased, pulling away from the hug and inviting the man inside before one of the stupid boys on her street decided to tease her for being in love with a celebrity. Once she had the door closed, she discreetly took down the calendar by the door, which clearly showed that Darren hadn't hung out with her in two months, a week, and four days. She paused for a moment to watch the helmet of hair receding further into the house, and then let her eyes slip just for a moment, so that she was staring at his ass. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with that. And God, what an ass it was.
"Abby, are you even listening to me?"
"Huh?" Abby blinked, and Darren was inches away from her face. He'd managed to contort himself so that his face was upside down. He was looking at her with a scrunched up frown, and she snorted, then realized that Darren Criss was breathing air that was less than a foot away from her own. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I, uh, spaced out for a second."
"You do that a lot," he commented, straightening and rolling his shoulders back. Abby had to force herself not to look at his Adam's apple as he swallowed, or at the rest of his throat, which was just as equally inviting as the rest of him, and—"Can I have a tour?"
Abby paused for a moment, trying to remember if she'd recently cleaned out her room. There was the Darren Criss dedication wall, but that wasn't too embarrassing, and if she claimed that it was just dirty, there would be no need to go into her room at all. Plan in mind, Abby nodded, her smile coming back full force. "Of course. The grand finale will be the…shower, right?" Where Darren would strip, and, well, shower. He would use her shampoo in his hair, and the water would drip down his chin, and there would be suds that would travel down his back, maybe down into the crevice of his hipbones that meant nothing other than—
"Awesome! You have no idea how badly I need a shower right now." Abby didn't bother responding this time, and simply looped her arm through his and walked him into the dining room.
Through the tour, Darren was mostly quiet, offering his opinion on this knick-knack or that, asking why Abby's parents had thought to put it here instead of over there, where it would really "open up the space." He'd used that phrase twice before Abby turned to him and asked him if he was taking lessons on interior decorating. They'd both deteriorated into a fit of laughter, and slowly made their way upstairs. The entire time, Abby was dreading the fact that they were getting closer and closer to her room, and was trying valiantly to show him behind every door except the one that led to her nerd hovel.
Eventually, though, they arrived, and Abby turned to issue the excuse she'd rehearsed in her mind, only to find that it had disappeared, probably somewhere between watching Darren's ass and thinking about him in the shower. "Wait, Darren, don't—"
But Darren was already opening the door and walking inside. The first thing that he would see would be the wall of Harry Potter paraphernalia, but after that, there was the Blaine and Darren Criss wall. "Okay, just kill me now, please, Darren. But this was all before I knew who you were, and you can't get mad at me, or if you are, please just get mad at me now and leave and I swear—"
Abby's babbling was cut off by a pair of warm lips against her own, and when they were accompanied by a pair of strong arms around her back, she realized exactly what was going on. Darren had silenced her. With a kiss. Darren Criss was kissing her. Abby blinked, and then her eyelids fluttered for a moment before her brain finally shut off and let her enjoy it.
When all the tension was gone from Abby's body, Darren's lips slowly parted and pulled away from her before turning upward into a half-smile. "You babble." She opened her mouth to apologize, but was silenced with another kiss. "I like it. I babble too."
"I know." They sat in silence for a moment, holding each other and staring at the shrine to different things that made up Abby's room. Abby laughed first, but Darren quickly followed suit until they were laughing too hard to hold onto each other anymore, reduced to piles of bone and flesh sitting in the entryway to the room. After about five minutes, Abby took a deep breath and could speak again, wiping her eyes.
"Do you…you still look like Blaine," she started, the name starting another fit of giggles as Darren reached up to touch the helmet of his hair.
"Oh, right. Care to finish this tour and show me to the shower?" The laughter died immediately. "I mean…not sexually, of course. I just, I can take a shower by myself you know. It's just…I don't really know where it is so of course, I mean, well, you know what I mean, right? I really—"
This time, it was Abby to lean over to kiss Darren to silence him. "Babbling," she said. "The shower's this way."
- Current Location:home, unfortunately
- Current Mood: bitchy
- Current Music:Totally Fucked
Part One: Text Messages
Abbers! Are you doing anything today? Just got done shooting, and I need major break time.
Darren's phone sent the message and he tucked it away in the back pocket of his jeans. He chuckled, knowing what at least half of her response would be. She hated Abbers, but sometimes, and Darren was willing to go to court to defend himself, being silly was absolutely necessary. As he walked toward his trailer, calling goodbyes to his cast members and shooting a look at Chris Colfer that begged the man to call him later, he sighed and wished that he could figure out exactly what he wanted to do.
Sure, coming out as bisexual hadn't been that big of a deal. Nobody had really questioned it, and Chris had been far more than helpful in the realm of experience. And it wasn't that sleeping with Chris wasn't wonderful; it was. It was just…not enough.
Irritated, Darren slammed the door to his trailer and flopped onto his bed, taking five deep breaths before pulling his wallet out of his pocket and looking at the picture he'd printed out. He smiled as he straightened it out, then sighed. Again. He'd met Abby during one of his and Chris' internet adventures. He hadn't meant to actually be interested in her, but after much nudging, he was talking to her, and then he had her number. It wasn't soon after that, that they were calling, hanging out, laughing. People mistook them for a couple when they were out together. Darren rolled over and started to run his hand through his hair, only stopping when he realized that his hair was practically cemented to his head for Blaine.
"Could this day get any worse?" he yelled upward, shaking his fist toward the ceiling of his trailer. His answer buzzed in his butt pocket, and Darren rolled over to fish it out, annoyed when the phone kept buzzing. "What?" he practically snarled into the phone, not bothering to check and see who was on the other line.
"Abby! Abby." Darren winced. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I just…"
"You don't want to know."
Abby rolled her eyes and shook her head, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She'd been waiting for him to text her, but not waiting in the "I'm super desperate for your company" way. It was more just a "I was wondering when you would finally get bored and text me" sort of thing. Right? "Then why'd you text? And you know I hate it when you call me that."
"I know. But I was just…can I come over?"
There was silence on the other line, and then a large clatter. Darren assumed that she'd simply dropped her phone, and that was when he realized that, oh, he'd never asked if he could come over before.
Abby was busy trying to convince herself that he must have been joking, but when silence set in, her hand froze, and the phone slipped and crashed to the floor. He was serious. Oh my God. Darren. At her house. "Shit," she squeaked, and then rushed to pick up the phone. "Darren?"
He chuckled. "Yep, still here, Abbers."
"Don't fucking call me that if you want to be allowed to come over."
Darren quickly backtracked, and threw his best puppy dog pout into the phone that he could muster. "I'm sorry. I promise, I'll never call you that again. It'll be like Voldermort, I swear. It's the nickname that must not be used, tada! Please? Please?" Jesus, how could he do that? He could just go from serious to playful, and it hardly took any work.
"Okay, okay, Jesus, you can come over. I'll text you my address?" Abby tried to sound cool on the phone, like she wasn't about to just have Darren Criss over at her house, to hang out and relax, just with her. Right, that was not the way to go if she was going to focus on this conversation. She missed what Darren said next, and pinked in the cheeks when he called "helloooo" into the phone. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I said, that sounds good."
"Great," Abby rushed, anxious to hang up and try to get her house into some kind of working order before he came over. "I'll see you soon."
"Abby, wait," came Darren's voice from the receiver, and she paused, then put the phone back to her ear. She could practically hear the blush in the man's voice as he asked his favor.
"I still look like Blaine. Do you…I mean, can I use your shower?" Abby paused, then laughed, and then had to sit down to keep from falling over. "Abby?" he ventured when Darren could hear her start to hyperventilate over the phone.
"Yeah, Darren, you can use the shower." The phone clicked, and Abby looked at it, incredulous. This machine had not only allowed her to have Darren over, but now he was showering at her house? She chuckled and flopped against the couch, promising herself at least a moment to savor what had just happened.
"I love you, Wizard God."
- Current Location:bed.
- Current Mood: annoyed
- Current Music:Modest Mouse
- Current Mood: GLEE
- Current Music:Rose's Turn as done by Chris Colfer
- Current Location:bed.
- Current Mood: Darren Criss is a life ruiner
- Current Music:ET by Katy Perry